I really enjoyed this collection of mostly very short stories. They share this sense of limits, where the narrator in most of the stories doesn't seem to have an expansive sense of the world (usually) she lives in-- so the stories kind of run up against those limits and then stop, like she's come to the edge of the map and that's all there is-- and maybe that's why the stories are as short as they are? This sort of puts Nors' stories at odds with what I expected, which was something more along the lines of the Keret-type story, which is short enough to breach that wall and step into something much more fantastic; here, the quotidian really is a limit.

The stories themselves have an assured language to them, though it's one that reminds readers that it doesn't know much more than what you see. The shape of the stories is somewhat jagged, deliberately mainoulated, and at least to my eyes, pretty restrained. The story that stood out as the exception to this was the title story, which hinted at a level of violence that drew a lot of attention to itself in a way that I thought was a little false.

Still, a very good collection.