A Lot Of [george Saunders] Early Stories

I Never Bought The Idea Of Individual Genius From Which The Novel Spews Forth. It's Always An Act Of Curation.

This Because It Is Never Really Very Cold In England. It Is Drizzly, And The Wind Will Blow; Hail Happens, And There Is A Breed Of Tuesday In January In Which Time Creeps And No Light Comes And The Air Is Full Of Water And Nobody Really Loves Anybody, But Still A Decent Jumper And A Waxen Jacket Lined With Wool Is Sufficient For Every Weather England's Got To Give.

Greeting Cards Routinely Tell Us Everybody Deserves Love. No. Everybody Deserves Clean Water. Not Everybody Deserves Love All The Time.

... Don't Ever Underestimate People, Don't Ever Underestimate The Pleasure They Receive From Viewing Pain That Is Not Their Own... Pain By Itself Is Just Pain. But Pain + Distance Can = Entertainment, Voyeurism, Human Interest, Cinéma Vérité, A Good Belly Chuckle, A Sympathetic Smile, A Raised Eyebrow, Disguised Contempt.

My Short Stories Have Always Pushed Twenty Pages. That's No Length For A Short Story To Be. You Either Do Them Short Like Carver Or You Stop Trying.