Read More Short Stories! Here Are 12 of My Favorite Collections

Lauren Groff's new short story collection, Brawler, comes out Feb. 24. It'll almost certainly be in my top 5 favorite books of the year when we wrap this here 2026 in about 10 months. Brawler is nine stories -- each more brilliant than the last. And the anchor for the collection is a story titled "Annunciation" which was in the Best Short Stories of 2023, and is my of-late no-hesitation answer in the (very rare) event that someone asks me about my favorite short story. It's a story that comes at you waves, much like the collection as a whole. Anyway...read Brawler when it's out. It's fantastic.

Brawler is so good, in fact, it got me thinking about some of my other favorite short story collections from the last decade or so. So I made a list. Enjoy! 

Tenth of December, by George Saunders -- When I read this collection more than a decade ago, it was the first time I'd read Saunders. I promptly read just about everything else the man has written, because, I mean, once you find a writer with whom you connect, connection soon becomes obsession. And yes, I'm obsessed with how George Saunders writes stories (and novels) of philosophical complexity and the sliding scale of morality in a dearth of words. 

The Tsar of Love and Techno, by Anthony Marra -- I waver between this collection (Is this a novel? It's interconnected short stories. That's a whole 'nother post.) and the one above as my favorite of all time. Russians and Chechens and a painting and life imitating art (or vice versa). This is a paragon of craft. 

Get in Trouble, by Kelly Link -- It's hard to remember a time before Kelly Link was a household name (at least among book nerds), but this is the collection that did it. Inventive, quirky, off-the-wall, funny as hell. 

Friday Black, by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah -- Before Adjei-Brenvah scalded our brains with his debut novel, Chain Gang All-Stars, this story collection gave us a glimpse of his genius. Every story in this collection is fantastic, but the story "Light Spitter" about a school shooter named Fuckton who has regrets has haunted my soul since I first read it in 2015. And the story "Zimmer Land" about an amusement park in which racists can role play shooting people who are just existing while Black is sadly even more powerful now than it was in the direct aftermath of George Zimmerman. 

Music for Wartime, by Rebecca Makkai -- What stood out to me most about this lyrical collection is Makkai's ability to draw the reader in, set the scene, and create intrigue, all in a first line. 

Bliss Montage, by Ling Ma -- Whenever I talk about this book, I always tie myself in knots trying to explain what I think Ma is doing with these brilliant stories. It's something like this: In these stories, she's creating a fantastic, metaphysical element – like an invisibility drug or 100 ex-boyfriends living in the same house as the narrator – and using that element to create a literal representation of the symbolic point she’s making with the rest of the story, like alienation, ghosts of our past, or needing to escape. Does that make any sense? No? Well, then you'll just have to read it! 

Beneath the Bonfire, by Nickolas Butler -- Same warmth and empathy as in Butler's novels, but in these shorter pieces. Still uber-Midwestern. Still a delight. 

Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil, by Ananda Lima -- Another "collection" that is maybe actually a novel. This collection combines the realistic (the story about the writing workshop, "Idle Hands") with the fantastical. Lima, like Ma, also literalizes the metaphysical to make a point -- and it's so much fun to read. 

Florida, by Lauren Groff -- When you pick up any piece of writing by Lauren Groff, you can be pretty sure it's going to be excellent. Several of the stories in this collection have the same (or a similar?) narrator -- a mother who is a writer. Hmmm....

A Visit From the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan -- I mean, right?! Reading this book was one of those eye-opening experiences when I thought, Oh my god, so THIS is what fiction can do. "Time's a goon, right? You gonna let that goon push you around?"

Single, Carefree, Mellow, by Katherine Heiny -- This book is an example of why you ALWAYS read the recommendations of other readers whose opinions you trust (this one came from one of my bookseller colleagues soon after RoscoeBooks opened). This very good collection is about a lot of very bad people. But it's also very funny.

Half Wild, by Robin MacArthur -- An instance of book serendipity -- at BEA 2016, I was waiting in line to see Richard Russo, and MacArthur's table was next to his, and no one was waiting, and the publicist called out, "Hey who likes short stories?" and I like short stories, so I stopped by to meet her and pick up this ARC. Ninety-nine out of 100 times, the book would've sat untouched among the dozens of other BEA books, but something about this spoke to me. And I'm so glad I read it. The stories are mostly about characters in rural settings struggling to connect with the modern world. Timely and so well-crafted! 

We Are Losing Our Bookish Institutions at An Alarming Rate: What Can We Do to Help?

I am mad as hell. And I'm also heartbroken. And so I feel compelled to write -- almost literally the only thing that makes me feel less helpless. 

We are losing our bookish institutions at a terrifyingly alarming rate.

Like many of you, I absorbed the news today that Bond Villain Bezos is shuttering the Books section of the Washington Post with a mixture of sadness and rage. What an absolute gut punch! The Washington Post published one of the few remaining robust sections of literary criticism...and now it's gone, just like that. 

Amazon, which Bezos also owns, just spent upwards of $75 million to fund and market a piece of pure regime propaganda about the first lady, which it had to know was not going to make even a quarter of that investment back. Priorities made clear. (I had huge rant here trying to understand why a fucking billionaire is allowed to own a newspaper in the first place, but I deleted it when I revised so we could move on.)

Beloved book critic Ron Charles was one of those laid off. His weekly Book Club newsletter was a highlight of every Friday morning for me. And his criticism was as smart and funny as any writing on any topic out there. I'm not exaggerating when I say he is my all-time favorite book critic. (Yes, book nerds have favorite book critics like normal people have favorite athletes.) He's out of a job. Because of a billionaire trying "cut the fat" from his business. (A silver lining: Charles posted on his Substack that he's not going away, and I look forward to reading him anywhere he goes.) 

Here in Chicago, that news came on the same day that we learned a literary institution here, Open Books, is closing one of its bookstores. Thankfully, there are two more and it sounds like the organization, which does truly amazing work to promote literacy in the city and beyond, is basically taking steps to ensure its long-term health so that it doesn't have to close everything. But on top of the Books section news, this just felt especially sad. 

And further, Chicago also just lost Volumes Bookcafe, a long-time Wicker Park institution. Volumes was the victim of a few headwinds, not the least of which was a giant Barnes & Noble opening just down the street from them.

Add to these emboldened book banning efforts, the closing of the Kennedy Center for "renovations", and just the general anti-art and anti-intellectual atmosphere these days perpetuated that fascist regime. Anyone with expertise is not to be trusted and anyone with an education has been somehow "indoctrinated."

It all just feels like so, so much. The world feels so impossibly heavy these days. 

We need some good news. We need to CREATE our own good news. 

So here are some suggestions. These aren't exactly earth-shattering. But even as I wrote them, I thought, these are always good reminders.

1) Of course, buy books from independent bookstores. But also, go to events at these stores. Subscribe to their newsletters, and share them if you can. Tell your friends and family when a store does something particularly well, like donating money to anti-ICE organizations or donating books to literary organizations. 

2) Of course, subscribe to newspapers, magazines, and other journalistic entities doing good work. But also, help them by sharing their work. Highlight a piece you found particularly interesting. Buy products from the good companies that advertise with them and tell those companies why you bought their product. Subscribe to their newsletters. Tell them when they wrote something you liked. 

3) Of course, if you're able, donate money to organizations like Authors Against Book Bans. But also, donate your time to these organizations fighting like hell for our right to read. Print out posters and spend and afternoon hanging them in coffee shops and parks in your neighborhood. Read about book ban legislation and share with family and friends in those areas. Ask them to help you fight. 

4) Of course, CONTINUE TO READ BOOKS. But also, continue to read widely and diversely. Step outside your reading comfort zone frequently. Give something new and different a chance. And tell people when you love something.

Hang in there, friends. We'll get through this. Maybe broken and wounded. But we'll heal.

Happy 30th Birthday, Infinite Jest!

Even if you don't know me personally, if you know I'm a Gen-X dude who loves literary fiction, you could probably safely infer that Infinite Jest is a foundational text for me. And you'd be right. Don't worry, I'm not here to rehash my long history with the novel (you can read a little more about that in this post if you're interested) and you certainly don't need a plot summary or discussion of prominent themes. 

Instead, as the novel turns 30 years old (published Feb. 1, 1996), I wanted to commemorate this moment and talk about two things:

1) Quickly, my experience reading the novel for a second time late last year.

2) More importantly, Hermione Hoby's absolutely WONDERFUL essay in the New Yorker, “Infinite Jest” Has Turned Thirty. Have We Forgotten How to Read It?

First...people saying: Wow, you re-read a 1,079-page novel? Are you f#$king insane? Haha. Yes. Yes, I am. But I had help this time -- a bunch of book nerd friends and I read the novel as a group last fall. Of course, yes I noticed a ton I missed previously. Of course, yes, it was a totally different novel 17 years after the first time I'd read it -- not because the novel changed but because I did, and the world did. And of course, yes, I still loved it. (Here is a short post on the re-read, if you're interested.)

Sure, a small part of me was a little anxious that it wouldn't live up to the hype in my own brain the second time. I needn't have feared.

And that brings us to Hermione Hoby's New Yorker piece. When I first saw the image of a young DFW and the headline implying we've lost the ability to read long and difficult books, I was like "great, another DFW takedown piece. Groundbreaking." But it is exactly the opposite. Hoby FEROCIOUSLY defends not just the novel, but also its length, complexity, and even DFW's exalted status, and the silly trend toward demonizing DFW fans. 

I loved her piece, and would encourage you to go read it. And though I understand the tl;dr irony of picking out a few passages from a long essay defending a long novel, here are four parts of Hoby's piece I thought were particularly great. 

1. On reading Infinite Jest after DFW died by suicide, which was my experience, as well -- and how that couldn't help but shade Hoby's reading of the novel: 

Death casts an ennobling sheen on any writer, but especially on one who, to use another “Infinite Jest”-ism, eliminated his own map—a coinage that tells us something about Wallace’s aversion to treacly solemnity, even the trace amount present in the euphemism “took his own life.”

2. Yes, Infinite Jest is inarguably male-coded and male-centric. Hoby writes that, as one small piece of evidence of this, the two female main characters -- Avril Incandenza and Joelle Van Dyen -- are both absolute smoke shows. But Hoby also notes that the 30th anniversary edition of Infinite Jest includes a forward by Michelle Zauner (of Crying in H-Mart and Japanese Breakfast fame). And also, Hoby herself loved it, despite the fact she's not "supposed to." 

Encountering the novel in my twenties, I was unaware that I was committing a form of gender treason; I knew only that little or nothing I’d read had come close in terms of sheer pleasure. The book had more brio, heart, and humor than I thought possible on the page. It was bizarrely grotesque and howlingly sad; it was sweet, silly, and vertiginously clever. 

3. I've spent the last 20 years telling anyone who will listen that I love DFW's writing because he's the perfect mix of the high- and low-brow. Hoby puts it even better: 

The blend of brainy and base is typical Wallace. Here is a guy anxious to assure you that he may have produced a Dostoyevskian work of profligate genius, but he’s also just a regular dumbass like you.

4. Finally, here is Hoby's case for reading fiction generally, but Infinite Jest specifically...and especially why reading is important now. This is SO well said.

His great novel proposed that the compulsive, addictive character of America, not least its addiction to entertainment, could best be resisted through the engaged reading of fiction. Here is a book about addiction that offers itself as a kind of counter-addiction, an example of the compounding value of sustained attention. The infamous length of “Infinite Jest” is, in this sense, a central feature of its ethic: not bigness as brag but duration as discipline.

RIP, DFW.