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Executive Times |
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2008 Book Reviews |
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Wit's End
by Karen Joy Fowler |
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Rating: |
*** |
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(Recommended) |
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Click
on title or picture to buy from amazon.com |
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Avatars Karen
Joy Fowler’s new novel, Wit’s End,
is an enjoyable riff on writers, readers and characters, and the blur between
fictional characters and real people. The title refers to the home where the
mystery writer A.B. Early lives and works. The protagonist, her goddaughter,
Rima Lannisell, comes to visit and begins a quest to find out about the
relationship between early and Rima’s late father, and along the way tries to
unravel what is real and what is imagined. Here’s an excerpt, from the
beginning of Chapter 3, pp. 31-33: The attic was a disappointment
to Rima. It wasn't a romantic attic with rocking horses, birdcages, and
bridal veils. It wasn't a spooky attic with taxidermy, dress dummies, and
bridal veils. Mostly it was filled with boxes, some of which contained
Addison's published books and had never- even been opened. There were first
editions, foreign editions, large print, book club, hardcover, trade paper,
and mass market. Light
sifted in through two screened vents, just enough for Rima to make out the
general terrain. Addison had brought a flashlight. She flicked it on, and
gave it to Tilda, who began to move through the stacks, tipping the top boxes
to the side so she could read the labels of those beneath. Dust rose and spun
in the beam of light. The dogs were quieter now, snuffling in an efficient,
disciplined fashion. They wormed their way under a heap of old dining room
chairs, making them rock briefly. As
Rima's eyes adjusted, she found more to interest her. She almost stepped on a
lamp with a sphinx for a base. It had no shade, no bulb, and no place to plug
into. The sphinx's nose was chipped, and Rima couldn't decide whether it was
supposed to be that way, eroded and faux ancient, or whether someone more recent
had broken it. What Rima didn't know was that the lamp was actually a trophy
for a literary award called the Riddle Prize. As such, it had a complicated
iconography involving the sphinx and a light going on. Addison had won any
number of awards over the years, including this one in 1979 for Average Mean. She
preferred trophies that could be eaten, but there weren't so many of those. A
couple of posters were draped over one of the tallest stacks of boxes. The
one on top was of Harrison Ford, rugged in a blue work shirt, a book by his
knee. Rima couldn't see well enough to determine its title. She tried to
guess what Harrison Ford might read, but really had no idea. In any case, he
wasn't reading it. She slid him aside to look at the poster underneath. This
turned out to be Addison, the mobile of murder weapons dangling over her head
with a balloon crayoned around them like a thought in a comic strip. She was
reading Gaudy
Night, which Rima knew only because she'd
seen this poster before. It announced the American Library Association's
Celebrity READ series and had hung in Rima's college library during her
freshman year. Eventually it was replaced by Antonio Banderas holding Don Quixote, and
it was hard not to see this as an improvement, even if Addison was your
godmother, at least when it suited your purposes to say so. Most arresting by far was a row
of plastic Santas, each about four feet tall, and strangely numerous. Rima
counted eight of them, all lined up against one wall as if they were about to
be shot. The dogs had given up the mouse
hunt.- Rima thought they were playing together until it became clear
something less palatable was going on. Addison leaned over to brush the top
one (Berkeley) aside and pick the bottom one (Stanford) up. "They're brother
and sister," she told Rima. "Fixed, of course. No consequences.
Beyond the sheer horror of it." Stanford shuffled in Addison's
arms until his muzzle was on her shoulder. He stared morosely at Rima from
under the fringe of Addison's hair. "Do you think he's gaining weight
again?" Addison asked Tilda. "Last time we were in, Dr.
Sanchez said he was down a pound," Tilda said. "Celebrations all
around." "Dachshunds love to
eat," Addison told Rima. "Never happier than when you're feeding
them. But their backs can't handle the weight. We have to be cold and
cruel." Rima remembered the breakfast of eggs and toast she'd witnessed.
Some of us were colder and crueler than others. Tilda moved along the front of
the attic. The stacks were higher here, so Rima joined her, taking the
flashlight and letting Tilda wrestle the bigger boxes with both hands. Rima
could smell the morning hike on her. Not sweat so much as trees and dirt and
underneath all that an almond-scented soap. Tilda read the labels aloud as
Rima illuminated them." `Reviews and Interviews, 1982-85.' ‘Maps and
Floor Plans.' '1962 Gubernatorial Race.' ‘False Starts.' ‘Correspondence
slash Letters to the Editor'?" Packed
with clues, dead ends, and the interaction between readers and fictional
characters, Wit’s End
is both unusual and delightful to read. By the end, you may wonder what
avatar you’ll create for yourself to interact with your favorite fictional
characters in some web-based world of the future. Steve
Hopkins, July 18, 2008 |
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Go to Executive Times Archives |
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The recommendation rating for
this book appeared in the August 2008 issue of Executive Times URL for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Wit's End.htm For Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins & Company, LLC • E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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