Deborah Eisenberg’s writing is so fluid and easy to read that it was not until I had finished each story that I realized how deeply entwined I had become with her characters and their experiences, or how much depth lay behind them. Like her previous works, Eisenberg’s latest collection of short stories, “Twilight of the Superheroes,” demonstrates her utter mastery of characterization and transcends petty provincialism, instead exploring complex relationships of all sorts and the various ways in which they intertwine and affect the individual.

Though the characters in each story differ vastly from each other in circumstances and personality, they all share the common thread of facing some sort of personal distress. Eisenberg tells each story from multiple perspectives to capture this distress, switching seamlessly from third person narrative to interior monologue. These transitions are initially confusing, but as the story continues, the reader learns to recognize each character’s voice and perspective and becomes absorbed in his or her world.

The title of the collection comes from the first short story, which centers on Lucien, a widowed New Yorker, and Nathaniel, the nephew of his late wife, Charlie. Though the two live in the same city, they rarely see one another and their lives unfold separately. Eisenberg structures her story by letting each character reveal his inner monologue while linking them through memories of Charlie, which creates a poignant portrait of each character as well as a moving rendering of their mutual connection to Charlie.

Though “Twilight of the Superheroes” is set after Sept. 11, 2001, it is not the entire focus of the story, which makes its effect all the more meaningful. Instead of beginning the story with the disaster, Eisenberg first introduces the characters, then writes of the tragedy so subtly that it is not until the second mention that the reader is sure what she’s referring to. One of the most striking lines in the collection is in Eisenberg’s description of Nathaniel’s apartment, which overlooks the site of the attack: “When they moved in, it probably was the best view on the planet. Then, one morning, out of a clear blue sky, it became for a while, probably the worst.”

The fears and questions the attack brings up for both men exacerbate the life crises they were already facing. The beauty of the story lies in the way the stresses the two characters face parallel each other—though they are 25 years apart, both Lucien and Nathaniel are lost and wondering what will become of their lives.

“Twilight of the Superheroes” is the most striking part of the collection, but Eisenberg’s talent for capturing the depth of her characters shines throughout all of the stories. Much of what makes the book so engaging is the diversity of the relationships and people that Eisenberg explores. “Some Other, Better Otto” is particularly engrossing because of the types of connections it centers on—that between Otto and his endlessly patient and supportive lover, William, and also that of Otto to his schizophrenic sister, Sharon. The difference between the two relationships and the extent of love that the characters demonstrate despite extremely straining circumstances reveal just how far the capacity of love can extend.

While “Twilight of the Superheroes” and “Some Other, Better Otto” explore relationships centered around love and loss, other stories center on more unsettling relationships. The collection takes a darker turn in the second half, when Eisenberg withholds the more disturbing nature of the relationships—a middle-aged man sleeping with a teenaged girl, or an abusive marriage—until the last few paragraphs of the story. And though it’s unsettling, the flawlessness of these stories reflects Eisenberg’s success in thoroughly exploring all the possible relationships people can have, both with other people and with themselves.

—Reviewer Jessica X.Y. Rothenberg can be reached at jxyroth@fas.harvard.edu.