Not many writers could go deeper than this. Felt like Canada's Faulkner for a second, even with the difference in theme. I can't believe it. When the say writing is magic. I can believe it.

This review was deleted following Amazon's purchase of GoodReads.

The review can still be viewed via LibraryThing, where my profile can be found here.

I'm also in the process of building a database at Booklikes, where I can be found here.

If you read/liked/clicked through to see this review here on GR, many thanks.

Sixteen stories featuring Canadians in uncomfortable situations, both home and abroad. These are introspective, psychological stories, each one a world, an atmosphere, unto itself, fully inhabited by its characters in a way that few other writers can conjure. Mavis Gallant’s voice can often be recognized as that of The New Yorker fiction and most of these were previously featured in the magazine. ( )

Mavis Gallant's stories are mysterious to me. I can't quite get a handle on them, and I think she is ages before her time. ( )

These are the kinds of story that you know, even on first acquaintance, that you will be able to re-read several times, always discovering another nuance, another layer.

The language is sometimes poetic, but not cluttered. Mr Reeve might look “oddly starched, like a nurse coming on duty”. The sofa might be “the colour of Teddy-bear stuffing”.

But the stories are less about the relationships about the words on the page and more about the relationships between characters.

(Although sometimes these intersect, as with “They moved slowly along to the port, dragging this shapeless conversation between them…”: isn’t that a lovely one?)

Now, having deliberately and carefully read through this collection, I can’t explain why, I haven't read more of Mavis Gallant's stories (instead of one collection and some in anthologies). Her preoccupations as a writer are my preoccupations as a reader: it’s a perfect match.

More details about this collection in my response here, if you're interested. ( )