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The Pilo Family Circus
by Katherine Dunn, Will Elliott
Will Elliott, The Pilo Family Circus (Underland Press, 2006)
I am going to start this review by saying two things that I don't believe I have ever said together in a single review: that this book has some serious flaws, and that it's almost guaranteed to make my best reads of the year list. Yes, despite its flaws (one in particular, upon which I will no doubt dwell like a bobby-soxer mourning the death of Ricky Nelson), this is a book that reaches so far down into the dark places of the human soul that it blasted its way onto the must-read list long before I hit the halfway point. For the record, I'm not the only one who thinks so; the book was much-lauded in its native Australia, as any of its press will tell you (it won five awards in 2006, ranging from specialized horror awards to broad literary ones), and was short-listed for the Stoker here in America. The only real drawback: like a number of other amazing Oceania media, once it got to our shores, it has suffered a brutal lack of publicity. I'm only one person, but I'm going to try and help that change, a little, because you need to read this book.
Jamie is a typical twenty-something slacker in Brisbane. He has the job he has mostly because it affords him large amounts of free time (and the rest is because he wants to date one of the bartenders), he lives with a couple of drugged-out friends of ill repute, and thanks to his working hours he often wanders the streets when no one else is about. Well, almost no one. On the way home from work one night, he is forced to slam on the brakes when he finds a clown standing in the middle of the road. The two have an odd moment, then the clown wanders off, and Jamie drives home, discomfited. (No surprise there. We all know clowns are the epitome of evil, yes?) Soon after, he sees the same clown, with two others, and spies on them. Why does he spy on them? Because he knows that he doesn't want them seeing him. While spying, he finds a small velvet bag on the ground. And it is there that his woes begin, for when he picks it up, and when he inadvertently ingests a bit of the contents while playing a stupid practical joke on Steve (one of said housemates), he draws the clowns' attention to him. And thus we come to the beginning of the jacket copy: the clowns want him to... audition.
All that bit is actually kind of slow. Once we get to the Pilo Family Circus (and that we get there is not a spoiler, again because of the jacket copy) is when the book really spreads its wings and begins to soar. Elliott is a diagnosed schizophrenic, so when you see him writing about a character whose personality is at war with itself (Jamie the person becomes JJ the clown. It's not a split personality, per se, though Elliott does play that aspect of it up. Winston, another of the clowns, tells Jamie that the clown make up, which is an odd blend of hallucinogen and mutagen, alters the clowns' personalities; in effect, form the reader's perspective, it makes you more you; the Jamie who pulled the prank on Steve that got them into this mess becomes the JJ whose pranks are malicious, and sometimes deadly, to the other carnies), you know he's got a better handle on that sort of thing than your average author. And the character of Jamie/JJ is so wonderfully drawn, in the circus, that even if it were a single-character novel, it would be well worth reading.
It is not, however, which provides both the book's greatest strength—its endlessly fascinating plot, the machinations of which mirror Jamie/JJ's internal struggle without ever feeling forced (one wonders whether it was even conscious on Elliott's part), and its greatest weakness—Jamie/JJ's interactions with other characters. The example that sticks in my head is one of the other clowns, Rufshod. There's a point at which JJ and Ruf pull a prank on another carny, after which JJ muses that Ruf could easily become his closest friend in the carnival. Ruf, despite being a minor character at that point, is very intriguing, and he's well-drawn for a minor character, and the reader can't help but look forward to the two of them becoming friends, mirroring Jamie's student/mentor relationship with Winston. But that never happens; it's as if Elliott wrote that with every intention of delving father into what never became a subplot at all. While that's the most obvious example, it's far from the only one. After mulling over the book in the light of Katherine Dunn's introduction, I think this may have had to do with Elliott's headlong approach to writing the book, which he completed (in multiple drafts, no less!) in an unreal, almost Amanda Hocking-style time. I think, had Elliott taken a bit more care in rewrites of going back and picking up those lost threads, I'd be sitting here telling you in no uncertain terms that despite us only being a quarter of the way through 2011, this would be sitting atop my best reads of the year list come December 31.
That said, Elliott's incredible gifts for characterization, even if he can't get those characters to believably interact in some cases, and even more incredible gifts for description of the little island of Hell that is the Pilo Family Circus, make this a fascinating little phantasmagoria that I was sadder to see end than anything I've read since Robin Hobb finished up the Tawny Man trilogy. It is equal parts, again from the reader's perspective, awesome thriller, genius bizarro (even if Elliott is not considered a part of the movement; I don't know one way or the other), and fascinating look into the mind of a schizophrenic author who happens to be very, very gifted. You may have to go out of your way to find this. No library in the vast Ohio networks my library belongs to had a copy. Trust me, though, you want to. Despite its problems, a stunning read. ****
I am going to start this review by saying two things that I don't believe I have ever said together in a single review: that this book has some serious flaws, and that it's almost guaranteed to make my best reads of the year list. Yes, despite its flaws (one in particular, upon which I will no doubt dwell like a bobby-soxer mourning the death of Ricky Nelson), this is a book that reaches so far down into the dark places of the human soul that it blasted its way onto the must-read list long before I hit the halfway point. For the record, I'm not the only one who thinks so; the book was much-lauded in its native Australia, as any of its press will tell you (it won five awards in 2006, ranging from specialized horror awards to broad literary ones), and was short-listed for the Stoker here in America. The only real drawback: like a number of other amazing Oceania media, once it got to our shores, it has suffered a brutal lack of publicity. I'm only one person, but I'm going to try and help that change, a little, because you need to read this book.
Jamie is a typical twenty-something slacker in Brisbane. He has the job he has mostly because it affords him large amounts of free time (and the rest is because he wants to date one of the bartenders), he lives with a couple of drugged-out friends of ill repute, and thanks to his working hours he often wanders the streets when no one else is about. Well, almost no one. On the way home from work one night, he is forced to slam on the brakes when he finds a clown standing in the middle of the road. The two have an odd moment, then the clown wanders off, and Jamie drives home, discomfited. (No surprise there. We all know clowns are the epitome of evil, yes?) Soon after, he sees the same clown, with two others, and spies on them. Why does he spy on them? Because he knows that he doesn't want them seeing him. While spying, he finds a small velvet bag on the ground. And it is there that his woes begin, for when he picks it up, and when he inadvertently ingests a bit of the contents while playing a stupid practical joke on Steve (one of said housemates), he draws the clowns' attention to him. And thus we come to the beginning of the jacket copy: the clowns want him to... audition.
All that bit is actually kind of slow. Once we get to the Pilo Family Circus (and that we get there is not a spoiler, again because of the jacket copy) is when the book really spreads its wings and begins to soar. Elliott is a diagnosed schizophrenic, so when you see him writing about a character whose personality is at war with itself (Jamie the person becomes JJ the clown. It's not a split personality, per se, though Elliott does play that aspect of it up. Winston, another of the clowns, tells Jamie that the clown make up, which is an odd blend of hallucinogen and mutagen, alters the clowns' personalities; in effect, form the reader's perspective, it makes you more you; the Jamie who pulled the prank on Steve that got them into this mess becomes the JJ whose pranks are malicious, and sometimes deadly, to the other carnies), you know he's got a better handle on that sort of thing than your average author. And the character of Jamie/JJ is so wonderfully drawn, in the circus, that even if it were a single-character novel, it would be well worth reading.
It is not, however, which provides both the book's greatest strength—its endlessly fascinating plot, the machinations of which mirror Jamie/JJ's internal struggle without ever feeling forced (one wonders whether it was even conscious on Elliott's part), and its greatest weakness—Jamie/JJ's interactions with other characters. The example that sticks in my head is one of the other clowns, Rufshod. There's a point at which JJ and Ruf pull a prank on another carny, after which JJ muses that Ruf could easily become his closest friend in the carnival. Ruf, despite being a minor character at that point, is very intriguing, and he's well-drawn for a minor character, and the reader can't help but look forward to the two of them becoming friends, mirroring Jamie's student/mentor relationship with Winston. But that never happens; it's as if Elliott wrote that with every intention of delving father into what never became a subplot at all. While that's the most obvious example, it's far from the only one. After mulling over the book in the light of Katherine Dunn's introduction, I think this may have had to do with Elliott's headlong approach to writing the book, which he completed (in multiple drafts, no less!) in an unreal, almost Amanda Hocking-style time. I think, had Elliott taken a bit more care in rewrites of going back and picking up those lost threads, I'd be sitting here telling you in no uncertain terms that despite us only being a quarter of the way through 2011, this would be sitting atop my best reads of the year list come December 31.
That said, Elliott's incredible gifts for characterization, even if he can't get those characters to believably interact in some cases, and even more incredible gifts for description of the little island of Hell that is the Pilo Family Circus, make this a fascinating little phantasmagoria that I was sadder to see end than anything I've read since Robin Hobb finished up the Tawny Man trilogy. It is equal parts, again from the reader's perspective, awesome thriller, genius bizarro (even if Elliott is not considered a part of the movement; I don't know one way or the other), and fascinating look into the mind of a schizophrenic author who happens to be very, very gifted. You may have to go out of your way to find this. No library in the vast Ohio networks my library belongs to had a copy. Trust me, though, you want to. Despite its problems, a stunning read. ****