*I will try not to include any spoilers in any of my reviews, now until the end of time. Amen.
In the About Me section you heard me describe my “struggle” with books. I admitted that I am picky and maybe even a bit strange. Well, I lied. I didn’t lie. I under-exaggerated. Stay with me here, I promise that we’ll get to the truth eventually.
I am not a freak, but my tastes in books are freakish.
The supernatural is really big nowadays after that young adult, anti-feminist little series that shall not be named, blew up. I am very wary of the supernatural and have gotten into many arguments with a handful of creative writers who have critiqued my own work. They call my stories supernatural and I get offensive. Then we dance along this supernatural, fantasy, dystopian line until we get tired, have a beer, and rest our feet.
In the end, I like oddities. I like strange occurrences that could actually happen. I like time travel and absurdly corrupt governments (on paper). And I love the quiet stories with main characters who fill the concrete world with lofty ideas and intentional hallucinations.
Hey, talking about intentional hallucinations and how much I like them, let’s talk about Mr. Fox
Mr. Fox has pressure coming from all directions with a difficult marriage, a cheeky muse, and the inability to stop killing off all of his female characters. All these pressures eventually intersect, creating a disturbing yet refreshing story.
What I really want to talk about is Oyeyemi’s writing. It’s one of those books that you read slowly for a few reasons. One, there are jumps between reality, make-believe conversations between Mr. Fox and Mary, and the fantastic short-short stories tucked in between where Fox is working through the whole killing heroines issue. Two, well, the writing is marvelous. How Oyeyemi avoided confusing me once was a miracle. How she maintained countless voices in such a small space is awing. Her dialogue is quick and witty and supports her unnatural ability to allow a scene to be sexy, disconcerting, tense, and sweet all at once.
There are many poems, short stories, and novels out there that are just weird for the sake of being weird. They throw out curse words and make characters lick things just for the shock value. Perhaps what is most impressive about Mr. Fox is that Oyeyemi very clearly began this novel with a story in mind and the weirdness just followed naturally.
I know I trash-talked it before but this story does get somewhat supernatural, especially where things like death are concerned. Again, I appreciate this for two reasons. Firstly, the supernatural aspects come within Mr. Fox’s writing. Meaning the story is still grounded; we have not left reality. Second, who am I to say that people don’t waltz in their tombs after death? I can assure you that I have never spent the night in a mausoleum…yet.
Finally, to reveal why this book caught my attention: I have a muse. A completely made-up, call-me-crazy muse. While I don’t fondle my muse or have loud and mentally scarring conversations with it, yes, I have a muse. We run through dialogue in my head. We make words sound genuine and interesting (I think). We explore different stories and, okay, I sometimes wish my muse were real.
Don’t look at me like that.
Anyway, I give Mr. Fox four stars for originality and excellent writing. The cover art is rather impressive too. If you’ve read the book, I hope you found my review unbearably accurate. If you haven’t read the book, what are you doing just sitting there? Go. Buy it. And support a small, local bookstore if you can.
Up Next: This Is Not Chick Lit by Various Authors