It’s a bit unfortunate that most of the stories in Shit Cassandra Saw end right when they start to get interesting. This is the trait that is most shared among the 21 stories contained in the book, aside from being stories about women told from a feminist mindset. It’s almost infuriating, because the rug pull of the sudden nonsensical ending—while entertaining the first time—doesn’t seem so effective and thought-provoking when it happens for the thirteenth time in a row.

As collections of ideas, plot hooks, and oddly specific observations of life’s frustrations, these stories are great. There’s variety in the subject matter, and an excellent rhythm to the length of the stories themselves. There are long stories, short stories, and two-pagers that are almost sketches, or the literary equivalent of tongue-in-cheek in-universe commercials inserted into a mockumentary. Gwen E. Kirby has a way with words, and she uses them effectively to transport the reader into seeing and experiencing things from a specific point of view.

These tales have great hooks too! The stories run the gamut both in location and time period, with the earliest in the timeline being about the titular Cassandra (full title: Shit Cassandra Saw That She Didn’t Tell The Trojans Because At That Point Fuck Them Anyway) and her curse to know the future but to be believed by no one. It seems like Cassandra saw much more than what was within the scope of the ancient world, and it’s funny and tragic and very clever. It’s a great idea and it’s well-written, and it’s easy to dismiss its non-ending as just the beginning of a framing device for the rest of the book.

Well, it’s less of a framing device and more of a thesis statement. The next few stories pull off the same trick, though: they’ll paint a vivid picture of something, whether it’s a listicle about women literally evolving into predators, or an oversharing, overly honest Yelp review, or a guide on bathroom tiling as written by a weary divorcée. There will be anecdotes and hilarious events and a couple of quotable, insightful passages, and then nothing will happen and the story will end. It’s disappointing, because as far as ideas go, they’re all engaging and worth reading about. There’s just no payoff. Or is it some kind of it’s the journey, not the destination commentary? Either way, most of the stories come off as incomplete but bursting with potential.

One story that is the exception and hits all the right notes is right in the middle of the book: a story called The Disneyland of Mexico about a teenager from the American Midwest who spends a summer in Mexico. Like all the stories, it’s very well-written and engaging. Unlike the others, it takes its time with the structure and it actually ends. In fact, it sets the bar so high that the stories that follow are weakened because of it.

Shit Cassandra Saw is still a good read. It’s bursting with ideas and commentary about the female condition. As a collection of ideas and emotions and concepts, it’s an excellent book. As a collection of stories, though, it puts on a good show, but doesn’t quite stick the landing.