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Taking its title from its opening story, set dystopically enough in a Civil War historical reenactment park, George Saunders's first book still sweeps my legs out from under me. Twain and Vonnegut are heavyweights named as his predecessors, but Saunders's writing belongs to no one else; and his reduced, distorted world that so much resembles our own belongs only to his writing: a sleek and casually dark prose, punctuated with hard hilarities and surprising vulnerabilities. I had only to open the book to be at once pulled in, then incurred gargantuan late fees at the library because I didn't want to give it back.