The Unrest-Cure and Other Stories by Saki

When I made the goal at the beginning of the year to "read a short stories collection," I had no idea what kind of headache I was signing up for. I didn't have a particular collection in mind, but I figured there must be a list out there somewhere of "popular short stories collections everyone must read to be a real reader." I would just pick one off the list, read it, and be done with it.

Eleven months later, and after trying at least a half dozen collections, I can tell you, it wasn't as simple as that. I tried Amy Bloom, Anthony Doerr, Alice Munroe, and Jhumpa Lahiri, but abandoned all of them after just a few pages because of their common thread of infidelity. Seriously, I was not interested in reading a collection of a dozen stories about infidelity, no matter how well-written or thought-provoking they were .

I began to wonder if it was possible to write a short story without infidelity or if that was a qualification for getting published. I had two other options: a thick volume of Jack London stories that would have taken me the rest of the year to finish or Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling (which I read to the boys over the summer). The obvious choice should have been to just count Just So Stories since I could check it off right then and there and move on with my life.

But this is where you're going to see my Upholder Tendency coming through loud and clear. When I read Just So Stories to the boys, I intended to use it to fulfill my "read a children's classic" goal. In fact, I never gave a thought to it being a collection of short stories (even though, of course, that's exactly what it is). Additionally, when I made the goal to read a short stories collections, my intent was to get a feel for what the genre was like and read a popular, well-known collection. Even though I was the one making the rules, I didn't want to fall back on Just So Stories because it was the "easy" choice.

But after trying five other collections, I was about to do just that. I was definitely getting a feel for the genre, and I was beginning to think I was not cut out for short stories.

And then, someone, somewhere referenced Saki and The Unrest-Cure. I wish I could remember how I found out about it because I would love to personally thank whoever it was. I loved these stories, and, as it turned out, they were exactly what I was looking for all along.

Saki is the pen name of Hector Hugh Munro. He was born in 1870 and lived for most of his life in England before being killed during WWI. I'd never heard of Saki before picking up this book, but he was actually somewhat of an authority on the short story. Without meaning to, really just out of desperation, I picked up the kind of collection I had been wanting.

This particular collection is comprised of stories from five previously published collections. I liked getting a broad view of Saki's style. If I had to use three words to describe him, witty, sardonic, and morbid would all come to mind. I am not all that familiar with British humor, but several of Mike's family members are, and I have a feeling they would love these stories (if they haven't already discovered them, which they probably have). I'm guessing he would seem similar to P.G. Wodehouse, although that's an author I have yet to read.

Anyway, these stories were short, funny, and almost always involved some unexpected twist at the end.

For example, one of my favorite stories (and I guess one of his most popular ones) was "The Open Window." In it, Mr. Framton Nuttel has come to call on Mrs. Sappleton. He has just moved into the neighborhood and is seeking to become acquainted with his neighbors. Mrs. Sappleton's niece answers the door and entertains him while they are waiting. She confides to Mr. Nuttel that the drawing room window is open because her aunt is waiting for her husband to come home . . . he disappeared three years ago. She paints this sad and vivid and actually quite horrifying picture of her slightly insane aunt. Mr. Nuttel feels quite sorry about the whole situation, but his sympathy turns to terror when the aunt enters the drawing room and says, "Here they are at last! Just in time for tea." Mr. Nuttel can see three figures walking towards the open window, but he doesn't stick around to meet them. He bolts out the door, and the niece accounts for his strange behavior by coming up with an elaborate tale to match the one she just told him. The story ends, "Romance at short notice was her specialty."

All of them had that same slightly irreverent, sarcastic quality, and I really loved them. Here are a few other favorite lines:

• This from Egbert to his wife, Lady Anne, whom he's trying to smooth over a quarrel with: "My remark at lunch had a purely academic application," he announced; "you seem to put an unnecessarily personal significance to it."
• "Susan Mebberley was a charming woman, but she was also an aunt."
• "My aunt never lunches," said Clovis; "she belongs to the National Anti-Luncheon League, which is doing quite a lot of good work in a quiet, unobtrusive way. A subscription of half a crown per quarter entitles you to go without ninety-two luncheons."
• "The aunt of Mrs. Greyes declared afterwards that she found herself subconsciously repeating 'The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold' under her breath, and she was generally believed."

I will warn you that he doesn't mind killing off characters without the least warning or provocation. I was seriously afraid he was going to do just that in "The Penance," but thankfully, he didn't. That was one story I don't think I could have handled it in.

With 2016 just around the corner, I've been thinking about the reading goals I want to make for the year. "Read a short stories collection" will not be making the cut this time. However, if that's going to be one of your goals, I can save you a lot of time and trouble and decision: Just read this one. You're welcome.

I'd love to hear your own experiences with short stories in the comments. Did I abandon some of the other collections too quickly? Have you read anything by Saki before?

Just So Stories by Rudyard Kipling

In a brave moment, I reserved a copy of this book at the library. I've been wanting to expose my kids to some classical literature, but I admit, I was a little nervous to dive into this one. I worried that they'd get lost in the unfamiliar vocabulary, that they wouldn't be able to follow the storyline, that they'd beg me not to read it.

But, as is so often the case, they completely surprised me. (And if I'm being completely honest here, they enjoyed it far more than I did.) It's true that there were moments where they lost their focus but never for long enough to lessen their overall enjoyment of the story.

As I contemplated my many choices in classic children's literature, I purposely selected Just So Stories because I felt like the short story format would lend itself well to my young little audience. The stories are set at the beginning of the world. Each one is self-contained and explains how the world and the animals in it came to be "just so." There's a story about how the camel got his hump and another story about how the elephant's nose came to be a long trunk. There's a story about the creation of the alphabet and another one about the armadillo and his armored plates.

There's something rather addicting about a collection of stories. Obviously, it's not the plot itself that makes you keep coming back for more since each story's beginning, middle, and end can be read in one sitting. No, it's the pull of a new story, the unknown, the unveiling of some interesting details. Every time we'd finish one chapter, my kids were impatient to know what the next one was called and what it was going to be about. It was a book that was easy to put down when we came to the end of the story but exciting to pick up again when it was time.

Now, as I alluded at the beginning of this review, my impression of and feelings toward the book were very different from my kids. I must confess that I enjoyed it the most when we got to the end of it. I was so worried about my kids not liking it, but then it was actually me who had such a hard time making it through each chapter.

I blame two things for this response:

First, it was one of those books that is really difficult to read aloud. I was constantly tripping over names like Tegumai and Suleiman-bin-Daoud and Pusat Tasek. When I'm not sure if I'm pronouncing something correctly or not, I feel a little ruffled the entire time (and it didn't help that we're also reading Story of the World aloud right now, which also has a lot of difficult names, so it felt like I wasn't doing any reading aloud where I didn't have to be on my toes the entire time).

And second, it didn't keep me engaged. In between readings, I wouldn't give it a single thought with the consequence that when I came back to it, I couldn't remember a single thing about what we'd last read. This usually wasn't too problematic since I didn't really need to remember details in order to move onto the next story. But when we were reading "The Cat That Walked By Himself," we had to stop in the middle of it, and we didn't come back until the next day. I honestly couldn't remember anything about it. So I started skimming while mentioning little details to my kids: "The Man and his wife tamed the dog and the horse and the cow . . . and the cat made a bargain with the woman . . . three words of praise, and what would happen?" I was rather shocked when Aaron and Max spouted off the terms of the bargain exactly, and I was still trying to remember the most basic details from the story (ironically, "The Cat That Walked By Himself" actually ended up being my favorite story of the bunch).

However, at the same time that I was muddling my way through the difficult names and forgetting important details, there were also phrases that I just loved. Kipling always addresses the reader as "O Best Beloved," which felt super sweet to me . . . like we were his family (he originally wrote the stories for his children).

I also loved the way he used repetition to tell the story. There was almost always a few little repeating phrases throughout each story. For example, in "The Crab That Played With the Sea," Kipling took the reader to the four corners of the earth and told a little bit about how various landmarks came to be. Each time, before he moved on to the next area, he said, "And you can look them out on the map." By the last time, Aaron and Max jumped in and said, "I know what he's going to say next! 'And you can look them out on the map!'" This use of repetition gave even longer or more difficult passages a comfortable feeling of familiarity. 

And it was funny. Rudyard Kipling has a sense of humor, no question. In the story, "How the First Letter was Written," there is a misunderstanding between the cave people and a Stranger. They take him captive and walk back home in order of importance and status: "Behind them [the Woons, Neguses, and Akhoonds--more fun names] was the Tribe in hierarchical order, from owners of four caves (one for each season), a private reindeer run, and two salmon leaps, to feudal and prognathous Villeins, semi-entitles to half a bearskin of winter night, seven yards from the fire, and adscript serfs, holding the reversion of a scraped marrowbone under heriot (aren't those beautiful words, Best Beloved?)." So that was funny to me, but I'm sure it went right over my kids' heads--one of those tuning out moments.

But there was other humor that we all could enjoy together. In "The Cat That Walked By Himself," Kipling perfectly captured the arrogant and indifferent attitude of the cat. We all laughed as the cat outsmarted the Woman and weaseled his way into their home while still maintaining his independence and freedom.

So there were some good moments for me. And I don't think any of us will look back on the story with dislike. But I will say that later that evening, we started Pippi Longstocking, and I heaved a quiet sigh of contentment. Reading aloud had finally been restored to an activity of leisure and relaxation.