Aspects of Eisenberg's short fiction

Deborah Eisenberg is one of those writers well-known to members of the literati, especially in NY (where she teaches) but little known to the general reading public. I have heard of her and her various story collections going back to the '80s; her reviews have always been strong - but somehow I've never to my knowledge or recollection read any of her works. There aren't too many; she's the Anti-Joyce Carol Oates/TC Boyle - known for her limited productivity and respected for it: a slim collection every 10 years and not even a novel in the works! I'm right now reading her 2018 collection, Your Duck Is My Duck; too early to pass judgement (1.5 stories in), but some things are clear: She's a very funny writer w/ some of the quirkiest observations and moments: Woman enters a room (shared kitchen in large house) where another house guest is sitting at the table: Sorry, am I bothering you? A: Not yet. The first (title) story is about a NYC artist invited by a wealthy couple who own one of her pieces to come stay w/ them at their house in what appears to be a Caribbean Island. Over the course of 30 or so odd pages we grow to the loathe the wealthy couple (an easy target, no doubt) and the feel glee when they get what they deserve - a satirical puppet show that mocks their whole perverted, exploitative way of life (and they don't even get it) and a fire that wrecks their property (they don't seem to care, even houses are disposable). This story strikes a Gatsby-like note: an educated protagonist on the periphery of a seemingly glamorous who comes to realize that's all an illusion and a facade. Many writers of short stories focus on characters w/ whom readers can ID or on characters whom we assume to be versions of the author or on protagonists so odd and extreme as to be satirical; Eisenberg, or so it seems so far, in contrast focuses on those whose lives we read about or view from a great distance (the 2nd story is about a gathering of aged movie stars, disturbed about the inaccuracies of a recent book about their set); at times I found myself thinking - who cares about these people? - but there in a way you can't stop reading about them, either, accurate or not, easy targets or not. And if you ask: Why a duck? The host in the title story regales or lectures or warns his team of visiting accountants with a koan about a Zen master who, presented with a duck in a glass bottle said: Not my duck, not my bottle, not my problem. I kind of feel that way about the story, too.