Short stories come in many different genres, just as novels do. Realism has been a popular genre since the inception of the short story in the nineteenth century, in early twentieth century Modernism, and still today. Realism is defined in the Oxford Companion to English Literature as “truth to the observed facts of life (especially when they are gloomy).” It is a genre of stories which are typically not plot driven but present a ‘slice of life’ and focus more on character and authentic lives of ordinary people. Mood and atmosphere are also important, but probably the most important feature, or objective, of Realism is the portrayal of psychological truth. Anton Chekhov was a notable early exponent of this genre.
There is little in the way of action in the short stories of Modernists, like James Joyce, for example. Quite the opposite, in fact, as Joyce embraced the theme of paralysis as a metaphor for the human condition, perhaps not universally, but for a particular time and place: early twentieth century, Dublin and all of Ireland. Joyce’s collection of stories, Dubliners, features ordinary people whose lives are characterised by feelings of entrapment, powerlessness and frustration. The eponymous character in Evelyn has an opportunity to escape her stultifying home life and abusive father by joining her lover, who has bought them a passage to Buenos Aires. She prevaricates about leaving and in the final scene at the dock her lover boards the ship and Eveline stays behind, “like a helpless animal.”
Another modernist, and New Zealand’s chief claim to literary fame, Katherine Mansfield also wrote about ordinary lives, with an emphasis on character rather than plot. Some of her stories also feature sad, lonely characters living in stultifying situations. In The Daughters of the Late Colonel, two middle-aged sisters are as if paralysed by indecision over the mundane matters of life after the death of their tyrannical father, who had so dominated their lives. As with Joyce, the narrative is objectively neutral. There is no sentimentality or editorial judgement.
Joyce’s story, Araby, is narrated in the first person by, a love-struck adolescent, who has sexual fantasies about a girl in his neighbourhood, though this is not explicitly stated. It is conveyed rather through almost subliminal imagery: “… my body was like a harp and her words and gestures were like fingers running upon the wires.” When the girl finally speaks to the diffident narrator, his focus is on any exposed flesh and undergarments and her hand suggestively holding a spike of the railings where they are standing:
She held one of the spikes, bowing her head towards me. The light from the lamp opposite our door caught the white curve of her neck, lit up her hair that rested there, and, falling, lit up the hand upon the railing. It fell over one side of her dress and caught the white border of a petticoat, just visible as she stood at ease.
Sexual references are more explicit in Joyce’s novel, Ulysses, though very mild by today’s standards. At the time of its publication it was very controversial and considered obscene.
The narrator of Araby eagerly anticipates attending the visiting, supposedly exotic bazaar of the title and buying a gift for the object of his affections. He arrives late because of the circumstances of his home, to find the stalls closing. His romantic hopes are dashed and the story ends with the boy “gazing up into the darkness, … eyes burning with anguish and anger.”
The stories of Dubliners typically end in disappointment, with no change of circumstance, which apparently contradicts the axiom that a short story should at least evince some change. However, it may be argued that a change occurs within the experience of the protagonist: a realisation about himself/herself and/or about the world in general. It may even be regarded as a ‘coming of age’ theme when an adolescent experiences a disappointment or disillusionment that disaffects his notions of false romanticism; a realisation that ‘this is the way the world really is’.
Changes occur within the Joycean protagonist often as the result of a sudden realisation, a moment of epiphany, and this is a prime feature of Dubliners and the autobiographical novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. The concept of an epiphany was originally confined to a spiritual experience, a divine revelation, but it may more generally include any highly significant insight, an informative, and formative experience.
In The Dead, the last and perhaps best known story of Dubliners, the protagonist, Gabriel Conroy and his wife, Gretta attend a convivial celebration. Gabriel delivers a sophisticated, entertaining speech and is an urbane raconteur, and yet suffers from insecurities. The narrative describes Gabriel’s thoughts and feelings during the course of the evening, including feelings of admiration and affection for Gretta, and “a keen pang of lust.” He anticipates making love to Gretta when they return to their hotel room but he is thwarted when Gretta is overcome by a painful memory sparked by a song sung by one of the guests, a memory of a lover from her youth, “a gentle boy,” who tragically died at the age of seventeen. Gretta throws herself on the bed, sobbing and falls asleep. The scene is described objectively from Gabriel’s point of view.
His eyes moved to the chair over which she had thrown some of her clothes. A petticoat string dangled on the floor. One boot stood upright, its limp upper fallen down: the fellow of it lay upon its side.
The pair of boots serve as an image of the couple: Gabriel upright and Gretta lying on her side. The flaccid images of the string dangling on the floor and the boot’s limp upper fallen down reflect Gabriel’s disappointment, emotionally and physically.
The story ends with a conventional device, a shifting perspective, the equivalent of the cinematic camera lens, turning, widening, drawing back from the room, the view from the window of falling snow, to the countryside, the whole country, and finally to “the snow falling faintly through the universe…” The image effectively reflects Gabriel’s sombre mood but it may be argued that it does not work on a literal level as it is impossible for snow to be falling through the universe.
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Another twentieth century writer of the Modernist genre, Ernest Hemingway, has had a huge influence on short story writing. A very notable feature of Hemingway’s style is minimalism; reducing the narrative to the bare minimum of words, to the extent that it often seems fragmented and elliptical. It is a given that the reader of a modernist text should contribute to the story by inferring what is not directly stated and filling in gaps, but some critics feel Hemingway simply doesn’t give the reader enough information. His narrative has been described as sparse and stoic and the dialogue is often banal, inarticulate, and repetitive speech; the language of a ‘dumb ox’, according to one critic. The Killers begins:
The door of Henry’s lunchroom opened and two men came in. They sat down at the counter.
“What’s yours?” George asked them. “I don’t know,” one of the men said. “What do you want to eat, Al?”
“I don’t know,” said Al. “I don’t know what I want to eat.”
The story proceeds, mostly with dialogue and we learn that the two men who entered the lunchroom are hitmen waiting for their target Ole Anderson to arrive. Ole doesn’t show and George tells another customer, Nick, to go and warn Ole. Nick finds Ole lying on his bed in the boarding house up the road. Ole seems indifferently resigned to his fate and says, “There isn’t anything I can do about it.” He remains lying on his bed, looking at the wall and says, “Thanks for coming to tell me about it.”
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There is much to admire in a well written modernist story with credible characters and insights into ordinary life. However, some readers of ‘slice of life’ stories may feel that nothing has happened and that there is no point to the story, if they are more accustomed to, or prefer, plot driven stories, in which a protagonist is motivated to achieve some goal and other characters either help or hinder the hero on his/her journey. Stories of heroes who struggle to overcome adversity and triumph in the end may be a more engaging and inspiring read but in life there are also many people engaged in heroic struggles just to live an ordinary, normal life, and these are often the relatable characters of modernist stories. It has been said there are only two types of plot driven stories. There is the protagonist who leaves home on an adventure, a mission or a quest of some sort. Then there is the plot based on the stranger who comes to town. An over simplistic dichotomy perhaps but it covers a lot of fiction and movie plots. Plenty of stories of either type come readily to mind.
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My main literary interest is in realism, but I should at least mention other genres (without giving examples). Outside of the parameters of realism there is a range of genres which may be listed under the generic term of speculative fiction. These include: fantasy, science fiction, utopian, dystopian, apocalyptic, post-apocalyptic, horror, supernatural, historical, alternate history, magic realism. This list is by no means exhaustive and while some may be regarded as subgenres of speculative fiction, it may be argued that some are entirely separate genres. Magic realism is an interesting a case in point, as it comprises elements of fantasy and realism. It presents alternative world views, alternative realities, in realistic, often mundane settings, in which inanimate objects become sentient and volitional, and miraculous and supernatural events are narrated objectively, as though they are ordinary, with little or no comment on their strangeness. The effect is a blurring of the lines between fantasy and reality. Finally, genres, as labels, may be a convenient means of referring to types of fiction, but it must be noted that some writing does blur the lines and confound the limitations of categorising.