ALL WE COULD HAVE BEEN AND MORE

Shaw considers alternate modes of existence in this debut collection of literary short stories.

A woman—who may be controlled by a zombie ant fungus—invites her ex-boyfriend over for a late-night reconciliation (“Zombie Ant Fungus”). A parks and wildlife employee is forced to take a bear into her home when there’s no more room in the woods only to realize, a few weeks into the stay, that the “bear” is actually just a man in a bear suit (“Parks and Wildlife”). A zombie, reanimated for the purpose of serving as a crash test dummy, falls in love with his zombie co-pilot, Jane, over the course of several catastrophic drives together (“Crash Test Zombies”). From Dungeons and Dragons clerics to reluctant pit fighters to body-snatching aliens pretending to be human, the characters in these 16 stories press up against the walls of their realities, probing for those places where recognizable humanity turns into something less familiar. In “Bed Just Right,”a family’s suburban home is rendered an exotic museum when their creepy neighbor sneaks in and begins examining their things: “He wonders if Stan’s and Tamar’s toothbrushes are still damp from their morning brushings. He goes downstairs, runs his thumb over bristles. One is moist. The other is dry. The dry toothbrush’s bristles are squashed, flattened, stiff with old paste. Interesting, he says. Very interesting.” In the title story, an inventor devises a way for him and his wife to be the best possible versions of themselves only to realize it will be different versions of themselves who will actually get to enjoy it. Such what-ifs, inversions, and revisions populate the author’s stories, each presenting the world anew in all its vivid, lovely, awful glory.

Shaw’s tales range from dark surrealism to offbeat comedy. The prose is uniformly tight and clever, as in “Gilman,” which opens with the Creature from the Black Lagoon receiving an invitation to visit a retired ichthyologist: “The Gill-man contemplates his lair—a dank, murky cave. He owns little: a boulder, a puddle of fish offal, some chewed-up crocodile bones. He has always wanted to visit Florida.” “Hallmark Christmas Movies (2013-2020)” is composed of a series of unhinged descriptions of potential movies poking fun at the channel’s established holiday format: “Jake refers to her, the woman with no time for love, as ‘Little Miss Mediocre.’ Not to her face, of course. Except that one time. One time too many.” The author has a gift for concision—the stories are on the shorter side, some only a page or two in length. The more playful, premise-driven pieces tend to be the strongest, though some of the more serious stories, like “Wicked Source of Light,” are quite powerful. Readers will be reminded of the work of George Saunders, though Shaw’s stories have a weirder, less reassuring tone. He veers from familiar to alien or alien to familiar in a way that keeps his audience from ever growing too comfortable, fostering a propulsive sense of unease that carries the reader on to the next strange episode.

A collection of short but memorable narratives that rupture the illusion of personhood.