I recall an afternoon from the time when I was living in Ann Arbor, in that dank basement apartment with the teddy-bear-skin carpeting. Victoria and I were having a conversation about favorite books. I held that trying select a single, favorite book was a futile task. Her position was that her favorite book was Little, Big. When I expressed surprise that she was able to make a choice just like that, she told me that Little, Big was a very good book, and had as good a claim as any other for the title of ‘favorite’.
I certainly can’t disagree with that logic, for it is a very good book indeed. It pulls together a wonderful assortment of ideas and influences, from the Art of Memory and Sylvie and Bruno, to Thornton Burgess and Shakespeare, to theosophy, an alternate Tarot, and Frederick Barbarossa as President. I was a bit impatient with the book during my first reading, but I began to understand and appreciate it more with the second and third, and it entered my own circle of favorites It’s been a few years, and it’s probably about time to pull it down from the shelf and travel again to Edgewood and The City.
I dearly wish that I had $100 lying around that I could in good conscience put toward the purchase of the new twenty-fifth anniversary edition of Little, Big. It’s being published by Incunabula and printed by the Stinehour Press. The edition is to be illustrated using details from the prints of Peter Milton. I wasn’t familiar with his work previously, but it looks to be an excellent match to the mood of Crowley’s story.
If you haven’t read it before, I recommend it highly. Be warned, though: it’s not for everyone. The pace is slow, and the fantastic elements are usually hidden, winking from behind the curtains.
The farther in you go, the bigger it gets . . .