Neil Smith's "Bang Crunch" is a surprising and strange book of short stories on the themes of love, absence and, most often, the confusion between what we feel and what we think we're supposed to feel. The suspense in his stories is created by this confusion, just as much of pleasure of reading them comes from his prose.

There were times in "Bang Crunch" when I was amazed by Smith's poetic eloquence. But this sort of writing is not without its perils, and there are times when he becomes too clever. An example would be in the title story, written in the second person, where he briefly discusses the narrator making the choice to write in second person. This added a gimmick as opposed to depth in an otherwise fine tale.

His Wednesday reading at the Habourfront suffered from a similar problem. He recited his work in a low, almost beatnikish, manner that savored every word. It worked for a while but then grew into a mannerism that did not become his talent. After a while, it started to look like he was in awe of himself. Not that there's anything wrong with being in awe of yourself; you just shouldn't appear that way.

But there are many fine stories in this volume, the best of which is: "Green Fluorescent Protein". It is in this story that we catch a glimpse of his talents, not just with prose, but of examining the human heart. And it is the sort of work that will one day make him a force to reckoned with in Canadian literature.