THE QUOTABLE MOOSE: A Contemporary Maine Reader, Wesley McNair, editor, University of New England Press, $15.95, 253 pages.

“The Quotable Moose: A Contemporary Maine Reader” offers a mix of short stories, essays and poems set in Maine. Selling “regional” literature in the region it deals with is a risky proposition at best, however, and while the majority of selections are beautifully written, native “Mainers” (hideous foreign term!) should brace themselves for the occasional insulting jolt.

For instance, John Thorne’s otherwise pleasant essay, “Maine Eats,” boldly and inclusively asserts that we (Mainers) “pride themselves on drinking Moxie instead of Coke and eating Jacob’s cattle beans and cold-cellaring a hundred pounds of potatoes every fall.” Shortly thereafter, on the subject of lobster, he goes on to assume that “Native Mainers … are, at best, ambivalent about the beast and rarely, if ever, eat it.”

Then there’s Carolyn Chute’s contribution, “The Other Maine,” in which she once again seeks to equate the true spirit of Dirigo freedom with junk cars rusting in trash-laden front yards.

Tourists from, say, Colorado or New York may read such descriptions with perfect equanimity and will probably lay the book aside feeling like they know quite a lot more about Maine people then they did before. Speaking as a native with old roots stretching from Aroostook to Hancock counties, my reaction was a stab of the same knee-jerk mix of resentment, amusement, and horror that hits so many of us every time we see a lobster license plate or hear some boob from Hollywood trying to fake a Maine (read coastal) accent on film.

Sorry; it must be my native Maine “cussedness” coming out.

In all fairness, both Thorne and Chute do capture the essense of some Maine people; they err only in implying that such descriptions apply to all of us. In an era where few intelligent people would dream of saying “All Indians are this … ” or “All blacks are that … ,” a surprising number fail to realize that this Bert and I shuck-and-jive image is an equally pejorative and generally inaccurate stereotype.

Happily, the collection taken as a whole shows a somewhat wider view. An encouraging number of pieces deal with northern and central Maine, and there are even a few dealing with urban issues. The Franco-American stories offer insight on a segment of Maine society seldom focused on outside the state, though other ethnic groups such as the various Indian tribes or Maine’s small but growing black and Asian populations are not represented.

The few pieces written by native Maine writers, including Cathie Pelletier’s “Civil Defense,” A. Poulin Jr.’s “The Front Parlor,” and Sanford Phippen’s “Saltwater Farm,” employ well-rounded characterizations and experiential detail rather than labels to achor their work in a specific time and place. Established transplants like Philip Booth and Ted Holmes do the same, having been here long enough to see beyond image to individuality. The bet of the newcomers, Alice Bloom and Robert Kimber among them, also achieve this or have the good grace to admit that they are an outsider experiencing a limited local culture.

A few, and these represent an attitude most annoying to the locals, situate themselves on a piece of property (usually coastal) and announce, “Ah, now this is the real Maine!” While I’d be the last person to argue against individual perception, I’d like to point out that if you think Maine or anywhere else is one definable thing, then you’re not getting out enough.

There’s a great deal of truth, beauty, wisdom and genuine love in “The Quotable Moose” and I do recommend it, so long as you disregrd the “all Mainer” statements. But the next person who tells me that I don’t look/think/speak/act like a “real Mainer” had better be prepared for a tart response.

Lynn Flewelling is a free-lance writer who lives in Bangor.