I've read some remarkable short story collections this year: Théodora Armstrong's Clear Skies, No Wind, 100% Visibility, Ayelet Tsabari's The Best Place on Earth, Saleema Nawaz's Mother Superior, Richard van Camp's Godless But Loyal to Heaven, Miranda Hill's Sleeping Funny, and Paul Headrick's The Doctrine of Affections. Three more collections have captured
First, it's small enough to fit in a pocket. The book, not the moose. And there's something charming about that, right? And something seductive about the idea that you can easily sit down with a book and meet its characters and stay with them, in a single sitting,
At first it seems simple. One scene after the next. Imagine them, jotted on yellowed, soiled, stained pages from eighty-someodd-years ago. Scattered across time and space, you quietly order each of these moments in your reader's mind. You think you are assembling a timeline, affording these scenes refuge
