The Makioka Sisters Read-along for March

Here is my edition of The Makioka Sisters by Juni’chiro Tanizaki, lying in wait on my piano with a few origami doves I folded years ago. March does not begin until Sunday, but as some of you are as anxious to begin as I, let us lay out a few thoughts on how to proceed.

First of all, please read at the pace you wish. It is terribly difficult for me to lay down a book, pick up another, and return to the first. When I lose momentum, I lose who the characters are, and I’m apt to ask myself, “Exactly what has happened again?” So, I will probably read it in one go.

However, Tanizaki has nicely laid out The Makioka Sisters in three ‘Books’. I thought it would be helpful to discuss them as we go, and so I will put up a post for each of the three ‘Books’ in March as follows:

March 10: Discussion on Book I

March 17: Discussion on Book II

March 24: Discussion on Book III

March 31: Discussion of The Makioka Sisters overall.

Please feel free to join in any of these discussions, or post thoughts and/or favorite parts on your blogs or social media at any time during the month of March. Let’s use #MakiokaSistersRead2020 on Twitter or Instagram, if you choose to do so. I hope you are ready to join in reading this book which has been thought of as one of the most important Japanese novels to be published.

This is the story of the extinction of the once rich and haughty sisters of a great family through pride and over-refinement, and a re-creation of the sumptuous, pleasure-filled upper-class life of Osaka just before the war. Tsuruko, the oldest sister, uncompromising, unadaptable, worn down by money doubles and a large family, is forced to move to the competitive world of Tokyo where the Makioka name means nothing. The second sister, Sachiko, is a woman of rare kindness and good sense, who tries her best to hold the family together and to preserve the wonderful life they knew as children. The central theme of the book is finding a husband for Yukio, the third sisters. She has all the accomplishments of an elegant Japanese lady, yet she finds the strength to refuse a long line of suitors. Taeko, the youngest sister, is a modern girl who tries to break away from her family and to establish herself in a career. She has series of love affairs, bears a child, and ends up as the wife of a bartender. The Makioka Sisters is at once a work of art and a unique record of a period and a district.

Juni’chiro Tanizaki (1886-1965), widely considered one of Japan’s finest modern writers, was born in the heart of Tokyo. He studied Japanese literature at Tokyo Imperial University. After the earthquake of 1923, he moved to the more cultured Kyoto-Osaka region, the setting for The Makioka Sisters. His most important novels and stories, many reflecting his taste for sexual perversity, his eye for social comedy, and his bitter humor, were written after his move. He received the Imperial Prize for Literature in 1949.

~Tuttle Publishing

An Artist of The Floating World by Kazuo Ishiguro

There was a pause, then my father said: ‘Tell me, Masuji, have you any idea what kind of a world artists inhabit?’

I remained silent, looking at the floor before me,.

’Artists’, my father’s voice continued, ‘live in squalor and poverty. They inhabit a world which gives them every temptation to become weak-willed and depraved.” (p. 46)

Well, that is not a very auspicious beginning for Masuji Ono, the artist of the floating world. From the very beginning he is advised not to become an artist by his father, who is fearful that there is no honor in it.

Honor is one of the many themes that Kazuo Ishiguro explores in An Artist of The Floating World. Masuji’s daughter, Setsuko, advises her father to be careful with his youngest daughter’s marriage negotiations. (Her first prospect was withdrawn on the pretext that their family was somehow inferior to Ono’s.)

‘You must forgive me, Father…I merely wished to see that it is perhaps wise if Father would take certain precautionary steps. To ensure misunderstandings do not arise. After all, Noriko is almost twenty-six now. We cannot afford many more disappointments such as last year’s. (p. 50)

And so, he visits old acquaintances and friends, trying to bridge misunderstandings. Resentments. Bitterness from the past. It is the kind of writing which makes me, at this time of my life, also look back and consider what I have done. What I haven’t done.

I must say I find it hard to understand how any man who values his self-respect would wish for long to avoid responsibility for his past deeds; it may not always be an easy thing, but there is certainly a satisfaction and dignity to be gained in coming to terms with the mistakes one has made in the course of one’s life. In any case, there is surely no great shame in mistakes made in the best of faith. It is surely a thing far more shameful to be unable or unwilling to acknowledge them. (p. 124-5)

Mori-san, who is the the teacher of Masuji and others, devoted his time and wealth to his students, with the goal of changing the “identity of painting as practiced in our city.” They explored the “floating world” – the night-time world of pleasure, entertainment and drink which formed the backdrop for all our paintings.”

Surely the world is made up of more than dancing, singing, drinking, and story-telling, especially in the late forties after World War II. Mori-san confronts Ono one evening, about the paintings his pupil has produced which portray a far more serious theme, such as the one with three prominent politicians, and three poverty-stricken boys who had become soldiers, holding bayoneted rifles.

What is an artist’s responsibility? Is it to portray a world of beauty and light, or one of violent darkness? Ono says,

‘I have learnt many things over these past years. I have learnt much in contemplating the world of pleasure, and recognizing its fragile beauty. But now I feel it is time for me to progress to other things. Sensei, it is my belief that in such troubled times as these, artists must learn to value something more tangible than those pleasurable things that disappear with the morning light. It is not necessary that artists always occupy a decadent and enclosed world. My conscience, Sensei, tells me I cannot remain forever an artist of the floating world. (p. 179-80)

Within the exploration of art, and an artist’s role, we see Masuji Ono with his charming grandson, Ichiro, and his rather bossy, dismissive daughters. We see his colleagues, and his teachers, and the woman who opened a tea-house long before their city became consumed by restaurants. For me, the novel is as much a portrait of Japanese culture as it is a portrayal of art.

I loved it.

About the Author: Kazuo Ishiguro was born in NAgasaki, Japan, in 1954 and moved to Britain in 1960. His first novel, A Pale View of Hills, won the Winifred Holtby Prize of the Royal Society of Literature and has been translated into thirteen languages. An Artist of the Floating World was short-listed for the Booker Prize and won the 19816 Whitbread Book of the Year Award; it has been translated into fourteen languages.

The Dancing Girl of Izu by Yasunari Kawabata (Japanese Literature Challenge 13)

On the road, a traveling companion; and in the world, kindness.

~an old Japanese saying

I first heard of this short story from Masa, our travel guide, when I was visiting the Izu Peninsula in Japan two years ago. He asked if I had ever read it, as it was one of his favorites, but I told him I had not.

Just now I have finished this lovely, gentle story by Yasunari Kawabata. It tells of a twenty year old student from Tokyo as he briefly follows itinerant entertainers who perform for people in tea houses. He has noticed the beauty of the dancing girl and cannot bring himself to leave her, or her family, until he runs out of money to travel and must return to Tokyo.

There is no consummation of their relationship; there is not even an embrace, let alone a kiss. But, her hair brushes his shoulder as they play a game with stones called “Five-in-a-row.” She asks him to read her “The Story of The Lord of Mito.“

I picked up the book, with a certain expectation in my heart. Just as I hoped, the dancing girl scooted over beside me. Once I began reading, she brought her face close enough to touch my shoulder, her expression serious. Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at my forehead without blinking. It seemed to be her habit when she was being read to.

She asks him to take her to a silent movie when they come to town, but when he does, her mother forbids her to go.

They have nothing between them but a strong connection, a great affection particularly on his part. He finds something within the traveling group, within the dancing girl herself, which provides some comfort to his spirit. It isn’t until the end of the story that we find out why.

Twenty years old, I had embarked on this trip to Izu heavy with resentment that my personality had been permanently warped by my orphan’s complex and that I would never be able to overcome a stifling melancholy. So I was inexpressibly grateful to find that I looked like a nice person as the world defines the word.

I read this beautiful, melancholic short story (first published in 1926) for free by downloading it from Internet Archive, which proves to be a wonderful resource for borrowing literature. It is perfect for the Japanese Literature Challenge 13, and the first short story I’ve read for the Deal Me In Challenge.

The Drifting Classroom by Kazuo Umezz (Winner of the Shogakukan Manga Award in 1974)

It is not my typical practice to go straight to the manga section of the library. But, when I sat down with one of Keigo Higashino’s books to read for a bit, I looked up and saw a display of newly arrived YA books. The Drifting Classroom caught my eye, and after I flipped through the beginning pages I checked it out and brought it home.

Within an hour or so I had finished it, completely drawn in by the story and the drawings.

Out of nowhere, an entire school vanishes, leaving nothing but a hole in the ground. While parents mourn and authorities investigate, the students and teachers find themselves not dead but stranded in a terrifying wasteland where they must fight to survive.

VIZ Signature Edition (cover)

The novel has an element which would certainly appeal to the sixth grade student: frustration with one’s parents, longing to be independent but unable yet to do so, searching for strength and even admiration from one’s peers…

And, there is an element of imagination that drew me in as if I was watching a film…

But, one of the most interesting things to me was that I found the presence of morality. The kids take leadership, find courage, band together against evil.

I’m not saying that manga is literature. In fact, I feel a bit strange including it in what I’ve read for the Japanese Literature Challenge 13. But, the facts remain that it is from Japan. There is text. And, I found it utterly fascinating.

I am now awaiting the arrival of Volume 2 at our local library.

The Drifting Classrom was the winner of the Shogakukan Manga Award in 1974.

On The Bus in The Rain, a novella by Haruka Kimura

Across the aisle and diagonally to my right, my exact double is sitting in a one-seater. No… technically, he’s me as a high schooler. Reflexively and vigorously, I rub at my eyes, and it sure isn’t hay-fever season.

While on the bus in the pouring rain, our narrator notices his seventeen year old self sitting to his right. Should he get up and tell his younger self that everything will be all right, at least until he reaches the age of twenty-seven? And, wouldn’t he like to know his future self at the age of thirty-seven?

This novella is an introspective look at who we were, who we are, whom we might become.

I know that I constantly examine who I was, and often wish that I could have told my younger self information that I only know now that I am older. But, would I really tell myself what would happen? What I should do? I have learned from making the choices I did, they have formed who I am today.

What would be gained by talking to my future self? Do I want to know the joys, or sorrows, of what will happen in the next ten years? Perhaps it is best to get off the bus without saying a word, to face each year with fresh innocence. Perhaps it is best that we don’t know all that we will choose, or all the events that will make us who we are, in advance.

“On the Bus in the Rain (雨の日のバスで)” won a Kobe Shinbun (newspaper) literary contest in July, 2019. You can read this novella yourself by clicking here.

The Aosawa Murders by Riku Onda (a most excellent beginning to the Japanese Literature Challenge 13)

I can’t help feeling there’s something inexplicable about this crime. I don’t know how to express it precisely, but there’s something incoherent or indefinable about it, something the human mind isn’t equipped to engage with. (p. 63)

How I love an intriguing mystery, a well written, well developed story that has not been manipulated for “twists and turns” but naturally unfolds it’s layers as a flower unfurls its petals. You can trust a Japanese author to do just that, and Riku Onda does it magnificently in her novel, The Aosawa Murders, which won the 59th Mystery Writers of Japan Award for Best Novel.

The story is told from multiple perspectives, beginning with a police interview conducted with Hisako Aoswara which only gives the barest glimpse into her account. Gradually we become aware of a certain crepe myrtle tree, a blue room, and a strange letter left under a vase for a single flower at the scene of the crime. The fact that Hisako is blind only serves to obfuscate her side of the story.

What becomes clear Is that seventeen people have died by drinking poisoned soft drinks or sake at a birthday party for Dr. Aosawa and his family. The drinks were brought and left by a messenger wearing a black hat and a yellow raincoat. Only one person in the family has survived: the beautiful young daughter who is blind, Hisako.

One by one we read the perspectives of the people who can give their account of what has happened. First, is a conversation with Makiko Saiga, the author of the book Forgotten Festival, which gives her side of the story as she was a neighbor Hisako’s age when the murder occurred. Then, we have the point of view of her assistant who points out a few discrepancies in Makiko’s book.There is an excerpt from Forgotten Festival, an interview with the housekeeper’s daughter, and the detective’s thoughts himself. From these testimonies, and several others, the truth is gradually revealed.

But, what is truth? How can any of us know what another’s experience has been? Consider this quote from the author’s assistant:

I hope you understand that truth is nothing more than one view of a subject seen from a particular perspective. (p. 59)

It was fascinating to read each account, to gain an understanding of what really happened as each piece was laid in place. It was a puzzle which was solved by seemingly unrelated pieces which fit together perfectly once they were laid down. I was surprised when all was known, but then again, I have never been a child in the blue room with a white crepe myrtle flower in full bloom.

About the author: Ricky Onda, born in. 1964, is the professional name of Nanao Kumagai. She has been writing fiction since 1991 and has published prolifically since. She has won the Yoshikawa Eiji Prize for New Writers, the Japan Booksellers’ Award, the Yamamoto Shugoro Prize and the Naoki Prize. Her work has been adapted for film and television. The Aosawa Murders won the prestigious Mystery Writers of Japan Award for Best Novel. It is Riku Onda’s first crime novel and her first work translated into English.

The Aosawa Murders by Riku Onda will be published in the U.S. by Bitter Lemon Press on February 15, 2020. But, I will send my copy to a participant of the Japanese Literature Challenge, U.S. only please. Simply leave a comment below, and I will draw a winner a week from today.

The winner of The Aosawa Murders is Nadia of A Bookish Way of Life. Thank you to all who commented here.

The Library Book

…if something you learn or observe or imagine can be set down and saved, and if you can see your life reflected in previous lives, and can imagine it reflected in subsequent ones, you can begin to discover order and harmony. You know that you are part of a larger story that has shape and purpose – a tangible, familiar past and a constantly refreshed future. (p. 93)

I remember the incredible freedom my mother gave me as a child, to walk to the YMCA for my swimming lessons, to cycle across town to my Math tutor, and to visit the library on Saturday for a brand new stack of books.

Our town’s library was small and quiet. There was a section for children’s books, and behind the check out desk, there were stairs leading up to shelves of books which were barricaded by bronze chains. Surely something wonderful must be kept so hidden; my friends and I often speculated that was where the ‘dirty books’ were. For adults only.

It is a wonder to me that I liked the library at all. The librarians were impolite to children, impatient with any possibility of us having soiled hands or rearranging their carefully placed books. Fines seemed enormous. Once, I lost my copy of Toby Tyler and The Circus which had inadvertently fallen between my bed and the wall. The fine I incurred was so enormous, and the frustration my mother expressed so great, that I wondered if going to the library was worth it at all.

But, surely it was. The library was a place where books could be had for free, as many as I could carry, for almost as long as I wished. It smelled wonderful, of dusty paper and glue, and I was very proud of my pink cardboard library card and the ability to sign my name which indicated I accepted responsibility for the books I checked out.

Susan Orlean’s book, The Library Book, captures the essence of the library and why it is that such a place can be so beloved across America. Her novel centers around the Central Library of Los Angeles, California, which burned on April 29, 1986 and became the largest library fire In American history. It was thought that a young man named Harry Peak was the person who had set the fire, and while The Library Book examines his implication, it goes far beyond his culpability.

We are introduced to a myriad of librarians and information about libraries that I never knew about. For example:

  • World War II destroyed more books and libraries than any event in human history. (p. 98)
  • Investigators now believe that the majority of library fires are deliberately set. (p. 106)
  • The estimated cost of replacing the 400,000 lost books (in the fire) was over $14 million.

But, more interesting to me than learning about fires and library costs and workers, is the place that libraries hold in our society. Consider this lovely quote:

The publicness of the public library is an increasingly rare commodity. It becomes harder all the time to think of places that welcome everyone and don’t charge any money for that warm embrace. (p. 67)

Indeed, Orlean has shown how the Central Library in Los Angeles does far more than check out books or answer questions. It has become a safe place for homeless, for drug addicts, for lonely, outcast people.

Every problem society has, the library has, too, because the boundary between society and the library is porous; nothing good is kept out of the library, and nothing bad. Often, at the library, society’s problems are magnified…But a library can’t be the institution we hope for it to be unless it is open to everyone. (p. 244-5)

I will never look at a public library in quite the same way after reading this book.

The Starless Sea by Erin Morgenstern. (Frankly, I’m not sure I entirely get it.)

It’s a litmus test: If you believe enough to try to open a painted door you’re more likely to believe in wherever it leads. (p. 154)

I loved The Night Circus, and I loved The Starless Sea. Erin Morgenstern creates worlds within worlds, multi-layered and multi-faceted, such that I don’t expect to have everything tie completely together until the bitter end.

Maybe that’s the problem. I should read as Murakami has said, “Wide open to possibilities.”

I am open, I am sure about that. I embrace the doors both painted in trompe l’oiel and free standing. I adore keys hanging from ribbons in the collector’s garden, and other ribbons (entwined around bodies) with stories written on them. I admire a home filled with books, and wine bottles, and teacups, and air smelling like smoke and honey. I have folded myriads of paper stars, well aware of their magical qualities, and I’m thrilled about the adventure of visiting the Harbor by the Starless Sea, or taking a boat through blue confetti.

Her novel is an imaginative dream.

But, between the dollhouse, and the Harbor, and the burning buildings, a sea made of golden honey, and the way that Fate and Time fell in love, I’m a little bewildered.

I only know that Zachary Ezra Rawlins, the son of a fortune-teller, found Sweet Sorrows in the university library (by fate?) and thus set out on a search to find out more about himself. (In that sense, The Starless Sea can be universal: don’t we all long to know more about ourselves, such as what the past has meant and what the future will bring? These things are not for us to know, necessarily, but I wonder if that’s not a large reason why I keep such in-depth Traveler’s Notebooks.)

In the course of his quest he comes across many characters beginning with Mirabel, dressed as Max from Where The Wild Things Are, at a ball. He meets Dorian, with whom he falls in love. And, he is missing from the ‘real world’ for days as he searches behind doors (regretting the red painted one he never opened as a child), drinks unknown liquids labeled with directions to partake, and throws six dice which all land on Hearts.

There are references to Alice in Wonderland, of course, and many other beloved novels. I kept track of most of them as I read, finding: The Catcher in The Rye; The Shadow of The Wind; The Long Goodbye; Playback; The Big Sleep; The Age of Fable, or Beauties of Mythology; This Side of Paradise; The Princess Bride; The Shining; King Lear, a Wrinkle in Time; The Secret History.

I will be sailing The Starless Sea for a long time in my mind, settling on this dialogue as I ponder an oft repeated phrase within this novel:

“To Seeking,” the Star Merchant said as their wine was refilled.

”To Finding,” came the traditional response. (p. 114)

(Find a wonderful review from Jeanne at Necromancy Never Pays here.)

Books Read in 2019

~January~

  1. They Were Counted by Miklós Bánffy (translated from the Hungarian by Patrick Thursfield and Katalin Bánffy-Jelen)
  2. Birthday Girl by Haruki Murakami (translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin, for JLC12)
  3. Still Is The Land by Beryl Markham
  4. The Master Key by Masako Togawa (translated from the Japanese by Simon Grove, for JLC12)

~February~

  1. The Traveling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa (translated from the Japanese by Philip Gabriel, for JLC12)
  2. Killers of the Flower Moon by David Grann (for Book Club)
  3. The Pillow Book by Sei Shōnagon (translated from the Japanese by Meredith McKinney, for JLC12)
  4. The Reckoning by John Grisham
  5. Desire by Haruki Murakami (translated from the Japanese by Jay Rubin, Ted Goossen, and Philip Gabriel, for JLC12)
  6. Star by Yukio Mishima (translated from the Japanese by Sam Bett, for JLC12)
  7. The Emissary (Last Children of Tokyo in the UK) by Yoko Tawada

~March~

  1. Then She Was Gone by Lisa Jewell
  2. We & Me by Saskia de Coster (translated from the Dutch by Nancy Forest-Flier) for Boekenweek
  3. Craving by Esther Gerritsen (translated from the Dutch by Michele Hutchison) for Boekenweek
  4. You Have Me to Love by Jaap Robben (translated from the Dutch by David Doherty) for Boekenweek
  5. The Shape of The Ruins by Juan Gabriel Vasquez (translated from the Spanish by Anne McLean, Man Booker International Prize 2019 short list)
  6. The Four Soldiers by Hubert Mingarelli (translated from the French by Sam Taylor, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  7. A Mouthful of Birds by Samanta Schweblin (translated from the Spanish by Megan McDowell, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  8. The Pine Islands by Marion Poschmann (translated from the German by Jen Calleja, Man Booker International Prize, 2019 short list)
  9. Jokes for the Gunman by Mazan Maarouf (translated from the Arabic by Jonathan Wright, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  10. At Dusk by Hwang Sok-yong (translated from the Korean by Sora Kim-Russell, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  11. The Years by Annie Ernaux (translated from the French by Alison Strayer, Man Booker International Prize 2019 short list)
  12. The Death of Murat Idrissi by Tommy Wieringa (translated from the Dutch by Sam Garrett, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  13. Celestial Bodies by Jokha Alharthi (translated from the Arabic by Marilyn Booth, Man Booker International Prize 2019 short list)

~April~

  1. The Faculty of Dreams by Sara Stridsberg (translated from the Swedish by Deborah Bragan-Turner, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  2. Drive Your Plow Over The Bones of The Dead by Olga Tokarczuk (translated from the Polish by Antonia Lloyd-Jones, Man Booker International Prize 2019 short list)
  3. The Remainder by Alia Trabucco Zeran (translated from the Spanish by Sophie Hughes, Man Booker International Prize 2019 short list)
  4. Love in The New Millennium by Can Xue (translated from the Chinese by Annelise Finegan Wasmoen, Man Booker International Prize 2019 long list)
  5. Love In The Haystacks by D. H. Lawrence
  6. The Ladybird by D. H. Lawrence
  7. Territory of Light by Yuko Tsushima (translated from the Japanese by Geraldine Harcourt)
  8. What’s Mine is Mine by George MacDonald (Wheaton College)
  9. The Third Victim by Philip Margolin
  10. Have Dog, Will Travel by Stephen Kuusisto (for Book Club)
  11. If Cats Disappeared From The World by Genki Kawamura (translated from the Japanese by Eric Selland)
  12. Hotel by Arthur Hailey (1965 Club)

~May~

  1. Hum If You Don’t Know The Words by Bianca Marais (for Book Club)
  2. My Cousin Rachel by Daphne DuMaurier (for Daphne DuMaurier Week)
  3. Jamaica Inn by Daphne DuMaurier (for Daphne DuMaurier Week)
  4. Frenchman’s Creek by Daphne DuMaurier (for Daphne DuMaurier Week)
  5. Things That Matter by Charles Krauthammer (for Book Club)

~July~

  1. The Linden Tree by César Aira (for Spanish Lit Month)
  2. The Priory of the Orange Tree by Samantha Shannon (abandoned 300 pages in)
  3. At The Back of The North Wind by George MacDonald
  4. The Accidental Tourist by Anne Tyler (reread)
  5. One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (for Spanish Lit Month)

~August~

  1. Sons of Chaos by Chris Jaymes, a graphic novel illustrated by Ale Aragon
  2. This Poison Will Remain by Fred Vargas (for Women In Translation Month)
  3. Luke (from the New Testament)

~September~

  1. The Chain by Adrian McKinty (R.I.P. XIV)
  2. The Whisperer by Karin Fossum (translated from the Norwegian by Kari Dickson) (R.I.P. XIV)
  3. The Cold Dish by Craig Johnson (R.I.P. XIV)
  4. Death Among Company by Craig Johnson (R.I.P. XIV)

~October~

  1. The Institute by Stephen King (R.I.P. XIV)
  2. The Virgin and the Gipsy by D. H. Lawrence (1930 Club)

~November~

  1. Beneath A Scarlet Sky by Mark T. Sullivan
  2. Into Bones Like Oil by Kaaron Warren
  3. The Family Upstairs by Lisa Jewell

~December~

  • The Disappearing Earth by Julia Phillips
  • The Factory by Hiroko Oyamada (translated from the Japanese by David Boyd)
  • The Eighth Life by Nino Haratischvili

The Deal Me In Full Moon Fever Version

First of all, I love Jay’s penchant for short stories. He has encouraged me to pick up a genre I rarely do, and it has been a rich reading experience in years past to partake in the Deal Me In Challenge.

This year, I noticed a variation on the theme. There is an option for reading one short story a month called the Full Moon Fever Version in which the reader chooses to read one short story a month.

I have a great passion for Raymond Carver, and after watching The Twilight Zone Marathon on Sy-Fy over New Year’s Eve, I am especially eager to read from the collection of short stories by Richard Matheson (who wrote sixteen Twilight Zone episodes including “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet“).

So, choosing the suite of Hearts, I plan to read the following short stories in 2020:

❤️A “Counterfeit Bills“ by Richard Matheson

❤️K “Button, Button“ by Richard Matheson

❤️Q “Dress of White Silk“ by Richard Matheson

❤️J “Haircut“ by Richard Matheson

❤️10 “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet“ by Richard Matheson

❤️9 “Chef’s House” by Raymond Carver

❤️8 “A Small Good Thing” by Raymond Carver

❤️7 “The Train” by Raymond Carver

❤️6 “Cathedral” by Raymond Carver

❤️5 “Bernice Bobs Her Hair” by F. Scott Fitzgerald

❤️4 “The Rich Boy” by F. Scott Fitzgerald

❤️3 “Last Kiss” by F. Scott Fitzgerald

❤️2 “The Captured Shadow” by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have simplified the list to include just three authors, but you know I will sneak in some stories by Haruki Murakami. “Birthday Girl” still haunts me from last January…and you? Will you be reading any short stories in 2020?