I don’t read short stories as often as I once did. These days when I turn to fiction, I prefer the complexity, character development and narrative arc of a novel. Recently, however, a documentary about Flannery O’Connor, one of the masters of the short story, led me to give the genre another try. By happenstance, a collection by a regional writer recently crossed my desk: “By the Way,” by Caperton Tissot.

The stories feature a number of familiar short fiction subjects: marriages that have lost their allure for both parties, introspective conflict about the superficiality of financial success, boredom and restlessness. In several cases, people are connivers, and the potential for evil lurks just beneath the surface.

In fairness, the book’s offerings turn out to be a bit uneven.

Some of the best avoid the sinister and instead focus on the heartwarming pleasures of unexpected relationships. “Truth at Play” describes a new closeness between a young boy and his invalid grandfather, each of whom finds new reason to take joy in life. In another tale, “The Skier,” two neighbors forge a bond that helps to break through the depression that impacts both lives.

I liked one entitled “Slip-Sliding Away.” In this story, isolation brought on by a storm gives a business executive exposure to a different set of values, and a chance to pivot his decision-making in a new direction. (By the way, this story is inexplicably entitled “Breakaway” in notes on the back cover.) “Out of Bounds” depicts a bored housewife riskily trying out her fantasy.

Some plotting proves predictable and overly contrived. On the other hand, there are occasional satisfying surprises. The author’s dialogue varies in quality. Sometimes it’s evocative and fulfilling, but on other occasions stilted and a bit wooden. She also has a tendency to add too much introspection on paper when the reader would perhaps be better left to do his/her own interpretation. I came to be wary of sudden switches to italicized text.

A short piece of nonfiction closes the book. This describes a relaxing kayak paddle along the Saranac River by the author’s home. She notes the contrast with “a river of traffic on a nearby highway … their trips are fast and loud; ours, by the way, is slow and quiet. What gratifies them, does not gratify us.” That tells us where her feelings for some of her conflicted characters lie.

At their best, Tissot’s stories give the slices of life and small epiphanies that one seeks in reading short fiction. One hopes her future writings will show further development of these strengths.