I spent a significant portion of August engaged in the slow and deliberate rereading of this remarkable masterpiece collection. What Jones has accomplished here for DC is truly on par with what Joyce achieved for Dublin.

He has meticulously examined his city from a plethora of angles, through the eyes of numerous characters, and across various periods. This has resulted in the creation of deeply moving and astonishingly precise tales that explore profound themes such as race, racism, the burdens that people bear, and the glimmers of wonder that can emerge even in the darkest of times.

It is an arduous task for me to single out a favorite, as each and every one of these stories has left an indelible mark on my psyche. However, "The Night Rhonda Ferguson Was Killed" might just be the one that has haunted me the most persistently. The vividness of its portrayal and the emotional resonance it elicits have stayed with me long after I turned the final page.

Overall, this collection is a testament to Jones' extraordinary talent and his ability to capture the essence of a city and its people in a way that is both captivating and deeply thought-provoking.

This is simply one of the most beautiful books.

I LOVE this book and the stories within it. There is not a hint of preachiness in these stories, which focus solely on the lives of black people. The stories are told in a creative manner, using an older, some might even say dated, vernacular.

I like to imagine that Edward P. Jones hails from around the time I grew up and that he possesses a more extensive vocabulary than most young writers today. The stories are truly unique and captivating, told simply and truthfully.

The compassion Jones feels for his characters is palpable. I can't say enough positive things about this book. It is an absolute treasure, written by a black man.

Buy it, read it, and think about it. From the story of the girl who cared for pigeons to "The Night Rhonda Ferguson was Killed," the stories展示了人类所能达到的范围 and offer you NO answers.

I love that aspect of it. The reader is truly challenged to make sense of it all. The author doesn't make it easy; he doesn't give anything away in any way.

Highly recommended!

I say it every time but I truly love short stories. They have a remarkable way of engaging the reader and portraying a broad spectrum of humanity. 'Lost in the City' is a prime example. It serves as a microcosm of the African-American experience in Washington DC during the late twentieth century. Edward P. Jones delves into the heart of this with great art and skill.

Everyone in these stories is striving for something better. Whether it's education for their kids, a more fulfilling relationship, more money, or something else entirely. They all have hope, but so often in these tales, that hope is dashed and the future is cut short. Sadly, women are frequently the victims of male brutality. In fact, three women are killed in the 14 stories, and many more are hurt.

The male characters are often portrayed as brutal and selfish. They run away from unplanned pregnancies and use their strength against those who love them. However, in 'His Mother's House', we see a different side. A mother who always sees her son as innocent until proven otherwise. By linking three or four of the stories, with minor characters in one story becoming central in another, Jones creates a sense of a small world within a larger one.

Relationships, especially between parents and children, are the crux of the majority of the stories. Neglect, separation, loyalty, fighting, illness, and death are all featured, and they tug at the heartstrings time and again. Jones has a talent for getting inside his characters' heads and hearts and laying them bare for us to see.

What often sets short stories apart from novels is their endings. The lack of neatness or the unresolved nature of things. Many of these stories simply taper off, leaving the reader hanging. But in this way, they become more poignant and evocative. One of my favorite endings is from the story 'Gospel'.

These stories are timeless and relevant. In light of what's happening in America today, the episode with the cop in 'Young Lions' is particularly pertinent. Although the details of the stories may be unique to this particular community, the yearning, hope, drama, and tragedy are universal themes that apply to all of humanity. This is why this book is such a great read.

Pulitzer and numerous other literary prize winner Edward P. Jones’ “Lost in the City” had been sitting on my bookcase for some time. I'm glad I waited to read it until I had grown a bit. Junot Diaz first nudged me at the National Book Festival when he named Jones as one of his influences. I'd read “The Known World” when it came out, but I don't think I was ready for it then. As a result, “All Aunt Hagar’s Children” and “Lost in the City” remained unread for years. But it was worth the wait. Now that I live in the DC metro area, the stories in “Lost in the City” resonate with me on a deeper level.

The book is a collection of short stories. It's easy to see the influence on Junot Diaz's “Drown” and “This Is How You Lose Her”. The characters in “Lost in the City” are connected to those in “All Aunt Hagar’s Children” and sometimes within the same collection. Jones skillfully examines mid-century DC when it was still a “chocolate city”. His descriptions of the streets, locations, and people are spot-on. He captures the voice of old-school black DC in a quiet, unassuming way. I appreciate his straightforward narrative. He builds stories bit by bit, and before you know it, you're at the end, thinking about the bigger issues the story has presented.

Some of my favorite characters include Marie, an elderly woman who defends herself with a homemade shank; Joyce, who pretends everything is okay when her son buys her a house with drug money and lies about having kids with her man; and a store-keep who witnesses the rise and fall of a neighborhood corner store.

If you like DC, want to understand what the city was like for black people before 2000, like Toni Morrison, or like books with depth, you should read “Lost in the City”. Also, my edition, published by Amistad, included “A Rich Man” as a bonus, which I had posted as required cuffing reading. I can't wait to read “All Aunt Hagar’s Children” next!

3.5. "The Girl Who Raised Pigeons", "The First Day" and "The Store" are all stories that have the power to move us deeply.

Each of these tales presents unique characters and situations that draw us in and make us feel a range of emotions.

In "The Girl Who Raised Pigeons", we may be touched by the girl's love and care for her pigeons, and the special bond she forms with them.

"The First Day" might evoke feelings of anticipation, nervousness, and excitement as we follow the protagonist's experience on their first day of something new.

And "The Store" could perhaps make us reflect on the role of small businesses in our communities and the relationships that are formed within them.

These stories have the ability to make us laugh, cry, and think, and they remind us of the beauty and complexity of the human experience.

They show us that even in the simplest of stories, there can be profound meaning and emotion.

So the next time you pick up a book or hear a story, open your heart and mind to its possibilities, and let it take you on a journey of discovery and feeling.

Who knows, it might just make you jarto a llorar (start to cry).

There was a time when I devoured book reviews just like a kid would the sports pages. At home, we had subscriptions to the Sunday New York Times, Saturday Review, and the New Yorker. It wasn't that I read all the books I read reviews of, but I tried to stay informed. I knew who the writers were.

After publishing my first novel in 1980, I began reviewing books for various newspapers, including the New York Times and Washington Post. I was also part of the National Book Critics Circle and attended the yearly meetings. For about a decade, I kept up with the reviews in these papers and also in USA Today, where I started to review. But eventually, I drifted away from that world and only reviewed books sporadically. As I got older, I wanted to choose what I read myself, not have some editor tell me.

I also have a preference for writers of my generation and older. It's not that I don't read younger authors, but as I've aged, I tend to read those who are at least around my age, including some classic authors I missed earlier. I've become a big fan of the Library of America.

All this explains why, when I read that Edward P. Jones was the highest-ranked American author in the recent New York Times list of the best 100 books of the century, I was shocked to admit I'd never heard of him. He's from my generation, just two years younger than me.

The book in question is a novel, The Known World. Jones also had a book of stories, All Aunt Hagar’s Children, in the top hundred. When I learned he'd only written three books in total and that his new book of stories focused on minor characters from the first one, I decided to start with Lost in the City.

Jones published it in 1992 when he was 42. If the acknowledgements are accurate, only three of the stories had been previously published. I don't know what sustained him all those years or how he made a living, but he's a masterful story writer.

His fictional world, at least for the short stories, is the Washington DC of his youth. His stories cover the city and a wide range of ages. He mentions in the introduction that he arranged the stories chronologically by the characters' ages, something I wouldn't have noticed otherwise. He insisted on this ordering even when his publisher resisted. The man knows what he wants. There are stories here about a little girl's first day of school, an 86-year-old woman dealing with muggers and the Social Security Administration, and everything in between. Jones writes about women and men, the rich and the poor, with equal ease. His imagination seems limitless.

Toni Morrison said she was writing a different kind of black literature that didn't explain blacks to whites but portrayed their lives for themselves. Jones, I think, does the same. While Morrison's work has a mythical, poetic element that his doesn't, I almost appreciate these stories more because they give us real life as it is lived. That's what I love to read.

Take a story like "His Mother's House." When Santiago Moses buys his mother a modern, newly furnished house, she doesn't know how to use everything or occupy the space. When one of his friends, Humphrey, shows up to pay him money he owes, Joyce doesn't want to handle the huge wad of bills. She doesn't like to get involved in her son's business. But when she tells Santiago Humphrey is there, he says to make sure he doesn't leave. Unfortunately, Humphrey and his money disappear before morning.

Joyce's boyfriend Rickey also works for Santiago as a driver and bodyguard. It's only gradually that we learn how Santiago is making his fortune and that he and Humphrey are the children of two women who were best friends and moved in together when they were pregnant. The two women remain best friends. The violent end of the story, which we can see coming, doesn't seem melodramatic when it happens. It seems inevitable. The things we read about in the papers have human stories behind them.

These stories aren't about one kind of person or life. One is about a young man who works in a local grocery store and a tragic accident that changes the owner's life. Another is about a group of gospel singers on the day one is betrayed by a lifelong friend. The title story is about a successful businesswoman who is sleeping with a man whose name she can't remember on the night she hears her mother died. She needs to go to the hospital but can't face the taxi ride downtown without cocaine. Then she can't face it at all and tells the driver to just drive around, get lost in the city. She can't face her past or the fact of death itself. She's not alone in that.

There isn't a weak story in the book, and many are deeply affecting. Like Lauren Groff more recently, Edward P. Jones debuted as a master. I only wish he had written more than three books. But maybe there are more on the way.

[1] The only person I knew who might have read all the books he reviewed was Jay Dantry, the owner of Jay’s Bookstall in Pittsburgh, where I often shopped and briefly worked one summer. Jay was an extremely fast reader. When a new book came in, he'd take it home, read it in one evening, and bring it back to put on his shelves. When we were buying books there, we often asked Jay if he'd read a particular title. He never said no. My brother Bill later pointed out that when you bought a book at Jay's, it might be a used copy that someone else had already read.

[2] The whole fun of such a list is in disagreeing with it. And despite saying I don't keep up with current literature, I've read six of the top ten. I loved Elena Ferrante's novels, all of them, but is My Brilliant Friend really the best book of the century? Probably I would have objected to any book they picked, but that was a bit of a head-scratcher.

www.davidguy.org

Oh, it is so excellent. And there are short stories. You can always read short stories.

For example, on the train, it is a great way to pass the time. Or in between classes, when you have a short break, you can pick up a short story and immerse yourself in it. Even with a busy work life, you can squeeze in some reading time of short stories.

You know it's an amazing collection when the characters from the stories pop into my head a year or two after the reading. This happens on my way to work, in the subway, etc. As if their life stories somehow got interwoven into my own, like people I had met. It shows the power and impact that these short stories have on me. They stay with me long after I have finished reading, and I find myself thinking about the characters and their experiences. It is truly a wonderful thing.

This is a compilation of tales set in 20th century Washington DC, specifically聚焦 on the Black experience.

Ordinarily, I'm not partial to this kind of plotless, naturalistic style of writing. However, it takes on a more unique charm for me since I reside here and perceive the city as a central protagonist.

Collectively, these stories paint a vivid picture of a community and a place that seldom receives fictional exploration.

They offer a glimpse into the lives, struggles, joys, and dreams of the people who have called this city home during that era.

It's as if the city itself is breathing life into these narratives, making them not just stories but a testament to the rich history and culture of Black Washington DC.

Each tale adds a layer to the overall portrait, revealing the complexity and diversity within this community.

It's a fascinating collection that invites readers to step into a world they may not have known existed and gain a deeper understanding of the place and its people.

These are truly powerful stories that are carved out of real life experiences.

Everything that I deeply respect and love about writing is vividly embodied here. Jones has an extraordinary talent for writing a first line that can give a complete framework to every story, often with a hint of forewarning or even a sense of foreboding.

"On an otherwise unremarkable September morning, long before I learned to be ashamed of my mother, she takes my hand and we set off down New Jersey Avenue to begin my very first day of school." This is the opening to "The First Day," which is one of the most perfect stories I have ever had the privilege to read.

Heartbreak is palpable from this very beginning, and yet the story that unfolds is never overly sentimental or tries to overreach. Instead, it simply presents one detail after another, perfectly encapsulated.

Every story in this collection reaches this remarkable level. "Young Lions" is a tense and fearful exchange. "The Girl Who Raised Pigeons" is a clear and lucid exploration of parenthood, but it is also the story of a world that is contained within the Washington, D.C. neighborhood of its setting.

I have read some of these stories numerous times, and each time I always discover some sentence that I had never noticed before. There is simply and truly no one who can write better than Edward Jones. Nor is there any one who can write stories of greater importance.

(3.5) This debut collection from 1992 is set in Washington, D.C. during the period from the 1960s to the 1990s. It showcases a diverse cast of characters, including elderly church ladies, aimless young people menaced by street violence, and middle-aged men grappling with their Southern heritage. I was raised in the D.C. suburbs, and our predominantly African-American church initially met in D.C. before relocating to Maryland. While I have a more touristy view of the capital than that of a local resident, these stories rang true to me. The names, the Black speech and slang (I even learned two new terms, “Bama” for a poorly dressed bumpkin and “ace-coon” for a homeboy), the locations, and the ironic feeling of being marginalized despite living so close to the national seat of power all added to the authenticity. This is perhaps most evident in the title story, where a high-class prostitute, upon hearing of her mother's death, hails a taxi. Instead of asking to be taken directly to the hospital where the body lies, she makes the strange request to simply drive around until they get lost.

Twelve out of the fourteen stories are told in the third person. Strangely, I particularly favored the two first-person stories. In one, the very brief “The First Day,” a little girl learns to be ashamed of her illiterate mother when she is registered for kindergarten. In the other, which is my overall favorite, “The Store,” an unlikely friendship blossoms between a lazy young man and the woman who hires him to work in her grocery store. Other notable stories include “The Sunday Following Mother’s Day,” where a father attempts to make amends for being absent in prison while his children were growing up; “Gospel,” which is about a group of elderly gospel singers dealing with inevitable life changes; “A Dark Night,” which is somewhat of a horror story in which elderly women meeting for prayer end up sharing tales of stormy nights from their past; and “Marie,” which is about an old woman who becomes so frustrated with the Social Security Administration that she does something that goes against her upbringing, as witnessed by a folklore student.

Favorite lines (from “The Store”):

“When my brother and I were in our early teens, my mother said this to us with the most seriousness she had ever said anything: ‘Never even if you become king of the whole world, I don’t want yall messing with a white cop.’”

“When you work in a grocery store the world comes to buy: tons of penny candy and small boxes of soap powder because the next size up—only pennies more—is too expensive and rubbing alcohol and baby formula and huge sweet potatoes for pies for church socials and spray guns and My Knight and Dixie Peach hair grease and Stanback … headache powder and all colors of Griffin shoe polish and nylon stockings and twenty-five cents worth of hogshead cheese cut real thin to make more sandwiches and hairnets for practically bald old women trudging off to work at seventy-five and lard,” etc.

A good short story collection. The characters within it are truly good, with an incredibly well-developed sense of place that really makes the reader feel as if they are right there in the midst of the stories. The plots are engaging enough to keep my attention throughout. However, I can only give it 3 stars. While I did like it, it didn't manage to blow me away in any spectacular way. There was nothing truly outstanding or revolutionary about it. It was a solid collection, but perhaps lacked that certain something that would have made it truly remarkable. Nonetheless, it was an enjoyable read and I would recommend it to others who are looking for a good set of short stories.

Not only do I love geographical specificity, but also these were the perfect short stories. Geographical specificity adds a unique charm and authenticity to the stories. It allows the readers to immerse themselves in a particular place, experiencing its culture, atmosphere, and idiosyncrasies. Each story seems to transport us to a different corner of the world, whether it's a bustling city street, a quiet countryside village, or a mysterious coastal town. The details of the setting are so vividly described that we can almost smell the air, feel the texture of the ground, and hear the sounds of the environment. These perfect short stories not only entertain us but also broaden our horizons and make us more aware of the diverse world we live in. They are like little windows through which we can peek into different lives and cultures.