This is going to be a hellaceously sloppy entry, I know that already. I want to link to several things, but I'm tired -- too tired to make properly coded, streamlined links, so the URL's are going to be flopping around on the page, all their naughty bits exposed.
There has been so much going on, some of it good, much of it not, a great deal of it
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Crowley is compared often to Latin American Spanish realists, like Gabriel Garcia Marquez. It's hard to describe, but most of Crowley's novels really aren't fantasy, though there's a thread of otherworldliness running through them. It's like he often writes about another world, kind of parallel to ours, that can't be described outright but has to be hinted at obliquely. But then, in the same book, he can suddenly have an act of magic very "in your face", and rather than the contrast being jarring or out-of-place, it seems right. He kind of weaves his spell in his books...his prose has a special rhythm to it, a poetry, and while he's not verbose or baroque, he's definitely not a staccato-Hemingway kind of writer either...I would suggest either starting with Little, Big or The Deep. The latter is Crowley's first novel, but the edition ( ... )
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