Review of The White Road and other stories by Tania Hershman

A collection of short stories is a tricky thing. The reader needs to get a sense of the writer’s unique voice and residual personality and style but without the stories running into sameness. In The White Road and other stories Tania Hershman accomplishes this masterfully. The collection is inspired by articles from science magazines but Tania, a former science journalist, creates her own utterly original and often beautifully surreal interpretations of the science prompt.  From the striking title story to the magically unusual Rainstiffiness, each story has something unexpected and weirdly wonderful.

One of Hershman’s many fortes is her characterization. There are a range of diverse and memorable characters who linger in the imagination long after the book is read. Two of my favourites were the title characters in Evie and the Arfids and The Incredible Exploding Victor.

For me, as both reader and writer, flash fiction done well has – more than other types of fiction – the greatest potential for joy. To tell a story that is complete and which moves in a few words is a great skill on the part of the writer and for the reader is enthralling. In this collection, some of whose pieces are very short indeed, Tania Hershman demonstrates that skill to a high degree. Each story has its own internal rightness but the collection as a whole has a wonderful breadth and variety. Every story feels like a gift, like spun sugar or the amazing confectionary creations of ‘Self-Raising’ with its extraordinary climax, Hershman similarly makes fabulous things out of ideas and words, always asking ‘what if?’.  As a reader I read in open-mouthed awe and joy, as a writer I writhed with envy. This is a must read collection.

The White Road and Other Stories by Tania Hershman is published by Salt Publishing.

When does the story end?

Before proceeding with some musings on short story creation I would like to firstly mention an arena where I hope the story will never end. I refer here to the wonderful and brave Salt Publishing who this year celebrate ten years of innovative publishing, introducing new talent and being a particular champion of short story and poetry collections. You may be aware of their recession response Just One Book campaign. Despite the quality of their publications they need help and patronage to stay afloat and appeal for us all to purchase just one of their fine books.  My favourite recommendations would be

Too Many Magpies by Elizabeth Baines

The White Road and Other Stories by Tania Hershman

but please browse their fine catalogue and choose your favourites.

So moving on to today’s topic, I’m concentrating here in particular on short stories and how we assess the natural length and scope of a story. K. M. Weiland has focussed on our difficulty in letting go of the process. Much of what she says rings true, particularly with regard to novels but for me, a short story is a more instinctual form.  A great short story has a just rightness, a completeness in itself, regardless of length. But what length? And where do you include backstory and subplots?

These questions have come to me in particular since engaging in the weekly #fridayflash process whereby a group of twitter writers create an up to 1000 word story each week. I have found it to be an absolute joy. The length is just enough to place a few people in a significant moment and for me, it is just short enough to imbue great concentrated emotion and meaning into that episode without the distraction of subplot or backstory. However as an avid reader of stories, I have seen how backstory, adjunct character development and several episodes can develop intrigue and depth in a story. And short stories of course can be anything from six word flashes to novella length.

Usually we start with the story that needs to be told and the story should thus determine the length. However having written the 1000 word stories I was aware that I could have perhaps pulled out threads, given more background, added another episode. But that would have changed the quality (as in the feeling) of the piece. (Although I have written many longer pieces and included extra elements as they seemed ‘right’). Just as poetry suggests, elicits, hints, the very short, short story form has to indicate but never spell out, to make layers out of words using form, juxtaposition, sound and connotation. It is perhaps a different animal from the longer story. But we work from historical distinctions. Flash fiction is emerging as a new entity but perhaps there is room for further differentiation. Personally I love the spare, instinctive, almost primeval feeling of the shorter pieces. So as with music and art, the form itself is an integral part of the experience. The question of story length might really be a question of which instrument we play best and in what context, does it suit us to be the saxophone or oboe player of the soul, is it a minuet or a magnus opera? It comes down to the ‘way we tell ’em’ and the endless, relatively unchartered possibilities of fiction.

Is is all about instinct, experience and preference for a particular form? Or are there hard rules you follow? What do you think?

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