There is a scene toward the end of the final story of Sam Pink’s newest collection of short stories, where the nameless narrator is walking home in the middle of the night. He has worked a wedding and is walking toward his apartment on the dark empty street. The air has a chill, and there is something in all of it that makes the narrator feel satisfaction. This scene is the underlying meaning of all of the stories in The Ice Cream Man and Other Stories, that all of the characters work hard, that most of America works hard, harder than they should, for very little, so the only reward is the satisfaction of a work day finished. Almost all of the stories in this collection revolve around a nameless narrator, and I like to think it is the same person, a thirtyish man who is going from job to job in various cities, starting low level, low wage, entry level jobs, and observing how much everyone hates their circumstance but is trying to make the best of it. From working as a cook, a sandwich maker, a machine operator, part of a catering crew, to the ice cream man in the title story, the narrator is floating through jobs because there is nothing there to really keep him at the job. The one that he does seems to enjoy the most, that of the ice cream man, is undermined by his bosses, so he quits at the end of two weeks. This collection seems like slices of life for many people, those who are just trying to get by on a little bit of whatever money they can find.

Sam Pink’s writing is straightforward and very minimal. The sentences and paragraphs are short and to the point and he does not pull any punches. There is one quirk that he uses in all of the stories, which makes me think that the narrator is the same in all of the stories. He does this thing where he uses a phrase or line that is repeated in the narrator's head, that floats through the stories as he faces all of the ways that life is screwing him over. This is an interesting writing tool that ties all of the stories to one main narrator without ever saying that they are all the same person. Like any collection, there are some stories I liked better than others, but I enjoyed this collection because it reads fast and makes you think that these stories, about a guy just trying to get by, are a great reflection of the way many Americans live: paycheck to paycheck, shitty job to shitty job.

I received this ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Nope. Not my cup of tea. No idea what to make of this author or stories. I’m all for pushing boundaries, but stopped reading at references to deliberate animal injury. Profanity galore. Creative? To an extent. Disturbing? Oh yes. Avant-garde it is not. For me this was unreadable. Would not recommend unless you are a masochist.
Thank you to Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for my honest opinion.

i could not put this book down! It was a very easy, enjoyable read. If you do not like reading short stories that may be aimless and mundane, you may not get this book. But I did. It was totally relatable. All of the voices were very real and regular everyday people living everyday people lives.
I cannot really put into words how genius this writing style is.

The stories within are interesting in a nihilist way. The collection is dominated by inner thoughts of various characters. However, in the end I just felt like I was listening to someone complain and most of the stories don’t really end as much as burn out.

I was completely drawn in by the main quote in the description. Not fitting into the world, low rent studios, low wage jobs and all that…all too relatable. Alas, maybe I overshot…or undershot with this one. Not quite the working class dramas of, say, Dan Chaon, this these are more of the bottom of the barrel denizens. Beaten down, dirty and hopeless…with the phrase no real fate on repeat. Pink’s protagonists were…well, they are the people you avoid in the park late at night, not quite downtrodden so much as just profoundly dysfunctional and weirdly proud of it. Very strong gutterpunk type of atmosphere. All BO and cheap booze. Viscerally unpleasant. Stylistically…well, it’s very stylized. Most of it, in fact, reads like poetry, the weird kind that doesn’t rhyme and relies strictly on rhythm and delivery. So I didn’t really like either the characters or the writing. Looked up the author’s art, since he’s also an artist, and didn’t like that either. Not a lot…from a book that devotes an entire 6% to the author’s praises being sung by other writers. Seriously, that was probably the first sign. No book should be sold that much. A few quotes, sure, but pages and pages of it…overkill. And yet…this is exactly the sort of book that gathers this kind of attention and praise, it’s so hip and trendy, poetic poverty chic with Pink as the bard for the ugly dirty souls of his stories. Seems like an acquired taste sort of thing, at the very least. Certainly didn’t work for me. Almost at all. The main redeeming quality was how quickly it read and still that 85 minutes or so were not worth it. Might very well work for other readers. Who knows. Maybe like art, at least Pink’s art, it’s all a matter of personal preferences. Thanks Netgalley.