Whether directly or indirectly, much of modern literature deals with notions of the mysterious and exotic "other." Sometimes it exists simply as a red herring, sometimes as just a necessity of any narrative-driving conflict. But as cultural awareness increases, so do the number of stories chronicling the intersection of two cultures, each the "other" to the other. The 10 stories collected in Tom Paine's Scar Vegas may not be as political as his fortuitous namesake might imply, but a theme of imperialism—one of the most illustrious and illuminating examples of what often happens when "we" encounter "them"—does run through each with a hint of righteous indignation. Yet Paine writes about more than the perils of colonialism: His stories frequently document the uneasy moments when two cultures collide, but these conflicts manifest themselves in curious ways. The chance encounter between a wealthy American bobbing post-shipwreck on the sea and a boatload of drifting Haitians (in "Will You Say Something, Monsieur Eliot?") demonstrates the implied or imposed cultural weight of America, while a Vermont zoning board's objection to the presence of a 50,000-watt radio tower in their town may arise not only because the tower may cause cancer, but also because the board doesn't like the type of music it broadcasts. International contractors ignore local customs and begin construction on a hotel in Bali, despite the potential consequences of flouting indigenous superstitions. A reformed small-time hood has his kidneys stolen by a more refined thief in Las Vegas. A bus driver witnesses the atrocities of high-tech war in Kuwait. Tripping teenage anarchists casually struggle to make sense of their "us-against-them" stance. Paine presents these conflicts as tragicomic realities, drawing perverse humor from dire situations. His prose is a little too formalized, like the product of too many writing courses that encourage flowery language and obvious filigrees, but Paine also knows when to shift to simpler language. Specifically, his stories are often jarring in their refusal to capitulate to tidy conclusions, leaving plotlines hanging even if his protagonists' stories have reached their logical fruition. Maybe that's because in Paine's world there are no easy conclusions: The ones you reach may only be illusions reinforced by what you consider the "other" and what you consider yourself. The world is how we see it, and no two characters in Paine's book see it the same way.