I don't think anyone would assert for Bowles the status of a major literary figure. He is rather too firmly rooted in the comfortable conventions of nineteenth-century realism for most of his career. And by the time he ventures outside this familiar ground into modernist territory, it has already been thoroughly explored and mapped by more adventurous authors. Bowles is interesting on a thematic level rather than a formal one. This isn't to say he's a bad writer; his stories wouldn't be literature if there wasn't some interplay between form and content. But from a great author, I'd expect an attempt to超越 the tried and true, an attempt at transgression, at developing a unique voice. Paul Bowles just seems too complacent for that to me.
Which is a bit strange because thematically, many of the stories in this collection deal with the opposite of complacency. Bowles' works are often said to be about Westerners (Europeans/Americans) and their encounter with, as well as the ensuing (often violent) disillusionment with, the allure of foreign cultures (mostly North Africa/South America). But while that's true on a surface level, it seems to me there's another layer. Here, the Europeans aren't really blind to what awaits them but seem on some level to actually crave the doom they're walking into. They might not be aware of it, might not consciously desire it, but still have this longing in some deep, hidden part of their personality. Whether one conceives of it in Freudian terms or not, I think most of Paul Bowles' stories can only be understood with some concept of the unconscious.
Even if the stories have someone from a non-Western culture as their protagonist or take place entirely in a Western context, there's almost always some kind of Other involved, often one that exercises a dangerous, even fatal attraction on the protagonist. That Other can even be within the protagonist herself, as in the case of the narrator of "You are not I" (who turns out to be insane). And while Bowles (except for some stories very late in this volume, with their publishing date 1977 and later) never really moves beyond the conventions of realism, reality in his stories is quite often something that can't be fully trusted.
The protagonists in Bowles' stories are often strangely passive, offering no resistance to what's done to them, enduring what they're going through with tacit acceptance as if it were preordained. It's not just that they're resigned to their fate but as if they couldn't even conceive of things being any different. This unquestioning fatalism gives everything an eerie, dreamlike quality. And even in the rare cases where someone is acting, it's not with any real agency. Instead, they get entangled in circumstances they don't oversee and set in motion events they can't control (like the boy in "Senor Ong and Senor Ha") or are outright delusional (like the narrator in "You are not I"). They also quite often have something childlike about them (in fact, they surprisingly often are children or adolescents) in that they sense themselves to be surrounded by a vast conspiracy of grown-ups that they're not privy to and that's always just beyond their comprehension.
Therefore, as vivid as Bowles' evocations can sometimes be, the world his characters move through never seems quite real. Its texture and density are more like those of a fever dream or a drug-induced hallucination. Mind you, the stories never become explicitly fantastic or outright surreal, but they (at least the best among them) have a slightly off-kilter feel, like they were slightly out of focus, or maybe on the contrary, too crisp and sharp in the details to be quite real. This can be rather disquieting to the reader, even creepy, and at least in my opinion, it's in those moments when the hold of realist conformity on Bowles' imagination slips that he is at his most impressive.
In conclusion, let me add a comment on the edition of this collection: It's terrible. It's terrible because it's almost non-existent. I'm aware that this isn't a critical edition, but still – all the reader gets here is a short and not particularly illuminating introduction by Robert Stone and the year of first publication at the end of each story. One would expect at the very least some information on when the stories were composed, where they were published and where collected, whether these are the complete stories of Paul Bowles, and if not, on what basis they were selected – all very basic stuff that even a non-academic reader is likely to be curious about and that might help in placing the stories in context, and all of which is lacking from this edition.