I could easily take each story and sing its praises. Whether you live in rural Alabama or in rural Uzbekistan, you’ll recognize the plot lines, the characters, the conflicts. They don’t end. They never end. The only variation in this theme of grief is how one tells it.

A matryoshka is a Russian objet d’art. At the same time, it’s a tinker toy for tots. Is there a larger metaphorical value to a matryoshka? If there is one, I suspect that tots will discover it only by manipulating the layers. And so it is with Clifford Garstang’s stories. They don’t reveal themselves at first glance.

I’d like to focus on just one story for purposes of this review: “Saving Melissa.” Believe me: this single story will justify your purchase.

If the sadness resulting from ignorance could be captured in a title, “Saving Melissa” would be it. Clifford no doubt tells this story from his imagination. And yet, one can’t simply conjure up a story like “Saving Melissa” out of nothingness.

Melissa, at some level, is every woman. Melissa is every woman in miniature – just like the doll within a doll within a doll of a Russian matryoshka.

I’ll leave it at that. Saying anything more would spoil the prize.
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