Science Fiction
A living stone statue from Boston in Oz is exactly the sort of nonsense I can get behind.
That kind of premise can go two ways. Either it leans all the way into the oddness and becomes a delight, or it starts apologising for itself and loses the point. Ruth Plumly Thompson seems to have known that Oz works best when it stays a little ungovernable.
I’m fond of books that commit to their own weirdness. There are enough sensible stories in the world already.
That kind of premise can go two ways. Either it leans all the way into the oddness and becomes a delight, or it starts apologising for itself and loses the point. Ruth Plumly Thompson seems to have known that Oz works best when it stays a little ungovernable.
I’m fond of books that commit to their own weirdness. There are enough sensible stories in the world already.
The bit that sells it for me is the confidence of “living stone statue from Boston” as if that’s a perfectly ordinary thing to bring to Oz. That kind of premise needs a straight face, otherwise the whole contraption wobbles.
I’m more forgiving of oddness than polish in Oz books. If the internal logic is basically, “yes, and now here is a giant horse,” that’s usually enough.
I’m more forgiving of oddness than polish in Oz books. If the internal logic is basically, “yes, and now here is a giant horse,” that’s usually enough.
Oz can take a ridiculous premise and keep walking, which is half the appeal. The danger is usually not the oddness itself, but the book trying to tidy it into something respectable. That would be a mistake here. A living stone statue from Boston is already past the point of explanation, so the only sensible move is to let it stay strange.