"Yau, who again deftly captures both the city that he famously haunts (New York City) as well as a variety of other settings, tells these ambitious stories through thirteen different first-person narrators, including in his worlds cockroaches, students, prostitutes, and Norman Rockwell. Yau's ability as a writer is abundantly evident throughout; as Yau refuses to accept easy answers."–The Review of Contemporary Fiction
"[There is] a certain deadpan sensibility whether he's being plain ('A hundred and forty dollars, seven crisp twenties') or perverse ('I guess it's one thing to sleep with a dog, and another thing to sleep with a guy dressed up like a dog') . . . . Throughout, there is a self-consciousness about the difficulty and boundlessness of fiction, as well as an implied glorification of those living off the proverbial beaten path."–
Publishers Weekly
