Last summer, as our guest editor was immersed in a hefty box of stories, selecting the 2025 O. Henry Prize winners, an intriguing announcement was made by The New York Times: the list of the one hundred best books of the twenty-first century. Among the distinguished writers on that list was none other than our guest editor, Edward P. Jones, whose work was highlighted twice: first with his Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Known World (2003), listed at number 4, and again with his story collection All Aunt Hagar’s Children (2006), ranked at number 70. This impressive feat was further celebrated by renowned critic A. O. Scott, who traveled to Washington, D.C. for a candid interview with Jones. Scott’s headline read: “Visiting an Elusive Writer and Revisiting His Masterpiece.”
Jones’s literary presence is often distant, untouched by the social media buzz that surrounds many contemporary writers. His position, therefore, may seem elusive, but his work is an undeniable fixture in the literary realm. The Known World, which delves into the complex history of a Black slave owner in nineteenth-century Virginia, creates a seamless blend of history and fiction. Scott notes how Jones’s writing isn’t necessarily an empirical achievement but a triumph of imagination—a realization that prompted a deeper appreciation of Jones’s approach to storytelling. For Jones, the fiction-writer’s freedom isn’t just a luxury but a duty: the responsibility to craft truths that extend beyond mere facts.
As he selected the 2025 O. Henry Prize winners, it became evident that Jones is dedicated to uncovering truths that can only emerge through fiction—truths that resonate far beyond mere reality. The stories he has chosen this year are not just reflections of life as we know it, but triumphs of the imagination that offer us a deeper understanding of the human experience.
Jones’s own works, like All Aunt Hagar’s Children, are marked by small miracles of imagination. His stories are often filled with poetic, resonant moments. For example, in In the Blink of God’s Eye: “They stood there for a long time, time enough for the moon to hop from one tree across the road to another. The moon shone silver through all the trees…most generous with the silver where it fell, and even the places where it had not shone had a grayness pleasant and almost anticipatory, as if the moon were saying, I’ll be over to you as soon as I can.” These lines, like many in his work, transcend simple narrative—they soar with imagery and emotion, evoking a sense of deep truth that only fiction can achieve.
Throughout this year, as I observed Jones at work selecting the O. Henry Prize stories, it was clear that he shares a kinship with O. Henry, the master of revealing deeper truths by turning conventional expectations upside down. Much like in O. Henry’s One Dollar’s Worth, where a counterfeit coin saves the day, Jones’s writing takes what we know and transforms it into something richer and more revealing. In Old Boys, Old Girls, Jones conjures new life from old relics, much like a master juggler manipulating old, heavy coins to show us something magical and real.
The contrast between this magical realism and the sterile, formulaic outputs of artificial intelligence is striking. Recently, I witnessed AI being employed to create a sentimental toast at a birthday party. While the words were sweet, they lacked depth, relying on clichés and generic phrases. This made me wonder: Are we truly making magic anymore? AI, for all its vast data, can’t create the genuine emotional depth that human writers infuse into their work. As Jones aptly pointed out in our correspondence, the fiction-writer’s freedom to invent—without the constraints of reality—gives rise to truths that AI cannot replicate.
The stories in the following pages represent writers who have crafted their own worlds of imagination, stories that shimmer like silver coins under Jones’s moon. They are true in ways that only the freedom of fiction can reveal. As you read, remember: these aren’t mere narratives pulled from the air—they are carefully imagined worlds, created from nothing but the strength of a writer’s vision, turning the ordinary into something extraordinary.
