Smallcreep's Day is an odd mix of Gulliver's Travels, Monty Python, and a British-flavored Robert Coover. The events of this short book take place in a single day almost entirely within the walls of an enormous factory where the protagonist is employed as slotter. Day after day he feeds a piece of metal into a machine that carves a slot into it. He is aware that his finished piece is made into a pulley, but he has no idea what the finished machine looks like or what it does. On this particular day he has his wife pack him a lunch so that he might journey through the factory in search of the whole to which his part contributes.
The metaphor is obvious enough, but Currell Brown invests each episode with deadpan humor, political invective, and an avalanche of mostly compelling imagery and thoughts on the human condition. Smallcreep is that stock English character so familiar to watchers of British television, the upright man who is so bound by convention and propriety that he cannot appropriately react to the outrageous actions of those around him. One of the recurring lines in the book is Smallcreep's assertion that "I've always thought that there was a rational explanation for everything," which he tends to say after something completely surreal has transpired.
Initially, you wonder whether or not you are reading a post-apocalyptic novel because the factory seems strangely empty when he first leaves his familiar sector of it. Then abruptly Smallcreep finds himself in a room full of people behaving as if they are in a Samuel Beckett play. In every circumstance, no matter how outré, Smallcreep ends up going with the flow of the crowd. His efforts to assert his own will are largely confined to an interior monologue that leads to no independent action on his part. Instead, he finds himself having sex with a prostitute, delivering a baby, unable to stop a suicide, being accused of sexual perversion, joining a union negotiation team, moving a lot of dead bodies, and wading through sewage. At every turn he is harangued by characters representing all parts of the political spectrum and his responses are inevitably mild attempts to uphold the status quo and appeal to rationality.
Currell Brown is a former factory worker, turned potter, and his in depth knowledge of machinery and factory culture is plainly evident in Smallcreep's Day, which is packed with details about lathes, grinders, drills, and the dull routine of industrial employment. He makes a good case for the factory as a microcosm of modern society, but it is a very dystopian case and Currell Brown's debt to Orwell is large. This kind of dour perspective on politics dates back at least to Francis Bacon and Jonathan Swift, so Currell Brown's tone is familiar and yet his voice is his own. The novel was published in 1965, so the author's attitude toward West Indians now sounds rather racist and his depiction of the role of women in men's lives is quite sexist. But Smallcreep is a small-minded man—in the manner of satire, the names of all the people in the book reflect their character—and so Currell Brown's representation of his attitudes might still be just as accurate today.
The juxtaposition of the quotidian and the surreal is maintained in exquisite balance throughout the novel. Just when you think the whole thing will slide into supernatural chaos, Currell Brown pulls you (and Smallcreep) back into the realm of the credible. But the threats to normality and order crop up constantly and in startlingly grotesque form. Many elements of the plot are left entirely unexplained and in the end Currell Brown's message is not a hopeful one.