There is so much emptiness in this book. Or maybe it's space? It's a strange way to write short stories; to leave so much untold, and I was hypnotized by most of it. Barrodale's collection seems to float, untethered to time or place most of the time, just engaging the reader with a character or two and their thoughts or obsessions or quiet observations. And sometimes it's not very quiet. They're usually very funny too, even in their eerie emptiness. In this way, Barrodale invites the reader into these characters’ lives, and lets them start to fill in the gaps with their own assumptions, and that's when she starts questioning you.

"Miserable people often think they have a special purchase on the truth. My husband was one of those. At the moment of his death, I told him I was relieved."

And perhaps moments like that are why Ottessa Moshfegh loves this collection; she mentioned the book in an interview and it's the sole reason I picked it up. I own and haven't read Moshfegh's short story collection, though—it's one of those books I have waiting in the wings, knowing it's there, ready to be consumed when nothing else makes sense.

I'd recommend this collection, but it's not writing that tries to win the reader over. As stated earlier, it kind of feels like Barrodale is interrogating you. For every question or thought I had about an undefined or out-of-focus context to a scene, I imagined her leaning in saying, "and why do you think that?" Even the title is directed at you.