How he found the time to be the guest editor for this book is anyone’s guess. Why he agreed to do it is more complex. Trust me — it’s not for the money, which would be a rounding error for his monthly income. It’s not because he needs another book on the shelf to prove he works hard. I confess that I didn’t ask the question, lest he pause for a moment to ask himself what in the world he was doing.
Most likely Patterson has an affection for this important series and liked the idea of being part of it. I helped him assemble a library of great fiction (titles that he chose), reflecting his eclectic but elevated taste (he loves War and Peace, Ulysses, One Hundred Years of Solitude). It is evident that literature means a great deal to him, and let’s face it, having his involvement with this book will help sales (Houghton Mifflin Harcourt is even releasing a hardcover edition this year). A lot of contributors who are not household names will receive exposure that they would have been unlikely to have had otherwise.
As has been true every year (and this is the nineteenth volume in the series), this is a wonderful collection of original fiction about extremes of human behavior caused by despair, hate, greed, fear, envy, insanity, or love — sometimes in combination. Desperate people may consider desperate acts, and desperation is a fertile ground for poor choices. Many of the authors in this cornucopia of crime have described how antisocial solutions to difficult situations may occur, and why perpetrators feel that their violent responses to conflicts seem appropriate.
The psychology of crime has become the dominant form of mystery fiction in recent years, while the classic detective tale of observation and deduction has faded further into the background. Those tales of pure deduction may be the most difficult mystery stories to write, as it has become increasingly difficult to find original motivations for murder, or a new murder method, or an original way to hide a vital clue until the detective unearths it. The working definition of a mystery story for this series is any work of fiction in which a crime, or the threat of a crime, is central to the theme or the plot. The detective story is merely one subgenre in the literary form known as the mystery, just as are romantic suspense, espionage, legal legerdemain, medical thriller, political duplicity, and stories told from the point of view of the villain.
To find the best of these stories is a yearlong quest, largely enabled by Nat Sobel, the best literary agent in the world, and by my invaluable colleague, Michele Slung, who culls the mystery magazines, both printed and electronic, for suitable stories, just as she does short story collections (works by a single author) and anthologies (works by a variety of authors), popular magazines, and, perhaps the richest trove to be mined, literary journals. As the fastest and smartest reader I have ever known, she looks at somewhere between 3,000 and 5,000 stories a year, largely to determine if they are mysteries (you can’t tell a story by its title) and then to determine if they are worth serious consideration. I then read the harvested crop, passing along the best fifty (or at least those I liked best) to the guest editor, who selects the twenty that are then reprinted, the other thirty being listed in an honor roll as “Other Distinguished Mystery Stories.”
A word of thanks is more than appropriate for the previous eighteen guest editors (listed at the front of the book), who gave so much of their time and energy to help make this such a distinguished and successful series.
The search has already begun for suitable stories for next year’s edition. To qualify, a story must be — duh — a mystery, must be written by an American or a Canadian, and must have had its first publication in the calendar year 2015 in an American or Canadian publication. If you are the author of such a work, or its editor, or any interested party (your credentials will not be reviewed), please feel free to submit it. Every word of Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine, Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine, and The Strand is read, so there’s no need to waste postage on sending a story from them. If the story was first published online, only hard copies will be read; these must include the name of the e-zine, the date on which it was published, and contact information. No unpublished stories are eligible, for what should be obvious reasons. Submitted material will not be returned. If you do not trust the U.S. Postal Service to deliver the book, magazine, or tearsheets, please enclose a self-addressed postcard to receive confirmation.
The earlier submissions are received, the less hurriedly will they be read. Please send submissions to Otto Penzler, The Mysterious Bookshop, 58 Warren Street, New York, NY 10007. If your story is one of the fifty or sixty or more customarily delivered by thoughtless dunderheads during Christmas week, it may not receive quite the same respectful reading as those submitted in less crowded months. If the story is published during the last week of the year, okay, fair enough. But if it was published in the spring and you just got around to sending it, I will view it as a personal affront and an attempt to ruin my Christmas celebrations; you will have had to write an extraordinary story for me to forgive you. Because of the unforgiving deadlines necessarily imposed on a work of this nature, the absolute final date for receiving material is December 31. This is neither an arrogant nor a whimsical decision, but is essential in order for production schedules to be met. If it arrives on January 2, it will not be read. Yes, really.
O.P.
Introduction
A few years ago, I dug up some short stories to share with my son, Jack. I got him the world’s greatest (and funniest) story of workplace dysfunction, “The Catbird Seat” by James Thurber. I dusted off the classic that some say inspired The Hunger Games — “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. I got him the not terribly short but unforgettable Hemingway classic, “The Short, Happy Life of Francis Macomber.” I passed him the heartbreaking “All Summer in a Day” by Ray Bradbury. And several others.
They included laugh-out-louders, cry-in-your-handers, heart-in-your-throaters, and shake-your-fist-at-the-worlders. All, to my mind, were profound and provocative. It’s no wonder these stories have endured through the years. Each one manages to say something more profound and provocative in a few pages than some novels manage to say over the course of several hundred pages.
These days, Americans tend to think about short stories in a, well, shortsighted way. How many short stories can the average person name off the top of his head? Probably a few here and there by Edgar Allan Poe, sure. But how about ones that were written in the last year? The last five years? The last ten? I think you’d be hard-pressed to find even a handful of people who could do it.
It’s a simple fact of modern life that short stories are not very popular. Which is bizarre when one considers what one hears about our attention spans. My personal theory is not that they don’t work for us any longer but rather that we (except when we’re trying to inspire our kids with the things that inspired us when we were their age) have largely forgotten about them. And, perhaps, that they haven’t been very well published lately, given the changes in the magazine world.
The short story is also one of the most fertile mediums for adaptations. Movies, TV shows, and plays are often adapted from short stories, and it’s not hard to see why. With such a limited amount of space, authors bring to life a world created through the painstaking selection of every single word, leaving a lasting, highly visual impression in the minds of readers.
Think of some iconic films, ones that have made a cultural impact in our world — The Birds, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Brokeback Mountain, The Shawshank Redemption, Minority Report, Million Dollar Baby. Did you know they were based on short stories? Does the typical moviegoing American know? People love short stories, and often they don’t even realize it.