In Chekhov’s ‘In the Cart’, where a disillusioned schoolteacher experiences a sudden rush of memory that takes her by surprise, we understand the beauty and tragedy of a fleeting moment of insight. And thus we uncover the idea, through Saunders, that a story does not have to make sense to have meaning. In Gogol’s ‘The Nose’, Major Kovalyov discovers that his nose has vacated his face and is strolling around St Petersburg dressed as a high-ranking official. This shouldn’t feel urgent and controversial. It should be ‘a story in which you might play a meaningful part, and in which you had responsibilities’. Saunders’s mission? To sell the idea that great fiction should change you morally and ethically. I sat through the whole thing moon-eyed, as entranced as the student in Indiana Jones’s Raiders of the Lost Ark who leans dreamily on her elbow and flashes the words ‘Love You’ written on her eyelids. This book gives you a front seat in the class. He picks six students a year from a pool of around 700 applicants at Syracuse University, New York.

Saunders has taught a three-year course in the 19th-century Russian short story in translation for the past two decades. At a time when many well-intentioned readers have been in lockdown for months and still haven’t quite got round to, er, finishing War and Peace, Saunders whispers reassuringly over our shoulder: ‘Here’s an immaculate Chekhov story in 11 pages. It’s also a passionate argument for the enduring power of the classic Russian short story. It’s a guide to craft that is every bit as stunning as Stephen King’s On Writing it’s an insight into the mind of a great writer ( Lincoln in the Bardo won the 2017 Man Booker Prize) and it’s an extraordinary meditation on our lives as readers. The book ticks a pleasingly ridiculous number of boxes.

A swim in the pond in rain