[In the following review, the critic finds Subtraction funny at times but "not funny enough" at others.]

Mary Robison, author of three highly regarded and highly praised collections of stories and one novel, Oh! (1981), may or may not be the muses darling, but has been, for sure, a greatly admired member-in-good-standing of the contemporary literary establishment. Acetylene bright, hip as any talk show host, greatly gifted, and flaky enough in her writing to be a role model for newer talents like Amy Hempel and Lorrie Moore, she has written some of the finest stories of our time, stories which will stand the test of time. Robison, like Paige Deveaux, splits her time between teaching jobs at Harvard and Houston. Most of [Subtraction], the center of it, takes place in Houston where Paige's husband, Raf, an alcoholic, has washed up after his latest disappearing act. (The sense of place, the evocation of Houston, in detail and in general, is simply superb.) As Paige tries to put their life together again, they become involved with a crew of eccentric characters, chiefly two—Raf's buddy, Raymond, an urban cowhand and former Princetonian, and Pru, a wonderfully acrobatic exotic dancer. Mostly their story is played out in a variety of high-and low-class honky-tonks, where, as Raf (a sharp-tongued fellow) puts it: "Assorted wretchednesses ensue." The story is overwhelmingly told in dialogue, clever talk if no match for Noel Coward or, for that matter, George Higgins. Many a zinger flies like an arrow in humid Houston air or chilled out air-conditioning. The wrap-up, a sort of happy ending, reconcíliation, anyway, takes place against a major snowstorm in New England. At many places it's very funny writing; at others not funny enough. Maybe you had to be there. Allowing for everything, however, it's good to have a new book from Mary Robison, written in what her fan Frederick Barthelme defines as "the peculiar squinted view she has."