This venerable anthology (the original dates from 1966) is a good old gallimaufry whose contents - and this is its distinctive feature - are arranged by 'narrative technique', eleven in total. It's not rocket science - the first is interior monologue, the second epistolary - but it concentrates the mind and, more important perhaps, encourages the inclusion of unusual bedfellows. In category (a) we get The Lady's Maid, a moving Katherine Mansfield not among her anthology pieces, while (b) brings us Henry James's quite delicious A Bundle of Letters to show us the master had a sense of humour. [Of a family dispute]: 'father.. has nothing but theories. Mother and I, however, have, fortunately, a great deal of *practice*'; 'Madame de Maisonrouge.. is what they call here a *belle femme*, which means that she is a tall, ugly woman with style'. Sara Jeannette Duncan did it better, but she had the advantage of being a woman. (A category the editors miss is gender-crossing, but maybe this is more prevalent in poetry; poets can have a stab at far more personae.) Finally, 'it is.. under the influence of irritation that the French character most completely expresses itself'. There's a Jamesian howler in the French(p87), but bruler ses vaisseaux (for burn one's boats) was new to me.
Frank O'Connor is not my favourite brand of Oirishry (I prefer the bleakness of Mary Lavin; I might have picked the one about the children viewing a corpse - once read, never forgotten) but this is the best story collection I've read since the stellar Close Company (Virago '87). I confess to skipping the multicultural and lowlife unknowns, though - at my age I'm as 'diverse' as I'm going to get - though it was an excuse to sneakily sneak in a chapter of The Joy Luck Club (if you don't know it, read it). But after (my first, pointlessly Hopperish) Raymond Carver we take a nosedive. I guess the collection's American slant doesn't help, but that Cheever really stinks! Who else would I put in? Sylvia Townsend Warner (Scenes of Childhood); Clare Boylan (A Nail on the Head); Mary Scott (Nudists May be Encountered - all these are volume titles, incidentally); possibly something from Anne Enright's Portable Virgin and/or Karen Karbo's Trespassers Welcome Here - I'm getting way off message here, but I must just say that amazon lists both Mary Scott's titles simply under 'Scott'; the miraculously still extant Serpent's Tail was both her and Karbo's publisher (gad what a list they've had - 25 years and still going strong, now as part of Profile)