The Master and Margarita

I had a number of great suggestions for the novella series, so I'm going to take a break and read some of them before I continue with that.  In the meantime, I want to talk about The Master and Margarita by Mikhail Bulgakov.  This novel is one of those fascinating pieces of Russian literature that snuck out during Stalin's reign.  At this time in the Soviet Union, all of the arts were highly censored, which caused many writers a lot of trouble.  For example, Bulgakov's esteemed contemporaries, Anna Akhmatovah and Alexander Solzhenitsyn, were respectively exiled and sent to labor camp.  Yet although Bulgakov was aware of the risk and even burned an early version of the story, he nevertheless decided to write this critical satire of the USSR, which was then published after his death.

I'll try to summarize the story as best I can, but it is by nature confusing and a bit crazy.  At the start of the novel, Woland, (understood to be Satan), and his crew descend upon Moscow, and they immediately stir up trouble.  After breaking into the story with an eerily accurate death prediction, this unholy Trinity of sorts takes over the dead man's apartment in order to camp out in Moscow for a while and wreak havoc on the city.  Their magical pranks send various people to the brink of insanity as well as to their deaths.  The title characters - the Master and Margarita - enter the story as lovers, but Margarita sells her soul to the devil in exchange for unbridled emotion, which she expresses by flying across the city stark naked on a broomstick of sorts.  She also plays hostess for a gathering of death people and works at Woland's side for a while.  Yet at the same time, a significant part of the story is the Master's novel about Pontius Pilot and Jesus, which he writes from a cynical and atheist perspective.  We read the story with Margarita late in the novel, and its themes coincide directly with that of the larger story which is concurrently taking place.

Whew, I warned you it was confusing! When I first began this novel, I have to admit that I was a little turned off by the magical realism.  In general, I am much more drawn to stark realism than fantasy in literature.  Early on, we learn that the main characters are a magician, a hitman, a witch, and a walking, talking black cat.  As Margarita flew naked across the sky and Behemoth, (the cat), hopped on the train like an ordinary man, I was a little skeptical.  I knew that I loved 19th century Russian literature, but this was quite a different flavor and I was a bit uncertain.  Yet by the end of the novel, I was completely sold and can say that I love this book.

I've discovered that magical realism is an extraordinary technique when used by the right hands.  The absurdity of the story is exaggerated so greatly that we are of course to agree it is absurd!  We must remember that this was written during Stalin's reign, a time in which people were being arrested and exiled for hardly predictable reasons.  Yet there is enough in here to offend a whole host of different people!  Bulgakov is hinting that Stalin should be viewed like the devil who purposefully mucks up Moscow in his story.  Woland sweeps through Moscow with a fair degree of madness, and one can hardly guess what will happen next.  Because of this extraordinary stage Bulgakov creates, he can make just about anything happen within the story.  One of the most fascinating chapters of the whole book is that of Satan's Ball, in which a number of famous dead people arrive and mingle as though it were perfectly natural.  Another memorable moment comes when Behemoth reproduces the Master's destroyed novel, saying quite simply and famously, "Manuscripts don't burn."  Having virtually abandoned all literary limits, Bulgakov creatively produces a bizarre text that is nevertheless full of meaning, layers, and wisdom.

The satire of this work is intricately crafted and the literary references are abundant.  The primary allusion is to Goethe's Faust, the story of a man who sold his soul to the devil.  The heroine is Gretchen, (aka Margarita), who is seduced by Faust to the "dark side" but ultimately redeemed.  Bulgakov's heroine of the same name likewise succumbs to the devil but is somewhat redeemed by her innate goodness.  But the allusions don't stop there.  I can also see bits of Gogol, Dostoevsky, and Tolstoy weaved in the story.  It was well-known that Bulgakov admired Gogol, and their narrative styles are quite similar, though Bulgakov brings in the magical realism.  And the atheist and intellectual character Ivan who appears at the beginning of The Master and Margarita seems to me to be a direct connection to Ivan Karamzov, from Dostoevsky's final masterpiece.  Moreover, I cannot read the Pontius Pilot  and Jesus story in Master without connecting it to the most famous chapter of The Brothers Karamazov, "The Grand Inquisitor."  Bulgakov even slips in a nod to Anna Karenina, with a comment about the jumbled "Oblonsky household."

It is so interesting to me that Bulgakov fills his work with so many allusions, especially because I know his contemporary, Solzhenitsyn, did as well.  I think that it must have been important to Russians during the reign of the USSR to maintain their sense of nationalism through admiration of the great literature of the past.  I just have a sense that this held particular meaning to them as they struggled in the tension of Stalin's rule.  I also want to note that Bulgakov must have been a great admirer of classical music, because his musical references are numerous.  Some of my favorite composers slip in there as characters, such as Berlioz and Stravinsky.  With allusions to Tchaikovsky, Verdi, and others, I think all that is missing is a somewhat oppressed character named Shostakovich to appear. 

Although I've written a lot, I have hardly scratched the surface of this book.  I feel like this may be the most confusing and disorganized post I've written yet, but I'm not sure how else to discuss it.  I thought about setting up links to my earlier blog posts each time I mentioned an author I've already discussed, just to add to the confusion with my references within his references of references within this post!  I decided to spare you, though.  I hope you were able to follow it for the most part, and I'd love to hear whatever you want to add to it. 

Why Blog About It?

Recently, I've been thinking about what it is that makes me continue to write this blog.  In our world full of facebook, twitter, and blogging, we are often accused of being a culture that is too focused on promoting ourselves.  Some believe that we have lost our sense of privacy and now expose way too many personal details to the worldwide web.  They believe that it is creating a self-centered culture of people who overly value their own thoughts and opinions or place too much weight on them.  Allow me to share a quote from one such critic:

"In today's self-broadcasting culture, where amateurism is celebrated and anyone with an opinion, however ill-informed, can publish a blog, post a video on YouTube, or change an entry on Wikipedia, the distinction between trained expert and uninformed amateur becomes dangerously blurred. When anonymous bloggers and videographers, unconstrained by professional standards or editorial filters, can alter the public debate and manipulate public opinion, truth becomes a commodity to be bought, sold, packaged, and reinvented."*

In many ways, I agree.  I have seen more personal information on the internet that I care to have known.  I sometimes cringe at the things my friends write or post, and I have wrinkled my nose at things celebrities may tweet.  In fact, I resisted creating a blog for a while, presuming that it would seem too self-important or that I would be crazy to believe strangers would actually find my words interesting.  When I started this blog, I had no idea what to expect and no plans.  I realized that the only subject in which I could never run out of things to say is literature.  I had no idea that this would become such an outlet for me.

It has not been too long since I finished college, but I do notice the absence of literature classes.  Even though I am happy with my job, the 9-to-5 lifestyle can get a little monotonous.  Nobody asks me to read anymore, and I certainly do not get very many opportunities to write.  The creative expression and careful analysis that used to be so regular is now largely absent from my life... except for with The Lit Quest.  I love feeling a little pressure to continue to write.  It bothers me when I let too many days go by before I've entered a new post.  Moreover, it also urges me to keep reading.  If I didn't, I would quickly run out of anything to tell you!  And when I do write about something I've read, it is by far the best way for me to actually process it.  It's usually the first time I've really put to words what I thought or uncovered the specific reasons I enjoyed the book.  And when someone recommends a similar book in the comments section, the cycle continues.

I do not write in this blog because I think I have something important to say.  I write because I have a need to write.  There is something inside of me that feels squished and forgotten if I do not have an outlet for creativity and analysis.  The blogging culture is not turning us all into self-promoters, at least not in my experience.  Perhaps I'm biased because I've just connected with you all in the book blogging world, and that's probably the best kind of blogging there is.  :)  Instead, book blogging allows us to carry on this marvelous hobby of reading on a global scale.  These critics of blogging are probably the same ones who think that no one reads anymore and all we do is watch TV.  Well guess what - there are still a ton of us who read and care enough to talk about it.  Although my blog is still quite modest, I have grown to be so appreciative of all 49 of you followers and anyone else who may occasionally pay attention.  I am so happy if any of you are intrigued by a book I mention or have an opinion about my interpretation.  However, even if I somehow lost every follower, I would probably still write.  This blog has been a wonderful outlet for me, and I'm going to try to keep taking advantage of it, even if that makes me a full-blown member of an amateur culture.


*This quote comes from Andrew Keen's book, The Cult of the Amateur.

Mountains Beyond Mountains

Hi all.  I'm taking a break from novellas to talk about a piece of medical literature.  Christina of The Blue Bookcase wrote a list of medical narratives and invited further suggestions to add to the list.  I immediately thought of Mountains Beyond Mountains by Tracy Kidder and felt compelled to share it with everyone.

Mountains Beyond Mountains is the non-fiction account of Dr. Paul Farmer, an incredibly dedicated anthropologist and doctor as well as a remarkably compassionate human being.  A while ago, I participated in a Literary Blog Hop in which we were asked whether non-fiction could be of literary merit.  At the time, I affirmed the question with the example of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood, but this piece by Kidder is another excellent example.  I read it during my freshman year of college in one of those generic classes we were all required to take, but it stood out in my mind as probably the best book of the entire course.  Paul Farmer's life is absolutely noteworthy, and in the hands of Pulitzer-Prize winner Tracy Kidder, this true story is captivating and inspiring.

Farmer is a globe-trotting, catch-all physician who gives esteemed lectures, leads social policy, and still meets with patients one-on-one in remote corners of the world.  Take one look at his bio and you will be baffled by the number of affiliations, awards, and commitments he has.  Kidder explains in his book that Farmer barely leaves time for sleep because he is so active in so many different ways.  His specialty is infectious disease, and he has worked particularly hard to fight against HIV and TB.  He has spent a considerable amount of time in Russia, Peru, and Haiti, and I just read that he is now based in Rwanda, which has been a new initiative since the book was published in 2003.  In addition to these somewhat long-term placements, he regularly travels to a number of different countries and bases his US operations in Boston.  In Boston, he is on the board of Harvard University and Brigham and Women's Hospital.  As a Bostonian myself, I feel proud to have him in the area and am on the lookout for an opportunity to perhaps hear him lecture if that were ever possible.

Despite his impressive credentials, Mountains Beyond Mountains is much more focused on the story of the man and not the highly pedigreed doctor.  With a man like this - one who is so devoted to caring for others that he doesn't seem to ever think of himself - it would be easy to be intimidated or perhaps even turned-off by his super-human persona.  Yet in the book, we sense that Farmer is a quiet, humble man who is unaffected by the acclaim he has garnered.  Moreover, I was moved by the feeling that he in no way expects others to live the kind of life he does and has no judgment for those who do not or cannot.  There was one particular passage that struck me in this regard.  His friend Tom White had consistently donated thousands and even millions of dollars to Farmer's endeavors but expressed a sense of failure for not helping people first-hand like Farmer.  But Farmer quickly shot down his concerns and insisted that it was necessary that White continued to help in the way that best suited his gifts and abilities.  Farmer explained that his work would not be possible without White's contribution in this way, and he was doing exactly the right thing.  I think that this is applicable in a lot of ways and illustrates Farmer's genuine spirit.  He doesn't view himself as some kind of superhero, and he has sincere respect and gratefulness for anyone who extends themselves to help as best as they can.  His favorite moments are not the ones in front of an audience but when he is one-on-one with a needy patient. 

Kidder tags along with Farmer for a number of visits and meetings, which gives us an intimate and personal look at this remarkable man.  There are just as many deaths and failures as there are saves and successes, which demonstrates how real the story is.  Farmer's earnest devotion to caring for the poor, together with his genuine humility, is truly inspiring.  For me, this is not your average "feel good" story about someone who made a difference but an intimate look at a man who fights for what has been deeply engraved on his heart.  And I have to praise Kidder for his talent in crafting the story.  He is a wonderful writer, and he allows the story to unfold in an interesting and captivating way.  He takes the time to show us that there is more to uncover than the actions of the doctor, and he gives us a peek at the heart of the man. 

Great Novellas: Night

I cannot think of a better way to follow One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich in my novella series than with Night by Elie Wiesel.  There are a number of striking similarities, as both novellas detail life in a prisoner camp, which the authors each experienced first-hand.  Moreover, both authors also received the Nobel Prize.  However, the differences are significant, as Auschwitz in Night was vastly different than the Siberian labor camps, and it would be a real shame to assume otherwise.

Believe it or not, this is the first time I'm talking about more than one book by the same author.  Up until now, I have carefully tried to offer as much diversity as possible in my blog by introducing a different author in every post.  (Granted, I cheated a little bit by writing about Crime and Punishment and Invisible Man twice each).  The last time I talked about Wiesel, I told you about his play, The Trial of God.  I had a feeling that most people would be more familiar with Night than with this play, so I wanted to offer information about it to anyone who might be interested.  I still recommend the play, as I think it touches on a deep and meaningful dimension of what the Jews may have experienced in their suffering.  It addresses difficult questions and has a really surprising twist at the end.  However, I did not write about the play first because I thought it was "better" than his well-known novella.  Night is absolutely remarkably, riveting, and well-deserving of its acclaim.

It's so hard for me to talk about Night as I usually do in reviews.  The devastating content and the knowledge of the truth behind it makes it difficult for me to break it down into an analytical interpretation.  I am unable to separate my emotions from the text, which is possibly one of the reason it is such a remarkable piece of literature.  Wiesel even had a lot of trouble writing it, unsure if it was a good idea and waiting years before setting pen to paper. I truly believe you can feel his reluctance to write about it because it is so raw and personally emotional.  But when I do look at it more seriously, I am struck by the rhetorical strategy and language of the text.  English is not the original language, but the repetition and poetic nature of the words beautifully conveys the torment within and around the protagonist.  I can only illustrate this by including the most famous passage:

"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of the children, whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.
Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever.
Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never."

Hearing the "Never shall I forget" phrase over and over beats into the readers' minds like a steady drum of irrevocable memory.  He writes other passages similarly, creating this kind of rhythm and flow throughout the novella that sweeps you into the story.  The scene most burned in my memory, even all these years later, is the hanging of a boy in the camp.  I shall never forget that either, as I can still vividly picture the scene of the angelic face and writhing body, even though the image was created solely in my mind.

But perhaps the most powerful aspect of this novella is not the language as much as the sheer, raw honesty of the protagonist.  He admits to his darkest thoughts and deepest moments of weakness.  When his father dies, he cannot escape conveying a deeply suppressed sense of relief for not having to look after another person anymore.  There are frequently moments like this, which shows us just how truly real and human the character is.  This is why there is so much debate about whether this is a memoir or fiction.  The protagonist is not a hero without fault or weakness.  Instead, he is so profoundly real and honest that there is no feel of fiction at all.  I think it's only right for readers to get even the slightest taste of the great mix of emotions a person must have felt in that situation.  It is extremely difficult for us to imagine, even with such a great novella, but it is necessary to know that it had a number of dimensions and lasting effects for anyone who lived through it.

One last thing I wanted to note is that Night is actually part of a trilogy of novellas, following by Dawn and Day.  I didn't learn this until several years had passed since I originally read Night.  Although both of the following novellas focus on life after the Holocaust and not in the midst of it, I actually found them even more depressing than the original.  The characters are absolutely trapped by the horrors they have experienced and are unable to ever really reach a sense of peace.  It's quite painful to read, but it also probably quite realistic.  I have a feeling that Wiesel was voicing the somewhat ignored reality that the horrors of the Holocaust didn't truly end in the 1940s.

Great Novellas: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich

Moving forward in the series, Alexander Solzhenitsyn's One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is one of my favorite novellas ever.  And yes, it is actually a novella this time.  The story quietly follows one plot line with a couple of characters, but it has a profound message and impact by the end.  In fact, it was this novella in particular that contributed to Solzhenitsyn winning the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1970.

As you may have guessed or already known, Solzhenitsyn is another wonderful Russian author.  However, he is the first one from the 20th century I have mentioned so far.  If you are a regular follower of my blog, you probably know that I love Russian literature of the 19th century.  Truly, this was a flourishing period for Russian writing, full of genius authors who brought well-deserved attention to their country and changed the landscape of literature across the world.  Unfortunately, when the Soviet Union came into power in the early 20th century, the government restricted and censored almost all of the creative work among its people. Solzhenitsyn himself was sent to a prisoner labor camp for eight years because of some derogatory comments he made about Stalin in a letter to a friend.  Thus, I am absolutely amazed by the courage and skill he demonstrated by writing this novella just nine years after his release.  I mean, imagine sending this manuscript, which specifically details some of the injustices of the Soviet government, to be published in Russia so soon after living through years of torment for a less offensive letter!  Wow!


With this in mind, I would probably be inclined to like the novella even if it wasn't written well.  But fortunately, I don't have to consider this possibility because One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich is pieced together masterfully.  The tone of the narration is perhaps the most compelling aspect of the story.  The gritty details of life in labor camp is considerably toned down, and the misery of what each person must be feeling is pushed to the background of the story as an undercurrent as you read.  Remarkably, the novella ends on a somewhat optimistic note, brushing past the dehumanizing nature of the situation and focusing on the ways this particular day was better than others.  However, the optimism is deceptive because I sincerely doubt Solzhenitsyn wanted readers to think about the silver lining of life in Soviet labor camps.  Instead, you are flooded with the crushing despair of the situation and the protagonist's need to find anything positive in order to survive it. 

The main character is Shukhov, (aka Ivan Denisovich), who wakes up feeling feverish and miserable from the unrelenting cold of the Siberian winter.  The various leaders within the camp refer to the prisoners by number only, devaluing them in every way possible.  Nevertheless, we continually see little ways Shukhov fights to maintain his dignity to the best of his ability, such as regularly removing his hat when he eats and preventing himself from coveting other prisoners too obviously.  These little details are precisely the kinds of things to notice in a novella.  When we don't have lengthy passages and dramatic descriptions, we see the little details so much more clearly.  We must hold on to the small moments and thoughts of Shukhov as carefully as he holds on to the tiny portion of bread he is served each day.  When you have less, you savor it more.

Significantly, the majority of the fellow prisoners Shukhov describes are faithfully religious and/or kind to one another.  The prisoners of Shukhov's gang view themselves as a unit, and they work together as one body who experiences the trials and successes of each person as affecting the whole group.  We forget that these people have been condemned by the Soviet Union as wrong-doers and enemies of the State.  Instead, we doubt that they could have done anything against another person, and we do learn that Shukhov was wrongfully imprisoned.  The person Solzhenitsyn describes as the most religious in the group is Aloysha, which is also the name of the profoundly religious brother in Dostoevsky's masterpiece, The Brothers Karamazov.  I believe that this is a specific reference to the earlier text, as Solzhenitsyn is subtly paying tribute to the great works of Russian literature from the past and carrying on the tradition despite the danger he faces.

Thinking about this novella now as I write makes me want to read it all over again.  And one of the great things about a novella is the task of reading it is not too daunting.  I hope that you are intrigued and will add this very worthy piece to your reading list.

Great Novellas: The Yellow Wallpaper

Ok, so perhaps it's a little bit of a stretch to label "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins Gilman as a novella, but I think it is nevertheless a good place to start the series.  I recently discovered a neat blog focused on feminist literature, so my mind is currently aimed in that direction.  I have a feeling that many of you have read this story before, (or you at least pretended to while your class in high school or college discussed it).  It's very popular - for good reason - and it seems like a great place to start focusing on a little bit of literature of less length. 

If you aren't familiar with the story, or if you completely forget it, it is about a woman who is so suffocated by the people in her life that she goes a bit nuts.  We get everything from her perspective as one writing in a journal, which is more and more interesting as she becomes increasingly paranoid.  We understand that before she began this journal, she expressed to her husband that she wasn't feeling well but couldn't pinpoint the problem.  We also know that she recently had a baby, and some have interpreted her illness to be post-partum depression.  Regardless of her initial problem, the real problem emerges from the treatment that is prescribed for her.  Her husband decides that the best way for her to get better is to be locked up in a cramped room with strange yellow wallpaper and avoid all activity.  This "avoiding all activity" encompasses everything - thinking, writing, socializing, walking, talking, etc.  So you can imagine why she might go a little crazy after several weeks of this.

Although she doesn't often directly criticize the men in her life, I think all readers are happy to do it for her when we hear about the way they treat her.  Her husband is the primary male figure, and we learn that he dismisses her thoughts, limits her actions, and ignores her feelings.  He expects her to be a quiet, submissive wife who would never challenge or oppose him.  He cannot take her seriously, not as a partner or an intellectual human being of any kind.  Moreover, he is also a doctor, so he commands power over her from a medical standpoint and not just a marital one.  He insists that his medical knowledge and treatment recommendation is infallible, despite her feelings and concerns.  She also mentions her brother from time to time, who is also a doctor and seems to agree with her husband to form a united front against her.  I think it's also worth noting that her child was a boy and yet another male figure who brought her to this point of powerlessness.

Significantly, we never learn the protagonist's name, even though we do know the name of her husband and several other characters who appear.  Her inability to identify herself in the story eventually leads to her taking on the new identity of the woman in the wall.  The ugly, yellow wallpaper in the room is the only thing she can focus on while she is quarantined in there.  Peeling from the walls, its confusing, dizzying patterns irritate her until she becomes obsessed with them.  She begins to believe that there is a woman trapped behind the paper who is shaking at the patterns like a prisoner against iron bars.  She thinks the woman creeps beneath the paper and watches her suspiciously.  Ultimately, the protagonist takes this persona on herself and thinks she has freed herself from the paper when she rips it apart and creeps around the corners of the room.

I love this story on many levels.  I think my favorite thing about it is simply the unique narrator perspective.  I like to be able to get inside the mind of someone who views the world with an abnormal outlook.  There are a couple other books I've read in the past that have done this as well, which I would be happy to recommend if you like this too.  I just think it's fascinating to be able to separate what you know to be true as reader and what you see that the character perceives to be true as narrator.

Another thing I love about this story is the rebellion of the entrapped woman.  At first, she acquiesces to the men in her life, agreeing that John must know best and thinking that her objections are "unreasonable."  But eventually, she coaxes him into the room in order to startle him with her new, more powerful (yet admittedly crazy) persona.  Even though I recognize it is a sad way for her personality to develop, I am still intrigued by the way she changes and the new assertive person she becomes.

Finally, I love the story for the feminist implications.  I have read that Gilman claimed the story was more about the problems within psychiatric care than within social gender roles.  However, the feminist issues in the story are almost unavoidable.  We are shown just how absurd the treatment of women was.  Remember, this was written in 1899, and John's interaction with his wife was probably not wholly unusual at the time.  I think it was courageous and intriguing for Gilman to explore and exaggerate the consequences of this inequity, and it's a huge part of the reason her story still has an impact in literature today.

Although I cheated with a short story as my first novella entry, I hope this helps get the series and the discussion started in a positive direction.

Great Novellas Introduction

Hello readers!  I am about to begin a new topical series of blog entries, this time focusing on excellent novellas that I think should be recognized as part of the Classic Literature canon.  I have done two series in the past, one about Contemporary Lit and one about Apocalyptic Lit, and I have enjoyed categorizing literature in this way and hope you have too. So now I am about to begin a "Great Novellas" series for you all.

I want to talk about novellas and short stories because I'm afraid they may be somewhat overlooked in Classic Literature.  Sometimes we view length as an accomplishment in literature in and of itself, which I think would be an unfair assumption.  It is true that there are many long novels that are truly excellent, such as The Brothers Karamazov, Anna Karenina, and Les Miserables.  But I do not think these are great simply for their numerous chapters; it is instead because the authors of each have clearly devoted considerable time and depth to each page.  I could offer several counterexamples of very long books that I do not think are all that wonderful, but I will refrain at this time.  My point is simply that just as we should not admire a book merely because it is long, so also we should not discredit a book just because it is quite short. 

Furthermore, I think novellas may sometimes require even more talent than fully developed novels because the authors cannot waste a single word.  Every piece of the story becomes absolutely essential, unlike several chapters that explain every individual aspect of a whale's anatomy and the minor details of manning a sperm boat.  (Whoops, I may have let it slip after all...)  My favorite quote to illustrate this comes from William Faulkner:

"I’m a failed poet. Maybe every novelist wants to write poetry first, finds he can’t, and then tries the short story, which is the most demanding form after poetry. And, failing at that, only then does he take up novel writing."

So let's take a cue from Faulkner and examine some of the amazing short stories and novellas in literature.  I have already included a couple of novellas in my blog so far, but not with this special concentration.  I recognize that a number of others before me have lauded short stories and novellas, and you have probably read a great deal of the ones I will mention.  So feel free to suggest any novellas and short stories you love along the way!

Part One: The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Part Two: One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Part Three: Night by Elie Wiesel
Part Four: Ethan Frome by Edith Wharton
Part Five: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck
Part Six: Animal Farm by George Orwell