'The (Other) You' review: Joyce Carol Oates' latest bleak collection will bum you out

You, the person reading this, are probably someone who is thoughtful, maybe even intelligent. You enjoy books by singular literary figures. You read reviews and look forward to lining your proverbial shelf. You’re curious about “The (Other) You” (Ecco, 304 pp., ★★½ out of four), the latest collection by Joyce Carol Oates. You should know, then, that the prolific author has crafted a series of well-written stories about the what-if wonders of a life that’s been, well, lived. You should also know that it is brutal. The choice is truly yours.

Choices are at the heart of what the talented author labors over in this series of 15 stories: how they shape us, change us, leave us wondering and, often, full of regret. Oates is a master of tension and form, her writing dashing across the page to an often devastating conclusion. Her singular style works well here, fueling the stories even as you oftentimes dread them. The author rarely tells a story with a happy ending, because that is not what life is. But the ruminations held within her narratives are worthy, if familiar, reads for a time begging for a bit more introspection. 

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If you’re a fan of Oates, you’ll be a fan of this collection. She plays with style, nuance and technical devices in a way that feels expertly unspooled. Her stories follow her signature form, one that defies most regular conventions, complete with unexpected (if at this point also predictable) twists and turns. But this is not a fun read: Few and far between are the stories that thrill and delight rather than devastate and at times, drag you under. Oates’ characters are fully realized human beings, right down to the very last selfish, cruel and apathetic detail. It is not hopeful nor would you expect it to be, given its author. Your mileage may vary on what that does for you. 

Some stories are more gripping than others, and Oates’ style really shines in the shorter ones, including "Where Are you?," "Hospice," "Honeymoon" and "Assassin." Other stories, like "Blue Guide," have a bit more drag to them and lead to expected places. There’s a recurring vegan restaurant and a terrible terrorist act (reminding the reader all too readily of criticisms levied against Oates of Islamophobia) that may or may not have happened, that is threaded throughout several stories, lending a sort of connective tissue to the collection as a whole.

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It often feels a bit too predictable. But in a sense, how could it not? Knowing who Oates is as a writer and the sheer volume of her output, it was inevitable that she would become almost a parody of herself. Her voice is so clearly defined, and so vast is the collection of books with her name on them: It was bound to happen once or twice. There are only so many wet eyes in the world for her to affix her particular gaze upon, infinite though her creativity may be. 

In the end, “The (Other) You” is an expertly crafted collection of stories made to bum you out. Thinking about them all the more will only make you gloomier. Oates’ outlook on the world and human nature is not exactly a sunshine-y one, the toxicity of nostalgia for what could have been an ever-present killer. Life is hopeless, just a journey, and “The (Other) You” is meant to remind you of that – if you haven’t had enough of that already. 

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