A write on top of the short-story game

I’ve talked about George Saunders here before. Love his work.  Having just finished his latest collection of short stories, “Liberation Day,” I don’t love it any less. 

Like most story collections, many of these have appeared earlier in various places. My favorite of the bunch, “A Mom of Bold Action,” first ran in the New Yorker in August 2021. It’s about a suburban mom (duh) who aspires to be a writer of inspirational children’s books. While she’s daydreaming one corny idea after another, she discovers that her son has wandered off. The son soon returns with a scratch on his face – some transient has pushed him into a bush, for no particular reason. The mom’s thoughts turn quickly from fuzzy optimism to deadly retribution. 

It doesn’t sound very funny, but it is. And, like all the stories in this collection, seems drawn from this never-ending age of Trumpism. You know: the corrupted capitalism, the deepening enmity between red and blue, the shameless cruelty toward the weak. Most are kind of surreal and dystopian in tone, but bob along on an undercurrent of humor and optimism. All are memorable.

That’s how George Saunders rolls. Even his strangest stuff is somehow upbeat. If he’d written “The Lottery” instead of Shirley Jackson, Tessie Hutchinson might have had some amusing observations about her rock-chucking neighbors. 

Any idiot can write a mediocre short story. I know; I’ve written quite a few myself. To write a good one takes more craft, talent and discipline than most writers — even successful novelists — possess. Roald Dahl comes to mind. Raymond Carver. Anton Chekhov. Right now, I’d say none of them have anything on George Saunders.