Cork Books: A glimpse into another soul... why we adore a short story

The short story has a richness to its form. And many people in Cork love them.

Three short story writers, Danny Denton, Nuala O’Connor and Billy O’Callaghan, have some interesting insights on the format.

Denton, from Cork, has published two novels, and his shorter work has appeared in various magazines, newspapers and journals.

He lectures on creative writing at University College Cork and is a contributing editor to The Stinging Fly.

“To me, the short story is many things at once,” he explains.

“It is a moment; it is on the cusp of stillness, but capable of great noise; it is a glimpse into another place, another time, another soul.

“It can be resonant or chaotic, piercing or fleeting. It can ring like a bell or shriek like a bird. It can be profound, or it can be silly (and silly can also be profound).

“It’s an experience from which, if the story is good, I emerge refreshed, renewed, astounded, contemplative, broken, distraught, wryly smirking, beautifully and so on.

“The short story changes as I change. It is a confessional; it is a playground. It is not always a perfect jewel, perfectly formed, though it can be. It can also be some sand on a piece of paper, or a secret whispered to a river.”

Denton adds: “It has music to it, usually - the music of what happens. It is a visitation, a haunting. It’s hallucinogenic. It’s an old friend, or a wild person encountered on the fringes of a city. Or someone you think you vaguely knew once upon a time. A fleeting encounter but you’re not quite sure.

“And though I might not remember all their names or who wrote them, the good short stories I’ve read live on in my mind, in my imagination, as images, as sounds, as conversations overheard, tales told, people known, however briefly, songs sung, secrets relayed, gifts offered.

“Like us, they don’t necessarily have a purpose or a clear message, except to live in the world. And I’m richer for them being in the world and will always seek them out.”

Nuala O’Connor lives in Galway. 

She has published five full collections of short fiction and two chapbooks, and five poetry collections. She is a member of Aosdána.

O’Connor says of the short story form: “The slow-fast burn of stories appeals to me. I love the way that the short story is a temporal artefact - it’s about a slice of time, and that makes it vivid and punchy.

“A story is a rich illusion where time, ‘wrongness’, and people collide. I like that stories can either strangle happiness, or gift it, and that a good one leaves behind an impression, a startling detail or two, a mood.

“They’re flexible and are a very particular reading experience, and I think there’s an art to reading them - you need to slow down, let the story seep into you.”

What does Nuala like about the short story?

“I love the deep immersion, the thoughts they provoke, the sense of precision and concision in language, and that unfinished-ness, the hints at the world that exists outside the story.

“The short stories I love are like an eccentric aunt - she’s dressed beautifully, full of interesting information, but there’s some mystery about her.

“I love this aunt, but don’t necessarily need to spend a long time in her company, but when I do, I’m enriched, touched, and changed by her.”

What about the element of surprise in a short story?

“For me, surprise is satisfaction in the writing,” says O’Connor, “the tingle of something that comes without warning as I write - those unbidden, satisfying words that drop, or an unexpected forward movement in the story.

“I guess I write for those moments, but also as self-soother because I’m an anxious and a sensitive person.

“I’ll tell you what really surprises me, though - that I ever manage to write a new story. They’re hard! You’re constantly starting over with the short story: new characters, new situations. That’s exciting but also daunting.”

Billy O’Callaghan lives in Cork. He has published four novels and four short story collections. He has won the Irish Book Award for Story of the Year. His work has been translated into 17 languages.

He says: “In Cork, there has been a brilliant tradition of the short story from Frank O’Connor, Seán O’Faolain, and William Trevor.

“Memories are steeped in our past. Poverty of days of old shape some of it. Storytelling was a way of making sense of this. There is such an oral tradition to this form.

“Language is important, because it paints a picture. Language is the paint. When we read a great short story, we visualise what is happening on the page.”

Reading is important,” O’Callaghan adds. “If you write a short story without reading them, you don’t have the tools to write. By reading, you absorb language and learn how to construct sentences, develop characters and establish a sense of place.

“If you read James Joyce’s Dubliners, you see how a sentence should be constructed.

When I write a short story, I hope there is something universal in the story that resonates with the reader. Success is more about hard work than luck. You get out what you put into it. Practice is key to mastering the craft.”

• The Cork International Short Story Festival takes place from October 15-18. It is a testament to Pat Cotter, Artistic Director at The Munster Literature Centre in Cork.
• This is the world’s oldest dedicated short story festival, founded in 2000. The benefit to the participants is that they get to see world class writers on their doorsteps from Ireland and all over the world.
• Tickets are available for sale from The Munster Literature Centre or at www.corkshortstory.net, and from Cork Arts Theatre.