Rick Maddocks’ impressive talent isn’t necessarily in telling stories – the five interconnected tales of Sputnik Diner are carefully crafted, but are often preoccupied with plodding exposition. Like Alice Munro, whose works share the common terrain of late-20th-century Ontario, Maddocks’ skill lies in turning out vivid and compelling characters. Thane and Grace, who cross paths at the Sputnik Diner, the Nanticoke greasy spoon where they listen to the Wurlitzer and consider the omelette special, feel as if they could live off the page.

Grace, a twenty-something waitress at the Sputnik, is the painter in the story “Painter.” She is perhaps Maddocks’ finest portrait, tense with conflicting ideas about her own fate. Hoping to learn about the circumstances that pushed her, as a young child, into a home with cruel, fanatical adoptive parents, she seeks out her biological parents. She imagines that Gene, her biological father, will be an impressive and handsome man who will give her a solid grounding in the world.

In “The Birthday Boy’s Song,” Thane deals with a similar uncertainty when, as a bullying teenager, he waits alongside his doting but increasingly unpredictable mother and his peevish younger brother while his father lies dying in a Hamilton hospital.As with Grace, Thane’s character is revealed in skilful strokes. He vents his rage on his brother, but also feels strongly protective of him, bringing the boy along on a surreptitious trip to a mini-putt course in the rain.

Maddocks’ detailed observations speak of a warm affection for the mess of family life and the rhythms of small town living. At certain points he loses control of the narrative, with principal characters from one story making unnecessary cameos in another. Still, Maddocks’ sense of psychological realism is as intense as the colours on Grace’s palette.