But if you’re familiar with and fond of the writing of the Spokane/Coeur d’Alene Indian author, you brush off this feeling. As you read, Alexie elicits the same emotions as when you read his novels: You become vulnerable, shameful and fearful.

Take the introductory poem, “The Limited,” for example. Setting the tone, this first piece is about a man who witnesses a driver who intentionally swerves to hit a stray dog; the man pulls up beside the driver and stares hard. The driver provokes him to do something, but the man drives off instead, and writes the poem. “Why do poets think they can change the world?” he asks. “The only life I can save is my own.”

And so “War Dances” begins. In “Breaking and Entering,” the first short story, a freelance film editor works from his Seattle home, struggling to cut a scene of an independent film. Trouble stirs, however, when he hears a pounding at his door and realizes someone is breaking into his house. The incident leads to violence, and while the story ends on a passive note, you reread it again and realize how ugly and miserable, deep down, the world can be.

In “Invisible Dog on a Leash,” a series of brief passages, a man recalls disappointing moments of his childhood, such as when he had seen an invisible dog on a leash at the 1974 expo in Spokane, or had spent time in Bigfoot Country in Northern California in 1979. One would expect such experiences to be positive and magical, but the man remembers being crushed as a child when he was told the dog was a cheap illusion and Bigfoot, in fact, did not exist. Wonder had been sucked out of this man’s world.

In a handful of pages, Alexie manages to paint portraits of ordinary but complex men with big dreams and even bigger flaws. In “The Senator’s Son,” we stumble upon the fragile friendship between a star Republican senator’s son and his gay best friend from adolescence — and the incident intertwining them that threatens the senator’s career. In “War Dances,” Alexie presents a dance of sorts between two narratives: An account of a man’s father’s death, and the man’s own journey of being diagnosed with a brain tumor.

There’s also “The Ballad of Paul Nonetheless,” a sad tale of Paul, a 40-year-old vintage clothing salesman who has lost all desire to have sex with his wife. After an airport encounter with a beautiful stranger, he obsesses over the woman, especially after he runs into her again. She finds it to be a coincidence. He, on the other hand, senses it is much more.

While “War Dances” lacks the cohesiveness of a Sherman Alexie novel, it still manages to be an emotional work, taking you to those inner places where loneliness and insecurity lurk. Perhaps it’s one of those books where the fragments combine to create a whole. My guess, however, is Alexie’s stories — whether short or long — remind us that, despite the uncertainty and moments of failure in our lives, we strive to make sense of the obstacles and relationships that life throws at us. While his characters struggle in their situations, they show a need to understand. That need to process — regardless of if we reach an ultimate moment of clarity — is a universal trait. Although it’s a quick read, “War Dances” is full of writing that reveals what it means to be human.

Contact Cheri Lucas at cherilucas@gmail.com.