George saunders new yorker biography for kids
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About George Saunders
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I’d on all occasions been concerned in conjure, ever since a parson I was secretly concentrated love accost turned
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George Saunders
American writer (born )
For other people named George Saunders, see George Saunders (disambiguation).
George Saunders (born December 2, ) is an American writer of short stories, essays, novellas, children's books, and novels. His writing has appeared in The New Yorker, Harper's, McSweeney's, and GQ. He also contributed a weekly column, "American Psyche", to The Guardian's weekend magazine between and [3]
A professor at Syracuse University, Saunders won the National Magazine Award for fiction in , , , and , and second prize in the O. Henry Awards in His first story collection, CivilWarLand in Bad Decline, was a finalist for the PEN/Hemingway Award. In , Saunders received a MacArthur Fellowship and won the World Fantasy Award for his short story "CommComm".[4]
His story collection In Persuasion Nation was a finalist for The Story Prize in In , he won the PEN/Malamud Award[5] and was a finalist for the National Book Award. Saunders's Tenth of December: Stories won The Story Prize for short-story collections[6] and the inaugural () Folio Prize.[7][8] His novel Lincoln in the Bardo won the Booker Prize.[9]
Early life and education
[edit]Saunders was born in Amarillo,
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I’ve also undergone a gradual stylistic evolution that may have had something to do with my writing travel-based nonfiction. I think I got a little more comfortable with the idea of not having to put total fireworks into every sentence, which meant that I could broaden out a bit and write stories that didn’t have any overt pyrotechnics—i.e., stories (like “Victory Lap” or “Puppy” or “Al Roosten”) that were a step closer to realism in their settings and actions.
It’s true that many of the stories in the book end with some kind of redemptive act, or at least the hope for one. But those moments of redemption seem to happen almost on a knife’s edge: they’re laced with violence or the potential for it—for instance, the ending of “Escape from Spiderhead,” in which the only possible act of decency requires a gruesome suicide, or the last few lines of “Home,” in which a desperate man on the point of violence more or less begs to be restrained from it. I guess even these stories are somehow poised on the edge of that shitter, still?
Yes. I guess part of making a story that has some redemptive, shitter-avoidance energy is to make a convincing shitter. (At this point, I’m beginning to regret starting off with a “shitter metaphor.”) And from what I wrote above, a reader might expect t