There is propaganda that manages to transcend its political purpose enough to be called art in its own right. This collection desperately wishes it was that. It’s not. It’s really just propaganda dressed up as art. It’s propaganda I happen to agree with, but that doesn’t make me any more likely to call it art when it fails so miserably at crossing that line. I suppose I should acknowledge that it comes close. These stories are better than other examples of this type of literature I’ve read. There is some literary value. But they aren’t actually very good, unfortunately. There’s no subtlety. What a huge disappointment.