Hi Adam. I haven’t finished this post yet but I will. I just wanted to say, most peculiar….
Yesterday, unaware that Crowley had died and not having thought of him for years, I was reading a book called The Philosopher’s Secret Fire, and I came across a passage where an 18” high Fairy (or similar) explains to a man that he is not “really” that size. He can “make the big little, the little big”.
And I remembered that book for the first time in years, which has been sitting on my kindle and Audible unread, and I wrote those words - “Little, big” in my notebook, to Remind me to read it.
But even then I probably would not have, had I not received your latest post in my email. But I have, and learn that , give or take, I wrote those words as he breathed his last.
Most curious. And for me those little coincidences do a great deal to re-enchant the world, so sadly now devoid, so we think, of fairies. So, I will now read your post, and then his book.
Thank you for posting this, as I would probably have missed Crowley's death. I have read and re-read Little Big over the years, although admittedly now not for a decade or more. There's nothing quite like it, and that alone tells you what a loss Crowley will be.
Thank you for this, Adam - it gives me a lot to think about when I reread the novel (as I have been intending to do for a while).
It also, for some reason, makes me wonder if you have ever read Charles Finney's The Circus of Dr. Lao? I've never seen you mention it. I think it has some points of connection with Crowley and is, itself, a great fantasy (or at least I've always thought so). Maybe your discussion of Little, Big made me think of Dr. Lao because Finney's book is the most deeply American fantasy that I know.
I read this for the first time not that long ago and had similar, if less erudite, reactions. I think part of my disappointment was a reaction to how effusive the praise for it is. I can see why people feel that way and there were times in the book when I was deeply moved, but especially toward the end it felt like work. As with quite a bit of Wolfe I admired it more than I actually enjoyed reading it. Another book it reminded me of was Michael Swanick's The Iron's Dragon's Daughter, which similarly moves from a more traditional fantasy setting to something much more modern, though I thought that one worked more completely.
It's interesting that the documentaries are so firmly grounded in some awful historical events and so far from his obvious wide reading in the fantastic. I realise a jobbing script writer who worked in a career until retirement did not control his agenda, but I am looking for frictions with reality and I suppose it's in his detailed observation.
I deeply love Crowley, and this has spurred me to pick up some of his work I haven't yet read. But have you confirmed his death? There seems to be some uncertainty, the source of the news seems to be a now deleted Bluesky post.
Hi Adam. I haven’t finished this post yet but I will. I just wanted to say, most peculiar….
Yesterday, unaware that Crowley had died and not having thought of him for years, I was reading a book called The Philosopher’s Secret Fire, and I came across a passage where an 18” high Fairy (or similar) explains to a man that he is not “really” that size. He can “make the big little, the little big”.
And I remembered that book for the first time in years, which has been sitting on my kindle and Audible unread, and I wrote those words - “Little, big” in my notebook, to Remind me to read it.
But even then I probably would not have, had I not received your latest post in my email. But I have, and learn that , give or take, I wrote those words as he breathed his last.
Most curious. And for me those little coincidences do a great deal to re-enchant the world, so sadly now devoid, so we think, of fairies. So, I will now read your post, and then his book.
Thank you! Sx
Thank you for posting this, as I would probably have missed Crowley's death. I have read and re-read Little Big over the years, although admittedly now not for a decade or more. There's nothing quite like it, and that alone tells you what a loss Crowley will be.
Thank you for this, Adam - it gives me a lot to think about when I reread the novel (as I have been intending to do for a while).
It also, for some reason, makes me wonder if you have ever read Charles Finney's The Circus of Dr. Lao? I've never seen you mention it. I think it has some points of connection with Crowley and is, itself, a great fantasy (or at least I've always thought so). Maybe your discussion of Little, Big made me think of Dr. Lao because Finney's book is the most deeply American fantasy that I know.
Engine Summer entranced me as a teen. Along with Dune and LotR,I read it and re-read it many times.
I read this for the first time not that long ago and had similar, if less erudite, reactions. I think part of my disappointment was a reaction to how effusive the praise for it is. I can see why people feel that way and there were times in the book when I was deeply moved, but especially toward the end it felt like work. As with quite a bit of Wolfe I admired it more than I actually enjoyed reading it. Another book it reminded me of was Michael Swanick's The Iron's Dragon's Daughter, which similarly moves from a more traditional fantasy setting to something much more modern, though I thought that one worked more completely.
It's interesting that the documentaries are so firmly grounded in some awful historical events and so far from his obvious wide reading in the fantastic. I realise a jobbing script writer who worked in a career until retirement did not control his agenda, but I am looking for frictions with reality and I suppose it's in his detailed observation.
I deeply love Crowley, and this has spurred me to pick up some of his work I haven't yet read. But have you confirmed his death? There seems to be some uncertainty, the source of the news seems to be a now deleted Bluesky post.
There are only three books following Aegypt - Love & Sleep, Daemonomania and Endless Things - although Aegypt was later retitled The Solitudes.