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A collection from the author of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, cast in a similar scholarly tone, but focused much more specifically on the fairies.
. . . Meh.
Most of these stories are in the world of Jonathan Strange (who himself makes an appearance in the titular story). I liked the novel all right, though it didn’t blow my mind or anything. But the style which is bemusing and engrossing over six hundred pages is remote and rather inaccessible in short form. Clarke’s fairies are also universally vicious, tricky, and unpleasant, which was intriguing and alarming when woven into a larger alternate history but, in isolation, is just unpleasant. See the loathsome narrator in “Mr. Simonelli: or the Fairy Widower.” Perhaps I am something of a backward reader, but I generally require a hook into at least one character I don’t outright hate in order to enjoy a story.
The stories are presented as if in an academic anthology, and the packaging slips over into painfully self-conscious sometimes -- the deprecatory little mention of Jonathan Strange in the scholarly introduction made me roll my eyes. And mostly? I just didn’t care. “The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse” is a bit of fanfiction set in Gaiman’s Stardust, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I finished it and went, “so what was the point of that?” I said that more than once.
. . . meh.
. . . Meh.
Most of these stories are in the world of Jonathan Strange (who himself makes an appearance in the titular story). I liked the novel all right, though it didn’t blow my mind or anything. But the style which is bemusing and engrossing over six hundred pages is remote and rather inaccessible in short form. Clarke’s fairies are also universally vicious, tricky, and unpleasant, which was intriguing and alarming when woven into a larger alternate history but, in isolation, is just unpleasant. See the loathsome narrator in “Mr. Simonelli: or the Fairy Widower.” Perhaps I am something of a backward reader, but I generally require a hook into at least one character I don’t outright hate in order to enjoy a story.
The stories are presented as if in an academic anthology, and the packaging slips over into painfully self-conscious sometimes -- the deprecatory little mention of Jonathan Strange in the scholarly introduction made me roll my eyes. And mostly? I just didn’t care. “The Duke of Wellington Misplaces His Horse” is a bit of fanfiction set in Gaiman’s Stardust, and I’m not exaggerating when I say I finished it and went, “so what was the point of that?” I said that more than once.
. . . meh.