Lydia Davis is usually a palate cleanser for me, her spare sentences telling a complete story in the least amount of space imaginable. But I found this 2014 collection to be disappointing, jammed full of dreams and re-enactments of what Flaubert would say. Perhaps she says it best in the piece Not Interested: “I’m simply not interested in reading this book…. That’s how I’m feeling these days, anyway, maybe it will pass.” A tiny bit from the piece I enjoyed most, I’m Pretty Comfortable, But I Could Be a Little More Comfortable:
The people in front of us are taking a long time choosing their ice cream.
A man is coughing during the concert.