So I’ve been reading The New Yorker summer fiction edition and also checking out the authors slated for publication in the Atlantic fiction issue, and am struck by the differences. The New Yorker has an all-star line-up of writers, of which I recognized every one: Vladimir Nabokov, Annie Proulx, Mary Gaitskill. Then also some nonfiction pieces by Edwidge Danticat, George Saunders, Tobias Wolff, and Haruki Murakami. Only three stories, but still, a great issue, also containing one-pager bits filed under “Faith and Belief.”
Now, the Atlantic. Despite the fact that their fiction has been demoted from regular monthly inclusion to a newsstand-only fiction issue, I have to admire what they’re doing with the issue, coming out July 15. They’re not spotlighting the established writers, but offering work from the up-and-comers. Yes, they have Wendell Berry as frontliner, and also Julie Schumacher, but on the whole, many of the authors are “emerging,” as they say.
- Aryn Kyle: Has one novel out, “The God of Animals.” University of Montana MFA.
- Cristina Henriquez: One short story collection out, “Come Together, Fall Apart.” Iowa graduate, Virginia Quarterly Review “Fiction’s New Luminaries.
- Mark Fabiano: Has a blog that hasn’t been updated for nine months, but which contains an excerpt from the forthcoming Atlantic story. As far as I know, no books out yet.
- Jess Row: I really enjoyed his collection “The Train to Lo Wu,” so much so that I interviewed him on this blog. He was also named by Granta a “Best Young American Novelist.”
- Jessica Murphy: Staff writer at the Atlantic (yes, we will give them a pass on one seemingly nepotistic choice). Also Milton Center fellow, a position at Image, a lit mag which I particularly admire.
- Carter Benton: ??? Perhaps a graduate of University of Montana MFA program. I’ve emailed the Atlantic folks to ask more.
So who wins this cagematch? For name recognition, The New Yorker wins out. But I’m more excited to see how the Atlantic has created their issue, and what these relative newcomers have to bring to the table. Bonus: From the advertisement, at least, it seems the Atlantic will have more pages actually devoted to fiction.
6 comments
Hi John! No time, no…well, anything! Been following the site, m’man, and happy to see it thriving. Glad you brought up the New Yorker fiction issue. I’ve been devouring it!
I’d love to discuss the Mary Gaitskill story. It’s kicks so much ass I was shaking my head with admiration as I read it. Thoughts?
Woops…meant to say “long time” not “no time” — either way, you get the point, I guess.
Well, sure, the New Yorker has the name recognition, but that’s really part of the problem, isn’t it? Plus, three stories isn’t really much of a “fiction issue.” Nice job to the Atlantic for opening the pool to newcomers who don’t write about gay cowboys.
I’m so glad you brought this up. I have to side with the Atlantic here for stepping out and giving me something unexpected. It’s a given that those big names—Nabokov, Proulx, Gaitskill—will be a draw for readers, but how about preserving the joy of discovering new voices. It’s so rare these days to open the covers of The New Yorker to find a surprise piece of fiction from an “emerging” writer. I would much rather see one newsstand-only fiction issue that introduces me to someone I may not have heard of otherwise and might grow to love.
Hey Jay, yes the Gaitskill does rock. It has her signature painful/embarrassing sex motif, in her memories of cheating on her husband. In a general sense, though, I sometimes tire of stories about Africa that always depict it as poor and war-torn. There is other sides of Africa.
Will and Shiny: I suppose I want to read both. Both the established authors and the emerging. But in this post, I suppose I was more excited by the possibilities of the Atlantic Monthly issue.
John, you’re absolutely right to point out that in Gaitskill’s story, we have, yet again, a depiction of Africa as this impoverished land that mystifies the white Westerner. I’m with you. What I loved though was the technique, and the emotional wallop it continuously produced. The merging of past and present seamlessly inside a paragraph, the pinpoint exactness of how this woman feels (and makes us feel), it’s just stuff I admire and hope, hope dearly, to try and achieve.
The Nabokov is, well, Nabokov, and the Proulx is a formidable piece (no gay cowboys here…not so far!) but doesn’t pick up the pace till far too late — a point where I’d normally already have put a story away. But I’m stickin’ it out ’cause of the writer.
Let me know about the Atlantic Monthly issue! Have you picked it up yet?
Best,
Jay