Reb Livingston’s Favorite Novellas

In the Heart of the Country, by J.M. Coetzee

At the Bottom of the River, by Jamaica Kincaid

In Praise of the Stepmother, by Mario Vargas Llosa

Panama, by Thomas McGuane

The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison

Reb Livingston is a poet, editor, and publisher whose books include Your Ten Favorite Words, Pterodactyls Soar Again, among other titles. Her work appears in literary magazines and has been nominated for several Pushcart prizes. She is the editor and publisher of No Tell Books. Visit her HERE.

Catherine Lacey’s Favorite Novella

The sad truth is that there are way more novellas that I want to read than ones that I have actually read and enjoyed. I tallied them up and this is the only novella that I have read that I feel passionately about. Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. I read Of Mice and Men last year, in one sitting, in the cafe of a Whole Foods and this is all a little embarrassing for a number of reasons. One is that I managed to reach my early twenties without reading a classic that is usually required reading for third graders and also a Nobel Prize winner. The second is that I was drinking a four dollar Kombucha, the bottled embodiment of an economy at its most opulent, while reading a book about two men struggling to make ends meet. Occasionally as I was reading, I would look at the floor-to-ceiling windows and catch a glimpse of a one-legged man in a wheelchair who was scooting in between the traffic begging for change. The third reason is more of a national embarrassment, or maybe not an embarrassment at all, but a nagging sense of guilt. This was the summer of 2008 and as our country was already 6 months into a recession that the federal government was refusing to acknowledge, I was reading a novella set in the Depression with main characters confronting an insurmountably cruel job market and dire poverty—the worst-case-scenario. Not only did I feel guilty, but I felt helpless in the shadow of a tsunami which economists were anxiously waiting to come rushing down towards us.

Thinking back to that novella now, I realize that I shouldn’t have felt guilty. Instead, I should have gotten to work on an essay about how Lennie Smalls, the witless main character with a strength that is beyond his own comprehension, is a perfect way to characterize the mortgage industry or the banking system or any number of financial institutions that are giving us their best dumbfounded looks as they slowly realize what’s going on.

In any case, I’m not going to write that essay now because things have gone from bad to I-can’t-read-another-editorial-about-how-bad-this-is. In any case, it’s a great little book.

Catherine Lacey is writing a book that is tangentially about Barbie, Elton John, and mongoose bicycles and more directly about obsessiveness, secrets that aren’t secrets and little girls who dream of being martyred. More HERE.

Lee Klein’s Top Novellas

I’m not really sure about ranking these books (the numbers just indicate that there are ten slots) or about referring to them all as “novellas,” either. The term could be debated forever, but here’s a list of nine “novellas,” plus a tenth slot filled with a few that could have made this list for me but really deserve mention lumped in with a few others:

10. I guess I could start with all those famous novellas I’ve read but can hardly remember that haven’t had a huge impact on me: Death in Venice (Mann), Notes from Underground (Fyodor D.), The Death of Ivan Illyich (Leo T.), The Bear (Faulkner), The Dead (Joyce–is it just a story?). And then some longer stories like The Metamorphosis (Kafka) or Good Old Neon (DFW) that have been influential etc but maybe don’t quite make this list except if bunched in with everything else in the #10 slot.

9. Seize the Day, by Saul Bellow
(Also, see Dangling Man, his first book, especially its last line.) Clear description of a human being involved in the world. I remember reading most of this at a booth at George’s in Iowa City. The perfect book to accompany you for a few beers and a cheap microwaved cheeseburger on a rainy afternoon.

8. Jesus’ Son, by Denis Johnson
It’s officially a story collection, but what is a novel but a collection of stories. These are consistent in character and (mostly) setting, so let’s call it a novella. A good one to read when you’ve got a knife jammed in your eye socket or a coat filled with bunnies.

7. The Beauty of the Husband, by Anne Carson
This is subtitled “a fictional tango in 29 tangos,” but it reads like a novella, it’s short, and its pages have more white space than text, so let’s call it a novella. A good one to read alone on Valentine’s Day, even if it’s not Valentine’s Day.

6. Letter to His Father, by Franz Kafka
This is an actual letter Kafka wrote to his pop, but it’s really no different from The Hunger Artist or most of the other stories, so let’s call it a novella. A key to understanding his stuff. Read this one when sitting poolside with enormous, domineering, male relatives nearby discussing how puny and worthless you are.

5. Of Walking in Ice, by Werner Herzog
This is a novella in that it’s a descriptive travelogue filled with flights of fancy and dreams etc the great director wrote as he walked from Munich to Paris over three weeks in 1974 to “save the life” of Lotte Eisner, a mentor/filmmaker, who was dying in bed. The best Herzog movie ever unmade. And therefore a damn good novella. Read this one while walking.

4. Too Loud a Solitude, by Bohumil Hrabal
Weighing in at 98 pages, this undebatably “novella-y” novella stars a loveable intellectual loser who sleeps beneath a top bunk loaded down with tons of books that are always about to crush him as he sleeps. In contrast, this book is like an unexpectedly heavy giant moth.

3. The Invention of Solitude, by Paul Auster
More solitude it seems . . . This one is about the death of Auster’s father. This is categorized as “autobiography” but it’s clear so far that I don’t really care for categorization other than “shortish book.”

2. Wittgenstein’s Nephew, by Thomas Bernhard
A eulogy in the form of one 100-page paragraph. The key to all of Bernhard’s stuff is on page 99.

1. Accountant, by Ethan Canin
This is the first novella in his collection of four novellas, The Palace Thief. I have a soft spot for baseball, and any story starring Willie Mays’ stirrup is going to rank pretty high with me. The most readable and conventional of this list, this novella weighs in at 53 pages . . . I remember starting this book one night and waking up the next day and not getting out of bed till I’d read the rest of it.

Lee Klein curates a ten-year-old, internationally accessible literary website known for rangy, discursive, high-blown smut. His writing has appeared in The Best American Non-Required Reading 2007, Agni Online, The Black Warrior Review, Canteen, No Colony, Barrelhouse, Hobart, Pindeldyboz, Pequin, The Barcelona Review, Konundrum Engine, Duck & Herring, Gut Cult, and others, including Eyeshot (often attributed to pseudonyms).

Paul Kincaid’s Favorite Science Fiction Novellas

Ask a science fiction fan about novellas and you’ll get a very different response than you would from most other readers. Novella has a very particular meaning within sf; the major sf awards have categories for best novel, novella, novelette and short story. The categories are determined by length, and since most of these awards were set up at a time when the average sf novel was quite short, novellas tend to be long short stories rather than short novels.

Nevertheless, the novella has a very honourable place within the history of the genre, indeed there was a time during the 1960s and 70s when it seemed that the novella was actually the ideal length for science fiction given how many significant novellas were being published at the time. The list that follows is a very personal one; other completely different lists could easily be compiled.

The Time Machine, by H.G. Wells (1895)
This novella was so important, so innovative, that it is almost impossible to conceive of the history of science fiction without it.

The Turn of the Screw, by Henry James (1898)
Almost too well known to need comment, the way the story hesitates between the supernatural and the psychological without ever letting the reader decide one way or the other is masterful.

The Rose, by Charles Harness (1953)
This is one of those stories that everyone calls a classic, but that very few people probably read these days. A pity, since this metaphorical pitting of art against science shows that sf is capable of genuine flights of beauty.

Behold the Man, by Michael Moorcock (1966, expanded into a novel 1969)
If nothing else, this taught me how powerfully science fiction can challenge our prejudices and expectations. It tells of a modern time traveler who goes to find the historical Jesus Christ, only to find that Jesus is an imbecile and the time traveler has to take on the mantle of messiah.

The Infinity Box, by Kate Wilhelm (1971)
This is my indulgence, I don’t know if other people rate this story or not, and frankly I don’t care. I read it back in the mid-70s, was blown away by it, and it has been one of my measures for the sf novella ever since.

The Fifth Head of Cerberus, by Gene Wolfe (1972)
If I were forced to name the single best work of science fiction, there’s a good chance it
would be this novella. It tells of the childhood of a clone on a colonized planet, but with subtle hints that cause us to question everything from the fate of the planet’s natives to the true character of our narrator.

The Deathbird, by Harlan Ellison (1973)
Science fiction has been surprisingly resistant to literary experimentation, but in the 60s it
finally caught up with modernism, and that opened the flood gates. This short novella, with its shifting time frames and exam papers, showed what could be done.

R&R, by Lucius Shepard (1985, the novella later formed part of his novel Life During Wartime, 1987)
This story transposes Shepard’s Vietnam War experiences to Central America where the war becomes an almost surreal conflict between the high-tech science-fictional USA and the low-tech magic-realist south.

Story of Your Life, by Ted Chiang (1998)
Science fiction is all about encounters with the other, but every encounter with the other is really a revelation about ourselves. However, few works of sf have been as aware of this contradiction as this coolly daring story.

Magic for Beginners, by Kelly Link (2005)
Link is, with Chiang, probably the pre-eminent short fiction writer working in the fantastic at the moment, mostly because she has an ability to employ absurdist elements that still somehow seem to make sense. This tale of the relationship between a group of young people and a television programme is every bit as hesitant between the supernatural and the psychological as Henry James.

Paul Kincaid is the recipient of the SFRA’s Thomas D. Clareson Award for Distinguished Service for 2006. His collection of essays and reviews, What it is we do when we read science fiction is published by Beccon Publications. Find him HERE.