Review by Booklist Review
Peppered with characters who flirt with notions of sexuality and sobriety, abandonment and acceptance, relevancy and rejection, Alcott's debut collection of short fiction subtly probes despair in all its guises and confronts the numerous skills needed to survive uncertain times. Take "World without Men," in which elderly lounge singers, comically unified through their identically dyed hair, see both their stage act and marriage shatter under the stress of the pandemic lockdown. Cancel culture comes home to roost in "Reputation Management" when a PR writer who successfully erases the indiscretions of others unexpectedly finds herself in controversy's crosshairs. Questions of identity, legacy, and trust abound in stories such as the title entry, in which a woman suddenly encounters an unsettling photograph of her mother in a museum exhibit, and "Worship," in which a new romantic relationship is undermined by violent past actions. Deftly blending acerbic observations with tender admiration for the ways her protagonists must tackle contemporary challenges, Alcott (America Was Hard to Find, 2019) brings an intense and unflinching presence to the worlds she creates.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Most of the stories in this stylish collection from novelist Alcott (America Was Hard to Find) follow women in upheaval. In "Part of the Country," a wife ends a pregnancy much desired by her husband and moves alone to rural California, where her nights are disturbed by the "menacing" wailing of a dog. "Reputation Management" follows tech worker Alice, who scrubs the internet of negative references to her company's clients. After Alice learns a pedophile has availed himself of her services, she has a crisis of conscience. In the title story, one of the strongest in the collection, a chorus of narrators tell the tale of their erstwhile neighbor, Helen, who decamps from New York City after a divorce; in Maine, her idyllic existence raising chickens and swimming in a local river is cut short after she violates a taboo. Another standout, "A World Without Men," the only story to feature a male protagonist, involves 70-something husband-and-wife nightclub performers Frankie and Shirley, whose work is curtailed by the Covid-19 pandemic. Shirley assures Frankie they'll be back at it soon, "Before you can say bored," but before long they're both struggling. Alcott's prose is precise and evocative, and the plots are consistently tight. There's much to enjoy. (July)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
Beauty and youth, desire and privilege are the threads sewing together these seven stories. Alcott's protagonists are often beautiful, clever young women from economically impoverished backgrounds who wind up with men many years older and far richer. Estranged from their families of origin and never quite at home with their boyfriends and husbands, these women are ill at ease and even suicidal despite their intelligence and acquired grace, and they must struggle for self-acceptance and independence. In "Natural Light," the narrator discovers a disturbing photo of her dead mother hanging in a museum, which her father refuses to explain. Separated from her husband, who can't tolerate her darkness, the woman wonders whether she too might be exempt from answering questions about "who I was or how I suffered." In "Part of the Country," the narrator leaves her husband because she believes he likes weak women and only returns to him after she has proved her strength by hurting him. The best stories here are the first and last. In "Emergency," a group of women who collectively narrate the story excoriates their friend Helen, whose life spirals downward after her rich husband leaves her. "You can't say whore," they comment about her "conquests," "and we would never say whore--well, once we said whore--but you could say without qualms there was trouble." "Temporary Housing," which plumbs the deep ties between two self-destructive young women, offers searing commentary on how vulnerable women can be. "Maybe we aren't girls," the narrator reflects after learning her childhood friend is dead of an overdose, "surely we were never children, but we might have the talents of animals, sensing everything that wants to kill us, and that we need to kill." Alcott's prose is cerebral and knotty, but patience yields exquisite insights about women's agency and the corrosiveness of male privilege. Stories that are worth reading twice. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
