Like William Trevor and Alice Munro, Jones compresses whole novels into these stories. Each new paragraph requires a family tree. This almost biblical layering may slow momentum, but it is the real story here: how a generation passes its fears and wisdom and beliefs on to the next, how a chink in that transfer is likened to death.
Meanwhile, in a review for the San Francisco Chronicle David Hellman looks at faith in Jones’s work:
Throughout these stories it is hard not to notice Jones’ affinity for Catholicism, but it is an ordinary, almost secular type of belief where one finds in ritual a comfortable friend, as opposed to the damning guilt of a Flannery O’Connor or the equally damning lack of repentance of a Graham Greene. What he shares with these two great Catholic writers, apart from a confident technical literary prowess, is the ability to work wonders with human emotion through the lens of moral ambiguity.
The superlative comparisons are unlikely to stop there, and I hope you’ll consider reading the book.