Is this review a little long? Yes. Is it because I loved it? Also Yes!
Happy Publishing Day! I've added this book to my list of Best Books of 2024.
𝑾𝒉𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝑪𝒂𝒕, 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑫𝒐𝒈, a creative set of short stories by Kelly Link, was one of my top favorite books of 2023. So, you know I jumped at the chance to read the author's new work. This story is an expansion of Link's gravitation towards magic and the supernatural, from short stories to long form novel format.
The trio of main characters channel both Shakespeare's toil and trouble, and Marlowe's Mephistophelean bargain. The reader may wonder about the title 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆. Whose book? The Good Book? The Book of Life? Is there a Book of the Dead? And, of course, we contemplate 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 itself. From the Greeks, we know of at least four kinds: Philia, Eros, Storge and Agape. It's easy to imagine the love these friends have for each other, for their families, and for life itself. It's Agape that will be tricky. Who has the power to grant you what you most want, and is that kind of bargain ever in your favor?
The biggest consideration of all: Does the love we give to this world live on, after we're gone? Is that the true essence of being remembered?
So many questions.
First, we need to meet Mo, Laura, and Daniel.
By the chapter title, we learn that each character has a book of their lives. It becomes very Bible-reminiscent when you realize that there's a Book of Ruth and a Book of Daniel. Those two are Biblical canon. Mo(hammed) refers to the Prophet in Islam. And The Book of Thomas, appropriately enough, is apocryphal, outside the accepted canon.
We begin with Susannah, Laura's sister. Susannah has a keen awareness of emotional atmosphere. It's driving her nuts that not only is her sister missing, but also missing is any discussion of the family's shared loss. This is creating Laura-shaped holes in Susannah's dreams. She almost feels like she could speak her back into existence. And she's closer to being correct than she knows. Grief unexpressed is a dangerous thing, so Susannah acts out her anger in spectacularly explosive ways.
She conjures her sister in the only way she knows how: as a voice in her head. Susannah also wonders who she is now, if her identity has always been bound up by being Laura's sister. It's like having your strings cut, and floating off into space.
Meanwhile, our missing trio are frightened and frustrated. They don't know any more about their disappearance than those they left behind, nor do they have a clear recollection of the holding place, a kind of purgatory where they were trapped. Only two things are clear: that they've left that place of isolation and sadness, and that something escaped with them. The three become four. What does four represent? Traditionally, the number four represents the quadrilateral: all four standards of stability (like four legs of a chair): physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. Four can also be lucky, as in a four-leafed clover. In Biblical terms, three is the number of heavenly divinity, while four is the number of the earth. In Hebrew, *four* is not merely the earth, but refers to its creation fulfilled in four days, preparing the way for the birth of humanity. It is 𝑫𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒉, a passageway from one kind of creation to another. In other words, four is a door.
The trio and their spiritual hitchhiker, all slipped through the door of one place to another.
To barely escape the horrible place, was one thing, but to end up back at high school seems like a cruel joke. They know where they are is real; they just don't know why they are there. Why would they end up in the music room, with the music teacher? It is the music teacher, Mr. Anabin (the similarity to Anubis, the Guide to the Underworld, being unmistakable) who calls forth these wispy souls into corporeal being by using their names. In Biblical tradition, speaking a name can be synonymous to having power over it/them. (Consider the Golem.) There is always risk involved in bringing back life through magic. Adam was made out of earth and given the breath of life (literal inspiration of the creator). The Golem is also a figure made out of earth, but brought to soulless life via magic inscribed into it with sacred Hebrew letters. Finally, these three are dust (inspiration) to dust (expiration) to something else entirely (reincarnation).
It is possible that my love of literary excavation has sent me down a symbolism rabbit hole, but I can't help but notice that the last names of the formerly missing trio represent power, justice, and knowledge. Susannah, from the Hebrew Shoshana means *lily* or rebirth. Laura's meaning references laurel leaves, signifying victory. Carousel comes from Italian, and means preparation, a smaller battle to get ready for a larger one. Avelot means bird, which is super spot-on. Okay, I'll stop (for now) but you see how much extra meaning the author has packed into this novel. No character is randomly named.
In an atmosphere already suffused with the dangerous and the uncanny, Mr. Anabin attempts to incorporate the fourth escapee. But, was the fourth ever corporeal to begin with? Mr. Anabin tries to get the 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆, 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 being to reveal his name, but the spirit knows better than that. And even drawn into the world, he seems slippery in a visual sense.
Laura wants to know what happened to them, where they've been, and who they are now. She feels like she's smaller than the body she inhabits, like looking out of the eyeholes of a paiper mache shell.
While the four are trying to adjust to who and where they are, and in what state, another figure appears. It should be no surprise that the stand-in for Cerberus, a giant wolf-sized dog, takes a position to block the doorway of the music room. (So many dangerous doorways.) Like his Greek counterpart, it is the job of the dog-wolf to keep the worlds of the living and the dead separated. Curiouser, the dog's name is Bogomil, which can also be translated as Theophilus, literally 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝑮𝒐𝒅. The Bogomils were a dualistic gnostic sect. They emphasized the world within and the world without, mirroring life and death, and they revered the body over the soul. They rejected Christianity outright and sort of accepted Islam, but they remained gnostic.
When the dog morphs, and takes the guise of the human gatekeeper, the danger in the room seems to rush into his form, and sharpen to a point. One of the trio of friends, Mo, tries to break the tension and speaks in the most entertaining metaphors, eliciting a bit of sardonic humor in the gatekeeper's malevolent smile, though his eyes grow angrier. This is a powerful entity. There was a clue in his first presented form: dog. He was telling them that he was God turned backwards, his realm opposite of, or adjacent to the opposite of, heaven.
As the reader most assuredly anticipates, there is a bargain undertaken, though the terms are set not at all in the way one usually expects. They're not even clear to the partakers.
One thing that surprised me was how smart-assed the three were, even as they felt the cold finger of fear. Perhaps affected bravado is the purview of teens. The fourth seemed to show no fear at all.
In their return home, they walk by various landmarks, which adds to the smorgasbord of symbolism. Even a park sculpture inscription refers to a reverse flow: a return to the sea, to the very beginning. Even more so, we recognize the importance of the sculpture of the sculptor: the author would not have included it without a reason. It's a wonderful testament to remembrance, as well as a metaphor for a creation by a creator of a creator, a kind of enigma inside a riddle inside a puzzle. It recalls the challenges the three will have to solve, as a part of their mysterious bargain.
Also, the name of the town: Lovesend. Is that 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 or 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆'𝒔 𝒆𝒏𝒅, or both? It seems that nothing is happenstance. Every name means something important.
A word about the writing: it vibrates like music, breaks out in anthropomorphic descriptions, speaks in clues and riddles, and both startles and amazes. I smiled reading the whole thing, and this never ever happens to me, because I'm generally an old grizzled wench.
The author really captures the idea of being both alive and dead, like some sort of warped Schrödinger's Frankenstein. Link also brings up philosophical questions I had not before considered, such as: is evil stronger than good, or does love conquer hate? And why do we say we would die for love, but not that we would live for love? And that's precisely the way so many of the meanings or realizations come to the reader as this story goes along. We might suddenly come to the conclusion that even good Daniel is a cautionary tale as a person. There are many more important things in life to achieve than getting people to like you. If everyone likes you, does anyone really know you, or just an idea of you? Daniel tries to be the one who smooths everything over, who makes it all okay. The problem, though, is that the person who says everything is going to be fine, is almost always trying to convince themselves.
Back to symbolism, I was at first very puzzled by the appearance of the moths. They seem to unsettle everyone, and it was clear they had meaning. It's possible that they represent transformation, or more precisely, transmogrification.
The mystery of the inhuman hunger of the reconstituted three made me feel wary. That kind of compulsive consumption seemed to indicate something very scary and evil driving them towards a deeply unpleasant choice. As a matter of fact, by the time I was a quarter of the way through the book I was suspicious of everyone: strangers in nice cars, people who look younger than they should, dogs who don't behave like dogs. Something about white wolves and black rabbits began to strike me as unavoidably sinister as well. I kept seeing evil in every anomaly. So many reversals and inverses. The effect is so unsettling. Even the realization that each side character is immensely intriguing (even rivaling the main characters at times) seems unnervingly dangerous.
Along the way, we see many ways of choosing how to live, how much of yourself to keep secret, how to reconcile with those you've harmed, how to air grievances without alienating the people you care about, and how to avoid temptation when you know it won't lead anywhere good.
As the story progressed, I felt like the writing became more fearless, but maybe it was the characters who became more emboldened, or maybe both. The introduction of new character: Malo Mogge, certainly heralded a sharp turn in the story. As best as I can interpret, Malo Mogge means 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝑮𝒐𝒅 (or maybe a bad creation of a god?)
Things get super dicey with the appearance of Malo Mogge, and not just with people, but also with places and the entire environment. The bizarre confluence in Lovesend of fire and ice, if Robert Frost is to be our guide, metaphorically represents the competing or complementary emotions of the burning fire of desire and the ice-cold nature of pure hatred. Both desire and hate can consume, until there is nothing left. There lies the age-old problem: what happens after you finally get what you want? And if hate or vengeance define you, what is your identity when either is satisfied?
As the story races toward its crescendo like a soaring overture, there are circumstances which the reader can easily anticipate, bracketed by sudden dissonant events that no one saw coming. And the story tugs at our emotions. The author tenderly lays bare the awful pain of separation from the ones we love, especially when they cross the veil. That love we have for them is a kind of energy: it cannot be destroyed, though it can change form. Sometimes, the only comfort we have when someone dies, is that even though their lives don't go on, their love for us, and our love for them, do go on. Love never dies.
One could easily make the case that Kelly Link is the most talented fabulist writer of our time. This epic tale creates its own (gloriously inclusive) modern mythology while it also makes use of ancient symbols and traditions. There is plenty of magic, the uncanny, and the fantastical, (spiced with clever humor), but the major focus is on people, relationships, emotions, and reflections, all with an eye toward our larger society.
This is an ambitious story, well-told. Because it never lags, it actually read like a much shorter novel. For readers of dark fantasy, and those who want to dip a toe in those waters, I highly recommend this reading experience. It's one of my top-rated books of the year.
Thank you to NetGalley and to Random House, an imprint of Penguin Random House, for providing a copy of this novel for review.