It was in this paperback, too, that I first discovered how prose could rise to poetry as Joyce described the snow falling on the grave of Michael Furey and “all the living and the dead.”Įver since then I have been a fan of the short novel. Hatch and marvel at how Porter could bring him to hated life in just a few pages. To this day I remember the loathsomely evil Mr. When I was in eighth grade, our English class read a squat, almost square-shaped Dell paperback titled “Six Great Modern Short Novels.” It contained Nikolai Gogol’s “The Overcoat,” Herman Melville’s “Billy Budd,” James Joyce’s “The Dead,” William Faulkner’s “The Bear,” Glenway Wescott’s “The Pilgrim Hawk” and Katherine Anne Porter’s “Noon Wine.” Each of these masterpieces, and they are all that, could be read in an evening, and each of them packed an intense emotional wallop.
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