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Joy Williams famously has a set of rules for fiction. Three of them apply especially winsomely to her novel THE CHANGELING: 1.) Sentences that stand strikingly alone 2.) An anagogical level. 3.) An animal within to give its blessing. I've never read anything that captures so well the sheer terror of new motherhood, the fear of harm meeting one's child by outward or inner means, an evil blooming like a dark flower. (Through her protagonist Pearl, Williams cautions against drinking two quarts of gin each day in response to the terror, the effect of which splinters the kaleidoscope of Pearl's days.) Pearl's story is compelling, deliciously-written, and demonically fantastic. Part fairy-tale, part drunken nightmare, what's real, how magic works, and what's merely hallucinated in this novel blurs and refracts--yet somehow, each sentence glows correct, the work speaks with the divine, and the long deep prayer of these pages is an animal's breath, unspooling.— From Gina's Picks
Forty years later, The Changeling is no less haunting and no less visionary than the day it was published, but it has only become clearer that Joy Williams is a virtuosic stylist and a singular thinker--a genius in every sense of the word.
When we first meet Pearl--young in years but advanced in her drinking--she's on the lam, sitting at a hotel bar in Florida, throwing back gin and tonics with her infant son cradled in the crook of her arm. But her escape is brief, and the relief she feels at having fled her abusive husband, and the Northeastern island his family calls home, doesn't last for long. Soon she's being shepherded back. The island, for Pearl, is a place of madness and pain, and her round-the-clock drinking spurs on the former even if it dulls the latter. And through this lens--Pearl's fragile consciousness--readers encounter the horror and triumph of both childhood and motherhood in a new light.
With language that flits between exuberance and elegy, the plainspoken and the poetic, Joy Williams has blended, as Rick Moody writes, "the arresting improbabilities of magic realism, with the surrealism of the folkloric revival . . . and with the modernist foreboding of Under the Volcano," and created something entirely original and entirely consuming.