There's something incredible about the spirit of imagination and creativity we harbor as human beings. Something about it makes us feel more human, even if we cannot fathom exactly where, why or how we create what we do.

Equally, there's something unreliable about imagination, especially with the inexperience and innocence of youth. In Joe Hill's short story collection, 20th Century Ghosts, many of the narrators are still young and unsure of themselves, bringing into question the tangibility of what they see and understand. And the adults surrounding them either operate obliviously in the background, or add their own superstitious fears and doubts to the narrative.

In "My Father's Mask," for example, our young narrator Jack takes us into his parents "other" world at their cabin near Big Cat Lake, and Jack's perception of reality is turned upside down: he is faced with a labyrinthine forest where ghosts play impromptu card games, a boy on an old bicycle floating along a path late at night, "playing-card people" in mirrors, and a man in a mask that he thinks is his father but is not entirely sure. As he leaves the cabin, Jack accepts this new world as reality, and the reader is forced to accept it as well.

Originally released in 2005 by PS Publishing in the UK only, 20th Century Ghosts finally makes its North American debut. It is a highly imaginative collection of short stories Hill has written over the years, and displays Hill's mature writing style and command of the short story genre. The stories in this collection show Hill's diverse tastes and range from the humorous and heartfelt to the macabre and horrific.

And the writing in this collection is damn good. Unlike Hill's recent novel Heart-Shaped Box (which relied on dry prose, stereotyped characters and a thin plot), the prose in 20th Century Ghosts is very readable. It's easy to get lost in the worlds Hill has created, and before you know it, you'll be finished and wanting more.

Of course, explaining these stories on a plot level may make them come across as a bit cheesy. For example, "Pop Art" is a story about a 12-year-old who befriends a Jewish boy named Arthur who has an odd physical deformity: he is inflatable, and must write in crayon to communicate. Because he is inflatable, he explains that his parents decided against circumcision for his faith, since he "would actually explode during the circumcision." It sounds odd on paper, but the story is so well written that you actually start to feel sympathy for the inflatable boy. By the end of the story, it's hard to tell if Arthur is real or a figment of the narrator's imagination. In the end, it doesn't really matter, since it's an excellent story. Hill is not trying to work with realism here, anyway.

Other stories, such as "You Will Hear the Locust Sing," display Hill's dark sense of humor. In "You Will Hear the Locust Sing," our young protagonist Francis wakes up from an odd dream to discover he is an eight foot locust. Despite trying to hide from his white trash father and his father's girlfriend, Francis ends up escaping gunfire and comes back to the house ravenously hungry. Before you know it, Francis (as the locust) has eaten everyone in the house.