Recent reports from the world of literary fiction on the Covid pandemic

 Two recent New Yorker stories give us some of the first reports from the world of literary fiction on life in the Covid19 pandemic. Each is good, in its way, but, you know what? I don't really want to ready anything about the pandemic. I'm overwhelmed just by living w/ it. I would never say that I turn to reading fiction so as to escape from reality; but I would say that I turn to fiction to experience the consciousness of another, and these contemporary/topical dispatches are too much like my own consciousness, which I've had plenty of experience w/ over the past 8 months. Rabe's story is a retelling of a nightmare - you'll figure out that much right at the top - in which he moves to a new house/apartment in a new neighborhood and learns that he now has a "roommate," and bad things happen w/ dreamlike logic, which to be fair Rabe has down exactly - but the unsettled nature of life, the upheaval from the diurnal norms, is so unsettling, at least to me, that I didn't read the story, Suffocation Theory, to the end. Doyle is another fine writer, and his story in current NYer, Life Without Children, is well-written top to bottom, but do I, did I really want to go there? This piece is from the POV of a man in England apparently on some kind of business trip as his wife and children are home in Ireland - which apparently for a period of time earlier this year had much tighter restrictions on social distancing and mask-wearing than did the UK, which had in essence no restrictions. The protagonist of the story wanders the streets of Newcastle, somewhat overwhelmed by the crowds of heavy drinkers and celebrants in the bars and walking the streets; he dreams of running away from his life and his family - a familiar trope; isn't there a Hawthorn story on this theme? Isn't in the opening theme of Updike's Rabbit quartet? - but all that occurs is that he stupidly tosses his iPhone into the trash, which turns out to be just some histrionics, as he can deal w/ his passwords and flight reservation  via his laptop, which is secure in his hotel room - so what's the point? Again, the story feels true, accurate, and painful - but it's a truth, accuracy, and pain that I've had enough of by now. Haven't we all?