Neil Jordan’s new novel Carnivalesque joins a line of books
that use carnivals and circuses as a link to the supernatural—from Bradbury’s
classic Something Wicked This Way Comes
(one of my absolute favorite books) to
the short-lived but rightly beloved Carnivale
television show to the more recent novel Night Circus (which I think I’m the only person in the world who
thinks is just okay). Jordan is probably best known as a filmmaker of such
works as Interview with the Vampire, The
Crying Game, and The Butcher Boy;
however, he also has written quite a few novels and story collections over the
course of his career. I’m usually a fan of his movies, though I think they are
also a mixed bag where idea doesn’t always hold up. His books, though, I’ve
been consistently impressed with (particularly the slowly creeping Mistaken). This latest one seems
destined to make Jordan’s writing career as well known as his filmic one.
Carnivalesque
combines a changeling myth (it’s a good year for changelings! See also my review
of LaValle’s The Changeling from this summer) with the more recent lore of
carnivals as magical. A young boy on the cusp of being a teen goes to the
carnival with his family and goes into a mirror maze. The boy who comes out is
no longer the same one who went in. The story then splits into two paths: the
boy left at the carnival and his changeling double who goes home with the
parents. While this would seem to be a very blundering metaphor for puberty,
Jordan is actually seeking something deeper—the idea of change and how much we
can know the people we love. Does he succeed at the deeper questions?
Yes and no. Where Something
Wicked This Way Comes beautifully evoked childhood, nostalgia, and a sense
of loss through these things by using the ephemerality and liminality of a
traveling circus, Jordan only half succeeds in doing so. His lyrical writing
and imagery is gorgeous throughout and his depiction of the relationship
between mother and lost son is lovely and heartbreaking. However, where it
doesn’t work as well are in the more full-blown fantastic moments. The climax
feels rushed and deus ex machina-ed.
Maybe this shouldn’t be surprising, though, as Jordan’s
films often most succeed or fail by their characters (Interview works because the vampires feel so deeply, humanly flawed
whereas Byzantium doesn’t work nearly
as well because the vampires relationships feel less fully etched than their
mythos does). This misunderstanding of where the heart of the story lies can be
clearly seen by the book’s ending. The second to last chapter is beautiful and
haunting—showing where the story was all along. The chapter after it feels like
a misstep by returning to the overarching plot mechanics.
For fans of folklore and carnivals, this book fits neatly
into a long line. It’s well written, deeply engaging, and shows off Jordan’s
skill as a written storyteller in addition to his visual storytelling prowess.
However, it falls closer—for me—to the missed greatness of The Night Circus than to the soaring masterpiece of Something Wicked.
The Math
Baseline Assessment: 7/10
Bonuses: +1 for featuring a spooky house of mirrors (one of my biggest literary crushes)
Penalties: -1 for some missteps
Nerd Coefficient: 7/10 “an enjoyable experience, but not without its flaws”
Baseline Assessment: 7/10
Bonuses: +1 for featuring a spooky house of mirrors (one of my biggest literary crushes)
Penalties: -1 for some missteps
Nerd Coefficient: 7/10 “an enjoyable experience, but not without its flaws”
***
POSTED BY: Chloe, speculative fiction fan in all forms, monster theorist, and Nerds of a Feather blogger since 2016.Follow her on Twitter @PintsNCupcakes.
POSTED BY: Chloe, speculative fiction fan in all forms, monster theorist, and Nerds of a Feather blogger since 2016.Follow her on Twitter @PintsNCupcakes.
