Coolest Stories
Review by Jack Smith
Coolest American Stories 2025, winner of the 2025 International Book Award for Fiction Anthologies, is rich with complex characters and myriad situations—for the protagonists, embroilments often confusing, trying, or stultifying. The prose in this collection is consistently rich and riveting. The reader is caught up in scenes driven by spirited dialogue, scenes that involve us deeply in the characters. It’s a masterful collection, well deserving of this international award.
One of the finest stories in this collection is “Hearts,” by Mathieu Cailler, epistolary fiction, a throwback to an earlier form, yet one that proves it’s as forceful in technique as it ever was. In this case, the conversation is a series of letters between an inmate on death row, Clark McCrae, and an ordinary citizen, Landy Henderson. Ordinary, except for that name, and the fact that he has produced a “small-budget CD” that means a lot to inmate McCrae, imprisoned now for twenty-seven years and a victim of diabetes, blind, depending on a “lovely woman at the library” to write his letters. He’s needy. He has very little to sustain him—except for Landy. “Just wanted to let you know that your music keeps me going.” That’s the premise, but as they move deeper and deeper into their ongoing conversation, the question arises: is there any forbidden territory? Does Landy ever cross the line? “Hearts” is an apt title. Where is the line between what’s heartfelt and what’s not—and what’s good judgment, that which is fundamental to true empathy?
Another fine story is “Sin on Wheels” by Lee Martin. In this story, set in 1956, the protagonist, young Jane Harp, becomes interested in Sonny Cooper, a black man, married. The complication begins when he shows up at the Harp place needing to borrow some tools to fix his fan belt. Jane allows him to borrow her father’s tools, but beyond that, her mother tells her father, “She drove him over to the county line, where his car was.” Martin captures the racism of this period with great force. “The man could have cut your throat,” says her mother. To her parents, he’s one thing and one thing only: “A Negro man.” Jane says to a friend: “You’d think we were living in the dark ages. I mean, my word, it’s 1956.” Even though he’s married, Jane thinks of him as a lover. But: “So a Negro man and a white woman? Not a chance in the world that would ever go down easy. It wasn’t that there was outright hatred, but there were unspoken boundaries, ones no one was supposed to cross.” Martin works his magic within these boundaries and within the evolving, complex relationship between Jane and Sonny.
Francine Witte’s comic story “You Know, You Can Die from That” winds up the collection with real punch. At the office, the protagonist—and she’s not alone—has to deal with “a rope burn of a person,” one Merton, who just happens to be her boss’s fiancé. Merton is quick to point out what can kill you. One might think many foods you consume could kill you but not in moderation. Not so for Merton. You must give up ice cream in toto. The same for donuts: “Potassium sorbate, cellulose gum—don’t you know that stuff will kill you?” Rather surprisingly, it’s better in the winter, says Merton, not to heat the office because heat is bad for you. The problem: “blood curdle.”
What’s the answer? Should Merton be offed? The story makes us think of health searches on the Internet where practically everything one partakes in constitutes a threat to their health and well-being. In its skillful playing with the outrageous, this story has the satirical force of a T.C.Boyle story.
Other stories make this volume admirable. A very serious story, quite grim, is “Jump Seat” by Linda Bernal. Here, a mother must deal with the kidnapping of her son, Michael. For her, this is a private matter, so she must grieve alone. Is he dead? Was he taken away to some cult? Can a psychic help her? What’s the chance of ever getting him back—miniscule? If this seems a well-worn plot, it’s the psychological depth of the protagonist that makes it a winner.
“The Instinct to Flee,” by Brian Patrick Heston, is a remarkable story dealing with the protagonist’s reaching out to his homeless brother. The narrator’s life has been equally on the skids, but he’s tried to go clean. Now it’s time to bring his brother around. Finding him is one thing; bringing him into his house is another, especially when his brother says, “Screw your help.” Heston embroils the narrator, and the reader, into this complicated brotherly connection.
Another notable story, “Dachas,” by Philip Cesario, interestingly gets us inside a secret government operation. The protagonist’s wife thinks he’s working for an engineering firm, and she, understandably, says, “Don’t you think it’s weird that an engineering firm does house checks?” The story keeps up the charade with serio-comic charm and might.
This collection is a winner. The stories are intriguing and compelling, representing the best in literary fiction.
