On the other hand, this is a pretty creepy book. Narrator Will crushes hard unsurprisingly, on his step-sister Lulu in adolescence. Initially she seems — to him, at least — to reciprocate his unsiblingly feelings, but after the set-up chapters it becomes clear — to everyone except Will — that she doesn’t anymore. And Will. Does. Not. Let. Go. He’s gripped by the fallacious notion that there’s some magic formula that will rekindle Lulu’s affection for him. It leads him to do some pretty shitty stuff, and at times it was difficult for me to ride along in Will’s head. (Narrator Will is looking back from an unspecific older/sadder/wiser vantage point and frequently reminds the reader that he’s “not proud” of this or that; I read this as an attempt on Evison’s part to ameliorate Will’s unsympatheticness, but it didn’t quite work for me. And maybe I should admit that I’m not a stranger to the “find a way to make her love me again” myth, because that probably impacted my gut emotional reaction to Will’s transgressions.)

It made perfect sense to me that one of the novel’s back-jacket pull-quotes was from Tim Sandlin. All About Lulu has a slightly similar dynamic to Sandlin’s Skipped Parts, particularly that the viewpoint character is dramatically less emotionally mature than the more worldly crush object. My reaction also followed a similar dynamic; I was initially charmed by Skipped Parts, but found it (and the following books) increasingly disturbing as they progressed.

I’m curious to see what’s next from Evison; I hope he explores some different thematic territory.

needs more demons? I actually felt there was a demon surfeit, although maybe that’s in part because the book woke up some of my own.

You? Who the hell are you? That’s what someone must be saying right about now. Well, I’m the guy talking. Someone’s always doing the talking, just a lot of times you don’t know who it is or what their reasons are.

and a little later:

Not because I’m Danny or he’s me or any of that shit — this is all just stuff a guy told me.

Danny’s story is a really terrific updated gothic spook story, precisely the sort of tale that John Harwood spins so effectively. The narrator’s story is something quite different: realistic and gritty. I found both equally compelling.

needs more demons? absolutely not.

Judged this way, Soft Maniacs is partially successful. The evolving characters of Jody and Katy are explored through the first-person narration of men involved with them. The best of these stories explore the tension between naturalistic and surrealistic storytelling in lean, direct prose and dialogue. (It should probably be noted — regardless of whether you view it as an asset or detriment — that they’re also mostly pretty dirty.) Estep has a real knack for arresting openings, like

When my wife dumped me, I quite my job at the box factory, left Cleveland, and wandered for a few months. I didn’t like my wife that much anyway. And I hated Cleveland.

and

I had a rambing apartment in Brooklyn and I fucked my girlfriend Jody in every part of it. So did a lot of other people.

and

Sometimes I can’t believe the shit that comes out ofmy teeth. When I’m flossing I mean. Huge helpings of white gunk. Amazing that that kind of thing can be in there, in my own goddamned mouth, and I don’t even know about it.

But the book is let down by the concluding story “One of Us”, which revisits the territory of “Tools,” with some unconvincing twists that (it seems to me) are designed to provide exactly the sort of overall thematic linkage that a collection of linked short stories doesn’t actually need.

needs more demons? just a smidge.