There's an ever growing pile of books I want to read…
Mini Review: Mr Fox by Helen Oyeyemi
There are two reasons that I’m not writing a big review of this book. The first is that I’m on a train, using my phone to write this and I’m just not sure how much I’ll have time to say before I reach my stop.
The other, and more compelling, reason for not writing a lengthy review is that I loved this book so much that I don’t want to devote time to its flaws.
So here are a few, possibly disjointed thoughts.
Mr Fox is a book that reads like being in a dream; there are stories within stories and it’s never made exactly clear who and what is real and who and what aren’t.
I suspect a large part of that is because it is in some ways a meditation about how real fiction is and I guess my conclusion is that all stories are real while you’re reading them even though, at the same time, none of them are real at all. That’s the magic and power of stories
Mr Fox is beautifully written. Helen Oyeyemi certainly knows how to construct a sentence, paragraph, novel. I wish I had read this book aloud. It deserves to be read that way.
Coming to the end of the book, too, feels like waking from a dream. The real world seems strange and inconsequential now that I am back in it.
Mr Fox is a fairy tale, an allegory, a supreme work of magical realism. It is a retelling of the tale of bluebeard and a conversation about what it is to be a woman. I’d like everyone to read it so that we can talk about it and I don’t care to hear any criticism for it. Not because there aren’t any faults but because that would break its hold over me and I’m not ready for that yet.
I give this book 5/5