The Day Tito Died: Contemporary Slovenian Short Stories

Nothing is as it initially appears in this uneven collection of stories by five Slovenian writers. One tale, by the accomplished writer Brane Gradisnik, concerns a father who lives in a state of denial but who is brought back to reality by his children when they go out to gather chestnuts in the woods: ``The reports I hear, booming like distant rifle shots, are very sinister until the girl says, `The soldiers, must they train shooting even on Sundays?' and I remember, yes, of course, there is a shooting-range right over the hill.'' Another story, by Drago Jancar, works for its nightmarish quality; a Slovenian salesman who follows an exotic-looking black girl to her Brooklyn home is accused of rape, beaten and robbed in a scene terrifying for its depiction of helplessness in the face of brutality--``His body became insensitive, black shadows danced around him. He shrank into a little boy being put into a cauldron.'' Some of these tales are mysterious, thought-provoking and quietly devastating. Others are abstract fragments with little or no character development. Andrej Blatnik's brief title story, for instance, pales in comparison with his equally short but powerfully compelling tale of a man's journey toward death in a boxcar during WW II. (Apr.)