OUR STRANGERS

Davis, whose prodigious output includes translations, essays, and stories, is back with an overflowing treasure chest of jewel-like stories.

Davis’ stories, some no longer than a sentence, others arranged on the page like poems, eschew the conventions of fiction and instead focus on small, significant moments. “I saw something white moving through the air by the side of the house,” the narrator in “A Matter of Perspective” observes. “I thought it was a large white butterfly fluttering by— / a rare white butterfly! / But it was only a special delivery letter, / Coming past the window in the postman’s hand.” This attention to perspective, to the significance of details as well as the possibility of misperception and miscommunication, animates Davis’ work. In some cases, it’s linguistic, as in “Caramel Drizzle,” a playful piece about the difference between adding “caramel syrup” or “caramel drizzle” to a coffee drink, or “Letter to the Father,” in which a poet whose father is dead wonders, “Do I have a father, or did I have a father?” How much can depend on our perceptions? these stories relentlessly ask. In “Incident on the Train,” a woman asks a young couple to watch her belongings only to begin to worry that they aren’t responsible because “the guy’s eyes are bloodshot, and the girl has a lot of tattoos.” As in many of Davis’ stories, the narrator’s second-guessing leads not to clarity but only more confusion and chaos. Though these stories pose serious questions, their tone is always playful, tender, and irreverent. A series of pieces titled “Claim to Fame” poke gentle fun at the practice of claiming fame by association: “In Detroit, standing in a line, I met a woman who turned out to be the daughter of Samuel Beckett’s publisher Barney Rossett.” And in “Pardon the Intrusion,” Davis creates a community board of things that people are giving away or seeking. Some of the requests are ordinary (“Would anyone like this toddler bed?”) and others slightly wacky (“Pardon the intrusion, but I and the Professor have a surfeit of borage. Any suggestions?”), but together they tell a story about how our idiosyncrasies bring us together.

A collection that you'll want to keep on your bedside table by one of America’s most original short story writers.