ome authors are geniuses of plotting, or of lyrical prose, or of biting insights about life, or whatever. In my opinion, Molly Giles' special genius as a writer is in her characters. In these deep, quiet, and intensely moving stories the characters are complex, beautifully realized, and stunningly real. They are also unusual, odd, different. The word "quirky" comes to mind, but that's far too shallow and easy a word for the people (mostly women) in Giles's stories. Her characters are not shallow or easy or glib.

A description of the plots of many of these stories would sound like typical "women's literary fiction" fare: women in failed and failing marriages, women trapped in unrewarding lives by the demands of child-raising and family life, women struggling to make a place for themselves in the world, uncertain of success, uncertain even of how to go about their struggling. But it's the characters that make these stories, and that keep them from being anything approaching "typical."

There's a lot of humor in this collection, and a lot of pain. As in real life, the two things jostle against one another, sometimes wrestling for the upper hand, other times just living uneasily together in the same person, the same situation. On a scale of "upbeat" to "downbeat," I'd say these stories rarely extend above "guardedly upbeat." But never for an instant do any of them feel resolutely dark. There is hope and spirit and warmth even in the darkest of them.

The final piece in the collection is the "Rough Translations" of the book's title. I think this is truly a remarkable short story, and one that should be far more recognized, lauded, and anthologized than it is. It's a crowning achievement, a Death of Ivan Ilyich for our times. As that comparison indicates, it's one of the most unhappy stories in the book, but (as with Tolstoy's story), it's rich with hope and vitality. It's a story that will stay with me forever, as will the whole of this collection. ( )