Mr. Fox, by Helen Oyeyemi
The writing here is exquisite. It's truly top-notch. Lyrical, compelling, expressive. The words jump off the page and into your eyes, mind and heart.
The stories told throughout the book are fantastical: Warm, tended-hearted, haunting, challenging, perceptive. They are full of emotion, wisdom, and joy.
But still. It's hard to say it works as a novel. It's more a collection of short stories. It's difficult to follow along, as one must jump from the overall storyline to accommodate the interludes. Don't get me wrong here: I loved the literary interventions. It was the overall narrative that's confusing.
In Mr. Fox, we meet St. John Fox, his wife Daphne, and his muse, Mary Foxe. His muse is either real, or she comes alive at times. It's hard to say. Because sometimes others can see her, and sometimes, she can flitter in an out like a phantom.
I am sure that the literary inventions have a larger meaning. I am sorry I can't seem to figure them all out. Suffice to say I enjoyed the book, but I feel hard pressed to tell you what it's all about.
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