“We ordered drinks, mine decaf, and took a seat in the corner. We were nearly the only customers.”
“Is a person who does nothing somehow less than?”
An engagingly complex story that it is impossible to cover properly. The narrator is the elder half-brother (sharing the same mother) of sketch-dabbling Charles, the narrator who returns to Lake Michigan and its characterful pier and lighthouse, but who is the buoy of whom in this relationship of brotherly buoys, where sand gradually encroaches upon the text as it does upon all steps in life? From Virginia Woolf to Jeff VanderMeer, this contains possibly the most significant items of inner-lighthouse description in all literature. And as a symbol of the half-measures in life and to be WHO YOU ARE not who others expect you to be. The intimately curving walls inward, and the over-painted iron, compared to the far too open spaces of the house where you actually live by dint of inheritance or perceived ambition to live in large places. A genuine journey, this Schliewe work, therefore, towards finding oneself. Only the young among us no longer need to distinguish between low and high culture. The only coming together is that of separation, “often in slow increments than by a sudden yank.” Later: “I would yank the door off its hinges, if necessary.” The insandation vision in this work is unforgettable, I say. Reading good books in moments of idleness is far better than sitting down with an intent purpose. And I am still dabbling, dabbling, dabbling in this one, in mutual synergy with it. A good book never ends. And lights itself from within. Sweeping elucidation across it and picking out what shall never be inundated.
My previous review of Jeremy Schliewe: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/2018/04/17/supernatural-tales-37/#comment-12391
My previous reviews of the Eidolon in Eibonvale: https://dflewisreviews.wordpress.com/eibonvale-press/