I often reflect on how little I know. No matter how much I read there is more to be read. Works worthy of time but sacrificed to circumstance. I was recently reading a short story by Poe that I’d never read before. As others have noted, Poe was a prolific author of a great deal of forms—poems, a novel, letters, a scientific treatise, literary criticism, and, of course, his stories. I came to know his stories through cheap collections available in my small town, mostly not along the lines of those Poe himself selected. Indeed, editions of his own chosen works, such as Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque, before the advent of internet-based publishing, were difficult to come by. Original editions cost many thousands of dollars. Poe isn’t alone in this category—short stories are an unusual genre.
I know from personal experience that finding a publisher for a collection of such stories is nearly as difficult as finding a publisher for poetry. Publishers are looking for money, of course, and like Poe, all writers produce stories that interest some but not others. The novel is safer, and even today’s amazing writers have to find success as novelists before publishers will offer volumes of their short stories. Tis a pity, really. I have many volumes of short stories on my shelves, including some of Poe’s, but for some reason publishers tend to cram such volumes so full that they become unwieldy. Intimidating almost. It leads to that feeling of existential dread that I felt approaching War and Peace—would I indeed survive to finish it? (I did, but that is such a Poe-like question I had to employ it.)
The short story is an important literary form that is singularly difficult to publish. I have managed to find homes for about thirty such pieces, but many more have failed to move even just the internet critics. Those that have been published have brought no income at all. In Poe’s day, an author attempting to make a living could not afford to give away their life’s blood. Indeed, Poe’s older contemporary Washington Irving struggled with pirated copies of his works being sold overseas (he spent a great deal of time in Europe). Like Poe, Irving excelled in the short story, or sketch. We’re often at the mercy of editors who select the stories for us, making them available. I suspect there’s much that we miss by not stepping outside their personal tastes regarding what to include. Or, just as importantly, exclude. Some day, perhaps, I will have read all of Poe’s short stories. Until then, I’ll find them when necessary.