Demonology, by Rick Moody. The collection is peopled with the quirky sorts of people that tend to move through the landscape of short fiction, and the stories revolve around exactly the kinds of moments good short fiction should. Each of these stories work, in part, because of Moody's chameleon ability to fit his narrative voice to the subject at hand. Two boys, one of them striking the other with a willow switch about the head and shoulders, the other crying, enter the house. Boys enter the house, speaking nonsense.
Boys enter the house, calling for mother.
On a Sunday, in May, a day one might nearly describe as perfect , an ice cream truck comes slowly down the lane, chimes inducing salivation, and children run after it, not long after which boys dig a hole in the backyard and bury their younger sister's dolls two feet down , so that she will never find these dolls and these dolls will rot in hell , after which boys enter the house. Boys, trailing after their father like he is the Second Goddamned Coming of Christ Goddamned Almighty, enter the house, repair to the basement to watch baseball. The deliberate repetition and short, descriptive sentences are touchstones which Moody calls back to for the final, powerful sentences that end the piece, and mark the sometimes momentary transition from boyhood to manhood. Some, however, fall short. In the left-hand column, Wilkie reminisces about his life and the music that accompanied it.