UNDER

A compendium of 41 casually brief stories about characters who perceive sinister intentions in every word, look, and gesture.

A woman is drawn into a disagreement with a stranger over the stigma of narcissism. A man grows threatened by his neighbor’s newly raised Gadsden flag—the kind that says “Don’t Tread on Me”—and decides to confront him. A couple enacts a scheme to prevent a man from parking his truck in front of their house. These are some premises of Pourciau’s fourth collection of short stories, mostly depicting the first-person perspectives of aggrieved, suspicious, emotionally isolated people obsessing over others’ hidden thoughts. Pourciau’s oeuvre focuses almost exclusively on minor disruptions to our daily routines that have the potential to drive us mad. The longest story—one of the best and most complete entries, “Invade”—describes a woman incessantly pestering her new neighbors for an invitation to help them redecorate, eliciting increasingly curt and hostile evasions. Averaging around four pages each, most of the entries are incredibly slight and largely absent of closure, suspending readers in emotional purgatory. Trying to read just one at a time has the addictively insubstantial effect of eating a single potato chip. But beware: Attempting to ease the irresolution by binging a bunch in quick succession can be downright nauseating from ingesting such unrelenting paranoia. Steeping oneself in Pourciau’s world of lunatic anxiety and claustrophobic discourtesy can be overwhelming, but the cumulative impact is hard to dismiss—and the familiarity of the situations he explores is a sign of the times. One character summarizes a core truth connecting the vignettes: “Society is based on the premise that we remain civil and make the best of our proximity to others.” And another adds a corollary: “Liberating suppressed thoughts can stress the veneer that holds us together.”

An amusing, unsettling, discomfitingly resonant collection.