'Mr Fox' a genuine journey
By Aimee Bender |
November 4, 2011, Friday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
HELEN Oyeyemi's captivating new novel, "Mr Fox," begins with a jaunty spirit and a sense of play. We meet Mr Fox; he is a writer of slasher books, and he has an assistant, a woman named Mary whom he conjured in a trench during his days fighting in World War I. He also has a wife, Daphne. At some point or other, all three of them write.
Mr Fox is also a reference to the English folk tale character Bluebeard - a man who murders and dismembers women freely until his wife-to-be, the clever Lady Mary, exposes him.
This book's Mary (full name Mary Foxe) acts like a muse and is called a muse, but she is more than that, and I actually wish Oyeyemi had kept the word clear out of the book. Mary is mysterious, both tangible and intangible, crossing fluidly between dreams and reality. She is far more involved than a muse or an inspiration. She's an alternate life, a safety net - and also the one who knows how to rip Mr Fox's safety net away.
The premise is established in the first few chapters: Mary is tired of seeing Mr Fox kill all the women in his books and seems to imply that he's avoiding any conflict, any real connection, by opting for easy decapitation. That his murder stories provide an easy out is both funny and believable; Mary the taskmaster is asking him to explore the murkier, scarier territory of human connection pre-death. It's a satisfying and unexpected reframing of violence toward women - Mary is not only protesting the act itself; she is angry about the artistic dodging.
The two start to collaborate, cautiously, and a sequence of back-and-forth storytelling follows. The reader is left to figure out whose story is whose, as Fox and Foxe spar creatively, making new tales and striving to avoid pat endings. At first the writers, who are also recurring characters in their own stories, don't even meet in the world of their fictions. They must find their footing: If there is no dramatic death moment, then how do stories go? How do people interact?
These early pieces reflect the newness of this kind of storytelling for both writers. And in part because of the setup, this section is lighter; there's a bit of a "solve the puzzle" feeling, as the reader tries to discern who is writing what and when. That solving mode can offer its own pleasures, but it's also tricky. The pages are enjoyable and well written, but they don't yet hint at the riches to come. In a way, this makes sense. The flirtation and competition between Mary and Mr Fox are mere glances and winks; the two have not yet embarked on a true discussion and investigation of the nature of violence and love. But compared with the rest of the book, the beginning belies Oyeyemi's gifts. Maybe it's necessary, as Mary and Mr Fox are also figuring out the rules.
In the middle, Fox and Foxe's stories, written together, gain gravity and depth. Now the characters can connect, even if these connections are fraught and painful. Oyeyemi never lets go her ability to turn a phrase, but here she uses her powers for the gut-level work, the agony and beauty of passion and love. In the folk tale, Mr Fox lures women into his lair to kill them. Oyeyemi's Mr Fox used to lure women into his stories and kill them. She, of course, is her own Mr Fox, and surely she lures us in, too. Not to kill us, not to repel us, but the opposite - to hold us in these stories and give us something along the way, something complicated and genuine.
Oyeyemi casts her spell, sentence by sentence, story by story, and by the end, the oppressive lair has opened up into a shimmering landscape pulsing with life.
Mr Fox is also a reference to the English folk tale character Bluebeard - a man who murders and dismembers women freely until his wife-to-be, the clever Lady Mary, exposes him.
This book's Mary (full name Mary Foxe) acts like a muse and is called a muse, but she is more than that, and I actually wish Oyeyemi had kept the word clear out of the book. Mary is mysterious, both tangible and intangible, crossing fluidly between dreams and reality. She is far more involved than a muse or an inspiration. She's an alternate life, a safety net - and also the one who knows how to rip Mr Fox's safety net away.
The premise is established in the first few chapters: Mary is tired of seeing Mr Fox kill all the women in his books and seems to imply that he's avoiding any conflict, any real connection, by opting for easy decapitation. That his murder stories provide an easy out is both funny and believable; Mary the taskmaster is asking him to explore the murkier, scarier territory of human connection pre-death. It's a satisfying and unexpected reframing of violence toward women - Mary is not only protesting the act itself; she is angry about the artistic dodging.
The two start to collaborate, cautiously, and a sequence of back-and-forth storytelling follows. The reader is left to figure out whose story is whose, as Fox and Foxe spar creatively, making new tales and striving to avoid pat endings. At first the writers, who are also recurring characters in their own stories, don't even meet in the world of their fictions. They must find their footing: If there is no dramatic death moment, then how do stories go? How do people interact?
These early pieces reflect the newness of this kind of storytelling for both writers. And in part because of the setup, this section is lighter; there's a bit of a "solve the puzzle" feeling, as the reader tries to discern who is writing what and when. That solving mode can offer its own pleasures, but it's also tricky. The pages are enjoyable and well written, but they don't yet hint at the riches to come. In a way, this makes sense. The flirtation and competition between Mary and Mr Fox are mere glances and winks; the two have not yet embarked on a true discussion and investigation of the nature of violence and love. But compared with the rest of the book, the beginning belies Oyeyemi's gifts. Maybe it's necessary, as Mary and Mr Fox are also figuring out the rules.
In the middle, Fox and Foxe's stories, written together, gain gravity and depth. Now the characters can connect, even if these connections are fraught and painful. Oyeyemi never lets go her ability to turn a phrase, but here she uses her powers for the gut-level work, the agony and beauty of passion and love. In the folk tale, Mr Fox lures women into his lair to kill them. Oyeyemi's Mr Fox used to lure women into his stories and kill them. She, of course, is her own Mr Fox, and surely she lures us in, too. Not to kill us, not to repel us, but the opposite - to hold us in these stories and give us something along the way, something complicated and genuine.
Oyeyemi casts her spell, sentence by sentence, story by story, and by the end, the oppressive lair has opened up into a shimmering landscape pulsing with life.
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