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I can't say that I like classic Russian short stories any more now than I did before reading this book, but my appreciation for them has definitely grown. And my admiration for George Saunders - the writer as well as the teacher - has reached a new high.

Mostly we walk around identifying with one set of opinions and assessing the world from that position. Our inner orchestra has been instructed that certain instruments are to dominate, others to play softly or not at all. Writing, we get a chance to change that mix. Quieter instruments are allowed to come to the fore; our usual blaring beliefs are asked to sit quietly, horns in their laps. This is good; it reminds us that those other, quieter instruments were there all the time. And that, by extrapolation, every person in the world has his or her inner orchestra, and the instruments present in their orchestras are, roughly speaking, the same as the ones in ours.

And this is why literature works.

Yes it is.

Strongly recommended for all writers, and any reader with an analytical bent.