STORIES IN THE Worst Way by Gary Lutz (Alfred A. Knopf, $21), is a collection of short-short stories one should read only when he's utterly depressed, demoralized and in pain, yet fears to avail himself of the soothing oblivion of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. Lutz's view of the world in these works is so dismal even chronically cheerful people will want to blow their brains out after reading them. Although his verbal craftsmanship deserves high praise, we do wonder about his motivation. Is he trying to be grimly humorous, or merely grim? Here's how he describes one character's apartment-dwelling experience: My life was cartoned off in three rooms and bath, one of several dozen lives banked above a side street. I convinced myself there were hours midway through the night when the walls slurred over and became membranes, allowing seepages and exchanges from unit to unit; hours when the tenants, all asleep except me, dispersed themselves into the air and mixed themselves with their neighbors. This at least accounted for dreams that rarely jibed with experiences. Other than marveling at the inventive way he slices and dices the mother tongue, we'd prefer to spend our time carving weird musings into our own flesh with a butcher knife--at least those wounds may eventually scab over. Lutz's darkly depressing images doubtless will fester in the mind forever.

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