Miracles every day

This newish George Saunders piece didn't do anything for me. It seems slight, fluffy, like a trite humor piece slapped into one of those middlebrow magazines like the New Yorker. That's exactly what it is though, isn't it? His first two short story collections had moments that were genuinely unsettling, but some of the same tics that helped create that tone now seem silly. Saunders riffs a lot on the banality of American culture, but this is almost indistinguishable from real letters that i read in my local paper, with just some smug winking to set it apart.