Angela Carter’s writing is always so delightfully feminine…in the best way. Reading her stories feels like looking at a rococo painting…all pink and lacey and girlish…even when the characters display a sense of raunchiness, dirt, and decay. Wise Children is characteristically Carter, displaying all of the glamour of the stage (the last one I read by her took place at a circus, similarly) amid family mess and chaos. There’s something in here about wealthy excess and bygone beauty, Shakespearean tragedy and incestual chaos…but I can’t quite place my finger on what exactly the allusion actually is. Instead, all I can say, is that this novel is a quick ride and a good time, just like its leading ladies. It’s even better when read aloud. Carter writes Dora’s narration as perfectly natural dictation, and you practically step into her memories as you voice her words. It’s a romp, with glimpses of emotion and wistfulness that are true to the experience of growing up. Four legs up.
