GET ’EM YOUNG, TREAT ’EM TOUGH, TELL ’EM NOTHING

Knotty, artful tales of people ill-prepared for nature having its way with them.

The 10 stories in McLean’s third book—following the novel Pity the Beast (2021)—generally turn on best-laid plans gone sideways. In the title story, a guard at a military base is expecting to evacuate before a coming invasion, but relief isn’t coming. In “But for Herr Hitler,” a young couple heads to Alaska dreaming of wide-open spaces until parenthood, money troubles, and the wilderness make the environment oppressive. In “True Carnivores,” a boy and his aunt head on an extended road trip through the United States and Canada without finding a place to settle physically and emotionally. And in “Cliff Ordeal,” a hiker is clinging to a tree off a cliffside too far from a road for anyone to hear his cries for help. McLean has a knack for making every sidewalk, stream, highway, and tree branch feel like an anxiety-inducing liminal space: The man in “Cliff Ordeal” cycles through increasingly desperate Walter Mitty–style fantasies about his disappearance and rescue, while in "Big Black Man," a White man's simple walk to the convenience store becomes a study in race-infused paranoia. And because McLean trades in feelings of fear and anxiety, she works to make her prose unsettling, occasionally abstracted, or heavily metaphorical—what’s the meaning of a fisherman hooking a cat at the end of his line or the role of a pterodactyl in a dispute between two archaeologists? But usually the eeriness of the prose is additive, not disruptive: In stories featuring couples fraying, like “But Herr Hitler,” “House Full of Feasting,” and the harrowing, closing “Alpha,” she suggests that the shared humanity that’s supposed to connect us can fall apart easily and that collapse is just as likely a fate as progress.

Sharp, noirish, thought-provoking stories of lives out of joint.