Amazon.com Review
Julia Slavin likes to start off her stories with wayward body parts. "I once loved a woman who grew teeth all over her body," begins "Dentaphilia." Things are no more comfortable in "He Came Apart": "His hair comes out in my hands." And the title story kicks off, "Word spread down East Beach that a woman had cut off her foot in front of the Maidstone Club." Slavin's people dwell in the suburbs, midway between city and country, realism and surrealism. In the title story, her cast of characters, sprouting names like Pasty Plugh and Skimpy Pimscott, watches with well-bred lack of interest as Maisie Haselkorn saws away. Slavin creates a sharp little drama here, achieving the absurdity that is her quarry.
But it is the stories that demonstrate less showmanship and more sensitivity that make Slavin a writer to watch. "Painting House" finds two hormone-addled step-siblings minding the house while their parents are away. The boy makes a gift of a pretty dress to the tough-talking girl narrator, and Slavin gets just right the way a teenage girl's sexuality is channeled through her clothing: "I felt the dress grazing the back of my thighs, the material clinging to my waist." The dress is not like a lover; it is a lover. "Pudding" mixes satire and realism to fine effect, limning the travails of that family we all know--the one that can't bear to impose rules and so lives in chaos, represented here by a glob of dessert that resides for months on the kitchen floor. "The top of the pudding is smooth and cool like marble, something children love to touch." When she goes for spectacular effects, Slavin is good. But when she goes quiet, she's even better. --Claire Dederer
From Publishers Weekly
In this debut collection of 12 short stories with surrealistic twists, Slavin's imagination and sense of humor combine like a funhouse mirror: reality is still visible, but utterly changed. In one crazy minute the narrator of "Swallowed Whole," a woman who is on fertility drugs, goes from obsessing about the teenager who cuts her lawn to swallowing him in the throes of an insatiable kiss, in essence carrying him as one would a fetus. In other examples of life run amok, objects like a childhood security blanket ("Covered") take on a menacing life of their own, while seemingly normal people are inexplicably visited with science fictional afflictions, such as the woman who grows teeth all over her body ("Dentaphilia"). Even in these bizarre situations, Slavin touches the heart, but she verges on pathos in the more conventional stories, such as "Rare Is a Cold Red Center," in which she expertly evokes a group of young employees at a restaurant through the voice of the vulnerable teenage cook trying to make good on his attempts to detox. Other fine tales describe domestic discord ("Pudding") and fanatic careerism ("He Came Apart"). In the standout title story, Slavin wickedly satirizes the desiccated members of a snooty club in the Hamptons who find sexual satisfaction only with the despised parvenus (named Loeb and Donatucci and Moskowitz) who have brought new money into the community. Slavin's penchant for the grotesque is initially startling, but her gruesomely funny view of modern life can be memorable. (July)
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