Whether carving out an oasis in the face of death, or desert islands in the midst of life, the characters in Southern writer Nanci Kincaid's short-story collection all seek refuge from reality in Pretending The Bed Is A Raft. In the book's title story, the narrator refuses medical treatment for cancer, channeling fear and pain into a heart-breaking, often hilarious ordering of her affairs. Kincaid makes this decision, as well as the torturous indecision of her other characters, believable through a flawless ear for both inner and audible human voices. Narrators are allowed to ramble, sorting things out in a convincingly circular fashion that offers little comfort and no plan of action. When the lovestruck office worker in "Total Recoil" addresses the reader directly, "I told you that before," you almost believe her, and settle in as a friend would for a familiar earful. These are no merely colorful Southern raconteurs, however: Though set geographically or spiritually in the South, the author avoids caricature while appropriating clichés with balance and humor. With Pretending The Bed Is A Raft, Kincaid proves herself to be a skilled and generous storyteller; it's a privilege to know her characters.