The short story is often regarded, somewhat unfairly, as a country cousin to the novel: limited in scope and unable to match the nuance and complexity of the longer form. This is, I think, to ignore the strengths of the genre. At its best, the short story illuminates a moment or a character with a precision often obscured at novel length.
A case in point is Brazilian author Geovani Martins’ debut collection, The Sun On My Head. Set in the favelas of Rio de Janeiro where Martins himself grew up, 13 street-smart stories are nova-bright slices of lived experience. Often very short – the longest is barely a dozen pages – Martins’ tales speak of adolescence and manhood, concerning themselves with the expectations and shortcomings of masculinity. Male role models are thin on the ground and the only stability is provided by a mother or grandmother.
