Eliza Robertson’s story collection, Wallflowers, strives for startling effect through eccentric story structures and narrative experimentation. The book includes 17 pieces, many of which chronicle lives of missed opportunity and emotional isolation. A lot of the people we meet in these pages are broken, emotionally and/or physically. “Ship’s Log” is exactly what the title says: a story in the form of logbook entries. However, these entries are composed by a boy imagining that the hole he is digging will aid in his escape from an untenable situation. In “Slimebank Taxonomy” Gin, suffering from postpartum depression, wants nothing to do with her new baby and finds solace collecting animal corpses from a tailings pond. “We Walked on Water,” narrated by the sister of the dead girl, recounts a tragic occurrence at a competitive sporting event. And in the title story, “Who Will Water the Wallflowers?” a teenage girl house-sitting for a neighbour finds herself facing a flash flood situation with nothing to rely on but her own wits. Robertson’s sentences have polish and sheen to spare. Her prose is so precisely composed that it can sometimes seem sculpted rather than written. The stories shimmer with vibrant imagery and surprising but apt metaphors. For all their technical virtuosity however, what often seems to be missing (“We Walked on Water” is a notable exception) is a way for the reader to burrow into the characters’ lives and forge a meaningful connection with them. Many of Robertson’s people observe the world from within the bubble of an exceedingly bizarre perspective (see “Ship’s Log”). Many of them behave oddly as well, but because we are held at a distance from their inner lives, their odd behaviour does not arouse much curiosity or sympathy—it’s just odd. Some stories come across as a challenge the author set herself, as in “Missing Tiger, Camels Found Alive,” based on an incident that occurred a few years ago in Quebec involving the theft of zoo animals, which never really comes alive. “Where Have You Fallen, Have You Fallen?” which effectively describes a budding attraction between a young man and woman, is written in eight numbered sections, but these are arranged in reverse chronological order, from eight to one, so that as the story ends the two are yet to meet. The story is clever and succeeds in nudging the reader out of his comfort zone, but upon reflection you can’t help but wonder what the author has gained by so brazenly upending conventional structures, other than to appear clever. In the end, the impression left by Wallflowers is one of technique overwhelming story: that the manner of the telling takes precedence over what is being told. We finish the book dazzled by the author’s technical brilliance, but the stories themselves fade quickly from the memory. It’s clear however, that Eliza Robertson is a fearless and exceptionally talented writer. Wallflowers shows huge promise. Perhaps her next book will deliver on that promise. ( )