This collection of (very) short stories and literary snapshots is billed as “an unsparing critique” of North American mall culture. It is unsparing. It’s also sometimes witty and clever. Unfortunately, it’s often so busy sneering it neglects to actually say anything about the target of its attack.

On the whole, the longer pieces in this collection are the strongest. The best is the first one, “Now Is the Time,” in which a self-absorbed couple gain a new perspective by spending some time with an immigrant roofer. “The Taming of Mrs. Duck,” another strong piece, is a sharp piece of social satire that mocks gender roles without engaging in a tired battle-of-the-sexes scenario. The characters are ruthlessly skewered, but still human.

Other stories don’t measure up. Too often, graceless social commentary, self-flagellation, and cynicism get in the way of whatever point M.A.C. Farrant is trying to make. Some of her characters are such caricatures, and the situations so half-formed, that there is little chance of readers feeling any genuine emotion. “Family of Four” features a stereotypical yuppie family being cruel to their elderly relatives. Rather than making a point about the treatment of the elderly in our society, the story gives up all authority by depicting the family members as needlessly cruel comic book villains. “A Universe Runs Through Him” is about some lower-class sad-sacks with the gall to think they could be creative. There is no great insight in mocking the poor and uneducated.

Many stories contain the germ of a truly interesting idea, or a keen observation on the modern condition, but Farrant is too fond of substituting archness for incisive commentary.

Ultimately, these portraits feel light as air. While the blithe, almost oblivious narratives do capture the ennui of the characters and their unexamined lives, they seem as inconsequential as the events they describe. The collection would better resonate if there were more of the longer, quieter stories, and if the characters were more like people and less like clichéd testaments to our sad, overconsuming, post-whatever society.