I had an interesting reaction to many of the stories in Crackpot Palace. About half a dozen times, I would start a story and think, not a big fan of this one. Then about halfway through, I would find my assessment of the story change significantly. I ended up enjoying almost every story in this collection, So…why all the reservations, and why did my opinions change?  A few reasons:

1. Ford sort of strikes me as a New School Fantasist wallpapered over an Old School Fantasist. He often employs the old, hoary story elements of 50’s science fiction and fantasy: mad scientists, radioactive mutants, metal robots, magic swords. I tend to have about zero interest in those things–I don’t come to science fiction for adventure, I want a glimpse of the dark, glittering future. Fortunately (for me, anyway), Ford uses these elements as a springboard to something much more interesting. Ford possesses an imagination almost as fecund as Kelly Link, and his stories tend to grow more complex and original as they go along. The robot becomes a commentary on the insanity of war. The magic sword is only one element of a richly imagined fantasy world. The mutant symbolizes Cold War conspiracies and the apathy of governments. A Jeffrey Ford story always ends up being more than it initially appears–as long as one is patient.
2. Ford employs a tonal shift in many of these stories. They frequently get darker as they go along, sometimes quite dark. But they don’t start that way! They start in conversational tones or with fairy-tale voiceovers. Even a story with a horrible first line, like “Daddy Longlegs in the Evening,” doesn’t sound horrible. Listen: “It was said that when he was a small child asleep in his bed one end-of-summer night, a spider crawled into his ear, traversed a maze of canals, eating slowly through membrane and organ, to discover the cavern of the skull (Ford, 323). The opening three words lull us, along with the rhythm Ford employs and the use of distancing words like “traversed.” Yes, we think, he’s talking about a spider chewing his way through a child’s brain, but it’s all so lovely, isn’t it? I love the way these stories gradually grow darker, and realize that Ford is doing all of this on purpose–smile big, get ‘em in the door, then turn the lights out. It might make the beginning of some of these stories feel less than special, but that’s just a trick Ford is employing. And it works.

Other observations: I love the autobiographical elements Ford used in many of these stories, especially the ones where he and his wife were characters in the story. I have always enjoyed meta-narratives and self-referential material, as I also tend to use autobiographical elements in my work. Ford uses dreamlike elements in a couple of stories (“86 Deathdick Road,” “The Double of my Double Is Not My Double”) to excellent effect. Of all the other writers I have read recently, he most reminds me of John Crowley, probably because they are both such accomplished technicians (Ford’s story “Relic” is a master class in technique, for instance). However, I tend to enjoy Ford’s work more than Crowley. Emotional resonance, I suppose.