This, Benedict's debut published when he was only 23, remains his best work to date. He seems to have lost most of his audacity, which is really the charm of this book, in his subsequent work. Still, this book's best stories have a lot of fun with language, and Benedict is undoubtedly a very talented writer. None of his work, though, approaches that of Breece Pancake, the West Virginia writer who was in many ways Pinckney Benedict's inspiration (do all West Virginians have such outrageous names?), but who committed suicide at age 26. Pancake was a genius who basically could not handle the world; Benedict is very gifted, but is not a genius. I still reccomend this book--I just don't want to see Benedict's reputation, just because he is still alive, completely overshadow Pancake's.

These tales of poor West Virginia mountain folk create a fictional world unlike that in any other book I have ever read--a world haunted by dark spirits, enchanting the reader even as he is appalled by the brutality of the characters and their lives. Reading "Town Smokes," you close the covers gasping for air, yet wanting desperately to return. Judging from this, his first book, Pinckney Benedict appeared to be well on his way toward becoming one of the great figures of American literature, the equal of Faulkner or Melville. Unfortunately, "The Wrecking Yard," his follow-up book, was very fine, but lacked the originality and power of "Town Smokes." I fear Benedict's M.F.A. advisors may have gotten to him!

This is, without a doubt, first-rate fiction. Benedict does a wonderful job keeping himself distanced in every story; too many writers, it seems, adopt mannered styles of "mush" sentiments: "poor me, look at my beautiful prose, feel what I feel, oh", etc. What Benedict does, then, is put most writers to shame with the psychic distance between him and his characters. Too bad Benedict is not read by the general pubic, who insist on reading morons like Nora Roberts and Danielle Steele.

Benedict is hit-or-miss in this, his second collection of short stories...if a rule could be ascribed to the collection, he generally has more succeess with the commonplace than with the absurd. Thus, gems like the funny, pathetic "Horton's Ape" and the vivid, moving "Odom" appear right alongside curious little failures like "Washman" and "The Electric Girl". He is also more at home with the self-pitying losers of "Getting Over Arnette" than the Americans abroad in "At the Alhambra". Occasionally, as well, his metaphors are made to bear more descriptive weight than they can really handle. But all in all, a recommended read, and an author to watch.

Thanks to my creative writing professor, who loaned me this book (signed by Benedict), I now know one of the best short fiction writers living today. These stories are such a welcome depature from the abstract sentimentality that so many young writers are putting out these days. Benedict avoids all abstractions, keeping his fiction rooted in cold, hard, wonderful reality. The unsettling (and believable) weirdness of Benedict's rural environment comes through fantastically in stories like "Bounty" and "Odom", and then there's "Washman", which is so surreal that it's almost beyond description. The opening story, "Getting Over Arnette", is especially funny (if you like dark comedy).

Any serious reader of short fiction ought to read Pinckney Benedict.

Benedict shares some dark, chilling, and exciting tales with us. He is extremely talented, and the reader is able to feel the fear, anxiety, and sweat that cover the characters. Particularly compelling stories are Washman and Odom.

The main character's name is "Goody" and the love interest is called "Dreama" and another character is called "Peanut". If the author can't imagine these characters as real people with real names, how can the reader be expected to? The writing itself is quite striking, but the story is weak, aimless, and there is no dramatic tension at all. It seems like the author knew this and tried to bluff us with a lot of heavy breathing and embarrisingly over-the-top grandiloquence. Like a violent empty cartoon, but written as if it were Moby-Dick.

This luminous, riveting and maddening book had me in thrall until the last fifty pages when it degenerates into a Rambo style mess. Oh, but when it's good it's terrific, I'm anxious to read this author's other books.

This is a well crafted book, not the usual word processed [stuff] that passes for popular fiction these days. It is a evocative, dark,literate slice of Americana. Not reccomended for those who like their reading to crank along at the pace of a made for T.V movie. Pinckney has a fine eye for character and detail. If you liked the movie "Sexy Beast", you will probably enjoy this book as well.