TEETH & CRUMPETS

A collection of comical, lighthearted stories tied by recurrent references to all things dental.

Shoemaker assembles 28 short stories—most of them only a few pages long—the number corresponding to the number of teeth in his mouth. He’s missing his 4 wisdom teeth, a sure sign, he jests, that “this is a book without any wisdom.” This one-liner anticipates the book’s general thrust—lots of jocularity and an obsession with teeth. Sometimes matters dental form the backbone of a story—in “correspondentures,” Harry anxiously writes Edward, a vanished paramour, enclosing his own extracted teeth as proof of devotion. In his zeal, Harry ends up toothless, a terrible bind for which he was unprepared: “And now, because of you, I am reduced to a diet of corn and beans. Milk. Butter. Cheese. I do happen to adore cheese. Such a novelty, do you agree! Don’t answer!” In other stories, teeth figure only peripherally; e.g., the protagonist’s parents often get their dentures confused in “bottleship.” While all the stories are written in a farcical spirit, brimming with punchlines, the collection occasionally takes a more serious turn. In “heteroholics: a memoir,” the narrator intends to donate his kidney to the mother of his best friend from childhood, but he’s reminded that he is considered a high-risk donor as a gay man—that his “kidney is gay.” This is the best story in the collection—not only genuinely funny, but also insightful, exposing the paradoxically polite ways in which prejudice can rear its ugly head. Most of the stories have a precious quality to them, however, and do not command the reader’s full attention. This book of short stories asks very little of the reader—one can distractedly read it in a single sitting—but it doesn’t promise much either.

A jovial but tepid work of short fiction.