I found myself doing something last night that I thought I would never do: I yawned during a George Saunders reading. I laughed, too; several times, as a matter of fact. But I increasingly find Saunders to be too... Saundersesque.

The author read last night at the University of Iowa, promoting his new book, In Persuasion Nation. Of the 12 pieces in the book, eight previously appeared in the New Yorker, with the rest appearing in Esquire, McSweeney's and Harper's (the title story, it appears, is original to the book). So, I have read and liked, to varying degrees, nearly everything in the book. He read the title story last night, and it was simply odd. Of course, that's like saying a story by anyone else was made up of words - duh. But, as with much of what Saunders has written of late, this seemed odd for the sake of being odd.

It was yet another commentary on our consumerist culture, this time a riff on the commercialization of everything. It started funny, if a bit obvious, turned completely absurd, and then took on this strange, melancholic tone that overwhelmed the funny. I didn't dislike it, but it didn't move me the way earlier stories like "Pastoralia" and "Sea Oak" did. Perhaps Saunders is simply trying too hard to write "George Saunders" stories rather than letting the stories naturally evolve. Or, he's simply so fed up with the world and his political and social views so powerful that the best he can muster is thinly veiled satire where deep, absurdist allegory once reigned.

Saunders also read the short comic bit "Nostalgia" from the April 10 New Yorker. It too felt a bit rote. Again, it was funny, but a formula is starting to peek through. Coming on the heels of the funny but a bit too obvious Brief and Frightening Reign of Phil, it feels as if Saunders is in a bit of a slump. It's an entertaining, wish-my-worst-stuff-was-still-that-good kind of slump, but a slump nonetheless.