A woman seeks out the meaning of an inscrutable note given to her by a man who used her car as an instrument of his own suicide. Two teenage boys discover that the devil has opened a record store in their seedy Florida suburb. A man's obsession with living a minimalist life goes nowhere as the possessions he discards all seem to find their way back to him.
The eleven stories in I Blame Myself But Also You (and other stories) are a little absurd, a little speculative, and a little dark. In them, Fleury repeatedly digs into a handful of universal themes: The search for that one existential totem we expect to fix everything, but that never quite does; the strange, unnerving liminal space between childhood and not-quite-adulthood; the endless struggle to find our place in the world, and the nagging fear that maybe we never will.
