Shape-Shifter, a mixed collection of stories by Pauline Melville originally published in the U.K., has just arrived in the U.S. and probably will not generate much discussion, either for or against.

These snippets of exotic fiction mark the debut of Melville, already "an actress, a trained psychologist, a comedienne, scriptwriter and published poet," according to the psychedelic book jacket. Though the author displays similar versatility in her writing style, her succinct descriptions and forceful characters cannot compensate for the impoverished plots.

The setting of the stories varies, from Guyana, its towns "smiling...with rotting teeth"; to London, a city of secrets where neither men, women nor buildings are what they appear to be. Melville even includes a rather maladroit cliche, in "I Do Not Take Messages from Dead People"--where a small socialist banana republic overflows with corrupt politicians.

Despite the constantly changing backdrop, the themes strongly resemble one another. Melville concentrates on the problems faced by West Indians in the West Indies, Englishmen in the West Indies or West Indians in England. The stories aim to investigate the heritage of colonialism.

Melville's short pieces often lack delicacy or intricacy of plot. The focus upon one theme causes the reader to wonder why the author felt compelled to reiterate the same point continuously. At worst, the story lines are predictable and unimaginative, relying principally on the enticing foreign locale for their impact.

Melville injects these environs with a superstitious aura. Frequently, it is explicit--a fake phantom in "I Do Not Take Take Messages from Dead People," or the black magic of an obeah man in "The Conversion of Millicent Vernon." More often, she only hints at spectral shadows--voodoo, zombies and the occult in general--to supply that uniquely West Indian flavor.

Melville's remarkable talent for evocative one-line descriptions is the saving grace of these sketches. For example, in "I Do Not Take Messages from Dead People," the sullen vice president is described as having "the gravitational density of an imploding star." The same story also presents the reader with a memorable image from Guyana at dusk: "a host of bats sewed up the great opal and silver clouds with their flitting, looping trajectories."

Another of Melville's strong points is her portraiture of engaging characters. Molly Summers, from "The Iron and the Radio Have Gone," makes her initial appearance wearing "a necklace of mosquito bites." An English schoolteacher who delights in being magnanimous and forgiving to the poor and sinful of Guyana, Summers is ludicrously shocked and sickened by the sight of a poor and sinful Englishman.

Unfortunately, Melville does not always maintain this high level of credibility. For example, Donella Saunders, from the same story, is hollow and superficial. A Guyanese woman with a high-class English background, she is self-consciously eccentric and her air of "ravaged elegance" is rather unconvincing. Even worse, many of the characters have a distressing habit of prattling in a stereotyped patois reminiscent of Uncle Tom's Cabin: "Oh, God, Selma, how is I goin' get money for fix me teeth?"

Occasionally pieces are populated with completely superfluous characters. They neither advance the plot nor contribute significantly to the atmosphere. The cast of "The Conversion of Millicent Vernon," for example, could have been halved without materially harming the story.

Melville is most successful when she adheres to the commonplace. "Eat Labba and Drink Creek Water," for example, does not pretend to be anything more than nostalgia thinly disguised as fiction. Its wistful, reminiscent mood makes for good reading. "The Girl with the Celestial Limb," on the other hand, is a pretentious piece of pseu-do-surrealism that fails to make any impression on the reader.

This anthology is a creditable debut for Melville. Despite being marred by the weakness of their plots, the stories remain readable. They will probably never be required for a course in colonial literature though.