As a humanities major at a liberal arts college, it was constantly shoved down my throat that art has to mean something. Don't get me wrong - of course art has to affect you in some kind of profound, meaningful way - but sometimes the foundation should start with a question mark.
Rather than writing with a political vendetta, wanting to make some grandiose statement about immigration or climate change, some stories start with dark, impressionable things that captivate us. In Stephen King's It, a character claims, "Politics are the natural ingredients of any story that's told well." I agree completely, and I'd rather experiment on a messy canvas than know exactly why I'm writing something.
Case and point: The Pilo Family Circus by Australian author Will Elliot. Holy hell. First of all, I've read a lot of horror novels. Some of them are great. Some of them are bad. But I think a consistent problem is that a lot of people recycle the same archetypes. We have werewolves. We have vampires. There's less of a sense of authors creating their own unique, authentic worlds and more of this idea of, "I'm manufacturing a world with elements I cut out of an old issue of Fangoria magazine." After awhile, nothing really feels original.
When I finished Elliot's novel, I wasn't stunned by his storytelling ability alone. I was stunned by the sheer creativity and believability of the insane world that he created.
The Pilo Family Circus follows the story of Jamie, a young man who runs afoul of some clowns one night. He runs over one in the middle of the road, where it dumps a bag full of strange, sparkling powder. The clown takes off - surprisingly alive - and Jamie is left with the keepsake. In the days that follow, Jamie is haunted by more clowns who visit his doorstep and make his life a living hell. They torment his roommate. They vandalize his apartment and smear feces on the wall. And they've come with a simple message; the circus is in town, and Jamie had been recruited.
A short while later, Jamie wakes up in this strange, otherworldly dimension called The Pilo Family Circus.. I'd like to go into detail on exactly what this world is - or why it exists to begin with - but so much of the power in this book is in how little is explained. You're not sure if the circus is hell. You're not sure if you're still on Earth or not. But what's apparent is that this netherworld feeds off the souls of human guests that are lured in and enjoy the attractions. Each faction of the circus basically preys on a different human flaw. The acrobat show preys on pride and avarice, for example, while the clown shows preys on human cruelty. After being trapped in the circus, Jamie is enlisted to become one of the clowns. Their leader, Gonko, takes a liking to him and gives him a new identity as J.J. When Jamie dons the face-paint, becoming this new character, he becomes a repressed, violent version of himself; erratic, maniacal, bursting with emotion and completely out-of-control. As the novel continues, the story focuses on Jamie trying to preserve his waning humanity as he tries to escape from the circus.
It goes without saying that this book is weird. In fact - well, who am I kidding - it's probably the weirdest thing I've ever read, and that's saying a lot. Elliot creates an unruly case of despicable, disgusting, obnoxious and oddly likable characters who populate his landscape. The writing is crisp and flows very smoothly, dwelling on the sights and sounds of the circus as you journey into this terrifying world. What works in Elliot's novel works fantastically, and almost undermines the flaws.
The story isn't really consistent. I'll be the first to say it, even though the novel has a special place in my heart. There's a lot of stuff going on, and the sub-plots of a lot of smaller characters get lost in the scuffle. In the middle of the novel, it's hard to tell what you're supposed to be paying attention to; there's Jamie trying to preserve his humanity, there's this quasi-rebellion going on with other members of the circus, and a whole host of other things. While all of these different elements could have worked together, the book leaves you feeling like you've been flashed by the headlights of a bright car. You just feel kind of disoriented when it's over, and you're kind of left piecing together everything that's happened.
But it goes without saying that this book is a trip. It's so weird, so outlandish, that the flaws really aren't as glaring as they should be. Some stories are read for the narrative alone, but I'd say to read The Pilo Family Circus rather for the experience. You might be disgusted by it. You might not like a single character. But I can guarantee it will have an effect on you, and in the end, isn't that what a good book is supposed to do?
