Diane Williams’s eleventh story collection, I Hear You’re Rich, was published in August. She is editor of NOON.
We had our shoes off and maybe this was a place where we were washing for gold, somewhat lost in the world. I see myself at my ease fifty years ago in this old photograph, and I have held on to a vial of gold dust – I don’t know where it is – and a ruby – a ruby crumb really. It is red. She had...
‘You can’t really think I would like this!’ and he hands the gift back to his wife. ‘Did you ever know me to have anything like this?’ ‘Yes, me!’
Catalpa‘Did you ever find out about that tree?’ the wife asks. ‘A lady in the park told me – it’s catalpa!’ ...
Her son is zigzagging on the lawn behind her house and he holds his new toy in his arms as if it is a babe in his arms.
It is the Easy Disk – which is painless to catch, cuts through the wind, floats on the water, flies up to one hundred and twenty feet, and is composed of a flexible, grippy material – but still, he has no one to play with.
His son is out there also, although his son...
One woman grew her hair so long it dragged across the floor as she walked. People thought she was pleasing to look at and she wore highly decorated clothing.
And facing the gods was joyful for her too. Foremost, she had to face herself – and she thought she was so inspirational.
She did not see her darker purposes … These lay far away in veiled areas.
Invariably she says to her...
But this story is not about Chuck. Chuck Chuck, so to say.
She cannot have endured the man for long, but she did – because hers is a tale of passion.
See how she stroked her salvage – as she dusted the elk family figurines that Chuck gave her – as she tried to bring back strong memories of adoration or lust.
And can you believe that? – that Chuck Rosso, whom she had...
Diane Williams talks about and reads from her new Collected Stories, with Lara Pawson.
Diane Williams talks to Thomas Jones about her short stories, and reads her latest two published in the LRB.
Rushing out of the house for an appointment, I grabbed what I thought was Diane Williams’s Collected Stories. When I retrieved the book from my bag, I was surprised to find it was...
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