About Aleksander Hemon: On a short visit to the United States in 1992, the sudden siege of Sarajevo stranded this young Bosnian journalist in Chicago. With little money, and without a command of English, Hemon gave himself five years to master the language. Self taught, he soon won a Guggenheim fellowship and later the Chicago Tribune’s Heartland Prize. He was a finalist for a National Book Award then topped that off with a MacArthur Foundation “genius” grant.

Now comes a collection of eight short stories, linked by a common narrator. My favorite, “The Conductor,” concerns the visit of a famous Bosnian poet to Iowa City for a 12-week lecture series. It’s a disaster for both poet and university, and humor and pathos layer the encounter.

Hemon’s prose is always fresh. “A few days later, spring parachuted into Chicago; the air was abruptly warm and fragrant, the grass was suddenly green, as if it had been painted overnight.” Or this: “My father was deeply and personally offended by anything he deemed unreal. And nothing insulted him more than literature; the whole concept was a scam. Not only that words — whose reality is precarious at best — were what it was all made from, but those words were used to render what never happened!”

Hemon is resented in some quarters for his criticism of America, the country that welcomed him with citizenship, fame and fortune. Yet these stories shed light on the pain America brings to immigrants fleeing unspeakable misery and carnage.

These new arrivals believe that life without war in the streets, along with the certainty of food, shelter and freedom, must surely bring happiness.

Instead, he angrily notes: “Oh, how many times I wished death to entire college football teams. It was impossible to meet a friend without arranging a[n] . . . appointment weeks in advance, and there were no coffee gardens where you could sit and watch people walk by. I was sick of being asked where I was from, and I hated Bush and his Jesus freaks. With every particle of my being I hated the word ‘carbs’ and the systematic extermination of joy from American life.”

American anxiety is pervasive. Simple pleasures are elusive. People here are not lighthearted as he had expected. Despite grim memories, Hemon’s success will make him one of us. He will worry that this book may fail. His talent is large, his voice powerful. But given time, he will not only grasp the challenge of immigrants, but also the challenge of overcoming American angst.

jimandy111@cox.net