Edward P. Jones is a literary giant whose work is as timeless as that of Shakespeare. His writing is a gift that not everyone can possess. We are truly fortunate to have his works.

This particular book wasn't a digital galley; it was a precious Christmas gift, a testament to my deep admiration for his writing. My purpose in reviewing such a renowned author is to bring his work to the attention of those who haven't yet had the pleasure of reading him.

Despite its brevity, I took almost a month to read this collection. It was a painful experience, similar to that of reading Russell Banks. The stories are peerless and brilliant, yet so sad that they can reduce you to tears. Thankfully, it's a short story collection, allowing me to read one story, take a break, and then return to it later.

All the stories are set in Washington, DC, and explore themes of alienation and loss. While "His Mother's House" is the story I admire the most, all of them are powerful.

The first book I read by this author was The Known World, which won the Pulitzer Prize. Now, I'm eager to get a copy of All Aunt Hager's Children and continue exploring his literary world.

Edward P. Jones showcases an extraordinary literary prowess in his masterpiece Lost in the City. He skillfully employs a literary sleight-of-hand, transforming the ordinary and mundane aspects of life into something truly transcendent. The fourteen short stories within Lost... are written with simple and straightforward words, yet beneath this superficial simplicity lies a wealth of powerful emotional poetry.

Take, for instance, “The First Day”. We are told, “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 first day of school.” The phrase “Long before I learned to be ashamed of my mother” holds a profound significance that gradually unfolds as the story progresses.

Jones also loosely links the stories, all of which vividly evoke the time, place, and politics of a bygone Washington, D.C. Each story shines a spotlight on powerful events, some blatantly momentous while others seemingly minor, but all are filled with intense emotions. One must read carefully, as otherwise, some of the most brilliant lines might go unnoticed.

From “The Store”, we have the memorable line, “Times were bad, said the old man, who was so bald you could read his thoughts.” And from “Marie”, “I remember like it was yesterday, that we got on this streetcar marked 13th and D NE. The more I rode, the more brighter things got. You ain’t lived till you been on a streetcar. The further we went on that streetcar — dead down the middle of the street — the more I knowed I could never go live in Baltimore. I knowed I could never live in a place that didn’t have that streetcar and them clackety-clack tracks….”

Lost in the City’s stories are, for the most part, true classics. It has an incredibly low stinker ratio for any short story collection, and this is even more remarkable considering it is a debut. With a rating of 4.5 stars rounded up to 5, it is indeed challenging to find better short story collections.

While numerous American cultural treasures are housed on walls, beneath glass, or within the archives of staid institutions in the nation's capital, Washington, D.C. is seldom regarded as a place that kindles inspiration and infuses life into original works of art that depict the District as a "real" city where "real" people dwell. It is most definitely not, for example, New York, San Francisco, or Los Angeles, which are beacons of American culture.

However, when a work emerges that brings something distinctively "of the District" to life - and it is as good as Lost in the City - it is, at the very least, a delight. The short stories that constitute Lost in the City are all set in a rather restricted geographical area of the District, where urban Northwest and urban Northeast converge. They are not tales of transients in Dupont Circle, Cleveland Park, or Georgetown; rather, they are about African American men, women, children, and families who have traditionally considered the District their "home". In this minuscule slice of space, the stories meander through different moments in time and center on diverse themes - ranging from nostalgic accounts of vibrant Black neighborhoods in the 1950s to tragic stories of lost children and characters succumbing to drugs, poverty, and crime.

Every story in Lost in the City is memorable. And, although Jones endows each with a different flavor, they nonetheless feel organically connected. Jones has a particular knack for creating a space between his words - a silence - that divulges a great deal about his characters and their situations. He sometimes leans on this skill a bit too heavily - the reader craves one or two stories in the collection that disclose more than they withhold. But not because the stories are in any way deficient in what they don't tell.

Ultimately, this collection is unique both for uncovering Jones' considerable talent as a writer and for compellingly painting revealing portraits of a part of D.C. life that very few tourists (and many residents) ever get to know.

I've never really been a fan of reading short stories. I always thought they didn't have enough depth or couldn't fully develop the characters and plot. However, I decided to give this particular collection a try, and thank goodness that I did.

Each of these stories in the collection has the power to pull at a heart string. They are so well-written that after completing each one, I had to take a break just to think about what I just read. The emotions and themes explored in these stories are so profound and moving.

This collection was just absolutely breathtaking. I was completely overwhelmed by each individual story. The author, Edward P. Jones, has an amazing talent for creating vivid and engaging stories that stay with you long after you've finished reading. I cannot wait to read one of his novels and see what other masterpieces he has in store.

I highly recommend this collection of short stories to anyone who is looking for a thought-provoking and emotional read. It will definitely change your perspective on short stories and leave you with a newfound appreciation for this genre.

Overlooked neighborhoods in the nation's capital serve as the captivating settings for these truly powerful short stories.

She developed an intimate knowledge of the city to such an extent that if she were blindfolded and transported to virtually any location in Washington, be it as distant as Anacostia or Georgetown, she could simply remove the blindfold and effortlessly walk home without a moment's hesitation. Her absolute favorite place emerged as the library park at Mount Vernon Square. This very park held a special significance as it was the same place where Miss Jenny had initially witnessed Robert and Clara together. Additionally, it was across the street from the Peoples, where Betsy Ann had unfortunately been caught stealing.

These overlooked neighborhoods, with their unique characters and events, add a rich and vibrant layer to the tapestry of these short stories, drawing readers in and making them eager to explore the hidden corners of the nation's capital.

**5.0⭐ "3:30 huh? And all the clocks in the world now sayin it’s way past 4."**

**Spoilers**

If you're following my reviews, thank you for coming along with me. ♡

We're currently on the Season 3 LIVE episodes of Stitcher's LeVar Burton Reads, and we've been treated to "A Dark Night" by Edward P. Jones.

I deliberated between 4 and 5 stars, even reaching 4.5 at one point, but I finally decided I was being too stingy. The truth of this short story is that it doesn't reveal itself all at once. It lingered in my mind for a while and then took hold. It rejuvenated my creative spirit and reminded me of the essence of stories. Another thing that doesn't show its full face immediately.

One fascinating aspect of "Dark Night" is how it functions both as a told story and a written one. In fact, it's Edward P. Jones telling us a story about Ida Garret, who is in turn telling stories about herself. As a result, the story has this exquisitely crafted atmosphere that conveys one message, while the first-person conversation conveys another.

I believe those differences are crucial because we receive stories differently depending on how they're told. I recall back on episode 29, we got a spooky ghost story called "Multo" by Samuel Marzioli, and at the end of that reading, LeVar shared a personal ghost story from his past. LeVar's story scared me more than the fictional one because of the way he told it, the honesty, which made it seem too real. Jones captured that contrast. Mrs. Garret's first story felt too real because of how she told it, and you could sense the truth in her words, how she recounted her memories with complete honesty.

The evidence of that evocation and what stories like that do to us shines through the narrative when Beatrice and Mrs. Garret are haunted by it later and seek refuge together during the storm. But I think Jones is telling an even bigger story than he lets on. I'll explain, so stay with me.

Another homerun is how we actually get four stories in one, all of them succeeding with vastly different devices and moods. I'm astounded by this, especially considering the brevity. We have a frame story of older women in quiet communion, and then the Ida Garret anthology - a horror story, a wholesome story about salvation, and a tiny comedy.

JONES.
You WRITE, my friend.
All of these stories are distinctly moving.

I have to give a eulogy to that frame story though, because I think it's easy to overlook, and it's the one that stayed in my mind for a while, the bigger story Jones is telling. This story is perhaps the best one because it's as eerie as it is subtle. These women came for church, and their cleric arrives, but not the one they were expecting.

The first thing their cleric does is decry the old one as a false prophet, which is so creepy. Then, she delivers a sermon that doesn't seem like a typical church sermon but still sinks into the consciousness as gospel. She specifically speaks of a great death that came very close to her, and that death occurred during circumstances similar to the ones in this frame story.

This rain isn't just any storm. It's the same storm. A rain that brought a sickly, reaping end to Ida's kin in another time. Something that appeared to be lightning... but I have my doubts. So do they. Who hides in a bathroom because of just lightning? Seasons don't fear the reaper, but people do.

Whatever came with the thunder to bang on Beatrice Atwood's door? That wasn't just thunder.

Ida knew. And Ida leaped from her sleep to go protect Beatrice all along.

I realize it may seem the other way around, that Ida jumped out of bed because she was frightened. I don't doubt that she was, but I think nevertheless, this was a moment of strength in numbers. She knew something was coming.

Ida's gospel was a warning to a vulnerable flock.

It kind of makes you wonder how the other stories played a role in the rest of their lives. How her funny joke might have spoken to one of them in particular, or how her salvation story stood out to another. I think whatever came their way, her message set them on the right path to survive the storm.

Thanks for reading, and if you want to chat about the latest LBR episodes, leave a comment and come join us at LeVar Burton Reads: The Community on Facebook.

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I truly adored these stories.

They were like enchanting, petite segments of life. Each tiny piece was vividly described, with characters that you could deeply empathize with.

There wasn't a neatly tied, pretty little bow at the conclusion of these stories, yet I cherished that aspect as well.

The story might have ended, but you were aware that it wasn't truly over (and it didn't leave you feeling unfulfilled in any manner).

In a few instances, you witnessed recurring characters, and it was a delightful surprise to discover how those lives had unfolded.

There was an abundance of heartbreak and an equal measure of strength.

But that's precisely what life is all about, isn't it?

Can anyone do the big, sprawling voice better than Edward P. Jones? I'm not sure.

His writing is truly remarkable. Each story in this collection is like a window into an entire world. It's not just about a few characters struggling through a difficult situation, as is often the case with so many other short story writers these days.

Jones has the ability to create vivid and complex universes, filled with richly developed characters and detailed settings. Reading his stories is like embarking on a journey through different lives and experiences.

Definitely read this book. Even if for no other reason than to observe the progression of a great writer. You'll be amazed at the depth and breadth of his talent.

His work is a testament to the power of storytelling and the ability of a writer to transport readers to another place and time.

It is a pity that in the 29 years since its debut in 1992, the work of the 2004 Pulitzer Prize winner Edward P. Jones has become rather outdated. It's not that these 14 stories of African-Americans in Washington read like a throwback. No, it's just that thanks to television and film, we have already heard these stories, and even more.

However, two stories still deserve attention, namely "The Store" and "An Orange Line Train to Ballston", which are in the middle of the book.

Actually, I randomly thought of this book after moving and reinstalling the bookshelves. Eight years ago, I "borrowed" a couple of books in a rented apartment in San Francisco. And now, my hands have finally reached the winner of the Pen/Hemingway Award and the nominee for the National Book Award. Such a pleasantly aged and yellowed paperback from 1993.

These stories were extremely challenging for me to peruse as they scarcely resembled fiction at all.

Virtually every character bore a striking resemblance to someone I had encountered in my life, and each one felt astonishingly real.

This is profound and intricate subject matter, depicting how people's lives can be shattered or rendered excruciatingly arduous by circumstances that are beyond their sway and, at times, further complicated by their own decisions.

Even when fortuitous events occur, there exists an undertone of anguish, as racism and oppression insidiously permeate the lives of every character, regardless of how educated or successful they may be according to conventional standards.

It makes one reflect deeply on the harsh realities that exist in the world and the profound impact that external forces and personal choices can have on an individual's life journey.

Edward P. Jones’s debut work, Lost in the City, is a compilation of short stories set in the environs of his hometown, Washington D.C.

The power of this collection lies in the profound exploration of his characters. With the use of uncomplicated language, Jones’s enchanting style keeps readers engaged as he delves into topics that are disconcerting, melancholy, and unadorned. Whether addressing loss, crime, or misdeeds, these stories refrain from passing judgment. Indeed, a prevalent theme emerges in each one: that life simply passes by, unbeknownst to us, with precious little joy to offset the copious amounts of struggle and pain.

Painful recollections, wounded psyches, and constant hardships afflict the characters, thrusting them into a seemingly unjust world. Death looms large, and opportunities for success elude them. Nevertheless, they are human, survivors of a gritty city and a difficult upbringing. The stories bear witness and allow what occurs to stand, enabling us to catch a glimpse of the tragedies and thereby develop compassion for human suffering. The portraits Jones presents in these tales are not beautiful, but they are real and offered to us for reflection.

Lost in the City is indeed a fitting and proper title for these 14 short stories.

All of them occur in the African-American neighborhoods of Washington DC, and all the characters are black.

The first story, The Girl Who Raised Pigeons, shows that the characters are real and have the same emotions of love and self as whites. Betsy Ann, at eight, falls in love with pigeons when she sees her father's barber friend raising them. She pesters her father for her own pigeons, and he finally gives in. They build a coop on the apartment roof, and the flock grows. The touching part, showing great paternal love, is that her taxicab-driving father gets up early every morning to check the coop before Betsy Ann wakes up, so she won't see any dead birds.

The Store and Young Lions illustrate the characters' provincialism, lack of education, being victims of their environment, and generally being helpless. The Store, told in the first person by an unnamed protagonist in his late teens, finds a job in a small grocery store owned by Mrs. Jenkins. She is strict and mistrusts him at first, but over the years gives him more responsibility. Eventually, she leaves, and he becomes the store manager. All is well until he gets a letter from Mrs. Jenkins saying the store is sold and enclosing $4,000 in "severance pay." His whole life has been based on the store, and now he doesn't know what to do. He is lost in the city.

In Young Lions, Caesar tries and convinces his girlfriend, Carol, to participate in a scam. They talk an older woman into taking her savings out of the bank in cash and then rob her. Carol ends up with the cash, and Caesar pushes her into a park and tries to beat her for it. But Carol is tough and holds onto the cash and walks away. The story ends with Caesar feeling something in the air but not knowing what it is. He walks out of the park, looking behind him, expecting something or someone. He hurries, hoping to find a brighter-lit telephone booth to read the address book, but the rain blurs the numbers. He doesn't know what's in the air, only that tonight he won't be without shelter. He too is lost in the city.