Modern Short Stories: A Book for High Schools — Reading Companion

Pedagogical Framing vs. Actual Content

Law's preface positions the collection as a remedy for students bored by 'long expositions, descriptions, leisurely treatment, and material drawn from the past.' He promises stories of 'present-day life' and 'present-day thought.' Yet the excerpt that survives in the Project Gutenberg text—likely from Morgan Robertson's 'The Battle of the Monsters' or a similar work—depicts a surreal, violent ecosystem where 'the dog-faced invaders sought this death' and 'the number of suicides ... largely exceeding those killed by the white warriors.' This is not a slice of contemporary life but a speculative, almost clinical account of a war between alien or microscopic creatures. The disconnect between Law's stated goals and the story's content suggests that the anthology's range may be broader than its preface implies.

A Biological War Machine

The excerpt's central conflict is a relentless, mechanistic battle. The invaders reproduce by breaking in two: 'a black fighter ... was caught by a white monster ... then the two parts escaped ... the protuberance becoming the head of the rear portion, which immediately joined the fight.' This is not a moral struggle but a biological imperative, described with detached precision: 'where one died two took his place.' The setting is a series of 'caves,' 'tunnels,' and 'sponge-like' passages, with 'cross-currents' and 'rhythmical thunder' suggesting a living body or a vast machine. The language is clinical—'mechanical maw,' 'living lamps,' 'noncombatants'—and the violence is graphic: 'crushed, mangled, and cast out.' The story offers no human characters, no dialogue, and no clear allegory, making it a stark outlier in a collection aimed at high school readers.

The Anthology's Implied Audience

Law's preface explicitly addresses teachers, arguing that 'every boy or girl is certain to read short stories' and that schools should 'guide taste and appreciation.' He criticizes earlier collections that 'draw much of their material from the past' with 'authors and content alike dead.' Yet the excerpt's unrelenting, almost scientific horror—'the horrid carnival continued with never-slacking fury'—seems ill-suited to a pedagogical context. The story's complexity and lack of clear moral or thematic resolution would challenge even adult readers. This raises questions about how Law selected stories and what criteria he used to define 'modern.' The anthology may have been more experimental than its classroom purpose suggests, or the excerpt may represent an extreme example within a otherwise conventional set.

Readers approaching Modern Short Stories should set aside the catalog's 'Science Fiction & Utopias' label and instead consider how the anthology balances pedagogical intent with literary variety. The excerpt's biological war story is a reminder that early twentieth-century short fiction could be as strange and visceral as anything published today. Pay attention to how each story in the collection handles action, description, and resolution—and whether Law's preface accurately describes the contents.

That rainy afternoon, Modern Short Stories sat heavy on my lap, its war tale somehow more visceral than the editor’s tidy introductions. I kept thinking about the skipper’s quiet certainty, that stubborn human instinct beneath chaos. Later, almost by accident, I found The skipper knows best — Story, Setting & Ideas, and the same feeling returned—weather, judgment, and the unspoken pact between people who know the sea.