Fiction anthologies always fill me with a sense of adventure. They’re not like novels, or even collections of a single author’s short stories or poems – they’re much stranger, wilder rides than that, with bumpy bits, sharp twists, and a lack of predictability. You never know what you might find up ahead, or what might pounce on you when you least expect it. Of course, some anthologies only contain the works of established authors, who might have been encountered or at least heard of before. Those take safer, less exciting routes than The Sleepers Almanac, which includes new and emerging voices.

I’d be very surprised if anyone – aside from maybe the editors – loves every piece in this book. However, considering there’s such a variety of content, style and genre, you’re bound to frequently get your socks knocked off. Even when I didn’t particularly enjoy a story, I’d usually feel a grudging respect for it – and sometimes I’d discard the book with an angry huff, only to dwell on it, then pick it up later with a more open mind. There aren’t any trite endings, cardboard characters, or paint-by-the-numbers plots.

Several pieces stood out to me, and here are just a few: word-puzzle genius David Astle’s mind-bending 'Nymphomaniacs', which mixes sex, entomology and commentary on late-stage capitalism; Samantha Dagg’s 'Tiny Acts of Redistribution', a hopeful tale of moving on and rebuilding; Jon Bauer’s 'Uncle', with its not-gratuitous creepiness mixed with a remarkable poignancy; and Daniel Ducrou’s 'Grandpa Does the Melbourne Shuffle', which I know I’ll read over and over again for the sheer joy of it.

Regardless of how I felt about individual pieces, reading the Almanac was a fun experience all the way through – an adventure that still lingers in my mind days later, in the most rewarding way.