I wrote about Levine earlier this year:
It is kind of a shame that Stacey Levine's stories have to be published in the form of a book. It's not that they should appear in e-books or anything so mundane as that. Rather, I wish it were somehow possible to hire elfin booksellers to sneak into your home and hide Levine's stories in odd places—inside a cereal box, tucked into a pair of swimming trunks, taped to the back of the oven—so that you could discover them at random and, perhaps, inopportune times. Levine's stories are rare and mysterious things, and confronting them in a book makes them feel less wondrous somehow.
It's a testament to Levine's magnificent eye for detail that she immediately fixated on the "Crisco rose" on the cake. Then, like almost every writer who has ever won the Genius Award (with the obvious exception of Sherman Alexie), she expressed some concern about being the center of attention at our huge Genius Awards party, but it was fun to watch her gradually pump herself full of courage. She will be lovely and you all will see her there. What will Levine do with the $5,000 dollars? "I can finally afford new printer cartridges!"