In the years after World War II, fewer and fewer people read short stories; there was more interest in novels. But in the last 20 years, the short story has enjoyed increasing popularity. In an essay called "The State of the Short Story," critic Susan Mernit writes, "In 1980 it would have been difficult even to publish a book of short stories. Popular publishing wisdom stated that the short story collection had no commercial value...[Now] it is as though the short story, like Rip Van Winkle, suddenly awoke from a long, refreshing sleep. Publication has boomed, interest is at an all-time high, and short stories are now financially successful."
Contemporary short stories deal with many of the same themes as contemporary novels. Again, as with the novels, I am speaking generally, and there are exceptions.
In most short stories, it is taken for granted that "community" has disappeared. Isolation is a given; all that is left is the outward form of social and public life--and even that is disintegrating. In "Tall Tales From the Mekong Delta," the narrator goes to AA meetings, but they can't hold her interest as well as Lenny, who breaks down her resolution, her routines, even her sense of time. She is surrounded by the paraphernalia of the modern world ("She was wearing pink aerobic pants, a pink T-shirt with KAUAI written in lilac across the chest, and tennis shoes. She had just come from the gym. She was walking across a parking lot bordering a city park in West Hollywood"), but it seems less and less real to her. As she falls apart, it can no longer anchor her.
Another issue addressed by the short story--perhaps even more so than the novel--is the intrusion of mass culture into the characters' private psychological and spiritual lives. The main character of Thom Jones's "A White Horse," for example, is named Ad Magic (he can't remember his real name--only his nickname, which denotes his skill at his job); he smokes Marlboros; he takes Powell's Headache Tablets; he wears a Rolex; he thinks in advertising slogans.
In many short stories, the individual's consciousness and sense of self is under attack. In stories such as Oates' "Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been," and Lombreglia's "Men Under Water," it is inevitable that the main characters will lose themselves. The only suspense lies in how long they can hold out before succumbing to the influences around them.
In earlier short stories, the movement of the story was from darkness to enlightenment; from ignorance to epiphany. The characters (or at least the reader) would come to some life-changing realization which would affirm that there was some meaning to life and the experiences in the story. In contemporary short stories, this is not as uniformly true. If a character does have some sort of realization, he very quickly comes to understand that his new knowledge can't help him, since there is no meaning, and thus, no "right" solution.
I know I've made it sound like short stories are hopeless and gloomy. Some are, certainly, but not all. In fact, most of them, even those which stick to all these themes, give us fascinating and compelling glimpses into the lives and minds of people who aren't all that different from us. Some will be defeated by their circumstances; others will resist heroically. Some will be likable; some won't. Some will learn from their experiences; some will learn, but will still refuse to change; others will be oblivious even to the fact that there was something to learn.
In all, reading a selection of contemporary short stories is like passing an accident on the freeway: you might not always like what you see, but you'll find it hard not to look.