Big, Little

I have been meaning to review this book for years; now I have to give it short shrift to get it off my chest and out of my head:

This is the only book that I have EVER read three times (in 50 years as a reader). There are only two books that I have read twice.
Crowley's prose is elegant, frequently more poetic than prosaic. Throughout the book, he seems to be writing on two levels; many times, I KNOW he is writing on some third level, but I cannot put my finger on it, and that is where pure magic happens.

If there is one book in the English language that I could claim to have written, THIS IS IT. No idea how anyone could give it less than 5 stars.

ENJOY IT. Savor it like fine wine. Because it is.

This review is going to be well-nigh impossible to write, as the subject matter is so impossible to describe. Well, John Crowley's "Little, Big" is definitely a book. That's a good start. But the second I try to narrow down rudimentary elements like plot and character, my brain gets a bit fuzzy. It's about a family. And a house. And how this family lives in the house which is situated on the borders of another world which sometimes intrudes upon their own, and so is aptly named "Edgewood." Beyond that, it gets more complicated. Or maybe simpler. It's hard to be sure.

It begins with a man named Smoky Barnable traveling from The City (though it's never named, it's clearly meant to be New York) toward the mysterious house of Edgewood in order to marry his physically large fiancée Alice Drinkwater. He's not entirely sure why he wants to take this course of action; though he loves Alice, he doesn't know her very well, and after the wedding he comes to the startling conclusion that he's wandered into a story that's centered around his new home of Edgewood. He is a minor character, and a witness to the proceedings of the mysterious "Tale" that takes place within the house and grounds.

Despite that, this book is not one of those irritating meta-texts in which the characters are all aware of the fact that they are fictional characters. The Tale that weaves its presence throughout the book is more to do with the idea of Fate, guided by the inhabitants that live on the edge of human perception, and whose presence hints at the true nature and purpose of the house. These "fairies" (though that word is seldom used) possess an old, fading magic that flits in and out of the family's lives, and they seem to have a specific goal in mind. As we are gradually introduced to various family members, both past and present (including the architect of the house, his tarot-card reading wife, their son who makes himself woefully irresistible to women, and a stolen changeling child) we learn that some embrace this destiny, others flee from it.

Yet this is not an overtly "fantastical" book. The presence of "magic" (another rare word) is not the focus of the book, and when it does show up, is presented in a rather abrupt matter-of-fact way. Be prepared to be unprepared for the sudden inclusion of a talking fish or an enchanted stork in the midst of an ordinary paragraph about fishing or gardening. And yet, I'd be remiss if I made it sound as though this was a jumpy or erratic novel; it has its own internal logic and the Crowley's mastery over his dreamy, elegant prose means that everything flows at a slow but smooth pace.

That's the other thing: you absolutely must be a patient reader to enjoy, much less appreciate, this novel. The story (such as it is) unfolds at a snail's pace, taking time to explore its own philosophy, world, and characters, though in such a way that is fascinating to those already hooked on the premise and language. As it goes on, a pattern emerges and strands begin to tie neatly together, all culminating in a conclusion that is...I'm struggling to find a meaningful adjective...*heartbreaking*. Of the bittersweet, unforgettable, tear-inducing kind.

Whilst reading, I was reminded of a plethora of other novels and writing styles. "Little, Big" has the atmosphere and delicate prose of A.S. Byatt's The Children's Book, and the same interest in a secretive family dynasty and inheritance as Anne Rice's The Witching Hour. It has the meandering pace and mysterious nature of Susanna Clarke's Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell and Neil Gaiman's quirkiness in general. And yet it still manages to be something else entirely, even as it's flooded with allusions to other works of literature: A Midsummer Night's Dream,Alice in Wonderland,The Aeneid,Paradise Lost and more. I especially liked the nod to the famous Cottingley fairies photographs, and one character's musings on how an impersonal camera might be the only thing able to capture an alternate species that evolved in such a way to deflect human attention.

To be honest, after reading "Little, Big" I'm left rather bewildered, as though I myself visited Edgewood. This is a book that took me off guard, and wasn't anything like what I was expecting. It moved at its own pace, which - though slow - still left me behind. Some parts are teeth-grindingly slow, others are sublimely beautiful and demanded a second read. Symbols, allusions, metaphors, allegories and literary references abound. If I was to offer any advice should this review entice you to read, I'd recommend keeping in mind the words of the title itself. Throughout the book, a major theme is the idea of fluid size, unexpected shape, of things being bigger on the inside than on the outside, and that the further in you go, the larger things will get. Trust me, there's pay-off to this, even if everything else leaves you dizzy.

Such is the length and density of "Little, Big" that it will be a while before I can read it again, but I will one day, years from now. Until then, it'll be rattling around in my head for a long time to come.

Little,Big is a beautifully written, lyrical novel of a family whose destiny is linked with magic and faeries.It begins with Smokey Barnable,the book's most "normal" character, as he prepares to marry Alice of the mysterious Drinkwater family. The novel explores the fascinating possiblity that there is not merely one world, but many worlds, one within another. While I enjoyed the book, I often felt like Smokey myself (which I'm sure Mr. Crowley intends), confused and wishing things would make a bit more sense --for example, one of the biggest events of the novel is a "war," but I was never sure exactly who was fighting the war or what it was about. On the other hand, the whole point of the book is that we never know exactly what is going on in life, but must trust in magic and intuition. I was also a little uncomfortable with (what seemed to me) the fatalistic tone of the story. The faeries in Little,Big often act as the gods of ancient tales, determining the outcome of events, while the humans by contrast seem basically helpless. Still,the settings and characters are highly memorable and atmospheric and I recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys a good fantasy or who is fascinated by Otherworlds and faeries.

I recently re-read 'Little, Big' and was reminded what a superb book this is.
Crowley mixes American ruralism, European fairy tales and the pioneering fantasy of William Morris into a beautiful blend that somehow transcends its elements, and produces a book that you cannot help but love. 'Little, Big' is especially notable for walking the difficult faerie tightrope that falling from one side would land you in tweeness and on the other in cynicism, with ease. Characters like George Mouse and Daily Alice could have been so sugary and trite in a less skillful writer's hands. The gradual gathering darkness of the story as the book evolves could have been simple and unsubtle modern horror without Crowley's magic.
Finally, 'Little, Big' has a setting at the centre of it that is as memorable as the greatest places in literature. A house literally in the middle-of-nowhere, not entirely separate from the outside world and its developments but somehow immune from the worst, whose jumbled architecture and grounds get larger as you go in: Edgewater is a fascinating and timeless creation.
For once, a masterpiece that really deserves the accolade.

There is a magic in this swirling, complex, flawed novel. Something so far out of the ordinary that it has to be looked at closely and with openness. What reaches out to the reader is the undercurrent of the faery folk, that you never see but who have infiltrated the pores of this book. Put aside the awkwardness at times, the grating of mixed plots, the hackneyed devices used as props; there is a magic here, make no mistake.

John Crowley's "Little, Big" is a particularly challenging work of fantasy to read and describe because it is not so much a story as it is about storytelling. Although written by an American in 1981, it often looks like a novel that came from an Englishman in 1881, immersed as it is in a Victorian mode, as though Lewis Carroll had lived into the automotive age and decided to incorporate elements from "A Midsummer Night's Dream" into an epic of magic and madness.

Shakespeare's play is clearly an inspiration, as the essence of "Little, Big" is founded on fairies, pixies, brownies, sprites, sylphs, dryads--i.e., mythological personifications of nature--although most of the characters are (apparently) human. The genesis of the story (or the Tale, as it is referred to throughout the novel) is the marriage of Smoky Barnable, an average, unassuming young man from the mundane world, to a fantastically beautiful and tall girl named Daily Alice Drinkwater, whose family is somehow (or should I say Somehow) connected to the supernatural. The Drinkwaters live in a large, bizarrely constructed house called Edgewood which, not unlike a smaller version of Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast, is a gothic manor of labyrinthine and spatially illogical architecture surrounded by a demesne of ornate gardens and wooded landscapes and seems almost to exist in an alternate realm of its own, separated from the real world.

The novel does acknowledge the "real" world, but only obliquely, like a surrealistic painting. Smoky and Daily Alice's son Auberon, perplexed by the secrets of the Drinkwater dynasty and desiring to make a living on his own as a writer, comes to the City (transparently New York) to live with his cousin George Mouse, who actually has a farm. It is here that Auberon will eventually meet his Titania, and here also that a distant relation, an old woman mystic named Ariel Hawksquill, will contend with Russell Eigenblick, a tyrant with an ancient past and a future that poses danger for the Tale.

If none of this sounds like the constitution of a cohesive novel, be aware that "Little, Big" has little interest in the conventions of literary genre and instead seeks to achieve a phantasmagorical effect. To this end, Crowley weaves an intricate tapestry of concepts from history, mythology, and his own imagination, employing tarot cards, talking animals, the Holy Roman Empire, a contraption called the Cosmo-Opticon, an orrery (keep a dictionary handy) powered by a perpetual-motion machine, while Auberon's three sisters spin, measure, and cut thread like the Fates. This is heavy, complex, philosophical material to be read with patience and an open mind, not for the common fantasy reader who is hoping for an easy, banal plot.

Crowley's rich, colorful prose pays lavish attention to detail, contrasting the tranquil idyll of Edgewood with the faceless modernity of the City, but even more notably it maintains the narrative in a certain nebulous state, as though the characters were passing in and out of each other's dreams. Everywhere is the thrill that something to be revealed is barely out of reach, and little by little the pieces come together like a finely cut jigsaw puzzle. This book is a marvel; a massively enjoyable journey into the myriad possibilities of post-Victorian fantasy.

Like so many of the reviewers here, I reread this book every few years, and I am not a big re-reader. It never ever disappoints me. It's not flawless and yet I give it five stars because it catches me in a way that few other books do.

Reading this book will make you feel as though everything you're living is a dream. It's simply beautiful. The book absorbs you into the mystical and mysterious, love, and uncertainty. It will have you thinking and wondering even when you've put the book down. "Little, Big" is poetry and imagination.

The plot matters less than how the book makes you *feel* - transported on a precarious filament into a universe where the meaningless is vital. Everything about this book is lovely. There are faeries, secrets, histories, and forces at work in the character's lives that make a seemingly tangential thought or action turn into something that will change fate. It's about destiny and hope and faith and belief that there is more than a present moment - any single moment can turn into a chain of events whose impact will linger throughout generations.

Of all of the fantasy and science fiction writers of the last twenty-five years, John Crowley is by far the most eloquent and the most overlooked. Unfortunately for the reader, sampling any of Crowley's literary wares is therefore a difficult proposition at best. ALL of his work is amazing in both scope and depth, but this is arguably one of his three best (the other two being 'Aegypt' and 'Engine Summer'). Take heed, as any one of Crowley's WORST trounces anything else in the field (whatever that might be...), and this is what makes ordering a used copy of his books worthwhile, even given inflated pricings.... Having read all of Crowley's work (except the elusive 'Antiquities'), I can safely say that noone in the fantasy field has ever (!) come this close to being truly 'immortal literature'. If you enjoyed "One Hundred Years of Solitude", and appreciate Dickens...Crowley should be your dream come true.

Little, Big is not easy reading, and the writing isn't always consistent. That said, it is a moving, strange, and melancholy work that rightfully deserves a place as a classic in fantasy literature. The first sections, which detail the history of the Drinkwater family, are the most beautiful and intriguing pieces of fiction I have ever read. Crowley manages to write about fantastic things-- a house with multiple fronts, fish that talk, fairies in the woods-- and make their reality as unquestionable as a tree, a book, or a car. I can't claim to understand the book entirely, and there are times when it spins out of control, particularly towards the end, when Crowley writes about the strange resurrection and downfall of a Holy Roman Emperor, who takes over a 20th century city that bears more than a passing resemblance to New York. All the same, Little Big is a brave, shimmering thing, and I wish more people would read it. It is one of the few books I have read that succeeds in evoking a new, yet weirdly familiar world, for its readers.

A treasure-trove of odd and archaic words. A tale which skips gaily forward and back through time with one house and one family at its heart. Unlike anything I have read before. Beautiful, phantasmagoric, unresolved in many ways, but true to the ways that faerie is interwoven into the world. Interestingly familiar parallel to our world, but fascinatingly dystopian and hopeful.
Not for the faint of heart.

When Hemingway was asked for his favorite book, he said "King Lear. Read it every year. Cheers me right up." But 'Little, Big' is neither bleak nor Hemingway. Re-reading it bears delight. It reminds us of a certain wistful and sweet view of life, with paradox a-plenty. Writers as different as C.S. Lewis and Borges have described a central paradox of this book -- "The further you go in, the bigger it gets." Ideas tumble out. The idea that we create our own magic, that a romantic view of life feels both sensual and elevated, the idea that "the things that make us happy, make us wise." One thought after another makes us stop and ponder, and something feels right. The story concerns Smoky Barnable, a vague kind of man, who falls in love with a tall and delicate young woman. By an effort of will, he chooses to believe something absurd, because it enables him to follow her. He enters her enchanted home in the woods, and lives a life there among folk named Bramble, Juniper, Hawksquill, Mouse, and Drinkwater, very human folk with a constant allusion to a maybe world of faeries. Reading along, one slips in and out of these references so that toward the end of the book, this other view has become real. The story turns and wraps up in a manner beautiful, strange, unpredictable, and satisfying. Magic in the cards? Down to earth? You'll see.

It has been perhaps twenty years since I first read this book, and I've lost count of how many times I have re-read it since then. I am reading it now perhaps for the fifth time, perhaps the seventh. Many books are better the second time through, but this one is still delivering delicious new treasures on this fifth--or seventh?--reading. Every time I come to it, I read more slowly than the time before, and and I continue to discover new layers, new allusions, new references, new connections. Just as the Drinkwater's Edgehill is one house containing many houses, this is one book containing many intersecting books.

I bought this book almost completely on a whim, based only on its somewhat quirky sounding synopsis; as a long time scifi/fantasy fan, I was looking for something "different" to read. Yet I never seemed to get around to actually reading it -- it sat on my shelf for months. Finally I picked it up, mostly due to the reviews I read here on the store. The reviewers seemed in awe of the book, truly captured by it; I hadn't read reviews of any other title here that spoke quite as much as theirs did.
Having recently finished the book, I understand them now. I was right to trust them. While I'm not sure I am ready to call it my absolute favorite book, after only my first reading, I can see it becoming that or nearly so. The descriptions the other reviewers gave are pretty much right on. Read them.
As they say, it may not be a book for everyone. The plot meanders. For a story that spans generations, not terribly much happens, certainly not by current, name-your-favorite-trendy-fantasy-author standards (you know...the Robert Jordan/Terry Goodkind/Terry Brooks clones; but really, this story is nothing at all like anything they write anyway, to the point of making such a comparison simply ridiculous).
The book is by one standard very hard to read, and by another very easy. Hard, because it is not exactly a page-turner. In fact, there were very few times that I simply couldn't put the book down. In fact, the format of small (typically one or two page) sections within large chapters made it quite easy to put down (which was often nice, given that I have the attention span of a father of a three-year-old). Yet it was also easy to read, not only because I could pick it up whenever I had a few spare moments for myself, but also because the writing is so lyricly delicious that I could really enjoy those little bits I had time to read; I often found myself lingering over individual sentances.
I was looking for something different, and this book certainly is that. In fact, I have never read anything quite like it; I can't even adequately describe it. I think I felt this book more than I read it. There is an almost melancholy nostalgia about it that both comforts and aches.
In the end, I can't really say anything more about the book that hasn't already been said by another reviewer. I will definietly re-read this book, and I strongly suspect that what the others have said is true: the book has depth, breadth and longevity. As Crowley himself puts it, the further in you go, the bigger it gets.

Smokey Barnable is an unremarkable man. He has nothing that distinguishes him in life and often goes unnoticed. Finally, George Mouse, introduces him to Alice Drinkwater, or Daily Alice, who will become Smokey's wife. Daily Alice is nothing if not remarkable and Smokey, in marrying her, is drawn not only into her remarakble world but also the world of her relatives and ancestors. About a century ago, Alice's great grandmother, Violet Bramble, made a pact with "Them" (variously called Elementals and Fairies). This pact affected the lives of all who live in and around Edgewood and the isolated upstate New York home this multigenerational family lives in. Most of them consider whatever happens to be a part of the Tale but what this Tale actually consists of many don't have a clue although a few characters are able to gleen minor clues from a magical tarot deck.
Through the course of the first half of the book, we follow not only the relationship of Smokey and Daily Alice but also learn the history of her family. This part is permeated with hints of the mystery of what Edgewood actually is and what exists beyond common knowledge. Then, some might say abruptly, Smokey and Alice become secondary characters as the Tale follows their son, Auberon, as he leaves Edgewood to seek his life in the City.
This is a subtle work constructed by Crowley to reflect the world in which the characters live. Like Smokey and the rest, rarely are we treated to the realm of the faeries. Smokey himself is skeptical of their existence. They will be seen only by those they wish to be seen by and we will only know as much as they allow us to know. Filled with archetypal (the Fool, the Knight-Errant, the Wizard, the Sleeping King) yet entertaining characters, "Little, Big" is a must-read as an influential work of the latter 20th century, one of the earlier fantasies which established a solid American fantasy literature in the veign of the urban fantasies to follow.

The changing world is a continual theme in Crowley's work. In the Aegypt trilogy it is worked out on personal, regional, and world-spanning scales. Here, he goes at it all in one volume, spread across several generations. In this novel, a family's bloodline carries the last traces of a receding magic. Against this backdrop of change, the relationship between the mundane world and the magical is played out by the two main characters, whose love is the through-line to the book. The narrative is not sequential, and we learn of the family's magic as we might learn of our in-laws--one wild story at a time. The result is a book in which the reader is obliged, perhaps more than is usual in the genre, to pull things together, and as with the fold-out bookplate examined by several of the characters in the course of the book, Little Big apparently can't be interpreted by any two the same way. However, for this reader the insight into essential tragedy of magic (and of the literature of magic), as well as magic's more entertaining possibilities was entertaining and thought-provoking.

I actually located a few thousand copies through a book club, and joined in order to get some. (I've given away maybe twenty copies since I first read this book in 1986.) You can join yourself and get eleven copies for the price of four, plus shipping and handling, or if you just want one copy let me know and I'll buy a copy for you. It's hardcover, book club edition with stupid, goofy artwork on the dust jacket but good typesetting (better than the mass market paperback, as good as the '84 edition.)
Book club is: Science Fiction Book Club, sfbc.com. Their catalog number for this book: 174649 Oh, and checking their site just now it appears that you MAY be able to order a single copy from them without joining! But if not, please contact me and I'll get a copy for you. I'm at: [email protected]
Such a nice book. How can it be out of print (again!)? Baffling!

Smoky Barnable, a man forever haunted by his own anonymity,enters a fantastic world of Victorian architecture,memory gardens, and speaking trout when he marries Daily Alice and becomes part of the Tale that will change this world. This is a beautifully lyrical book, where elves are carefully photographed, where reborn heroes run for political office, and where a battered deck of cards predicts the rebirth of Fairy. Choose a properly stormy Sunday afternoon, crawl back into bed, and read this book cover to cover.

If you love reading atmospheric, somewhat dark books, you might try Little, Big. I first read it in my teens soon after it was published in paperback (I think) and I reread it every several years.

I once compared John Crowley to Ray Bradbury as far as the atmosphere of his books. This isn't escapist fiction. It isn't throwaway. It is not your typical fantasy.

You have to put effort into reading this book. But the rewards are great.

Little, Big is dream-like, trippy, dark, twisting and epic mythology. No matter how often I've read it (and I'm probably at 10+ readings at this point), I always think 'oh, yeah, I totally forgot about *that*. There is so much to this book, it amazes me at each re-read.

I am not an overly analytical reader. I can relatively patiently accept things and move on, not getting too worried if things don't wrap up neatly (or much at all) by the end of a book. These traits are helpful or necessary for enjoying Little, Big.

Yeah, you might not be able to stand it, but if you do like it, if it grows on you, it just might blow your mind.

Thank goodness there is now a Kindle edition, let's hope the publishers have made a good job of it.
Now to the review... I wish I had written this book, on the other hand I'm glad I can read it and his other novels. What a delicious meandering ride into a mystical plane between one universe and another, or is it between the seasons?
I have never forgotten numerous scenes in this book, nor trying to figure out the layout of the enormous house and where everyone lives, or the layout of the tarot cards. Or lonely Smokey suddenly being inhaled into a life he never knew could exist.
Just read it, take your time, read it again.

This is my favorite novel of the 20th Century, after Proust's; and though I'm no authority I'm inclined to call it the best, as well. Many others love it to blazes: Harold Bloom, James Merrill, Michael Dirda, Neil Gaiman, Ursula Le Guin, Matt Groening, Michael Chabon etc. As you can see by the other reviews here, Little, Big is a book you either completely fail to get or superglue to your hand and heart.

Giving further information is silly. If you're one of those who have been waiting for it you won't want anything ruined. And I can't think of a less describable book. It's nothing like any possible summary of it: The subject matter and manner of approach are both so strange, yet astonishingly inclusive of the familiar. You'll have to read it to see what I mean.

It begins particularly slowly, so please don't put it down until you've reached the end of the first part (about a hundred pages in). By then you'll know.

If you do like it, or don't but want to give Crowley another chance, check out his Aegypt series (unfindable in stores but available in most libraries) or the early novel Engine Summer in his collection called Otherwise.

This review will be fairly short and to the point, I hope. As I am sure others who have read this book and love it like a dear friend will understand, there is not enough space here to even begin to explain the power and beauty of this wonderful novel. It is so much more than a novel. It is a world. It is alive! This book will touch you deeply. If it does not, well then I, for one, am not sure what will. In the opinion of this reviewer, this is without a doubt one of the greatest, and quite possibly, THE greatest book ever written. It took me seven years to finish. After getting about half way through, I would deliberately loose the book, so as not to finish too quickly. When I finally turned the last page, I cried. I cried because Little, Big was the most beautiful thing I had ever read, and because I knew re-reading would never be like the first time. I have, however, re-read the book many times since then. Crowley's master-work is one of the very few books I can be bothered to read again and again. It is a new, wonderful experience every time. I will take this book into the next world with me. The little, crumpled, dog-eared, tea-stained paperback edition I came accross all those years ago is still with me, and will be with me always. Read this book- change forever the way you live life, and make a new best friend.

I cannot say enough about this book. The writing is lovely. The mood is mysterious and light. The story's construction is perfect, beginning with a man winding his way into a hidden world and ending with that world's gentle disappearance into "...once upon a time." We watch this place of magic grow real and then fade and finally be forgotten. John Crowley's stories are all wonderful, in particular Engine Summer and The Great Work of Time, both of which address the themes of lost memories and misplaced worlds. But in Little, Big, everything comes together. It is a great shame that so many of Crowley's works are out of print.

It seems that with Little, Big, one either loves the story (the majority) or is bored to tears by it. I confess I was of the latter class. Little, Big dragged so much in spots with its apparent aimlessness that I found myself thinking that I preferred even Dickens' writing. This rather massive novel is fairly episodic, centering on certain memories of the eccentric people, or their stories; I found the lack of a central theme until the end very irritating. Yes, lovely allusions and interesting eccentric characters and house, but-- surely a stronger central plot isn't too much to ask? What I thought would be a whimsical and delightful fantasy turned out to just be monotonous. I think I'll go back to reading Stardust or The Princess Bride, thanks.

This is an heartbreakingly beautiful book. It is well written, the worlds are wonderfully described, that the human passion in the characters is made so palpable as to be real. I feel as though I know Smokey and Daily Alice - as if I have looked into their lives and seen the span of their family as though they were real people.
The story is complex, and weaves between the past, present, and future both for the reader and the characters. The tale, with its layers of meaning and time, is subtle. I delighted in the many small details, the many references to other things in the story, the use of ambiguous descriptive language so that the reader must be discerning in order to relish every bit of the text. I love the way that the author describes the other realms - the fairy world and its overlap with ours - so delicate and elusive. It is an exquisite book.
I collect faery books, both old and new works, in addition to my other books. Out of all of my books, this is my favorite. I highly recommend it to anyone.

This book may have the best beginning and definitely has the best ending of any book I've ever read ... and I've read thousands. Just a master at work and this was one of his original visions, so it's very strong. This is not a book one reads in one sitting, though ... one must take it in bits and parts and think about what one is reading. Good luck.

I love the subtlety and lyrical quality of this book. I read it many many years ago (and many times since then) and am truly glad to see it still in print. The plot is a bit on the deep side, and I imagine you will really need to read it multiple times to get the 'gist' of what is being conveyed. The magical elements are not heavy-handed - they are very subtle and intertwined. Buy this one.

"little, big" by John Crowley may be the best book I have ever read. I routinely reccomend it to friends who show any interest in reading something deeper than a Tom Clancey novel, but without much hope, since "little, big" is basically almost too good to be true. The use of language in this book is so lyrical, so beautiful that words fail me. In fact, words fail me in most respects when trying to do justice to this book--one runs out of superlatives. The characters are three-dimensional and well-drawn, the plot is quirky and fascinating, the exposition is wonderful. It defies classification in the way that truly great art sometimes does; it's not really fantasy, but then it is, isn't it?. It has more in common with "In the House of the Spirits" by Isabel Allende than it does with "The Hobbit." When I become dictator of the world, everyone will have to read this book; then they'll see what a truly wise, benevolent dictator I am.

This is one of the most engaging, perplexing, enjoyable reads of my life, which is quite a statement from a mid-life bibliophile like me. At once literary and magical, this book should (or perhaps has) spawn a fantasy cult following. Read and reread often by Yale's literary master Harold Bloom, Little, Big might easily be considered among the best works of the 20th Century. Rarely have characters been so intriguing, a family saga so original and fascinating. Like Gabriel Garcia Marquez, author John Crowley's intellect and imagination abide in a poetic otherworld that defies easy description. In some ways brings to mind the more recently-published tome, The Children's Book, by Britisher A.S. Byatt.

Crowley exhibits his flawless mastery of English prose once again in this epic generational novel about a family who has a special relationship with faeries. The story follows the Drinkwater family for five generations as the members love, grieve, and voyage the Tale in which they are all enwrapped.

It is a tale of love lost, of family secrets, and of magic. It is the most enchanting, heartbreakingly beautiful novel I have read in a long, long time. Absolutely delightful.

I promise you that if you get through it until the end, you will be spellbound. You will become enveloped in the Drinkwaters' Tale yourself, and faeries will accompany you for a long time to come.

This book is one of the great fantasies in English and one of my favorite novels. Crowley's style combines elaboration with precision, and his book has room for everything--the conspiracy that runs American politics, a post-modern tour de force with Keats's "Ode to a Nightingale", a perfect one-line memory of pelicans in an alcoholic delusion (probably), and a moving Tale about memorable characters.
My copy is beaten up from many rereadings--and now a friend of mine is beating it up further. She can't get past the first chapter because she's enjoying rereading it so much.

this is...
dear lovers of faery lore and great fiction,
... probably the most beautifully written book we've ever read. Crowley's command and use of the language is truly poetic and while the book is, perhaps, a little over written, it is an epic tale, truly magical, and in the end it left us yearning deeply to live in that house and those worlds.
kyela,
the silver elves

will find a glimpse of it in Crowley's masterpiece "Little, Big". This is truly the most compelling fantasy - or any other type of novel that I have ever read. The initial compulsion is to escape image-by-image into delicious, almost-hypnotic waking/dreaming states that linger far and away well after one has become involved in the intricately woven layers of this tale. The second compulsion is to include those most loved and trusted friends in sharing this beautifully evocative text. Finally, one is compelled to search for another copy of "Little, Big" when the original has become lost in it's travels - the finding is no small feat, but Somehow as necessary as capturing a wondrous dream that was interrupted by waking.

This is, hands down, one of the most beautifully written books I have ever read, and perhaps the only pure fantasy novel I've ever enjoyed on all levels: intellectual, esthetic, etc. Why it's currently out of print is beyond me. This is a book to read, enjoy and keep to read to your children some day.

"Little, Big" weaves a hypnotic spell from beginning to end, with one foot planted firmly in the Real World and the other in a sometimes visible, yet never knowable faerie realm. Anyone who is looking for intelligent, unpretentious, literate, evocative fantasy should read this.

John Crowley's classic novel of family, faerie, architecture, and, yes, lust, is a truly remarkable novel. While it has fairies in it, it is not a fantasy novel. While it chronicles the decline of a great family, this is no Buddenbrooks. While it gives the reader a hasty history of Beaux-Arts architecture, there is no dust on this prose. And even though this tale is sometimes one of lust, this book hasn't a trace of sleaze. This book manages to tell a story about a family close to the faerie world and still be, more than anything else, a *human* drama. What Ursula K. Le Guin says is true, "Persons who enter this book are advised that they will leave it a different size than when they came in."

This book has more potential than it realizes, leaving the reader a shell of what could have been potentially outstanding. There exists a dreamy enchantment which fills the pages, likening it to Alice in Wonderland isn't totally erroneous. Yet the book never ties itself together, something required in a dreamy book in order to bring it home. I don't think a book needs to bring anything home, per se. But when you walk down a road where reality and light fantasy fuse together, it begs to be resolved into some sort of discernable entity.

The book never does that, an eventuality foreshadowed by a decided lack of cohesiveness as the story draws to an end. More to the point, the book devolved from an interesting read to a chore, going from hazy walk through an intriguing literary landscape to droning plow through untamed literary wilderness. Again, I don't mind so much when this is the case. But in the end, I felt these loose ends missed the boat for me.

This is a story about Smoky Barnable, a man who marries into a strange yet interesting family that exists in the aforementioned reality haze. Through it all, he never fully buys into it, never adopts this dream as his own. Despite the coming together of "the story" for them, Smoky never truly experiences it, even though he is an integral part of the story. I'm being vague here, because the book is vague. The haze, the coming together, the dream - these are things which lend themselves to the highly subjective perspective of the reader. This isn't so much a straight fiction book and it isn't so much a fantasy book. It's in between, melding parts of both with neither taking the lead, without blending them into a cohesive story. The best way to put it is to assert the book is passive.

Some of this work is probably lost on me, to be honest. I'm sure people who loved this book will agree with that. Yet, if you read the reviews, many people admit the book doesn't have much of a plot. For that matter, there isn't much character development, if any. One reviewer who loved it said the book is about as indescribable as a book can be. Someone classified the book as new age rubbish, which I think is a bit harsh. Still, claims that this book belong in the same breath as 100 Years of Solitude and Ada are delusional.

A lot of writers seem to like this book, perhaps because book's words are so easy to read. Some authors, no matter what the subject matter, have a way with words. Crowley has a way with words, and his words often come out as magical and ethereal. Thus, from that perspective I have to concur that it's a good read. Perhaps this might be an author's author, as the expression goes, who can be appreciated more by those who have to face the onslaught of media scrutiny, where words themselves paint a rich enough tapestry to endear one to the pages. But for me, that's not enough. The story needs to go somewhere, plot needs movement, characters need development. None of that happens in this book.

It appears there is a large crowd which likes the dreamy sequence books, a reading subculture that likes fantasy but wants to do away with the dragon and the sorcerer and so on. It's an understandable desire as a reader, since fantasy now has gone in a direction which is so pigeon-holed that many readers cringe at the word. I don't know if these fantasy-dream books are for me. This book suggests not. But I can see the appeal, and at times I found this to be wavering on being really good. In the end, it was too long and never brought home what I was expecting, which might suggest the problem in the first place, that I had expectations. As another reviewer said, the intriguing hints never evolve into anything but murky illusions. I still enjoyed it, but I was happy when it was over.

I agree with everything everyone else here has written about Little, Big. However, I think that this book pales beside the evocative glory of Engine Summer, and I hope that everyone who enjoys Little, Big makes the effort to find this other absolute gem of a book!

I really thoroughly enjoyed this book. I was totally lost in the whole story. The fairies, the talking fish, the many-sided house....
I am not a big fantasy book fan, but when I read this book I was fascinated. Just the thought of all that was happening and all the pictures in my head....I was lost in Crowley's world from page 1. My dad gave me this book to read and I loved it so much that he ended up giving it to me. I will treasure this book always and forever.
I recommend this book to all fantasy fans. This is a must read book. May you read it and get lost as I did!

This was either a birthday or a Christmas gift from my husband, I can't quite remember which, late last year or early this. I never would have heard about it otherwise, but I'm so glad he found it and thought of me when he saw this book. This book moves with fluidity like a dream, incorporating tarot, fae, and multiple generations in a wonderful experience of magical realism. I'd recommend it to most people who consider themselves more than the occasional light reader.