I think Saunders has perfected the part of fiction that speaks the language of memory. It's somewhere between a joke at its smallest, and a feeling about onesel

I think Saunders has perfected the part of fiction that speaks the language of memory. It's somewhere between a joke at its smallest, and a feeling about oneself that replays as a landmark of who we are as the effect of its longer forms, like 'the time I spent in that place reading that novel.' Such a pleasure to see this on HN. I could see short stories having a renaissance because there is no reason to justify selling people a bunch of paper anymore, and nobody wants things that are too much.