You don’t simply “discover” Mavis Gallant; you join the chorus of readers who, after encountering her short stories, become almost delirious with praise, feeling reawakened to literature, to reading, to language itself. I was so captivated by a very short story, “Orphan’s Progress,” tucked into the middle of The Uncollected Stories of Mavis Gallant (published earlier this year), that I rushed online to learn more about it. It turned out that just months before, Margaret Atwood had written a glowing tribute to that same brief, brutal masterpiece. How brutal? “When women turn strange, it happens very rapidly,” Gallant writes in the story’s opening paragraph. “The first sign is lack of care about clothes and hair, and all at once they are sluts.” The sharp-witted Fran Lebowitz has called Gallant “the irrefutable master of the short story in English.”

To say “Orphan’s Progress” was placed without ceremony is to misunderstand this book’s purpose. It’s a dazzling collection of stories, some of which might have been lost forever without the dedicated work of its editor, novelist Garth Risk Hallberg. (His introduction is both a love letter that puts this essay to shame and a wonderful guide to the treasures within.) While there have been other collections of Gallant’s work—including a masterful Collected Stories from Everyman’s Library—this volume gathers stories that were previously uncollected or had fallen out of print.

This is hardly surprising, given that Gallant was one of the most prolific short story writers of her time. She wrote 103 stories for The New Yorker alone—more than Cheever and nearly as many as Updike—yet she remains far less known than those giants. This may be due to her gender, or because she wasn’t part of the U.S. literary scene (she was born in Canada and moved to Paris at 28 in 1950). A telling anecdote from her life illustrates the challenges women faced in asserting their own narratives: When her soldier husband returned from World War II, she told him she wanted to move to Europe. He refused, the marriage ended, and, as she later said, “for the rest of his life he took pride in seeing himself in most of my male protagonists. And it was never true!”

In chronologically arranged collections, you can often trace a writer’s growth, their less polished early efforts, and biographical threads close to the surface. Gallant does draw from her life. Her mother left her at a convent at age four, and orphans and girls searching for connection populate her stories. Bilingual herself, her work shows a keen sensitivity to the nuances and prejudices of both anglophones and francophones. During World War II, she worked at a Montreal newspaper, an experience that shaped her understanding of power dynamics. “As soon as I realized I was paid about half the salary the men were earning,” she writes in a story about a cub reporter (“With a Capital T”), “I decided to do half the work.” In truth, she was harder on herself than any editor, never actually doing half the work. (“Make me happy,” New Yorker editor William Maxwell once wrote to her, “send me stories.”) Gallant never remarried or had children. The women in her stories often view convention with profound uncertainty—not as iconoclasts, but as fiercely independent individuals.

Gallant’s stories dive into explorations of humanity, nimbly moving between humor and horror. She is a unique master—perhaps closest in spirit to Alice Munro, yet entirely her own creator. To quote one more voice from her chorus of admirers: when Jhumpa Lahiri went to interview her in 2009, the novelist found herself somewhat disoriented in Gallant’s presence.Of her heroine, Lahiri recalled: “At the last minute, before leaving, I told her the only thing I felt was worth saying: ‘No one writes as you do.'”

Gallant believed her short stories should not be read one after another, and I have followed her advice this year, saving them for when I feel dismayed or uninspired by whatever else I’m reading. There is no better tonic, no quicker cure for disillusion. I invite you to join in.

Save to wishlist
The Uncollected Stories of Mavis Gallant – $21 at BOOKSHOP

Frequently Asked Questions
Of course Here is a list of FAQs about The Uncollected Stories of Mavis Gallant and its impact designed to sound like questions from real readers

General Beginner Questions

1 Who is Mavis Gallant and why is she important
Mavis Gallant was a Canadianborn master of the short story who spent most of her life in Paris She is celebrated for her precise insightful and often witty portrayals of exiles outsiders and the complexities of human relationships making her one of the greatest short story writers of the 20th century

2 What does Uncollected Stories mean
It means these are stories that Gallant published in magazines like The New Yorker over decades but were never gathered into one of her previous books This collection brings them together for the first time offering a treasure trove of new material from a beloved author

3 Ive never read Gallant before Is this a good place to start
It can be but its a deep dive The collection is large Many recommend starting with a curated selection like The Selected Stories of Mavis Gallant to get a taste But if youre committed diving into the uncollected work is a thrilling way to experience the full range of her genius

4 Whats the tone or style of her writing
Gallants style is clear observant and psychologically sharp She doesnt spoonfeed emotions she reveals them through subtle detail dialogue and irony Her tone can be wry melancholic compassionate and brutally honestoften all at once

Benefits Impact

5 Why does this book restore your faith in literature
In an age of fastpaced plots and simple narratives Gallants stories demand and reward close attention They remind us that literature can capture the profound nuances of human experience with unmatched depth intelligence and artistry showcasing what the short story form can truly achieve

6 What will I get out of reading these stories
Youll gain a masterclass in character observation and economical storytelling Youll encounter timeless themes of displacement memory and family Most of all youll experience the quiet satisfaction of reading prose that is both beautifully crafted and deeply truthful