At its best, Joy Williams’s “The Pelican Child” is delightfully unhinged; at its worst, willfully weird and repetitive. By Alexandra Jacobs Suggested reading from critics and editors at The New York ...
The singular, disconcerting uneasiness that is so characteristic of Joy Williams’ fiction, yet so hard to pin down, is once again dazzlingly on display in her latest collection, “The Pelican Child.” ...
In my struggle to suitably describe Joy Williams’s “The Pelican Child” (Knopf, 176 pages, $27), I have turned to a line by Ms. Williams herself, from the book’s opening story, “Flour.” Here, a woman ...
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