You Must Be This Happy to Enter by Elizabeth Crane

Zombies, time travelers, reality TV contestants and even a few normalish folks populate the pages of Elizabeth Crane’s quirky, charming new collection.

Though none of the 16 stories are connected, all of Crane’s characters are seeking to adjust to something, from strange changes (a town that has suddenly turned transparent, in “Clearview”) to routine irritants (in “Varieties of Loudness in Chicago”, an obnoxious new neighbor, age 26, size 2).

Most of the pieces embrace the optimistic spirit of the title story, in which a time-traveling photographer is jailed for being too happy and there finds her soul mate, who is also criminally cheerful.

Even a story like “Betty the Zombie”, while gross due to its subject matter, is weirdly upbeat. Infected by another zombie at a craft store, Betty wants desperately to keep from giving in to her cravings, which include eating her husband and dog. To find help, she auditions for a reality show that puts troubled women together in a Miami Beach mansion and hooks them up with life coaches. The show “is currently not getting such good ratings and they have never had a woman with a zombie problem before, which they expect will be a draw.”

It is almost impossible not to compare this setup to a show like Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew on VH-1. Crane peppers her stories with ridiculous reality shows that sound exactly like the shows that crowd today’s television landscape. And while she might be taking a shot at the grotesqueries revealed by channel surfing, you also get the sense that Crane is not above personally digging some of those shows.

Crane writes like she’s running out of air: fast and a little babbly, but she’s endlessly entertaining. Her stories feel immediate, anchored firmly in the late half of the decade, but probably have a shorter shelf life than books that don’t include as many references to Angelina Jolie, war fatigue and Survivor.

One story falls flat: “Emmanuel”, about an infant who grew up overnight and asked to be called Ethan Hawke (“this was obviously post-Uma/Before Sunset Ethan Hawke”). There are probably jokes to be made about infantile actors, but “Emmanuel” just feels like filler.

Crane’s best pieces leave the make-believe behind and focus on relationships, much like her previous two collections, All This Heavenly Glory and When the Messenger Is Hot. In “Donovan’s Closet”, a woman in the heady days of a new relationship finds herself addicted to her boyfriend’s lemon-scented closet after falling asleep inside of it. “It was the best sleep I’ve ever had. I dreamt of lemons and babies that looked like the best parts of Donovan and me, sleeping on shearling blankets.”

The book’s most affecting story, “Promise”, is essentially a long list of vows that a mother-to-be is making to the child she will adopt: “You will not have to run away to be a circus performer because I will let you be a circus performer locally.”

“… I will not start wearing giant college sweatshirts and mom jeans, never.”

“If you start smoking cigarettes, ever, I will try to have a rational conversation about it, but if you keep it up, you will not win the fight.”

Funny, tender and full of hope, the story represents Crane’s finest talent: reaching into the soul and finding words for the emotions that the rest of us can only feel.