Short stories are often the vehicle of choice for young writers seeking to make their mark on the literary world, so it's refreshing when established authors choose to work in the genre. These collections display the skills of three well-known writers from diverse backgrounds, each with a unique take on contemporary life. 

Perspectives on Native American life

In War Dances, his fourth collection (which features a dozen poems along with its 11 stories), National Book Award winner Sherman Alexie enhances his stature as a multitalented writer and an astute observer of life among Native Americans in the Pacific Northwest.

In the title story, a middle-aged Spokane Indian confronts the tension between traditional tribal culture and modern life as he watches over his alcoholic and diabetic father in the hospital while undergoing his own health crisis. "Breaking and Entering" tells the heartbreaking tale of a Native American film editor who commits an act of fatal violence in self-defense and must live with the consequences. And "Salt," the story that ends the volume, is the moving portrait of teenage boy from the reservation who learns about life and death when he's called on in his summer job at the local newspaper to write the obituary of the paper's obituary editor.

Not all of the stories feature Native-American protagonists. "The Senator's Son" is a modern morality play, as the son of United States senator is involved in an incident of violence against a gay friend, in the process exposing his father's expedient ethical judgment. In "The Ballad of Paul Nonetheless," the narrator is a seller of vintage clothes, a lover of pop music and a serial philanderer, "a small and lonely man made smaller and lonelier by my unspoken fears," a status he shares with several of Alexie's male characters in this edgy and frequently surprising collection.

The eternal appeal of music

Best known for novels like The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go, Kazuo Ishiguro offers a collection of five pensive tales in Nocturnes: Five Stories of Music and Nightfall, that succeed in expressing music's seductive power.

In "Crooner," a chance meeting in Venice between an itinerant guitarist (a talent Ishiguro shares with his creation) and an aging Tony Bennett-like singer leads to an emotional encounter with the crooner's wife as he offers a swan song for their marriage. That woman, Lindy, resurfaces in the story "Nocturne," a meditation on the vagaries of fame, where she and a jazz saxophonist named Steve share a bizarre recuperation in a Beverly Hills hotel after plastic surgery at the hands of a celebrity doctor.

Ishiguro skillfully blends humor and melancholy in "Come Rain or Come Shine." Its narrator, Ray, visits college friends in London whose relationship is imploding. The story veers wildly from broad comedy to pathos as Ray struggles to save his friends' marriage. "Malvern Hills," the story of a singer-songwriter and his encounter with two fellow musicians in the English countryside, and "Cellists," the tale of an unorthodox music teacher and her enigmatic student, round out the collection.

Women and their discontents

Jill McCorkle's Going Away Shoes concentrates on the plight of mostly middle-aged women struggling with the consequences of their flawed relationships. McCorkle is an acute observer of the foibles of domestic life, and in stories like the title tale, in which a woman is yoked to her dying mother as a caretaker while her younger sisters carp at her from a distance, or "Surrender," where a grandmother must suffer the childish cruelty of her late son's five-year-old daughter, she blends empathy for her characters' predicaments with an unsparing take on those grim circumstances. 

Still, McCorkle's stories don't lack for humor, as in "Midnight Clear," where a single mother gets a new outlook on life from a septic tank philosopher who answers her distress call on Christmas Eve, or "PS," a sardonic farewell letter from a woman to her family therapist. 

The collection builds to a powerful climax in "Driving to the Moon," as former lovers reunite while one faces death from cancer, and "Magic Words," which features interwoven narratives of a married woman about to embark on an affair, a troubled teenage girl and a retired school teacher. Both stories are impressive demonstrations of McCorkle's ability to infuse short fiction with an almost novelistic scope.

Harvey Freedenberg writes from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.

In Venice, an old-time singer drafts a guitar player from one of the piazza's bands to accompany him as he serenades the wife he is about to leave. She later turns up in the tale of a sax player whose own wife, having left him, offers to pay for plastic surgery that could help his career. A man who once shared a love for show tunes with an old friend is asked by her husband to act the fool to help save their marriage. A self-centered songwriter breeds disruption while working at his sister's inn, and an inspiring cellist encounters a most unusual teacher. Despite what one might expect from the title, these aren't stories about music, which is simply enfolded in the characters' lives; the music doesn't so much inspire the action as frame it. The writing is lighter and more loose-limbed than one might expect of the author of Never Let Me Go, but it delivers the same scary insights into human misbehavior. VERDICT Once again Ishiguro does something different; recommended for anyone who loves thoughtful writing. [See Prepub Alert, LJ 5/1/09.]—Barbara Hoffert, Library Journal

This suite of five stories hits all of Ishiguro's signature notes, but the shorter form mutes their impact. In "Crooner," Tony Gardner, a washed-up American singer, goes sloshing through the canals of Venice to serenade his trophy wife, Lindy. The narrator, Jan, is a hired guitar player whose mother was a huge fan of Tony, but Jan's experience playing for Tony fractures his romantic ideals. Lindy returns in the title story, which finds her in a luxury hotel reserved for celebrity patients recovering from cosmetic surgery. The narrator this time is Steve, a saxophonist who could never get a break because of his "loser ugly" looks. Lindy idly strikes up a friendship with Steve as they wait for their bandages to come off and their new lives to begin. In the final story, "Cellists," an unnamed saxophonist narrator who, like Jan, plays in Venice's San Marco square, observes the evolving relationship of a Hungarian cello prodigy after he meets an American woman. The stories are superbly crafted, though they lack the gravity of Ishiguro's longer works (Never Let Me Go; Remains of the Day), which may leave readers anticipating a crescendo that never hits. (Sept.)