There is a moment in the title story of this collection that suggests the nature of Dubus III's interests as a writer and gives a glimpse into his fiction-writing strengths. The story's narrator, a young man named Allen who works as a corrections officer, is bagging up and tagging the personal belongings of one of the inmates who has run off without warning (the corrections institution resembles a half-way house for convicted felons, hardly a jail where the inmates are under lock and key and subject to the scrutiny of the guards). The runaway, an older man referred to through the story as Elroy, was somewhat of a rabble-rouser, and has written scathing letters criticizes both the administration and its guards, and Allen, somewhat skeptical and yet admiring of Elroy's attitude, sifts through texts as varied as George Orwell's 1984 and interracial pornographic magazines with varying degrees of insult and envy. This view of Elroy extends to Elroy's bed, which Allen notes is "impeccably made," as well as the bookcase beside it, which Allen had witnessed Elroy building, "his face [unchanged] from the constant tight-jawed looked it always has." After cinching the bags and preparing to leave the room he has just wiped clean of all traces of its former occupant, Allen notices "something [he] has never noticed before": a framed photograph of Elroy, a woman, and a young boy about fifteen or sixteen years of age. Each is dressed up, and Elroy is a much younger, much happier man "squinting into the sunshine with an actual, honest-to-God smiel on his face." The photograph warrants as much of a description as the Orwell book or the porno magazine, but it shocks Allen into a new awareness that blooms as the story progresses. As he leaves the room, bound eventually for his car and an encounter with the real Elroy, who will kidnap Allen and force him to drive to Canada where Elroy will make a new start, Allen has the temerity to sum up his reaction to the photo: "I didn't think that trolls got married."
As I said before, this small moment represents the strengths of the collection as a whole. Not every one of the nine stories is perfect, but in each piece, there are moments in which Dubus slows down and zooms in on a particular gesture, a telling detail, a memory of a line of dialogue, attempting to probe the implications, to pry into the inner lives of characters whose emotions are larger written off as irrelevant, whose motives seem malicious and single-minded and easily condemnable. These are stories written in the tradition of Dubus III's father, who used fiction as the means to gain insight, to suggest, to intuit, to question the forces keeping people together, pushing them apart, the forces governing the kinds of thinking people do. These aren't always redemptive insights. As in Allen's case, thinking too narrowly about a dangerous man lands him in hot water. And in one story in Dubus III's collection, in which a young woman abused by her father and the two boys she turns to for help, the girl, Lorillee, gains insight into her relationships with these, and all, men: "Sometimes she will feel like spitting as she tastes their juices again and she will have to stand up and pace in her panties over the linoleum floor of her room, all of them becoming one insider her so that she in not seh at all but them, until it feels as if she has never been her but just a part of them that they have kept in their lives for whenever they needed to let things out, a dark and evil part."
A story containing such a passage, which at first reads as misogynistic, cannot, and does not, end well for the girl. But ending well isn't so much the point as the fact that the realization has occured. Lorilee arrives at a truth that could perhaps enable to find the good in her situation, and to eventually emerge from that situation, if not stronger, than freer, wiser, and capable of making choices that are her own. It's a humane sort of story that results from such intense focus on the small gestures and what larger truths such gestures reveal. They are not always satisfying in their resolutions, but they suggest in their uneasy endings a kind of hope--that Lorilee will be able to make the right choice, leaving the men who've abused her in search of something better, brighter; that Allen will decide to think more deeply about his own grief and avoid falling into the same path of violence that doomed Elroy.
You'll have to read the collection to know the shape of Allen's grief, to know Elroy's crime and his motivations. I hope I've encouraged you to do so.