Though largely known today for his published novels, Tarkington wrote a number of short stories for periodicals, many stories of which have never been collected in book form. The present work, published in 1923, contains 13 short stories that had appeared in magazines over the preceding decade. Overall, I found them an enjoyable set of selections. They capture life in the US Midwest in the early part of the 20th century, with interesting characters and amusing plot situations.

"The Fascinating Stranger" is a charming story that could have been written by O. Henry -- it reminded me of "The Cop and the Anthem" by the latter author. "The Hundred Dollar Bill" has an unusual tone for a Tarkington story -- it has its high points, but the tone is ultimately somber and the ending ironic. It is one of 20 stories chosen in 1923 to appear in the annual "O. Henry Prize Stories" collection. "The Party" tells of a rambunctious birthday gathering attended by 8 and 9 year olds, where the boys (in traditional feud with girls of their age) run wild. Tarkington is at his best in stories of this kind -- no one captures quite like he did in the book "Little Orvie" what it's like to be a boy of that age.

"Jeannette" (published in 1921) is an imaginative, updated version of the Rip van Winkle tale. The main character enters an asylum in the early 1900s, and emerges 16 years later, at the outset of The Jazz Age, to find the world entirely changed. The cacophony of music, the revealing clothing, the daring dances, all are too much to endure, and traumatized by modernity, back to the institution he goes. In this story, Tarkington displays his own reactions to the changing times. As revealed by his biographer, James Woodress, "Tark" disliked jazz, disapproved of revealing dress and public displays of intimacy. The story is a humorous commentary on changes that Tarkington witnessed, and the author's implicit admonition (to himself and the reader) to do one's best to change with the times.

One of my favorites in this collection is “Mary Smith”. A young collegian named Henry Millick Chester meets and falls in immediately love with a young woman on a train trip. Though Tarkington treats the characters with gentle affection, the banality of their interaction is devastatingly portrayed (see the extended passage quoted at the base of this review).

"The Only Child," another of my favorites in the collection, is a heartwarming story of a caring uncle who tries to save a sensitive little boy from his overly protective mother. "The Spring Concert" and "You" are of historical interest, as portrayals of courting practices of a century ago. "Willamilla" is also a reflection of the past: imagine a young mother leaving her infant with three young children whom she doesn’t even know, as she goes off for several hours. The children cart the baby around the neighborhood trying to find somewhere to leave it, an image likely to shock the modern suburban reader unable transcend her own concerns in order to see its amusing aspects. “Ladies Ways” offers an entertaining comparison of the similarities between children’s male- female relationships of children and those of young adults. "Us" portrays provincial domestic life in the midwestern suburbs, where a gossipy, nosy neighbor comes to see the error of her ways. Another story is "The Tiger" -- for which the modern reader should realize that a "blind tiger" was a speakeasy where liquor could be obtained. Still another story included is “Maytime in Marlow.”

I certainly recommend this collection to readers who like Tarkington’s work.

As for the inane conversation that Tarkington puts into the young train passengers in the excellent story “Mary Smith”, here are some excerpts. (Bear in mind, they have just met, and young Henry is already in love):

“Don’t you think” she said gently, “that a girl has seen more of the world at twenty than a man?”

“Yes—and no,” he answered with admirable impartiality. “In some ways yes. In some ways no. For instance, you take the case of a man that’s in love—“

“Well,” interrupted the lady. “I think, for instance, that a girl understands men better at twenty than men do women.”

“It may be,” he admitted, nodding. “I like to think about the deeper things like this sometimes.”

“So do I. I think they’re interesting,” she said with that perfect sympathy of understanding which he believed she was destined to extend to him always and in all things. “Life itself is interesting. Don’t you think so?”

“I think it’s the most interesting subject there can be. Real life, that is, though – not just on the surface”….

“Do you care for Nature?
“Sure thing” he returned quickly. “Do you?”
“I love it!”.
“So do I. I can’t do much for mathematics though.”
“Br-r!” She shivered prettily. “I hate it!”
“So do I. I can’t give astronomy a whole lot either.”
She turned a softly reproachful inquiry upon him. “Oh, don’t you love to look at the stars?”
In horror, lest the entrancing being think him a brute, he responded with breathless haste: “Oh, rath-er-r! To look at ‘em, sure thing! ... Why, I look up at ‘em for hours sometimes!” He believed what he was saying. “I look up at ‘em, and think and think and think—“

A sweet warmth centered in the upper part of his diaphragm and softly filtered throughout him. The delicious future held no doubts or shadows for him. It was assured. He and this perfect woman had absolutely identical tastes; their abhorrences and enthusiasms marched together; they would never know a difference in all their lives to come. ( )