Other than "Lungfish" (which I enjoyed very much), these stories are...ok. These are workmanlike, sound, and literate, but lack any spark of 'aha!'. Characters are flat (how much different would "The Loom of Thessaly" be with a chappy Zelazny protagonist?) and Brin's overall style in these pieces is grim, lit with leached, unsaturated colors. Bradbury stories could awe you or chill you, Zelazny could entertain and amaze at the same time, and Ellison could inspire or infuriate; these don't get there. Maybe it's because these are really early works in Brin's publishing career, all before 1986, or maybe it's just that longer pieces are his strength. This collection is worth reading, by all means, but it is, to me, no worse or better than 'ok.'
Also, am I the only reader to find the blatant deistic determinism of the whole universe in "The Crystal Spheres" a bit too much to swallow? It angers me still.