Little, Big by John Crowley

A multi-generational family living in an weird, crumbling house, surrounded by off-kilter villagers living in relative isolation from the rest of the world -- In many ways, Little, Big is like an Anglo version of 100 Years of Solitude.  Crowley has written an unusual novel about fairies and the human clan that serves as a bridge between them and the rest of the world.  There is a timeless quality to the narrative, with its lush depictions of nature and its populace with family names like Mouse, Cloud, and Bramble (my favorite: the law firm of Petty, Smilodon, and Ruth), that makes the occasional reference to a phone, car, or tv, jarring.  That timelessness and sense of wonder suit the themes of the novel -- presence and absence, real and unreal, belief and unbelief -- perfectly.  Crowley's language and imagery are gorgeous, and the world he creates is vibrant and full of wonder.

But. Something is keeping me from wholeheartedly embracing Crowley's fiction, and I think it is that his worldview is too different from mine.  In Little, Big there is an absence of good as a concept, as something for anyone to strive for.  We get muted references to Eigenblick's crusade and the rebellion of those against him, but no sense of what either side is fighting for or what the consequences will be for ordinary people.  Ariel Hawksquill, one of the most powerful people in the world, spends much of the book trying to figure out who Eigenblick is and what he means so she can choose a side; but when she makes the choice, it is almost entirely for her own ambitions, not for any greater purpose (good or bad).  The fairy creatures are wholly amoral, as is expected, but the humans are, too, never extrapolating their kindnesses and cruelties and everyday concerns into a larger worldview.  The result is that I felt a certain distance to the narrative.  I enjoyed the novel, and I admire it, but I didn't love it.

The Solitudes by John Crowley

The Solitudes, part one of Crowley's Aegypt cycle, comes highly recommended. I learned about it from Dirda's book chat, where he declared the books some of the best ever. It is highly praised by any number of well-regarded book critics. It is about Pierce Moffett, a historian specializing in arcane knowledge, who develops the notion that there are other versions of the world that have existed and will exist, that switch in and out leaving only the barest traces of their existence -- "There is more than one history of the world." Moreover, there are all sorts of metaphysical layers; Moffett is inspired to write a book about his notion, a book which appears to already have been written by a local author, but which might also be the Aegypt cycle itself by Crowley. This is exactly the kind of book that I love.

So why couldn't I get into it? I can see why it has been praised by so many, I can see the interesting ideas Crowley is developing. But the book just didn't engage me at all. I dutifully read it every time I was on a train or subway, but never felt the need to pull it out and read just one more page. I don't even know what to write about it now, because it was not a bad book by any means, or even a boring book.

I'm not in a rush to read the other three in the cycle (there are other books I am dying to pick up), but I think I should at least give the second one a shot, sooner rather than later.