Classics Read Aloud

“Most philosophers must have been raised on chicken farms.”
Depending on who you ask, Sherwood Anderson is either a genius who ushered in a new era of American storytelling or the unfortunate progenitor of utterly forgettable prose. It’s a little like the age-old chicken-and-egg question… it probably can’t be both.
Perhaps the divide rests on what one expects from a story. Anderson’s work was born of a life spent in the American Midwest watching small towns fail and family hopes turn into humiliation. But that doesn’t mean his stories were just a drag. The brevity of his perspective and many years in advertising lend a dry humor to his writing that keeps us from getting sucked into the mire. His stories could very well be considered character studies rather than plot-driven escapades.
As Anderson himself stated in 1921, “Perhaps because of a native laziness, I found myself unable to think up plots. To try to do so bored me unspeakably. On the other hand, there were all about me human beings living their lives, and in the process of doing so creating drama… I have tried to clutch at it and reproduce in writing some of that drama…”
Human beings, living their lives; we are endlessly fascinating creatures, especially in the hands of a writer who sees both sides of those everyday dramas: the up and the down, the tragic and the comic, the chicken and the egg.
Anderson’s story “The Egg” gives us a concentrated dose of three such humans, a mother, a father, and their son, as they try, earnestly and often, to pursue “the American passion for getting up in the world.”
Please enjoy…
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Listening: “Where would we be without wishful thinking?...“ croons Jeff Tweedy on Wilco’s 2004 album, A Ghost is Born. Based in Chicago, Wilco, like Anderson, specialized in recording the lives unfolding in the US Midwest. Described as an ambitious album full of self-indulgent contrasts, A Ghost is Born is home to a number of memorable titles, particularly on the back half. Tune it to track five, “Hummingbird,” and let it run.
Scrambling: My youngest has long held a penchant for the “What’s your favorite…” style of question. What’s your favorite song? What’s your favorite place to visit? And, my favorite of the favorite game: What’s your favorite food?
The egg, of course. Is there anything more perfectly versatile?
Last week, I shared one of my favorite eggs-for-dinner recipes, so today, I thought I’d catalogue my growing list of practical ways to handle the almighty egg. I welcome your additions.
* Buy unwashed farm eggs. The flavor and nutritional profile are far superior to anything in the big grocery coolers, and they’ll last months in the fridge.
* The most reliable way to crack an egg is to give it a solid thunk against the counter.
* Check if an egg is still good by gently submerging it in a glass of water. If it stays at the bottom, even if it stands up a bit, you’re all good.
* Whether frying, scrambling, or omelette-ing, the most common source of frustration stems from not letting the pan get hot enough. A seriously satisfactory preheat makes a world of difference and all but eliminates the need to clean the pan with anything more intensive than wiping it out with a paper towel.
* A tablespoon of white vinegar added to a pan of simmering water aids a perfect poach. Simply swirl the water with a soup spoon, round and round, then drop in a raw egg.
* Emulsify a yolk into a soup base for a supreme richness.
* The easiest way to separate the yolk from the whites is to use your hands. Turn out a cracked egg into your fingers and let the whites naturally drip off into one bowl, leaving a clean yolk to put in another.
* Separated egg whites last forever in the fridge. What to do with them? Skip the egg-white omelette and learn the simple Italian meringue for a showstopper dessert topping.
* Skip the egg wash on pastry crust. A thin layer of heavy cream brushed on the raw dough is quicker and yields a prettier result.
“Bartleby the Scrivener” by Herman Melville, 1853
Little Women, An Excerpt, by Louisa May Alcott, 1868
“A Doctor’s Visit” by Anton Chekhov, 1898


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“He was not really disappointed to find Paris was so empty. But the stillness in the Ritz bar was strange and portentous. It was not an American bar any more—he felt polite in it, and not as if he owned it. It had gone back to France.”

Every so often, youthful American audiences are treated to a “voice of their generation,” and in the Jazz Age, that voice was F. Scott Fitzgerald’s. In 1918, Fitzgerald wrote in a letter, “I know I’ll wake up some morning and find the debutantes have made me famous overnight.” Two years later, with the publication of his novel This Side of Paradise, his expectations became reality.
Rather instantly, Fitzgerald was showered with money and attention—all the trappings of celebrity and success enjoyed by those who so perfectly capture the zeitgeist of their time. The last writer I recall being heralded as the voice of the generation was Lena Dunham… fifteen years ago, perhaps? Time flies, and she wasn’t my generation, so I didn’t recognize the voice. I have since stopped paying attention, and I wonder if today’s generation can possibly contain a voice true enough to resonate over the devouring hum of rapid-fire TikTok videos.
I digress.
Fitzgerald had his glorious days in the sun—too many, and he eventually let himself get burned. This was the roaring twenties. Having spent ghastly sums on a fast-and-loose lifestyle of booze and high society, Fitzgerald eventually found himself a debt-laden alcoholic. His time as Icarus was hardly unique; many were left gasping for second chances.
“Babylon Revisited” is the story of Charlie Wales, one of the poor gasping souls. We find him returning to Paris after the dust of his debauchery has settled, looking to rebuild a life on solid footing. The city has changed, he has changed, but as we all well know, change alone often isn’t enough to erase the damage of the past.
Please enjoy…
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Savoring: A story like this demands a repast with a hint of repentance. M. F. K. Fisher wrote How to Cook a Wolf in 1942 to inspire home cooks limited by the wartime shortages imposed on their pantries. Fisher is irreverent and indulgent; the book is a treat for anyone who enjoys the art of the practical, fortifying family meal. Her dish “Eggs in Hell” is simmering, rich, economical, and far more delicious than anyone repenting has any right to deserve.
Listening: Life is full of transitions, some smooth, some, like Charlie’s, jarring. February is a month that begs for transition. Tired of winter, tired of grey, I’m all too aware that the hints of spring remain quite out of grasp. I’m gravitating towards the instrumental albums in my collection that offer their own hints of life; something a little jazzy, something with a provocative, ambient vocal pleasantly interjecting here and there. Transit, the 2019 album from FloFilz has been in steady rotation, breathing a bit of life into this purgatorial season.
“The Egg” by Sherwood Anderson, 1921
“Bartleby the Scrivener” by Herman Melville, 1853
Little Women, An Excerpt, by Louisa May Alcott, 186


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“Through the wide doors of the sheds she caught a glimpse of the black mass of the boat, lying in beside the quay wall, with illumined portholes. She answered nothing. She felt her cheek pale and cold and, out of a maze of distress, she prayed to God to direct her, to show her what was her duty.”
In the early 1900s, James Joyce set out to capture Irish life as he saw it, which wasn’t a particularly encouraging view. The resulting collection of short stories, Dubliners, was published in 1904, overcoming initial protests over its publication due to the indecency of its controversial tone. Comprising fifteen stories grouped into four stages—childhood (I published a reading of “Araby” from this grouping September of 2025), adolescence, maturity, and finally public life—Dubliners delivers powerful glimpses into the frictions of everyday life,. The final story, and his most famous of the set, “The Dead,” is a culmination of all these themes.
Joyce began writing these stories as he was attending medical school in Dublin, and his studies greatly affected the tone and purpose of Dubliners. At the time, he spoke often of the tepid lifeforce of his countrymen in specifically medical terms. As scholar Florence L. Walzl observed, Joyce “concluded that Ireland was sick, and diagnosed its psychological malady as hemiplegia, a partial, unilateral paralysis. He told his brother, ‘What’s the matter with you is that you’re afraid to live. You and people like you. This city is suffering from hemiplegia of the will.’”
Today’s story, “Eveline,” is from the adolescence phase. In it, a young woman is on the precipice of a life-altering move away from her dour life of servitude under an abusive father and towards open possibility in another country with a man who loves her. One gets the sense that, while Joyce conjures up the reader’s deep sympathy with Eveline’s ultimate impotence, he doesn’t care to join us in it but would rather rebel against the suspension of will that inspired it—a masterful achievement in so few words.
Please enjoy…
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“Mathilde suffered ceaselessly, feeling herself born to enjoy all delicacies and all luxuries.”
Guy de Maupassant was like a flash of lightening on the literary scene. He had a short life and a shorter writing career that left a slowly fading echo of light in the night sky. As Maupassant himself acknowledged, “I entered the literary life like a meteor and I will come out like a love at first sight.”
Love at first sight, in Maupassant’s world, comes to a lonely, regrettable end.
In his ten intense years of writing, the author created over 300 short stories and six novels, among a number of other creative pursuits. Maupassant called himself a naturalist and pressed beauty right up against pain and suffering in stories that quickly won the fawning attention of readers who were ready for a radical departure from the romanticism that reigned in the first half of the 19th-century.
Friend and fellow naturalist Emile Zola called Maupassant “the happiest and unhappiest of men.” It is easy to see this deportment take shape in a story like “The Necklace,” in which a beautiful woman, desperate for a beautiful life, is served a slice of her soul’s desire only for it to digest into years of penance and misery.
“The Necklace” remains one of Maupassant’s best-known works, and we can surely appreciate why once we experience the painful twist of his ending.
Please enjoy…
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Paste by Henry James
“She had laid the pearls on his table, where, without his having at first put so much as a finger to them, they met his hard, cold stare.”
There is something about the writing style of Henry James that can leave one with the impression that his work exists in the service of the hoi polloi; that his work is snobbish and unrelatable. Respected biographer Carl Van Doren once referred to him as the “laureate of leisure,” and there is surely something rather gilded about many of the narrative backdrops he creates.
Alas, if such a notion has prevented you from delving into James’ work, allow me to open the door to a different view with a reading of “Paste,” a short story published in 1899. Modeled after Guy de Maupassant’s story “The Necklace,” James complimented the younger author by adopting a similar theme, albeit turned upside down. In “Paste,” a woman of modest means is gifted a necklace from the estate of her recently deceased aunt. The aunt was the wife of a pastor, living a rather humble life, and the stepson who gives the necklace expresses his belief that it is “worthless paste” but that some sentimental value may be appreciated from its possession.
As the story unfolds, the origin and value of the necklace are called into question, and the stakes rise. With “Paste,” James creates a tension directly from the characters’ lack of leisure—there is no one in the story for whom resolution is immaterial. In an incredible efficiency of plot development, he puts the psychology of the situation front and center.
I’ll be publishing a reading of de Maupassant’s “The Necklace” next week, so stay tuned for that release and decide for yourself if James’ reinterpretation is an improvement on the original.
Please enjoy…
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