What I Was Afraid Of

The 18 wildly varied speculative stories pale in comparison to the one essay included in Hanson’s debut collection. Hanson’s prose is straightforward and staccato, particularly in the numerous stories told from the point of view of children; his descriptive passages read like inventories; and the ideas propelling his plots are largely unremarkable and often tonally confusing. “Candyland,” about an impossibly precocious, drinking, smoking, and swearing four-year-old girl is frankly uncomfortable to read, particularly in passages that call attention to the toddler’s sexuality. “Lily, Lily, Piccadilly,” a largely plotless first-person narrative about Lily, a woman with ADD, and her daughter, Robin, features an inauthentic depiction of a woman’s voice. In contrast, “What I Was Afraid Of,” an excerpt from Hanson’s memoir-in-progress, is immersive and immediate, indicating that Hanson’s strength is in his nonfiction writing. It’s an idiosyncratic whole, with no unifying tone or theme. Readers won’t miss much if they skip this one. (Mar.)