Kind of sucked, but one high point was discovering the author Stacey Richter. I loved “Christ Their Lord,” which evoked both the sterile, cheery, obliviousness of the Arizona town where my brother lives and the strange behavior of Miami residents during the holiday season. (I don’t remember any soft-sculpture snowmen in people’s yards, but it wasn’t uncommon for folks to put cotton batting on their lawns to simulate snow.)
Anyway, Richter’s voice reminds me of George Saunders crossed with Matthew Klam and makes me want to write something new.