And by short we mean short.
Lydia Davis writes short stories. Some are two pages long, some two lines. And something actually happens in them.
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How Difficult
by Lydia Davis
For years my mother said I was selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc. She was often annoyed. If I argued, she held her hands over her ears. She did what she could to change me but for years I did not change, or if I changed, I could not be sure I had, because a moment never came when my mother said, “You are no longer selfish, careless, irresponsible, etc.” Now I’m the one who says to myself, “Why can’t you think of others first, why don’t you pay attention to what you’re doing, why don’t you remember what has to be done?” I am annoyed. I sympathize with my mother. How difficult I am! But I can’t say this to her, because at the same time that I want to say it, I am also here on the phone coming between us, listening and prepared to defend myself.
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Ten Stories from Flaubert by Lydia Davis in The Paris Review.
Excerpts from The Collected Stories of Lydia Davis in NPR.
Answers to questions you might be asking, unless you wandered onto this site purely by accident >>>
September 24th, 2010 at 08:40
Hemingway’s six-word short story is way shorter, if you’re into that who-has-the-shortest.
For the record, as a healthy, normal, heterosexual male, I don’t like getting into that kind of shtick; you know, that shortest thing.
Makes me uncomfortable. ^_^
September 24th, 2010 at 14:55
I’m partial to Knock, myself. Who knew a two-sentence short story could have so much horror in it?