A Goddamn Infinite Emergency

I read a lot of short story collections, and many of them tend to blend together in my memory but no way will these John Mandel shorts, they are in a league of their own. As I was reading them, I recall wondering whether the author were male or female; a cursory first search on Google mistakenly yielded Canadian author Emily St John Mandel but actual author John Mandel deserves all the credit in the world for publishing this: "He has a penis, for Christ's sake, in a world that believes all iniquity is represented by it--the sorry, withered thing, hanging down and waggling pathetically and uselessly from side to side in the dark all day long, like a little wrinkled and lonesome worm looking hopelessly for its mother, as its dimwit of an owner wanders stupidly through the city, through the day, uncomprehending and making trouble for everyone, and then called into service later at night for obligatory responsibilities regarded, in each and every way, as dissolute and debased."

Mandel writes as authoritatively about the comforts and merits of a certain overstuffed chair (whether it be upholstered in different dog breeds, or World's Fair monuments) as he does about arguing beautifully and unsettlingly, physically, mentally, philosophically, or in a balanced and nuanced manner. I look forward to reading more of Mandel's work.