I've read pretty much every story in Mavis Gallant's collection, "Paris Stories," despite the instructions in her afterward: "Stories are not chapters of novels. They should not be read one after another, as if they were meant to follow along. Read one. Shut the book. Read something else. Come back later. Stories can wait." I would have followed her advice (not because I didn't like the stories - but because that's how I normally read story collections) except I went on a trip to Austin and I forgot to bring a second book.
Anyway, I'd never read or even heard of Mavis Gallant before, but I really enjoyed her writing. She writes serious work but there's always a hint of the farcical lingering there, especially in the multiple stories about the cantakerous old writer named Grippes. She does a lot of introspective and eloquent exposition, which sometimes I dislike, but in her case it's the kind of focus on themes that pleases me. In my literature class I didn't have much to say about her writing (which - trust me - is unusual for me) and I'm not sure why that is. But for some reason, even though I enjoyed her work, it didn't really move me to speak for or against or about it.
