<p><b>A new collection of short stories from the woman Rick Moody has called </b><b>"the best prose stylist in America"</b><BR><b><br></b><BR><br>Her stories may be literal one-liners: the entirety of "Bloomington" reads, "Now that I have been here for a little while, I can say with confidence that I have never been here before." Or they may be lengthier investigations of the havoc wreaked by the most mundane disruptions to routine: in "A Small Story About a Small Box of Chocolates," a professor receives a gift of thirty-two small chocolates and is paralyzed by the multitude of options she imagines for their consumption. The stories<b> </b>may appear in the form of letters of complaint; they may be extracted<b> </b>from Flaubert's correspondence; or they may be inspired by the author's own dreams, or the dreams of friends.<BR><br> What does not vary throughout <i>Can't and Won't</i>, Lydia Davis's fifth collection of stories, is the power of her finely honed prose. Davis is sharply observant; she is wry or witty or poignant. Above all, she is refreshing. Davis writes with bracing candor and sly<b> </b>humor about the quotidian, revealing the mysterious, the foreign, the alienating, and the pleasurable within the predictable patterns<b> </b>of daily life.</p>