The Middle Stories, only this time I've read it.

Sheila Heti is an amazing writer, but sometimes she tricks you into reading a five page story about a boy that's in love with a monkey, but nobody minds that he's in love with the monkey and the monkey can speak and nothing else happens but the boy being in love with the monkey.

Now I understand why the McSweeney's edition has seven fewer stories. Because some of the stories are about monkeys and boys and nothing else. Don't get me wrong, many of the stories in The Middle Stories are pointless--it's just that some are written so well that they knock you on your ass.

My favorite is Mermaid in the Jar...

I have a mermaid in a jar that Quilty bought me at a garage sale for twenty-five cents. The mermaid's all, "I hate you I hate you I hate you," but she's in a jar, and unless I loosen the top she's not coming out to kill me.

I keep the little jar on my windowsill, right behind my bed, right near my head so if I look up in the middle of the night, up and back, I can see her swimming in the murky little pool of her own shit and vomit, and I can smile.

"Hello, mermaid! How are you this fine evening?" I can say, and sometimes do. "How very sad it is that you're so beautiful, and you're so young, and you're so fucking trapped you'll never get out of that bottle, ha ha!"

You'll have to buy the book for the rest. As long as you don't get too upset when she tricks you into reading five pages about a boy and a monkey in love and nothing else.