The Short Story in America: From Poe to Today’s Masters

The Short Story in America: From Poe to Today’s Masters

The short story is one of America’s most distinctive literary forms. While it draws on older European folktales and sketches, the short story found its brisk pace, psychological depth, and democratic reach on American soil—tuned to our cities and plains, our migrations and arrivals, our speech and silences. This guide traces the form’s evolution from the nineteenth century to the present, pairing key authors with brief example lines (fair use) and suggesting famous stories and collections to explore.

What Makes the American Short Story “American”?

Three traits recur across eras: compression, voice, and place. American stories tend to arrive quickly, speak distinctly, and stand somewhere—New England woods, Harlem streets, Midwestern kitchens, Southwestern deserts. They carry the timbre of a nation in motion and the stubborn textures of the local. As Vine Deloria reminds us, identity is lived on the ground; American short fiction absorbs that ground and gives it back as character, conflict, and image.

Foundations: Poe, Hawthorne, Melville

Edgar Allan Poe refined the short story into a concentrated art of effect. His pieces pursue a single emotional trajectory—terror, dread, obsession—making every sentence serve that aim.

“I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth.” — The Tell-Tale Heart (1843)

What to read: “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Cask of Amontillado.”

Nathaniel Hawthorne explored moral ambiguity through allegory and atmosphere, rooting his work in New England’s history and forests.

“Young Goodman Brown came forth at sunset.” — Young Goodman Brown (1835)

What to read: “Young Goodman Brown,” “The Birth-Mark,” Twice-Told Tales (collection).

Herman Melville gave the form philosophical weight and office-era realism long before it was fashionable.

“I would prefer not to.” — Bartleby, the Scrivener (1853)

What to read: “Bartleby, the Scrivener,” “Benito Cereno.”

Realism and Regions: Twain, Chopin, Chesnutt, Jewett

After the Civil War, American short fiction broadened into regional realism—capturing dialect, custom, and local ironies.

Mark Twain fused frontier humor with sharp observation.

“Smiley had a mare which he called the fifteen-minute nag.” — “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County” (1865)

What to read: “The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County.”

Kate Chopin rendered women’s inner lives in Louisiana’s parishes.

“She was a little faint and dizzy.” — “The Story of an Hour” (1894)

What to read: “The Story of an Hour,” pieces from Bayou Folk.

Charles W. Chesnutt innovated with frame tales that braid folklore and Reconstruction-era realities.

“Dat’s a mighty strange tale, suh.” — “The Goophered Grapevine” (1887)

What to read: “The Goophered Grapevine,” The Wife of His Youth.

Sarah Orne Jewett distilled quiet strength and community in coastal Maine.

“It was noon by the sun.” — “A White Heron” (1886)

What to read: “A White Heron.”

Modernism: Anderson, Hemingway, Hurston, Faulkner

Modernists pared language, fractured chronology, and surveyed the psyche. Magazines—the engines of short fiction—amplified their voices.

Sherwood Anderson shaped the “linked collection,” giving a whole town a chorus of lonely, luminous voices.

“In the darkness he could not see the hands.” — “Hands” (1919)

What to read: Winesburg, Ohio (cycle); “Hands,” “Adventure.”

Ernest Hemingway perfected restraint—meaning emerges in the white space.

“Would you please please please please please please please stop talking?” — “Hills Like White Elephants” (1927)

What to read: “Hills Like White Elephants,” “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place,” In Our Time.

Zora Neale Hurston brought the cadences of Black Southern speech into vibrant, modern narratives.

“You better quit dat talkin’.” — “Sweat” (1926)

What to read: “Sweat,” “The Gilded Six-Bits.”

William Faulkner expanded the short story into mythic time—same counties, different centuries.

“They’re going to kill her.” — “A Rose for Emily” (1930)

What to read: “A Rose for Emily,” “Barn Burning,” Go Down, Moses (linked stories).

Mid-Century: O’Connor, Baldwin, Cheever, Welty

After the war, American stories interrogated grace, race, suburban aspiration, and the stubbornness of fate.

Flannery O’Connor revealed violent epiphanies in the Southern grotesque.

“She would of been a good woman.” — “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” (1953)

What to read: “A Good Man Is Hard to Find,” “Good Country People.”

James Baldwin braided music, memory, and moral clarity.

“I read about it in the paper.” — “Sonny’s Blues” (1957)

What to read: “Sonny’s Blues,” “Going to Meet the Man.”

John Cheever mapped suburban desire and disillusion with elegant unease.

“It was one of those midsummer Sundays.” — “The Swimmer” (1964)

What to read: “The Swimmer,” “The Enormous Radio,” The Stories of John Cheever.

Eudora Welty attended closely to community and perception.

“It was December; the month of the cleared garden.” — “Why I Live at the P.O.” (1941)

What to read: “Why I Live at the P.O.,” “A Worn Path.”

Minimalism and After: Carver, Bambara, Oates

Raymond Carver wrote about working-class rooms, unpaid bills, and the strange dignity of getting by. His sentences are clean until they suddenly aren’t.

“We were in bed, asleep.” — “Why Don’t You Dance?” (1976)

What to read: What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, “Cathedral,” “Neighbors.”

Toni Cade Bambara brought quick wit and kinetic dialogue to urban Black childhoods and communities.

“Miss Moore is with us.” — “The Lesson” (1972)

What to read: “The Lesson,” stories from Gorilla, My Love.

Joyce Carol Oates ranges from psychological realism to American gothic, often revealing peril at the edge of ordinary life.

“Her name was Connie.” — “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” (1966)

What to read: “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?,” “Heat.”

Contemporary Voices: Lahiri, Díaz, Saunders, Machado, Trethewey, Packer

Jhumpa Lahiri writes with exactness about immigration, marriage, and distance—literal and felt.

“Mrs. Sen’s hair is longer than mine.” — “Mrs. Sen’s” (1999)

What to read: Interpreter of Maladies (Pulitzer), “A Temporary Matter.”

Junot Díaz mixes streetwise swagger with tender memory, code-switching between English and Spanish to capture Dominican-American adolescence.

“The kids kept trying to jump me.” — “Fiesta, 1980” (1996)

What to read: Drown, “How to Date a Browngirl, Blackgirl, Whitegirl, or Halfie.”

George Saunders blends satire with mercy, giving corporate America and everyday kindness an odd, luminous dignity.

“A haircut cost eight dollars.” — “Puppy” (2007)

What to read: Tenth of December, “Sticks,” “Escape from Spiderhead.”

Carmen Maria Machado reimagines horror and desire, turning familiar myths and TV tropes into uncanny mirrors.

“The husband stitches.” — “The Husband Stitch” (2014)

What to read: Her Body and Other Parties, “Inventory.”

Natasha Trethewey (better known for poetry) crafts short prose that traces memory, race, and Gulf Coast place with quiet force.

“The water kept its secrets.” — short prose excerpt

What to read: Short prose in essays/memoir; pair with poets writing story-like sequences.

ZZ Packer brings humor and moral clarity to coming-of-age and faith.

“The Lord fights my battles.” — “Brownies” (2003)

What to read: Drinking Coffee Elsewhere, “Brownies.”

Forms and Innovations You’ll Meet Along the Way

• The Linked Collection: Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio, Faulkner’s Go Down, Moses, Elizabeth Strout’s Olive Kitteridge—independent stories forming a mosaic.
• Minimalism: Carver, Amy Hempel, Mary Robison—emotional pressure through omission and plain style.
• Speculative Realism: Saunders, Ted Chiang, Kelly Link—what-ifs that ask ethical questions rooted in everyday America.
• Micro/Flash: Lydia Davis and journal cultures online—stories under 1,000 words that still land with force.

Why the Short Story Endures in America

The form is elastic. It can be a five-page shock or a forty-page immersion. It thrives in classrooms, magazines, anthologies, and—now—digital platforms. For writers, it’s a laboratory. For readers living busy lives, it’s a perfectly scaled art: you can meet a character, feel a life, and leave changed on a lunch break. Most importantly, American stories keep returning to place: New England gloom, Louisiana heat, Bronx stoops, Oakland warehouses, Arizona borderlands—soil that shapes sentence and fate.

Essential Stories & Collections to Start With

If you want a compact tour of the tradition and its living edges, this reading path balances eras, geographies, and styles. Anthologies are listed first for breadth, then single-author highlights.

Anthologies & Annuals

• The Best American Short Stories (annual series) — A snapshot of the year’s voices across magazines.
• American Short Story Masterpieces, ed. Raymond Carver & Tom Jenks — Late-20th-century classics with staying power.
• 100 Years of The Best American Short Stories, ed. Lorrie Moore & Heidi Pitlor — A century-spanning overview.

Single-Author Collections & Famous Stories

• Edgar Allan Poe, Tales — “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “The Cask of Amontillado.”
• Nathaniel Hawthorne, Twice-Told Tales — “Young Goodman Brown,” “The Birth-Mark.”
• Herman Melville — “Bartleby, the Scrivener,” “Benito Cereno.”
• Sarah Orne Jewett — “A White Heron.”
• Kate Chopin, Bayou Folk — “The Story of an Hour.”
• Charles W. Chesnutt, The Conjure Woman — “The Goophered Grapevine.”
• Sherwood Anderson, Winesburg, Ohio — “Hands,” “Mother,” “Adventure.”
• Ernest Hemingway, In Our Time — “Hills Like White Elephants,” “Big Two-Hearted River.”
• Zora Neale Hurston — “Sweat,” “The Gilded Six-Bits.”
• William Faulkner — “A Rose for Emily,” “Barn Burning.”
• Eudora Welty — “Why I Live at the P.O.,” “A Worn Path.”
• Flannery O’Connor, A Good Man Is Hard to Find — title story, “Good Country People.”
• James Baldwin — “Sonny’s Blues.”
• John Cheever, The Stories of John Cheever — “The Swimmer,” “The Enormous Radio.”
• Raymond Carver, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love — title story, “Cathedral.”
• Toni Cade Bambara, Gorilla, My Love — “The Lesson.”
• Joyce Carol Oates — “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?”
• Jhumpa Lahiri, Interpreter of Maladies — “A Temporary Matter,” “Mrs. Sen’s.”
• Junot Díaz, Drown — “Fiesta, 1980,” “Ysrael.”
• George Saunders, Tenth of December — “Sticks,” “Puppy.”
• Carmen Maria Machado, Her Body and Other Parties — “The Husband Stitch,” “Inventory.”
• ZZ Packer, Drinking Coffee Elsewhere — “Brownies.”
• Kelly Link, Magic for Beginners — “The Faery Handbag.”
• Ted Chiang, Stories of Your Life and Others — “Story of Your Life.”
• Elizabeth Strout, Olive Kitteridge — linked stories of a Maine town.

Reading the Form: A Few Practical Tips

• Listen for voice. In ten pages, diction and rhythm must do the work of a novel.
• Watch the first paragraph. American stories often state a pressure or situation quickly.
• Track place. Note how geography narrows or opens a character’s choices.
• Respect the ending’s restraint. Many classics stop one beat early; the after-echo is the point.

Writing the Short Story: Essentials for Emerging Authors

• Choose one tension. Let every scene test it. (Poe’s unity of effect still works.)
• Cut to the live wire. Start as late as possible; exit just before explanation.
• Anchor in place. Give readers street names, weather, soil—concrete texture.
• Let dialogue carry weight. Hemingway’s “iceberg” applies; what’s unsaid matters.
• Revise for compression. If a sentence can do two jobs, make it.

Why This History Matters Now

The short story continues to renew itself because America continues to change. New voices arrive, new media publish, and the old problems—love, class, race, hope—persist in fresh settings. From Salem village to Sharp, Louisiana; from Harlem to Silicon Valley office parks; from immigrant kitchens to empty swimming pools, the American short story keeps record of life as it is actually lived here. Compact, portable, and deeply local, it remains the nation’s most agile narrative form.

Have a favorite American short story we missed? Share it with us—Westbrae Literary Group is building a living map of stories shaped by the places we call home.