These stories of Diane Williams’ seemed to wash over me like a series of separate words, like a list of random words extricated painfully from a dictionary. I have absolutely no desire to be critical of these stories, only to understand. What is a story? What is it made of? What is the least amount of data or information or pathos or communication one can impart and still be published and be called a writer and write stories? And if I were to attempt this, what would happen? Sometimes I feel like I’m interested in a certain theoretical idea, like creating a story which conveys no human emotion, but when I read such a thing leaves me cold and uninterested. Do authors have an obligation to the reader? Or is the author’s obligation to challenge traditional expression? And is that even what Diane Williams is doing? As a writer, I don’t want to feel confined by tropes or traditions or expectations. But I do want to make something that feels real and has some kind of effect. I’m not sure what Diane Williams wants. What do you want to tell me, Diane? I would love it if someone read these stories and felt something and told me what they feel whatever it may be.