Tuttle’s brand of quiet horror is at once a rejoinder to a genre that leans heavily on masculine aggression and a means to achieve effects more unsettling than an explicit presentation could ever be.
Cather’s use of a close third-person narration lends her story an uncanny element of unease and creepiness.
Poe’s 1843 tale is not only one of the greatest horror stories ever written; it is also a pristine example of internal integrity in the short form.
Shashi Bhat blurs the line between novels and short fiction in her new book, The Most Precious Substance on Earth
Though Bhat’s new book is described as her second novel, the individual pieces comprise all the attributes of linked stories.
A Borgesian story about literary posterity and the fickleness of memory, from an Australian master.
A powerful monument to what the short form is capable of from “the most influential writer of American short stories in the second half of the 20th century.”
Irish author Flattery’s novella-length story is an enthusiastic evisceration of the patriarchy and institutional pomposity.
Conrad’s story is at once a version of a doppelgänger story and an examination of repressed psychology and moral ambiguity.
In Atwoodian terms, O’Neill’s story represents a conflation of doomed animals and survival.
Two stories about pleasure and pain interrogate the nature of trust and what we risk when we relinquish control.