Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules
A must-have for the fans of the #1 bestselling author of Me Talk Pretty One Day, David Sedaris, a collection of his favorite short fiction from Flannery O'Connor to Tobias Wolff.
A bestseller in its own right and a must-have for fans of the #1 bestselling author David Sedaris, a collection of his favorite short fiction.
David Sedaris is an exceptional reader. Alone in his apartment, he reads stories aloud to the point he has them memorized. Sometimes he fantasizes that he wrote them. Sometimes, when they’re his very favorite stories, he’ll fantasize about reading them in front of an audience and taking credit for them. The audience in these fantasies always loves him and gives him the respect he deserves.
David Sedaris didn’t write the stories in Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules . But he did read them. And he liked them enough to hand pick them for this collection of short fiction. Featuring such notable writers as Lorrie Moore, Alice Munro, Joyce Carol Oates, Jean Thompson, and Tobias Wolff, Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules includes some of the most influential and talented short story writers, contemporary and classic.
Perfect for fans who suffer from Sedaris fever, Children Playing Before a Statue of Hercules will tide them over and provide relief.
dishes he finished the article in Cosmopolitan that he had begun reading in the mall. The article was the second of two parts, and it mentioned that when leaving after making love for the first time, one should always arrange the next meeting. Gopal had not done this, and he phoned Mrs. Shaw. He used the phone in the kitchen, and as he waited for her to pick up, he wondered whether he should introduce himself or assume that she would recognize his voice. “Hi, Helen,” he blurted out as soon as
Mrs. Das. In addition to glancing at her face he glanced at the strawberry between her breasts, and the golden-brown hollow in her throat. He decided to tell Mrs. Das about another patient, and another: the young woman who had complained of a sensation of raindrops in her spine, the gentleman whose birthmark had begun to sprout hairs. Mrs. Das listened attentively, stroking her hair with a small plastic brush that resembled an oval bed of nails, asking more questions, for yet another example. The
during her lunch hour, she thought. And tonight, she ought to drop a note to Edith in Ithaca, telling her how she had enjoyed her stay, and inviting her again when she could make it. And a note to Arthur, of course, about the new baby. Maybe Edith and Arthur both could stay with her awhile, if they went back to Cleveland together. She’d be able to make them comfortable somehow. The Best of Betty Jincy Willett Dear Betty: I’m only forty-two years old and already going through the
way…you mean “nauseated,” dear. Dear Betty: You want to know what burns me up? Inconsiderate bozos who jam up the speedy checkout line with grocery carts loaded to the brim, and moronic bimbos who let their children rip open bags of candy and cereal boxes and knock over jelly jars, and don’t even have the decency to tell the stockboy to clean up their disgusting mess. I just got back from two hours at the grocery store and my new pumps are covered with mincemeat. What do you think of these
that looks like danger, they get away faster than you can blink. Watch.” And he sank one hand into the water to make a grab for the fish named Edith, but she evaded him and fled. “See that?” he asked. “How’s that for speed? Know something? I bet you could shoot an arrow in there, and they’d get away in time. Wait.” To prove his point he ran to his mother’s apartment and came back with the handsome bow and arrow he had made at summer camp (going to camp every summer was another admirable thing