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Originally published on my blog here in March 2001.
The narrator of The Land of Laughs is a young English teacher, unhappy at his job, who has been obsessed with children's author Marshall France since he was a boy. Thomas Abbey requests leave of absence from his school to write a biography of France, with the help of a young woman he meets in a bookshop when both want to buy a rare France volume. They have to travel to Galen, Missouri, where France lived for most of his life, and persuade his daughter to authorise the biography. Galen appears to be a typical mid-Western small town, but soon after Abbey's arrival, strange things start to happen.
As the novel proceeds, the fantasy elements gradually become stranger, until psychological horror takes over. To discuss the main point of the book requires important data to be given away. What Abbey discovers is that Marshall France had an incredible power - the characters he wrote about became real. He first realised this when the person on whom he had based a character died when he killed off the character. After his own demise, Galen had become entirely populated by his creations, their lives ruled by the outlines France had written.
The subject of the novel, then, is the nature of fiction, and the relationship between written characters and their author, given an ironic twist by being discussed through a work of fiction. In what sense is fiction real, and if we imagine that sense to be changed, what might happen? These issues could quickly lead into some deep philosophical waters, and Carrol avoids this, preferring to be thought provoking.
The narrator of The Land of Laughs is a young English teacher, unhappy at his job, who has been obsessed with children's author Marshall France since he was a boy. Thomas Abbey requests leave of absence from his school to write a biography of France, with the help of a young woman he meets in a bookshop when both want to buy a rare France volume. They have to travel to Galen, Missouri, where France lived for most of his life, and persuade his daughter to authorise the biography. Galen appears to be a typical mid-Western small town, but soon after Abbey's arrival, strange things start to happen.
As the novel proceeds, the fantasy elements gradually become stranger, until psychological horror takes over. To discuss the main point of the book requires important data to be given away. What Abbey discovers is that Marshall France had an incredible power - the characters he wrote about became real. He first realised this when the person on whom he had based a character died when he killed off the character. After his own demise, Galen had become entirely populated by his creations, their lives ruled by the outlines France had written.
The subject of the novel, then, is the nature of fiction, and the relationship between written characters and their author, given an ironic twist by being discussed through a work of fiction. In what sense is fiction real, and if we imagine that sense to be changed, what might happen? These issues could quickly lead into some deep philosophical waters, and Carrol avoids this, preferring to be thought provoking.
American magical realism, done well. Admittedly, I'm often a fan of books about books, and people who appreciate them, but the idea of a couple of people coming together over a shared love of an author resonated quite strongly with me.
I wasn't nuts about the relationships between some of the characters, though. When a woman finds out that the man she loves and is living with is sleeping with another woman, there should be a bit more of a reaction than is depicted here, let's say.
I did enjoy a small geographic nod to my old town, though. At one point a character looks through a stereoscope at a random town scene, described as "Dobbs Ferry, New York." Okay; I was surprised, because it's a small river town, in the suburbs, and though I grew up there until I was fourteen, I'd never really thought of it as particularly picturesque, but then again, the Hudson is pretty gorgeous and one does get spoiled about what one sees all the time. It did seem funny given that most of the book took place in a small town in Missouri, though (talk about unrelated).
Then, twenty pages later, two minor characters back in Missouri go bowling at Scappy's Harmony Lanes, and I laughed, because there used to be a Scappy's Harmony in Dobbs Ferry—and it had bowling.
I checked; Carroll used to live in Dobbs Ferry. Awww.
I wasn't nuts about the relationships between some of the characters, though. When a woman finds out that the man she loves and is living with is sleeping with another woman, there should be a bit more of a reaction than is depicted here, let's say.
I did enjoy a small geographic nod to my old town, though. At one point a character looks through a stereoscope at a random town scene, described as "Dobbs Ferry, New York." Okay; I was surprised, because it's a small river town, in the suburbs, and though I grew up there until I was fourteen, I'd never really thought of it as particularly picturesque, but then again, the Hudson is pretty gorgeous and one does get spoiled about what one sees all the time. It did seem funny given that most of the book took place in a small town in Missouri, though (talk about unrelated).
Then, twenty pages later, two minor characters back in Missouri go bowling at Scappy's Harmony Lanes, and I laughed, because there used to be a Scappy's Harmony in Dobbs Ferry—and it had bowling.
I checked; Carroll used to live in Dobbs Ferry. Awww.
somewhere between urban fantasy and twilight zone is Jonathan Carroll's The Land of Laughs. fanboy delight...
I enjoyed the book, intrigued by the nature of the story and the main character's predicament. A languid magical realism with an unexpected destination. Nothing in the way of cut-to-genre storytelling or the art and craft of writing.
Klimat budowany przez, jakieś 3/4 powieści, zostaje kompletnie zaprzepaszczony w ostatniej partii powieści, wywołując na usta pytanie: "a więc to o to, chodziło, ech?...". Niestety, oczekiwanie na zaskakującą woltę kończy się sporym rozczarowaniem wraz z zakończeniem lepiej pasującym do krótkiego opowiadania, które, owszem, mogłoby świetnie spuentować kilkunastostronicową "opowieść z dreszczykiem", ale kompletnie nie przystającym do finału powieści. Szkoda. Narrator szybko staje się bliskim sercu czytelnika bohaterem, w pewien sposób swojskim, nawet prostolinijnym - tym większy żal, że finał jego, i jego historii, w ogóle, mocno rozczarowuje. Styl zbliżony, (choć - póki co - stanowczo słabszy) do Murakamiego, któren jednak potrafił, summa summarum, zaskoczyć. Polecam, choć z umiarkowanym entuzjazmem.
Carroll is good enough that you don't notice the unconventional pacing (the first act takes up about 2/3 of the book) until it's nearly over. The protagonist is well characterized, and the weirdness of the story is almost entirely implicit, which is consistently effective.
I would have liked if more time had been spent exploring Galen, but it never feels sketchy, so perhaps that's a feature, not a bug.
I would have liked if more time had been spent exploring Galen, but it never feels sketchy, so perhaps that's a feature, not a bug.
I really enjoyed this the first time I read it a handful of years ago. I still think the story is a good one -- not too mention terribly clever and unique. But it's also incredibly cynical at times, and while I do think some stories can benefit from a decent dose of cynicism, I found myself being exhausted by it this time around. Not entirely sure if this is because we're going through some tough times culturally, or if it's simply because my tastes have changed. In either case, I put it down. To be picked up again some other time.
Thomas Abbey and Saxoney Gardner take a trip to Galen, Missouri, the home town of their favorite author, the late Marshall France, writer of the wonderful children’s books The Green Dog’s Sorrow, The Pool of Stars and The Land of Laughs. Thomas, a schoolteacher, has taken a year’s sabbatical leave to write a biography of France. Given to believe by France’s former agent that they would receive a cold reception in Galen, Thomas and Saxoney are surprised at the friendliness that they encounter. But that’s not their only surprise. As they delve deeper into France’s life, certain parts seem odd. For example, his interests seem to have strangely influenced not only their own, but those of the townspeople as well, and then Thomas notices the dog at the end of the bed talking in his sleep….
The Land of Laughs is an amazing first novel. Provocative in its imaginary realm, Carroll is able to make you actually believe there was a Marshall France who wrote children’s stories (in fact, I’m sad there wasn’t, or that Carroll hasn’t written the wonderful stories he describes). There is also an inevitability here, as the events pile upon each other and the characters feel like they have no control. But the shocker, intentional or not, is that one character does have control. One character turns out to be the writer of the world, the definer of Reality for the other characters. Whether this character always had that power, even unto the invention of Galen and France, remains a puzzlement.
The Land of Laughs also reveals Carroll’s greatest weakness as a writer: an inability to provide a satisfactory ending. This is one problem that continues to plague his later works. His build-up is flawless, as the characters learn successive elements that piece together an astounding answer. Then Carroll stops his story abruptly, avoiding the realization of the “truth,” and gives you an after-climax, an epilogue hinting at what the main character has done with the “truth.” Some feel the epilogue provides a logical conclusion to the novel, saying that the main character’s recreation of a dead parent adds deeper meaning to what has gone before. They feel the book is that character’s search for a parent he never knew, that it is a message to those who never knew one of their parents. If so, Carroll’s audience is extremely limited.
This isn’t to say that The Land of Laughs is bad. Quite the opposite. It overcomes even its weak ending through Carroll’s skillful delivery and imagination. Perhaps the abrupt ending is designed to avoid giving readers any easy answers. Perhaps Carroll is forcing the reader to direct his pent-up imagination elsewhere — from the author’s imagination to his own. Perhaps. My feeling is that this method is ultimately unsatisfying.
The Land of Laughs is an amazing first novel. Provocative in its imaginary realm, Carroll is able to make you actually believe there was a Marshall France who wrote children’s stories (in fact, I’m sad there wasn’t, or that Carroll hasn’t written the wonderful stories he describes). There is also an inevitability here, as the events pile upon each other and the characters feel like they have no control. But the shocker, intentional or not, is that one character does have control. One character turns out to be the writer of the world, the definer of Reality for the other characters. Whether this character always had that power, even unto the invention of Galen and France, remains a puzzlement.
The Land of Laughs also reveals Carroll’s greatest weakness as a writer: an inability to provide a satisfactory ending. This is one problem that continues to plague his later works. His build-up is flawless, as the characters learn successive elements that piece together an astounding answer. Then Carroll stops his story abruptly, avoiding the realization of the “truth,” and gives you an after-climax, an epilogue hinting at what the main character has done with the “truth.” Some feel the epilogue provides a logical conclusion to the novel, saying that the main character’s recreation of a dead parent adds deeper meaning to what has gone before. They feel the book is that character’s search for a parent he never knew, that it is a message to those who never knew one of their parents. If so, Carroll’s audience is extremely limited.
This isn’t to say that The Land of Laughs is bad. Quite the opposite. It overcomes even its weak ending through Carroll’s skillful delivery and imagination. Perhaps the abrupt ending is designed to avoid giving readers any easy answers. Perhaps Carroll is forcing the reader to direct his pent-up imagination elsewhere — from the author’s imagination to his own. Perhaps. My feeling is that this method is ultimately unsatisfying.