For an educated, literate person, I’m an absolute philistine when it comes to short stories.

I know, I know… according to People Who Matter, the short story is writing as an art form, a purer literary expression than the novel, forcing a writer to use an economy of words in order to convey some larger truth. Or so I’ve heard.

But here’s my larger truth: I just can’t get into them. Even when written by authors I adore, I can’t stomach more than a story or two before my eyes start to glaze over. I find myself rushing through, skipping ahead, and pining for a “real” book — aka, a big, meaty novel that I can really sink my teeth into. It happens every time, no matter how good my intentions.

I’ve had this experience countless times, whether with anthologies featuring stories by multiple authors or a book of short stories by a single author. Some recent cases in point:

Smoke and Mirrors by Neil Gaiman: I love Neil Gaiman! I read about 95% of the stories in this collection, and there are some that I know I’ll return to over and over again, especially “Snow, Glass, Apples”, “Nicholas Was…”, and “The Wedding Present”. But, finally, I just had to stop — I thought my brain would shrivel up if I read one single story more.

The Baum Plan For Financial Independence and Other Stories by John Kessel: “The Lunar Quartet” stories in this collection were absolutely brilliant. I read a couple of other stories as well, liked them all well enough, and then put the book down.

Fire Watch by Connie Willis: I picked up this collection because I’d like to read the author’s time travel novels and wanted to read the story that came first (“Fire Watch”), and actually read quite a few of the other stories as well. In addition to “Fire Watch”, I especially liked “A Letter From The Clearys” and “And Come From Miles Around”, although “All My Darling Daughters” was so creepy that I can’t quite say I enjoyed it.

After The Apocalypse by Maureen McHugh: A collection that I actually finished! My Goodreads review is here.

Black Juice by Margo Langan: Includes one of the best, most haunting stories I’ve come across recently, “Singing My Sister Down”. The other stories in the collection are good, but just don’t quite measure up to the first story’s power. And yes, I did skip one or two.

Looking at the list I just put together, I must admit that my problem is not really with individual short stories. Clearly, there are many that I like, or even love. But as a whole, I just can’t feel the same enthusiasm for my reading time when I’m sitting down with a book of stories. Maybe I’m too goal-oriented when I read — I’m always looking ahead and planning what to read next, eager to finish more and more of the books on my to-read shelf — and just don’t get the same sense of satisfaction from a story collection. Maybe it’s that I’m looking for more of a long-term commitment; when I develop a relationship with fictional characters, I want it to last hundreds of pages, not 10 or 20. Or maybe I’m just not sophisticated enough to appreciate the beauty of short fiction.

My 22-year-old daughter — to my delight — discovered the joys of Vonnegut a couple of years ago, and has been reading as much of his work as possible ever since. This week, after finishing a 1,000 page novel (A Clash Of Kings, if you must know), she decided to read something a bit shorter and picked up Vonnegut’s Welcome To The Monkey House. She seemed to love it at first, then came to me a day later to ask to borrow a book (#2 of the Jane True series, if you must know this too), saying “You know what, Mom? I think I’m just not a short story person.”

At least I’m in good company.