”I haven’t read a book in years,” reflects one of the bitter dudes in Richard Lange’s gutsy new collection, Dead Boys. ”I stopped because no one was writing about me.” Now someone has. In these potent tales, unhappy males hang on to dismal jobs in cubicles, kill time in seedy doughnut shops, and cling to pathetic dreams of escape. The only beauty to be found in this grim volume is Lange’s extraordinary craftsmanship. A-
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