what im readin: Nights at The Circus by Angela Carter

“And, more than the marks of fresh bruises on fading bruises on faded bruises, it was as if she had been beaten flat, had all the pile, the shine banged off her adolescent skin, had been beaten threadbare, or as if she had been threshed, or beaten to the thinness of beaten metal; and the beatings had beaten her back, almost, into the appearance of childhood, for her little shoulderblades stuck up at acute angles, she had no breasts and was almost hairless but for a little flaxen tuft on her mound.” (p.130)

As the book begins, ‘Fevvers’ an aerialist who may or may not be half bird, is being interviewed by a seemingly uninterested young reporter.  She is a Cockney Wonder:  hatched onto the streets and raised in a whorehouse and taught to fly by a prostitute who talks too much. As the bird woman spins her tale, Jack Walser realises he isn’t quite the mocking, all rational reporter he thought he was and runs away with the circus in a desperate attempt to separate fact from fiction. As the travelling circus progresses through Europe and the wilds of Siberia, an assortment of circus dwellers are revealed. Many of whom seem to be equally enigmatic as Sophie ‘Fevvers’.Like most Angela Carter novels, the title alone was enough to draw me in. And, with is envious tigresses’ and insecure Strong Man, I wasn’t disappointed. There were just moments in this story, so wonderfully written and intricate, that I had to stop and reread them. The image most vivid in my mind, is that of the gilded cage hidden within a Faberge Egg that the Grand Duke tries to seduce Fevvers with. That, or the revolving metal institute for the criminally insane woman which appears later in the novel.  If you are to enjoy this novel you must, like Jack Walser, abandon any scene of judgment for Angela Carter leaves a lot to the imagination.I feel this is a book that deserves a couple re-reads in order to be fully understood. For example, the suggested manipulation time through the use of the whorehouse’s clock. The winding prose and long words reveal subtle clues that I think I might have missed this time round. Which is fine, I like subtle symbolism and ambiguity.Nights at the circus as a wonderful fable that fuses feminism and humanity with picaresque adventure.  The characters never get lost amongst the surreal, grotesque tableau but remain fully realised. To me, it’s a tale of kindness, introspection and in the end, love.