“I am writing this account, in another man’s book, by candlelight, inside the belly of the fish.”
As opening sentences go, this scene-setter from Edward Carey’s The Swallowed Man is as close to perfect as any I’ve read this year. How can one do anything but read on? Thankfully, as hooks go, this is a singularly rewarding one. A re-imagining of Pinocchio, told from the viewpoint of the beast-entrapped Geppetto, it surprise and delights, and saddens and gladdens, from start to finish.
Carey amassed a set of evangelical followers after his eccentric novel, Little, the fictionalised story of Marie Grosholtz, the real life Madame Tussaud. The Swallowed Man sees him carry further his fascination with marionettes and mannequins (he once worked as a steward at Madame Tussauds) and it’s tempting…
