A longtime lover of literature, I once asked a blind date if she was into books. "Books are alright," she said. "Although I prefer nonfiction. And I definitely don't have time for magical realism."
That phrase -- "I don't have time for magical realism." -- became sort of a running gag among my book loving friends and I. Maybe we're just mocking a world that brooks the supernatural less and less each day, or maybe we're just thumbing our noses at the idea that dream lives are only the domain of the asleep.
Whatever the case, it's certainly true that Magical Realism as a genre doesn't have quite the profile of, say, Fantasy. Even buffered by the brilliance of people like Gabriel Garcia Marquez and Toni Morrison, the genre seems to exist in the same misty half-worlds as the characters it generates.
Carroll's oeuvre makes a great case for the style, but not in any consistent fashion (a flaw common for this kind of fiction). His first book, The Land of Laughs, was a fun but mordant look at the nature of fate, fear, and the art of writing. It was tightly plotted, but just as madcap as anything written by that other, more notable, Carroll. Since then, Jonathan Carroll has made a decent living tickling the imaginations of loyal readers everywhere.
Like most of his books, THE WOODEN SEA offers the proposition that surrealism is more than a quaint diversion or (at worst) a camping ground for antisocial obssessives. In spite of its loopy plot and complete overhaul of common narrative conventions, it has a message to make. In fact, its canon has much to do with the genre itself. "Don't forget how to dream. Don't forget that anything is possible. Don't throw away your youth when you finally grow up."
These are okay points for a book to make (if not a little chewy-sweet), and Carroll's story -- about a juvenile delinquent-turned-police chief named Frannie who awakens one day to a world of Spirit Dogs, Magical Feathers, time travel, prescient heroin addicts, and otherworldly beings -- doesn't let the goofiness goof up the touching spirit of the book. There's a definite measure of heart and well-phrased soul to the story.
But there's also a lot of sloppy edges and unbridled bravado. Carroll has a vivid imagination, but it seems as if that was the only thing he used to write this book. Breaking rules isn't a bad thing, when you're talking about common conventions of Story or Plot, but this book reads painfully as if it were made up on the spot. Themes other than those mentioned are taken up and discarded at a whim. Story arcs dead-end or are sometimes forgotten entirely. And there are so many loose ends, the denoument reads like shag carpeting.
In spite of its sweetness, the novel suffers from a lack of boundaries. After all, even magic has its rules. If you're interested in Carroll -- and you should be -- I'd recommend his earlier works over this one (although I haven't read everything he's written). And if, unlike my blind date, you DO have time for magical realism, for my money you can't beat ANYTHING written by Jonathan Lethem.