I love Bernard Malamud's stories and books. I learn about Jews when I read him; not the rich ones, but the ones who have suffered for their faith and poverty. They come to life in Malamud's stories. ( )

This title has a startling degree of self-revelation. Those who manage to drowse or stagger through to the end of this volume of stories will almost certainly agree that the idiots in question are the editors who believed this deserved publication, followed pretty closely by those members of the public who read it. Forget whether or not they -- meaning WE, sadly -- liked it or not. ( )

Good stories that make you think, nothing particularly deep about any of them. ( )