Generally, there are two kinds of short story collections. One is a catchall anthology encompassing various styles and subjects that represent the breadth of an author’s works. The other selectively gathers stories on particular themes and presents them as an integrated statement. Londoner Miki Lentin’s collection, “Inner Core,” is somewhere in between.

Part One features main characters confounded by the familiar, white male mid-life trials of angst, anger, and bewilderment. Jerry Ryan, who explicitly appears in three of the stories, stifles his antisocial impulses, although they manifest in odd ways – in “Efflorescence,” he succumbs to temptation to key a total stranger’s car, and in “Varifocals” he embarrasses his wife by standing during dinner and serenading a restaurant with, “Oooohooo, Mercy Me.”

The subject of Part Two – the experience of working to help resettle refugees – is more topical and distinctive.  It contains five stories, all from the perspective of a service provider, such as a host or a consultant. Four are in the first person and the last, “Persepolis,” revisits Jerry, who here entertains the idea of smuggling a refugee into the country.

Part Three contains just three stories loosely dealing with memories of youth and coming of age. Perhaps the strongest piece in the collection, “Butter Dish,” envisions the family dinner as a two-act play.

Stylistically, Lentin’s prose is direct and compact. What he lacks in embellishment he compensates for with vivid sensory description. For example, the following describes Jerry’s car keying episode:

“The sky is now clear. Deathly dark. An orange hue from the streetlights on the pavements. Jerry ups his pace, feeling for the key to his office drawer, gripping the tip between his first finger and thumb, feeling the cut edges on his cuticles. There. That one. A Ford Fiesta…”

Most stories depict single incidents and take place in the present, which evoke a sense of immediacy but less so depth. Apart from the Jerry stories, they are written in first person by an unnamed narrator (who may in fact be Jerry). Either way, the transitions can feel gratuituous.

My biggest criticism is that the three parts are too short to depict the nuances of their subject matter and do not interact organically. Despite decades of experience in communications, Lentin is a relative newcomer to fiction. A more cohesive and satisfying collection perhaps awaits a time when he has a larger body of work.