There are nineteen stories served up with varying degrees of quality, strength and flavour. The general tone is gloomy and disturbing. Many of the male characters are portrayed as demons whilst the women appear as victims. Although this may be acceptable in a stand alone short story, the characteristics become tedious in a collection.

The quality of the stories are so mixed I wonder if they had been written over a long period of time. Some lack a sense of place despite lengthy description of exotic locations and many had mixed points of view, some of which worked, others didn't.

The language used throughout was heavy and wordy. Mr Jackson's dedication to his mother “who encouraged me to examine grains of sand very carefully” alerts the reader to the amount of detailed description they can expect. Most of the tales contain minute details so precise that often the meaning of the story is lost.

Continuous use of metaphors and similes are distracting and inappropriate images often overshadow brilliant observations and beautiful poetic prose. As a reader I found the stories I enjoyed most in the collection were those with simple passages, dialogue and images; not bogged down with narrative frills. A definite case of less is more.

The mixed bag appeared to be arranged in the chronological order of the main characters' age. From childhood to old age.

Three abstract stories, ‘On the Beach’, ‘Interior with Green Glass’ and ‘Crimson Cliff’ used thick prose and forced descriptions to very little effect other than to confuse the reader. All three seemed to be trying too hard to impress but failed. The motives of the characters remained a mystery as does the point of the tales.

‘The Legend of Mr Fox’ and ‘Little Gods’ use an epic style. The detailed descriptions failed to capture the atmosphere and tension surrounding the dysfunctional characters. Although both stories have good plot, ‘Little Gods’ shifting point of view adds no advantage to the story of a Spaniard travelling to Mexico to conquer and convert Indians. ‘The Legend of Mr Fox’ is based on an old English legend about a murderer and although the language fits the period of the story, it falls short of producing a chilling quality that would have enhanced the piece.

The best of the bunch includes the title story, ‘Visits to the Flea Circus’, a tale about human frailty and the human need to stand and stare at macabre sights. The author, using clever links between the different perspectives and subtly drawn symbolism, has produced a well-written and interesting prose. The story contains a few flowery descriptions and metaphors that can be forgiven as they remain in keeping with the plot.

‘Subsidence’ tell the story of an abused wife who unwittingly finds a release from her cheating husband. The plot is cleverly drawn and clues to the story's outcome are subtly revealed through good use of dialogue.

‘The Egg Thief’ is a beautifully told story about love, lust and greed. It plays on the superstitions of the main characters and provides interesting links used between the young man stealing a jewel and the thief as a child desiring humming birds eggs. Straightforward story telling, rich characterisations and the use of Creole dialect all add to the authenticity of the piece.

‘The Shawl’ describes the life of a selfish, uncaring and lonely man, who tries to woo the woman who cleans for him with a shawl, then rapes her. This understated story is enriched by an old fashioned medieval, almost eastern European feel but it suffers from a few confusing metaphors.

The remainder are a hotch-potch containing good and bad elements described at the beginning of the review. On completion of the collection I asked myself what is the definition of a good short story? Is it character? Is it plot? Is it language or style? Or is it just to entertain? Mr Jackson has managed to produce some startling characters and many excellent and varied plots in these nineteen short stories, but the impact has been spoiled by over enthusiastic use of language. There was little entertainment found in the stories and they lacked a vital element in any depiction of human relationships: there was no humour.

Moira McPartlin currently lives in Ross-shire, but travels extensively with work. She started writing three years ago to relieve the boredom of airport lounges. She enjoys writing short stories and her passion for mountaineering and travel provides plenty of material for non-fiction articles. Moira has yet to have any work published, but lives in hope. She is currently working on her first novel.

© 2006 Laura Hird All rights reserved.