I started
Interpreter of Maladies near the end of last year and have been reading the stories from it off and on since, on breaks from other books or between books. I'm not much of a reader of short stories. It's a little hard to articulate why, but they don't really suit my typical style of reading. I think a short story should be read beginning to end, in one sitting. That is how I read most of this book, one story here before bed, one story there in the morning. Maybe one story was the length of a commute somewhere. It's hard for me even to know how to write about a book of stories. Each is its own self-contained thing. This book had nine of them. I read, three or four in the last few days of 2019. Then one or two in mid-January when it was the weekend and I was between books. (I don't usually start a new book on the weekend. I like to start new books in the morning on a weekday, giving over my 40 or so minutes of subway time to getting into the book. So if I do read on the weekend, short stories are a good option.) I read the last four stories yesterday and today, after coming to a breaking point in the other book I was reading and wanting something different.
Even as I set the book aside from time to time, I was sure I would go back and finish all the stories. They are really lovely; all of them. Lahiri treats her characters with such tenderness and sensitivity. The first (which has stayed with me these months) and last stories make excellent bookends.
