In one brief scene in Douglas Bauer’s majestic debut, Dexterity, a secondary character recalls
her mother losing track of a sharp knife in sudsy dishwater. She cuts her
finger on it, the suds become pink, and she eventually suffers permanent nerve
damage, even after her husband tells her such cuts are never as severe as they first
seem. This is a perfect symbol of the poor chances waiting in life for Dexterity’s characters: they treat each
other with a toxic combination of self-centeredness, verbal bullying, and
violence.
In an Upstate New York village not far from the Hudson
River, Ed King’s young wife Ramona turns her back on her abusive husband and
the infant son she has not learned to love, and walks off – literally. She heads
down the highway on foot, in her flip flops. The village focuses on Ed’s
troubles, and this focus is exceedingly uncomfortable for him. For Ed is his
generation’s main bully, and knows the town and its culture of gossip and
scandal better than anyone. When he enters the crosshairs of the town’s
attention it makes him paranoid, delusional, and ever more violent.
Dexterity exhibits
the mental states and thought processes of its main antagonists Ed and Ramona –
that is its main calling and raison d’être.
Mr. Bauer convinces us of these internal processes so completely – his triumph
here is utter and complete. We can only wonder at such assurance in a debut
work of fiction. 
This was a bit of a slog for me. The relationships between
the townspeople rest on old habits of invective and falsehood; the
relationships between individuals and their own memories and consciences rest
on much the same. The caring or giving individual is rare – Ramona meets a few
after she gets out of town – and there is a tension in the possibility of Ed
going in search and finding Ramona. Overall, however, this is a very
commendable entry. It sets forth a magisterial justice for us to reflect on,
and engages us with its exact and dispassionate eye for the town’s endemic
emotional stuntedness.
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