Renee Gladman’s Recommended Novellas

To the best of my knowledge there has been no prolonged look at the novella since the late 70s. And I’m not referring to studies on the 17th and 18th century German or Italian novella, of which there are plenty, because these novellas bear very little resemblance to those of the last century. Rather, it is the contemporary form of the novella, which exists outside of the above traditions, that seems to bewilder critics and theorists. What excites me about teaching a course on the novella, or even just having a conversation about it, is that we can’t take for granted what the term “novella” means. In fact, to venture into the writing of our own novellas, we have to, in a sense, define what is at stake. What is it about our subject, or our relation to that subject, our thinking of it, that demands this particular form? I like the idea that the genre is difficult to grasp, that the form itself changes with every new attempt, and that there is no recognizable cannon. For me, right now, today at 4 p.m., I see the novella as a compressed narrative with a singular textual presence, like an extended moment. A gesture, or walk in the city, or question held for a special duration, long enough for micro-happenings to occur along a string of thinking but not so long that any of these events separate and demand their own space of story. Here is a list of novellas, starting with convention and moving more and more outward to what I like to call the “Book Project”:

Death in Venice, by Thomas Mann

The Bench of Desolation, by Henry James

Dreams and Stones, by Magdalena Tulli

Pamela: A Novel, by Pamela Lu

In Watermelon Sugar, by Richard Brautigan

Company, by Samuel Beckett

Destroy, She Said, by Marguerite Duras

Slut of the Normandy Coast, by Marguerite Duras

A Book, Nicole Brossard

The Trip to Bordeaux, Ludwig Harig

Renee Gladman is the author of Arlem, Not Right Now, Juice, The Activist, A Picture Feeling, and of a work in-press, Newcomer Can’t Swim. Since 2004, she has been the editor and publisher of Leon Works, a perfect bound series of books for experimental prose. She was previously the editor of the Leroy chapbook series, publishing innovative poetry and prose by emerging writers.

Molly Gaudry’s Top Ten Novellas

Here’s my list, without commentary—I’m just not sure what I can say about these; I guess I feel the list is stronger as a list, without my bungling it by attempting to discuss it.

The Baron in the Trees, by Italo Calvino

Haroun and the Sea of Stories, by Salman Rushdie

Leaf Storm, by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

The Decameron, by Giovanni Boccaccio

The Passion, by Jeanette Winterson

In Watermelon Sugar, by Richard Brautigan

The Grass Harp, by Truman Capote

In the Skin of a Lion, by Michael Ondaatje

Nip the Buds, Shoot the Kids, by Kenzaburo Oe

The Old Man and the Sea, by Ernest Hemingway

Molly Gaudry edits Willows Wept Review and Willows Wept Press, co-edits Twelve Stories, and is an associate editor for Keyhole Magazine. Scantily Clad Press published her first e-chapbook of poems, Bloody Floral Sandals, and Publishing Genius Press will publish the first chapter, “Problems of Depiction,” of Mourning Land: A Biomythography as part of its This PDF Chapbook series. Find her HERE.

Timothy Gager’s 10 Favorite Novellas

Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad

Goodbye, Columbus, by Phillip Roth

Siddhartha, by Herman Hesse

The Loneliness of a Long Distance Runner, by Allan Sillitoe

Death in Venice, by Thomas Mann

The Metamorphosis, by Franz Kafka

Apt Pupil, by Stephen King

The Body, by Stephen King

Flight to Forever, by Ray Bradbury

The Ballad of the Sad Café, by Carson McCuller

Timothy Gager has had over 150 works of fiction and poetry published since 2007 and of which four have been nominated for the Pushcart Prize. Find him HERE.

Brian Evenson’s Ten Favorite Novellas

I’ve listed these alphabetically rather than any particular order, largely because I found, once I started getting down to the hard task of ranking my ten favorites, I just couldn’t quite decide. They’re all good—as are the few dozen I winnowed out to get to this list of ten (or rather this one goes to eleven, since I couldn’t quite trim it to ten)—and different ones seem better at particular moments and for particular moods….

Concrete, by Thomas Bernhard
This story about Rudolph, a middle-aged failed musicologist, his relation to his sister, and his obsession with a German widow he met in Palma, is the best of Bernhard’s novellas (with the possible exception of Watten, which I’m not recommending here since I wrote the introduction to the Bernhard book containing it). It’s obsessive, funny, and maddening; Bernhard’s voice gets lodged in your head and stays there for days.

By Night in Chile, by Roberto Bolaño
I hesitated between this sober nearly non-paragraphed novella, which is a confessional rant by a priest on his deathbed about Chilean politics, and his other, also brilliant novella, Distant Star. All of Bolaño’s books have been eclipsed by 2666 (which I think is one of the great books of our time), but this one still is very much worth the read.

Who Was Changed and Who Was Dead, by Barbara Comyns
Comyns is better known for her The Vet’s Daughter, but this novella should be read for its title alone. It’s a pastoral tale except for the fact that it injects a flood and ergot poisoning into its bucolic setting. It strikes me as the best and most original of Comyns books (all of which are worth the time).

Heart of Darkness, by Joseph Conrad
Conrad is an amazing writer—dense but incredibly precise—and here he’s beautifully obsessive as well.

The Log of the S.S. The Mrs. Unguentine, by Stanley Crawford
Dalkey Archive reissued this 1972 novella last year. It’s a wonderfully strange novella which reconfigures the world as a boat and which, despite its strangeness, still manages to say some very piercing things about relationships and marriage.

Great Work of Time, by John Crowley
It took me years to discover Crowley, since he exists in that space between literature and genre that I should have realized much sooner was where many interesting things were happening. A beautifully written and complex story about time, wonderfully done. Crowley’s prose is luminous and, at moments, almost revelatory.

The Pedersen Kid, by William H. Gass
This story strikes what for me seems an ideal balance between the innovative and the plot-driven. It’s haunting and mysterious, and beautifully done.

Ray, by Barry Hannah
Hannah is one of the greatest of contemporary American stylists. Ray is more stripped down than much of his work (due to his editor), but has all of Hannah’s strengths and a lightning-quick pace, leaping from section to section.

63: Dream Palace, by James Purdy
I’ve been re-reading Purdy, who died just a few weeks ago and who has long been one of my favorite underrated writers. 63: Dream Palace, the story of two hapless brothers who come to the big city and are done in by it, is one of my favorite books; it’s the kind of book that sneaks up on you. Nobody does brothers like Purdy does.

Nevermore, by Marie Redonnet
All of Redonnet’s novellas are great, but this one, about detective Willy Bost and his transfer to a border town, is a weird take on the detective genre and is my personal favorite. Jordan Stump’s translation is excellent.

Equal Danger, by Leonardo Sciascia
Sciascia writes mysteries that have a strange philosophical, metaphysical force to them and which are, in the end, unsolvable. This is one of the best. He takes advantage of the meditational qualities of the novella like nobody else.

Brian Evenson is the author of seven books of fiction, most recently The Open Curtain which was a finalist for an Edgar Award and an IHG Award and was among Time Out New York’s top books of 2006. He lives and works in Providence, RI, where he directs Brown University’s Literary Arts Program. Among many other honors, he’s won an O. Henry Prize as well as an NEA fellowship. A novel, Last Days, and a new collection of stories, Fugue State, are forthcoming in 2009. Find him HERE.