Ander Monson's interconnected story collection Other Electricities, while consistently displaying prose writing of quite effective poetic intensity, was, for me, something of a slog to get through. I found the deliberate heaviness of the writing allied to the grimness of the subject matter (violent death and grieving, the cold darkness of winter in northern Michigan, and the aimless, disconnectedness of most of the characters) difficult to take. The creativity of Monson's use of language and form did keep me interested however and I don't want to leave the impression that this is anything less than first rate prose. So I do respect what he achieves here; I think it's just that at this stage in the development of my reading tastes, I've come to prefer writing with elements of whimsy and wit.
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