BEAR COUNTY, MICHIGAN

The fictional Bear County, Michigan—in a state shaped like a hand, it’s the “middle of the pinkie,” according to one character—is a post-industrial place marked by a lack of good jobs and the beautiful shoreline of Lake Michigan. Its residents long for the things their parents took for granted, like a stable family and a home, and Counts uses that generational gap in flourishing as a way to explore the American decline. The backbone of many of these tales is an encounter between one of Bear County’s young people, who are largely drug-addled and under-employed, and its left-behind elders. The conceit is interesting, but the stories are weakened because they’re populated by stock characters. There’s a sex worker with a heart of gold, a lonely boat captain, a party girl, and a hermit. They’re not fully-formed, and that makes it hard for them to have insight into themselves or their surroundings. They often just speak in blunt declarations. “It’s sad there’s no options for young people in this country anymore. The rich are filthy rich and the poor people like us are just scraping by. It’s a shame,” one character says, before launching into a clarinet solo. A few of the stories shine, like “The Skull House,” about a reclusive old woman who builds a cabin out of preserved animal skulls. That story manages to be both deeply strange and quite sweet; there’s something admirable in Lillie Korpela, who finds that “collecting and cleaning skulls was so comforting, so soothing, it had become a necessity for living.”