This new story collection is marvelous — if a bit meandering

Lydia Millet’s Atavists: Stories has a somewhat misleading title.

Is it full of stories? Yes. But they share characters, themes, worries, and even a subplot about watching a certain kind of pornography on the living room computer. So, is it a novel in short stories? Something like that. But it’s also a book that seems to have one foot planted very firmly on some ideas, on some questions and observations and hot topics, which — mixed with Millet’s keen eye and sharp prose — leads to passages that seem to have been plucked from larger essays. In short, there’s a lot going on here — and most of it is great.

As an author, I know the struggles of trying to fit a universe into the thimble that is back cover copy. In the case of Atavists, any quick summary would leave a lot out, so it’s easier to think of its elements as merely frame and context. The stories follow a recurring cast of characters that includes a young woman trying to make a difference, an incel bodybuilder with Patrick Bateman vibes, a middle-aged mother who thinks her son-in-law is addicted to geriatric porn, and an egotistical professor with a popular nonfiction book out whose career might be derailed by plagiarism accusation connected to a journal article published more than a decade ago.

The characters mentioned above interact and have little dramas, and little peccadilloes, of their own. Millet is like a spotlight operator, moving her light around to illuminate different characters one at a time. With each shift, the voice and focus change, taking readers down very short rabbit holes.

Not every story is strong, but they work well together. Millet is a talented storyteller capable of writing stunning passages, and that talent is on full display here. However, it seems like the writing often suggests a topic or briefly touches on something only to quickly move away, leaving readers wondering why it was brought up at all. Sometimes there are actual discussions about things like plagiarism, but most of the time it will be a quick mention of something — racism, social media, canceling celebrities — before moving on to something else.

As I mentioned above, most of what’s here is great, and so fans of great writing should definitely read this book. However, it’s not without its flaws. Perhaps the biggest is the lack of a point. The writing is always sharp, but not always with a reason or direction. There is a critique I often hear from students about literary fiction — that “nothing happens” — and there are a few instances of that here.

Perhaps the story that best encapsulates everything Millet does here is “Futurist,” which focuses on Keith, the haughty professor accused of plagiarism. The story possesses the kind of intellect that includes philosopher Gilles Deleuze in a conversation, partly because Millet is brilliant and partly as a sendup of academia. At the beginning of the story, we get a deep dive into views of the main character. As she pulls us into his thinking, Millet starts writing pure poetry:

“His personal exegesis of the eternal, his eternity theory, subsumed the human and organic into a position on the ascendance of energy. As a fuel and dynamic, but also as the very definition of life. Into which all categories of the previously-defined-as-living were necessarily subsumed. So that life was no longer understood as merely biological but as flowing stream–atomic movement, regardless of the capacity for subjective awareness. Or emotion.”

The writing stays like this for another two pages or so. Then Keith’s partner sums it up: “Jesus, Keith. Whatever.” And many readers will echo the same sentiment. Keith is smart, but plagiarism is plagiarism and optics matter — unless you have power and money, in which case there’s always a way out. It’s a good — and by that I mean scathing —critique of academia and a story that echoes the rest of the collection in spotlighting an important issue — race, in this case — but never letting that light stay there and reveal anything.

Ultimately, Atavists is an interesting, complex collection that accomplishes a lot, but it’s also occasionally self-indulgent and aimless. The humor shines and the prose is a delight, but the dialogue often meanders. And while they have brief cameos, things like “culture wars” and Bitcoin seem to have been pulled into the narratives for no other reason than to make them timely.

Despite its flaws, Atavists is a strong collection in which Millet proves she possesses great insight into what makes people tick. Millet likes to play with big themes and ideas, and while not everything lands, the bits that do are truly great.