Fiction. Jack Foley's autobiography begins, What is a life but stories? The stories collected here are not his life but a fantastic consciousness in which he is as lost as anyone. Foley writes what he does not know; he writes what he can imagine. The dead sprout up here as easily as leaves of grass.

Stylistically the stories range widely--some are comic, some bring tears. All manifest the strangeness and the power of poetry, plunging us into the enigma of the human heart.