I first encountered Vancouver writer Alex Leslie’s work in the new queer Canadian literary magazine Plenitude, which I recently reviewed. I thought Leslie’s prose poems in Plenitude gorgeously expressed the complexities of queer desire. So when I was offered the chance to review Leslie’s first collection of short stories, People Who Disappear, I eagerly awaited the arrival of the book in the mail (thanks Kelsey at Freehand Books for getting in touch with me!). As a fan of Hiromi Goto, I read her recommendation on the back of the book with interest: “Leslie’s dark tones are reminiscent of Rebecca Brown, but she is a creative force all her own. Her star is rising. Watch for her.” I happen to consider Rebecca Brown’s story “Bread” as one of the best short stories I have ever read....

Read the rest of my review on my website: http://caseythecanadianlesbrarian.wordpress.com/2012/10/11/reimagining-the-subli... ( )

First collections of short fiction often reveal an author in the process of learning the craft: taking those awkward first steps, tentatively searching for a voice, experimenting with structure, mood and pacing, trying on a variety subject matter like new clothes, and occasionally--perhaps out of a willingness to try anything once and damn the consequences--pushing the boundaries of what fiction can be. First collections are of necessity flawed because first-time authors don't usually have a large body of polished material to draw upon. The reader is treated to a mixed bag: a few stories that were sufficiently impressive to be published in literary journals, some that were not. Alex Leslie's debut collection People Who Disappear is no exception, including as it does several outstanding pieces along with some that under different circumstances might not have made the cut. There is, however, enough here that is first rate, enough that is cutting edge, that it deserves its chance to make an impression on the reader hungry for a new voice. Leslie writes mostly about people who have lost their way, who have disappeared either by choice or by accident. Some are trying to find their way back, others are content to stay where they are. A lot of her characters derive solace from constantly being on the move. In “The Coast is a Road,” the narrator risks losing herself in a relationship with another woman whose writing assignments send her out to remote parts of the province. In “Like Mind” Laura turns out to be the only one of a circle of friends willing to help William (albeit reluctantly) upon his return from Edmonton to Vancouver in the aftermath of a very public mental breakdown. And in “Two-Handed Things,” when Amanda breaks her wrist, her partner Kim assumes the burden of living for both of them. These are the highlights of the collection: smart, subtle stories that dissect character and motivation with a sure hand and a steady eye. A few others are almost as good. People Who Disappear is an incisive and intelligent collection that does not always look kindly upon the characters in its pages. One finishes the book feeling that there’s nothing this author will not try. It’s only a matter of time before her command of the craft catches up with her ambitions. ( )