Chapter One

INTRODUCTION

From the beginning, McSweeney’s has brokered an awkward alliance between two opposing forces. On the one hand, the journal sought to publish experimental fiction and journalism; on the other hand, we hoped to make a home for stories that were funny without being humorous. Though our dream was that these two forces could act as one, as allies and not combatants, this dream was made of stone, or something like petrified wood. Then it turned to ashes. Yet before it turned to ashes it became embers, burning dimly, like a dying fire. Then, once it was ashes, we had no more hope for our dreams, for they were now ashen. Our dreams were no more. We had woken up from our dream, which was a flightless bird.

You have no doubt heard of the many battles, squabbles, fights, and slap-sessions between these two camps. Always this animosity was fueled by those who said that any possibility of peace between two opposites—serious fiction and less serious humor-type writing—was not only impossible, but perhaps not even possible. They said that humor writing should be on the back pages of magazines, and never over 800 words. They said that fiction should never allow one to laugh. And what did we say to that, after thinking about it for a few days and wishing we had had a quicker comeback? We said Nay! We said Nay, these things could coexist, and length need not be an object. Then we hedged a bit, and said, Length is an object, if said pieces are published on the Web, where reading at great length can cause eye strain. And thus was born the idea that sometimes McSweeney’s would publish funny things—sometimes in the journal, more often on the website