Salted Cashews, Hidden Snakes

The book opens with a date, a can of "Salted Circus Cashews," and a warning: sometimes, when you open yourself up, you get a snake instead of a snack. This playful, metafictional introduction sets the tone for the collection—love is a gamble, trust is a leap, and every new relationship is a can you open despite past disappointments. The narrator's inner monologue, and the can's label, both plead for faith, even as they acknowledge the inevitability of being hurt. The story is a microcosm of the book's themes: the tension between cynicism and hope, the scars of past heartbreak, and the stubborn, foolish optimism that keeps us reaching for connection, even when we know better.

Rituals, Goats, and Expectations

A couple, Peter and Dorothy, try to plan a simple wedding, but are besieged by the expectations of family, friends, and society. The rituals—candles, goat sacrifices, Shrieking Choruses—are absurdly heightened, but the emotional truth is universal: everyone has an opinion about how love should look. The couple's struggle to assert their own desires against the weight of tradition becomes a battle for the soul of their relationship. The story lampoons the performative aspects of weddings, the pressure to conform, and the way love can get lost in the spectacle. Ultimately, Peter and Dorothy's attempts to do things "their way" are both comic and poignant, revealing how hard it is to separate what we want from what we're told to want.

The Wedding That Wasn't

As the wedding approaches, Peter and Dorothy's plans unravel. Family drama, financial stress, and the symbolic Promise Egg (a lavish, unaffordable gift) threaten to overwhelm them. The ceremony itself devolves into farce: a botched goat sacrifice, a runaway animal, a Shrieking Chorus in meltdown, and literal fire. Yet, amid the chaos, Peter and Dorothy find a moment of clarity—love is not about perfection, but about choosing each other, again and again, in the mess. The story's climax is both slapstick and sincere, a celebration of imperfection and the resilience of affection.

Missed Connections, Missed Lives

A man and a woman ride the Q train in New York, exchanging glances but never words. Their silent, shared journey stretches into a surreal, decades-long loop—a metaphor for all the connections we almost make, the lives we almost live. The story captures the paralysis of shyness, the stories we invent about strangers, and the regret of opportunities not taken. It's a meditation on the ways we haunt each other's lives, even in absence, and the bittersweet knowledge that some doors close forever, quietly and without drama.

Landmarks of Lost Love

A woman maps her romantic history onto the geography of New York City. Every diner, subway stop, and brownstone is a trigger for memory—of lovers, breakups, and the person she used to be. The city becomes a minefield of nostalgia and regret, a palimpsest of past selves. The story explores how we carry our histories with us, how places become sacred or haunted, and how the search for new love is always shadowed by the old. The narrative is both wry and wistful, acknowledging the impossibility of a clean slate.

The Anti-Door and the Un-Self

A scientist, Yoni, helps build the "Anti-Door," a portal to a universe where everything is the opposite. He meets his alternate self, Yonatan, and Yonatan's wife, Jecka, who is the opposite of Yoni's own wife, Jessica. The story becomes a meditation on the choices we make, the people we could have been, and the impossibility of escaping ourselves. Yoni's affair with Jecka is both a literal and figurative crossing of boundaries, but the anti-universe is no utopia—its opposites are ambiguous, and its happiness is no more certain. The story's philosophical core is the realization that the opposite of silence is often still silence, and that what defines us is not what we do, but what we don't do.

Lies Lovers Tell Themselves

A list of the small, everyday lies that lubricate relationships—"I love your friends," "I'm fine," "I never think about him anymore." The story is a catalog of the ways we protect ourselves and each other from uncomfortable truths, the fictions we maintain to keep love afloat. It's both funny and sad, a recognition that honesty is complicated, and that sometimes, kindness requires a little dishonesty.

Facts, Family, and Fragility

A teenage girl, Heather, spends a week at a Mexican resort with her half-brother, West, and their blended family. West is damaged, charming, and self-destructive; Heather is on the cusp of adulthood, trying to make sense of love, family, and her own identity. Their relationship is awkward, tender, and fraught with unspoken longing—for connection, for understanding, for a sense of belonging. The story is rich with observational detail, "facts" both trivial and profound, and the ache of realizing that everyone is a little bit broken.

Lunches with the Past

A satirical guide to the various types of post-breakup lunches: the No-Hard-Feelings Lunch, the Loaded-Weapon Lunch, the Reconciliation Lunch, the For-Old-Times'-Sake Lunch, the Here's-Your-Stuff-Back Lunch. Each is a performance, a negotiation of power, and a reminder that closure is elusive. The story skewers the rituals of modern romance, the ways we try to script our pain, and the reality that moving on is rarely as tidy as we hope.

Rufus: A Dog's-Eye View

Told from the perspective of a dog, Rufus, this story is a comic, poignant exploration of the relationship between humans and their pets. Rufus tries to decipher the meaning of his owner's noises, struggles with guilt and loyalty, and ponders the mysteries of companionship. The story is a parable about communication, the impossibility of truly understanding another being, and the comfort of unconditional love—even when it's messy and imperfect.

Superheroes, Super Messes

A group of young superheroes, the Up-and-Comers, gain their powers through drunkenness and matching necklaces. Their adventures are both epic and mundane—battling villains, navigating relationships, and dealing with the fallout of fame. The story is a satire of superhero tropes, but also a serious look at addiction, the fear of growing up, and the way friendship can both save and destroy us. As the group fractures, the narrator Lauren learns that real courage is not about superpowers, but about facing life's ordinary challenges.

The Sadness Follows

A character tries to outrun their sadness by moving across the country, starting over, and building a new life. For a while, it works—new routines, new love, new hope. But the Sadness is patient, and eventually catches up, settling in like an old friend. The story is a meditation on the inescapability of pain, the cycles of healing and relapse, and the bittersweet comfort of knowing that some wounds never fully close.

The Playwright's Betrayal

A woman attends her brother's play, only to discover it's a thinly veiled dramatization of their family's trauma—her alcoholism, their sister's overdose, their parents' withdrawal. The play is both catharsis and betrayal, a public airing of private pain. The story interrogates the responsibilities of artists, the cost of using real lives as material, and the impossibility of ever truly understanding another person's experience. It's a raw, uncomfortable exploration of grief, guilt, and the limits of forgiveness.

The Average of All Possible Things

Lucinda, an average woman living an average life, navigates the aftermath of a breakup with her coworker, Gavin. Her days are filled with routine, small disappointments, and the ache of being ordinary. The story is a study in the quiet desperation of modern life—the way we measure ourselves against impossible standards, the longing for something extraordinary, and the slow, painful process of accepting that "fine" is sometimes the best we get.

Love Poems and Landmines

Fernando writes a clever, self-aware Valentine's poem for Wendy, who has just left her fiancé and is crashing at his place. The poem is meant to be both ironic and heartfelt, but it lands wrong—too sincere, too soon, too much. The story is a comedy of errors, a reminder that love is as much about timing as feeling, and that sometimes, the things we do to show we care only drive people away.

Presidents, Monsters, and Identity

A theme park employee plays Chester A. Arthur at Presidentland, a job that is both meaningless and all-consuming. When the park replaces human presidents with a monstrous hybrid clone, the narrator must fight for his place—navigating office politics, personal ambition, and the absurdity of being replaced by a ten-man mutant. The story is a satire of corporate culture, a meditation on identity, and a celebration of the small, stubborn ways we assert our humanity in a dehumanizing world.

The Day After Friday 18 July

A brief, lyrical piece about a perfect night—Friday 18 July—when two people are as close as they'll ever be. The next morning, the magic is gone, and they are strangers again. The story is a meditation on the fleeting nature of connection, the impossibility of holding on to happiness, and the way every love story is, ultimately, a story of loss.

The Gist of Glory

The collection closes with a return to its central theme: love, in all its damaged glory, is worth the risk. The stories, for all their cynicism and heartbreak, are ultimately hopeful—testaments to the resilience of the human heart, the necessity of vulnerability, and the beauty of loving, even when it hurts.

Characters

Peter

Peter is the protagonist of the wedding stories, a man caught between his own desires and the expectations of family, culture, and his fiancée, Dorothy. He is earnest, anxious, and deeply in love, but also overwhelmed by the absurdity of wedding rituals and the pressure to perform happiness. Peter's journey is one of learning to assert himself, to compromise without losing himself, and to find meaning in the messiness of real love. His relationship with Dorothy is both a source of joy and stress, a microcosm of the book's central tension between hope and cynicism.

Dorothy

Dorothy is Peter's fiancée, a woman who wants a simple wedding but is also drawn to the romance of tradition. She is practical, loving, and occasionally contradictory—her desires shift as the wedding approaches, revealing the complexity of her character. Dorothy's struggle is to balance her own needs with those of her partner and her family, to navigate doubt and commitment, and to accept that love is not always as magical as she hoped. Her relationship with Peter is marked by both conflict and deep affection, a testament to the work of loving.

The Narrator (Missed Connection)

The unnamed narrator of "Missed Connection—m4w" is a man who falls in love with a stranger on the subway but never finds the courage to speak. He is introspective, imaginative, and haunted by regret. His story is a parable of missed opportunities, the stories we tell ourselves about others, and the quiet tragedies of everyday life. His inability to act is both his flaw and his defining trait, a symbol of all the connections that almost happen.

Yoni

Yoni, the protagonist of "We Men of Science," is a brilliant but emotionally stunted physicist who builds a portal to an alternate universe. He is driven by regret, curiosity, and a longing for a better version of himself. His affair with his alternate self's wife is both an escape and a confrontation with his own limitations. Yoni's journey is a philosophical exploration of identity, choice, and the impossibility of escaping oneself. His relationships—with his wife, his mentor, and his un-self—are fraught with longing and disappointment.

Lucinda

Lucinda, the protagonist of "The Average of All Possible Things," is a lawyer whose life is defined by routine, mediocrity, and the ache of being unexceptional. She is self-deprecating, observant, and quietly resilient. Her breakup with Gavin is both a crisis and a catalyst, forcing her to confront her own expectations and desires. Lucinda's story is a study in the pain and dignity of ordinariness, the slow work of healing, and the small victories of self-acceptance.

West

West, Heather's half-brother, is a mess of contradictions—funny, broken, loving, and unreliable. He is haunted by family trauma, addiction, and a sense of being unlovable. His relationship with Heather is both a lifeline and a source of pain, a reminder that family is both chosen and inherited. West's arc is a portrait of a man struggling to find meaning in chaos, to connect despite his flaws, and to accept love even when he feels unworthy.

Heather

Heather is a teenager navigating the complexities of family, identity, and first love. She is smart, observant, and searching for her place in the world. Her relationship with West is a source of both comfort and confusion, a mirror for her own fears and hopes. Heather's journey is one of growing up, learning to see her family as people, and accepting that everyone is a little bit damaged.

Lauren

Lauren, the narrator of "Up-and-Comers," is a young woman with superpowers, but her real struggles are with addiction, friendship, and the fear of mediocrity. She is witty, self-aware, and deeply insecure. Her relationships—with her bandmates, her boyfriend, and her best friend Lizzy—are fraught with jealousy, love, and the terror of growing up. Lauren's arc is a coming-of-age story disguised as a superhero tale, a meditation on the cost of power and the courage to be ordinary.

Lizzy

Lizzy is Lauren's best friend and bandmate, a bass player with a hard shell and a soft heart. She is brash, funny, and deeply wounded by love. Her struggles with addiction, heartbreak, and self-acceptance are central to the group's dynamic. Lizzy's relationship with Lauren is both a source of strength and conflict, a testament to the complexity of female friendship.

Rufus

Rufus, the canine narrator of his own story, is a stand-in for all the misunderstood, loyal, and loving creatures in our lives. His attempts to understand his human's behavior are both comic and profound, a reminder of the limits of empathy and the beauty of unconditional love. Rufus's story is a parable about communication, loyalty, and the small acts of kindness that make life bearable.

Plot Devices

Metafiction and Self-Awareness

Bob-Waksberg frequently breaks the fourth wall, using metafictional devices to comment on the act of storytelling itself. Whether it's a can of cashews narrating its own label, a play about a play, or a story that lists the types of stories, the book is constantly drawing attention to its own artifice. This self-awareness is both comic and critical, inviting readers to question the narratives they consume and the ones they create about their own lives.

Absurdist Hyperbole

The book uses absurd, surreal elements—goat sacrifices, mutant presidents, superhero bands—to heighten the emotional stakes of ordinary situations. These exaggerations are not just for laughs; they serve to illuminate the real anxieties, hopes, and disappointments of the characters. The absurdity is a mask for vulnerability, a way of making the familiar strange so we can see it anew.

Lists and Catalogs

Many stories are structured as lists—of lies, facts, types of lunches, or possible opposites. These catalogs are both specific and universal, capturing the minutiae of daily life while hinting at larger truths. The lists are a way of imposing order on chaos, of making sense of the messiness of love, loss, and longing.

Parallel Universes and Doubling

The motif of parallel lives—literal in "We Men of Science," figurative in stories of missed connections and alternate histories—recurs throughout the book. Characters are haunted by the people they could have been, the choices they didn't make, and the lives they almost lived. This device allows for deep psychological exploration, as well as commentary on regret, fate, and the limits of change.

Satire and Parody

Weddings, breakups, superhero teams, and even the act of writing plays are all targets of satire. By exaggerating the rituals and conventions of modern life, the book exposes their absurdity—and, paradoxically, their necessity. The humor is sharp but never cruel, always underpinned by empathy for the characters' struggles.

Foreshadowing and Circularity

The stories are full of echoes—phrases, images, and situations recur in different contexts, creating a sense of circularity and inevitability. The past is never really past; every new love is haunted by old ones, every attempt at reinvention is shadowed by the self that came before. This structure reinforces the book's themes of recurrence, regret, and the difficulty of moving on.

Analysis

Someone Who Will Love You in All Your Damaged Glory is a kaleidoscopic exploration of love in the twenty-first century—its absurdities, its heartbreaks, its fleeting joys. Raphael Bob-Waksberg uses humor, surrealism, and deep empathy to dissect the rituals and stories we build around romance, family, and selfhood. The book's central lesson is that love is always a risk, always a leap into the unknown, and always, inevitably, a little bit disappointing. Yet, it is precisely in the mess, the damage, and the imperfection that love becomes meaningful. The stories urge us to keep opening the can, to keep hoping for cashews even when we expect snakes, and to find beauty in the ordinary, the average, and the broken. In a world obsessed with perfection and performance, Bob-Waksberg's collection is a celebration of the flawed, the foolish, and the gloriously human.

Last updated: May 13, 2025