The Complete Short Novels

Flash Fiction

He was widely hailed as a supreme master of form and grace in pen. A god-like figure in an overcoat. A quintessence of quintessence on hearts and parry in dark energy. But I don’t understand his short stories and his short novels have me confuzzled - why keep them so short when I want long digressions and excursions? Why does he tell me what he is going to tell me, tell me, and then told me what he was going to tell me like a dog? It makes no figuring to me in all the widely world or narrow bench. An Anabasis for a Good Soldier on an antediluvian journey.

And nothing tetters on nothing. Curse his erudition! Hell on vituperation! Grant under neath.

He’s more like a monster than a master with his pen. I hate him so for the truth that he sketches on his sleeve.