It's difficult to define this guy. As a collection of more than 30 or so stories, some ranging from a couple pages to ten, he doesn't have one focus or perspective, but 20. Some stories reminded me of Arenas and Borges, others sounded like text from a Stephen Hawking book. What I liked the most that they all had a tinge or more of social commentary and I also enjoy stories that reveal a bit of truth about us or humanity. Some things I didn't enjoy too much were the streams of consciousness that consisted of too many details and things I didn't care about, even though some times after explaining a drip of water that traveled through a long maze of pipes to hang at the tip of a faucet, he somehow was able to incorporate a sentence or two about why it matters... Okay I don't think it all matters... I even tended to skip over the dialogues, which are terribly irksome to read for me. But I enjoyed his mysticism, insightfulness, and the element of surprise that many of these short stories throw at you in the end.

This was the story he ended with, but this part reminded of my friend Justin and the conversation he carried on the 22 hour train to Berlin.

"Today, after time has churned its way through billions of minutes, billions of years, and the universe in unrecognizable from what is was in those first instants, since space suddenly became transparent so that the galaxies wrap the night in their blazing spirals, and along the orbits of the solar systems millions of worlds bring forth their Himalayas and their oceans according to the cosmic seasons, and the continents throng with masses whether jubilant or suffering or slaughtering each other, turn and turn about with meticulous obstinacy, and empires rise and fall in their marble, porphyry and concrete capitals, and the markets overflow with quartered cattle and frozen peas and displays of brocade and tulle and nylon, and transistors and computers and every kind of gadget pulsate, and everybody in every galaxy is busy observing and measuring everything, from the infinitely small to the infinitely large, there's a secret that only Nugkta and I know:
that everything space and time contains is no more than that little that was generated from nothingness, the little that and that might very well not be, or be even smaller, even more meager and perishable. And if we prefer not to speak of it, whether for good or for ill, it is because the only thing we could say is this: poor, frail universe, born of nothing, all we are and do resembles you." Washington Post, 3 June 1985