A group of short stories by a talented, new (but not green) writer, mostly of the south, poor white, Negro, or lower middle class. It's a strange, and not too happy world, that of Miss Welty's; there is much that is old, queer, unreal, or disabled. Some of the stories, written with great compassion, are poignant; others, pointing up the little nastinesses of men and women, women largely, have a deadly shrewdness. Some are occasionally oblique — symbolic. None of them are story stories — they are episodic, fragmentary. Distinctive — but for a limited market.
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