I got my copy of the collected works of Flannery O'Connor. I open the book and the first title that my eyes fall on is a story called, "The Artificial [N-word]" - and I thought, oh... kay... it was the 1940's or whatever. But I decided to read what I thought was the most famous of her stories first (the one I had heard of), called, "A Good Man is Hard to Find." I read it, and when I was done, I said to myself, "What the hell...?"

So then I read "The Artificial [N-word]." And to her credit, other than in the title, she as the narrator does not use the N-word, only certain characters do. But I read the story, and when I was done, I said to myself, "What the hell...?"

Now, I recognize that she is a great writer. But so far (after only 2 short stories) reading her stuff feels to me like picking off a scab - strangely both painful and satisfying at the same time. I also recognize that the problem may be that short stories are just not my "jam." I've got a copy of James Joyce's The Dubliners on my shelf. I've read some of the stories, but not all, but I have a bookmark in the book where I left off last, and every once in a while I go back and read one just to absorb some of the way he creates characters. And I do think that Joyce and O'Connor have a very similar vibe. Maybe it's the Irish thing.

And I've said this before in other contexts, American story-telling does usually require a happy ending. There's some requirement of hope in a story that you don't see in, for example, foreign films, where (and I'm only speculating) they come from a culture that has seen more hardship and tragedy, and so they want more "realism," and a happy ending doesn't feel realistic. I literally avoid Australian films because I just know I'm gonna be bummed out.

Now, of course I have not read enough O'Connor to critique, and I will keep reading (though I'm going for one of the longer stories next). And I also know that my personal desire for a happy ending can blind me to the point of the story until I really look for it, and so far O'Connor's point seems to be something about how we as humans can limit the scope of our lives to something too small, so that we end up forgetting that there is something bigger than this life. But she says that so subtly, I feel like I want her to say it more explicitly.

And for what it's worth, in my own writing of fiction, I find myself thinking, "that's too subtle, the reader won't get it" - and I find myself writing in a way that some might find too obvious. And I wonder if I don't give the reader enough credit, but then I remember that I have very concrete proof of how 21st century people don't read carefully - it's my students, who say they've read the textbook, but their work proves that, if they have read it, they read it like they were reading some clickbait "article" on the internet - in other words, they skimmed it for entertainment value and then moved on.

I'd love to hear your thoughts: Have people lost the ability to see subtlety and subtext (and I'm including myself in that, in my desire for a happy ending)? Have people lost the ability to read deeply at all? If someone like Flannery O'Connor were writing today, would anyone read her stuff - would she even get published? It may be that the short story will see a renaissance, since no one has the patience to read anything longer any more, but would they read this kind of story? On the other hand, a lot of people DO like tragedy, and even horror, but does that come from a morbid fascination, and can they see a message like O'Connor's in it? And finally, for those of you who have read and appreciated O'Connor, please feel free to give me some of your insights.