#tenthofdecember

George Saunders is one of my favorite authors. He’s a master of the (often very weird, but heartwarming) short story, and you may know him from his Syracuse graduation speech on kindness. It went viral a few years back. If you haven’t read it, you should. His stories — and their unique language, humor and empathy — feel active and full of life in a way that inspires my own writing. His first novel, Lincoln in the Bardo, will be coming out next month.

S psaním tohohle článku jsem chvíli otálela. Povídky George Saunderse jsem dočetla už na začátku března na horách v Rakousku. A musela jsem si pořádně nechat projít hlavou, co si o téhle knížce vlastně myslím. George Saunders je jeden z nejoblíbenějších amerických povídkářů dneška. Jeho povídky vycházejí v celé řadě časopisů a novin, píše sloupky a je ověnčen bezpočtem cen. Já nejsem úplně klasický čtenář povídek, jejich forma jako taková mě většinou neuspokojuje, mám ráda příběhy, které se rozvinou do šíře a do dálky, a to vám povídka zkátka příliš neumožňuje. Je na to moc krátká. Takže možná i proto mám z Desátého prosince trochu smíšené pocity.

V knížce najdete deset povídek a každá je skutečný originál. Každá je docela jiná a to mě bavilo. Na první pohled to vypadá, že Saunders nasypal na jednu hromadu deset svých různorodých textů, trochu tím zahrkal a měl knihu. Možná nejsem daleko od pravdy, ale tahle různorodost pro mě byla rozhodně jedním z nejzajímavějších faktorů celé knížky. Saunders se totiž nebojí v zásadě žádného tématu ani žánru. Střídají se tu povídky krutě realistické s fantastickými i s těmi, co mají sci-fi prvky. Je to opravdu hodně pestrá směsice stylu, ale hlavně charakterů. Jestli něco Saunders umí, pak jsou to postavy. Realistické i ve fantastických kulisách. Působí jako opravdoví lidé, obyčení, nedokonalí, trochu divní a většinou z okraje společnosti. A náležitě tomu i mluví a myslí. Tohle se jako tenká červená nit táhne celkou knihou a je v pravém slova smyslu propojovacím prvkem.

Asi nedovedu říct, která z povídek se mi líbila nejvíc či naopak nejmíň. Něžná krutost a kontrasty životů ve Štěněti, trochu úchylný sci-fi Útěk z pavoučí hlavy, Deník Semplikových dívek z (možná?) brzké budoucnosti, kde téma přistěhovalců a uprchlíků nabírá krapet jiného významu, nebo dojemný Desátý prosinec o dětství a stáří, po němž nese název celá kniha? Každá povídka měla něco do sebe, ale zároveň jí i něco scházelo, což mě ve finále vlastně trochu mrzelo. Ale jestli máte chuť na maličko “podivnou” jednohubku, určitě si Desátého prosince přečtěte. Saunders píše čtivě, a pokud přistoupíte na jeho (občas neobvyklou) hru s příběhem, pak i líbivě.

The internet raves of George Saunders, and his "Tenth of December" received a lot of praise, being 'the best book you will read this year' amongst other things. Going in with these expectations- or perhaps promises- the work was not all that I expected it to be. While I can appreciate his stylistic precision and humor, the ghosts of greater ideas behind his work remain just that: ghosts. 

"Tenth of December" is a short story collection of ten short stories, each set in a middle or lower class American family, each filled with ironic humor that blurs out the subtextual darkness and despair. The stories range from topics such as: class, kidnapping, suicide, rape, science fiction,  struggling to make ends meet, and a man who dresses up a pole in his backyard.

I have never read Saunders and reading various other reviews, this collection seems to be very much his style. As an avid reader of classics the form of the postmodernist short stories was fresh, the language bare, and the emotions surfacing. What struck me most about all of his stories were the implications of what is being said. Saunders conveys to us much more than the characters deliver. 

The collection opens with a bang. The first story is sharp as a knife. "Victory Lap" is about a young teenage girl who gets kidnapped a few days before her birthday. It is told in alternative points of view, beginning with hers and moving to the house next door where her classmate watches, debating whether or not to intervene. Saunders does an excellent job with the voice of a young girl, it is genuinely plausible. The short story is painfully realistic, painfully real, it's difficult to read at times. This story was the most powerful, and most memorable. Paced out just right, without an extra paragraph, without anything I would cut. 

The namesake of the collection: "Tenth of December" is my second favorite. It's about a man who attempts to commit suicide by freezing to death naked in a park, and a boy who crosses his path, almost dying in attempts to help the man. It is a stunning piece of work, with a sharp voice of two people in different places in life, brought together in the snow, with nothing but ice between them. This is one of the stories which covers a larger existential scope, Saunders seems to be poking with a stick questions such as "what is the purpose of life?", "why live?" The darkness of early December begins to descend not only on this story, but as it is the last one, on the whole collection. 

 In "The Semplica Girl Diaries" a middle aged man's diary of trying to provide for his family, set in a subtly futuristic world, a story that is written almost entirely without using "is" or "I", Saunders writes: “Why were we put here, so inclined to love, when end of our story = death? That harsh. That cruel. Do not like.” 

Saunders is one of the writers who can write about the ordinary in an extraordinary way. The majority of his stories are set in American suburbia, families of middle or lower class, ordinary houses, ordinary lives. Yet he manages something greater: without saying it, he gives us the feeling of these people, he writes in a very humane way- if that makes sense.

Regardless of what darkness the characters of these stories move through, they all hold on to a streak of light. Although permeated by an almost suffocating heaviness, the stories retain hope. In the seasonal darkness of December the snow shines white. 

Happy Tenth of December! In honor of George Saunders' book of the same name, here's a wonderful sentence -- just one of many, many wonderful sentences -- from "Tenth of December":

"They were sorry, they were saying with their bodies, they were accepting each other back, and that feeling, that feeling of being accepted back again and again, of someone's affection for you expanding to encompass whatever new flawed thing had just manifested in you, that was the deepest, dearest thing..."

- Tenth of December, George Saunders