The Magic Curtain: The Mexican-American Border in Fiction, Film, and Song Book

As another entry into the modern canon of faux-hip literary idols, this collection works as a broad but shallow glimpse into the sub-culture. It may seem appealing in the short-term, but there isn't a lot to return to. First of all, many of the stories have a detached, historical mood, even when the events are ostensibly modern. They're presented in a lackadaisical and slightly bemused way, typical of nonfiction writing about the past (when knowing about the future might occasion some winks and chuckles) but not so typical of creative pieces. Jessica Anthony's "The Death of Mustango Salvaje" and Aimee Bender's "Tiger Mending," both stilted and purposefully difficult mixtures of high and low culture, have an aloof, sometimes even sneering, quality. But, taking those two out of consideration, the historical-type writing is not so disagreeable. Jonathan Tel's "The Myth of the Frequent Flier" is written with a similar voice, but in a kinder and easier way. And J. David Steven's "The Joke" reverses the formula, creating a unique and charming story that nevertheless doesn't stick its landing.

In a literary arena marked by sad and true first-person studies, Ryan Boudinot's "Free Burgers For Life," a sad, painfully funny story about a small-town sad sack wasting his time, is by far the funniest. Douglas Trevor's "Girls I Know," about Boston and hapless poetic studies, is also brilliant but a little naive. Dan Chaon's "Five Forgotten Instincts" and Stephen Elliott's "My Little Brother Ruined My Life" try so hard to be uncompromising and bleak that when they reach for a conclusion it can only ring false. Amber Dermont's "Lyndon" and Molly McNett's "Catalogue Sales" both work at managing the hardships of becoming a young woman, George Saunders' "Bohemians" mixes coming-of-age memoir with quirky suburban living, and Rattawut Lapcharoensap's "At the Café Lovely" retells a trite but lovely episode about brotherly love in Thailand. Daniel Alarcon's gauzy and melancholy "Florida" along with Jhumpa Lahiri's spirited "Hell-Heaven" uncover long-standing wounds of adulthood.

A few journalistic pieces are showcased here. Two of them deal with the war in Iraq: Tish Durkin's "Heavy Metal Mercenary" and Al Franken's "Tearaway Burkas and Tinplate Menorahs." Durkin's article, appearing as it did in Rolling Stone, is a strange and undisciplined kind of writing, one that brushes up against big issues but rejects them in favor of sexy and facile images (usually about rock 'n roll). Franken's essay, about his own experience performing with the USO in Iraq, is passionate but frequently boring and, most surprising of all, not very funny. An essay about ex-Mormon outcasts, Jeff Gordinier's "The Lost Boys," skillfully reports on an engaging subject but doesn't exactly show any amazing writing ability. Kate Krautkramer's "Roadkill," on the other hand, has amazing writing but very little to say. Also included are two stories that to me have a similar impact as nonfiction. Stephanie Dickinson's "A Lynching in Stereoscope" is an arresting but too familiar glimpse into racist America. And Lauren Weedman's "Diary of a Journal Reader," the last piece in the anthology, is a stupid and forgettable memoir-ish indulgence.