Most of the stories in [Where the Jackals Howl and Other Stories] were written in 1962 when Oz was in his early 20s. To someone unacquainted with My Michael or with the later stories, particularly those in The Hill of Evil Counsel, they are a fascinating introduction to an excellent writer. But to those who expect the later Oz, they will for the most part be a disappointment. They foreshadow much of his later work in theme, in imagery, and particularly in the evocative use of climate and landscape. But they suffer from the light of the midday sun. They seek the shadows too obviously, and too often cast none.

Oz knew what he was talking about a decade later. These early characters are indeed sometimes grotesque, their emotions too crude, their tales too obviously biblical in intensity. In the title story, as a jackal cub resigns itself to...