Joyce certainly knows how to put together a witchy good story.He seems to have a certain fondness for magical women. Mammy Cullen and her daughter Fern are both like a breath of fresh air. Mammy is the village wise woman, while Fern is her adopted daughter and apprentice. They are anything but traditional though. Colorful, witty, fragile, strong,vulnerable, women. The "soap dodgers" were a hoot too. Another inventive, magical tale to keep you turning pages late into the night.

A little window into the world of folk ways meeting the modern 'reality'. Graham seems in touch with both worlds and writes well of the meeting of both. I thoroughly enjoyed it, as I do most of Graham's books. It is a fiction book, not written in the American way of plot twists and high action, just the problems faced by a young girl raised in the folk traditions of her area of the midlands UK as she makes her way into adulthood in the 1960's.

In his novel "The Limits of Enchantment", Graham Joyce seemingly effortlessly insinuates the manifestation of magic in the everyday world without the need to create an entirely imaginary universe where the laws of classical physics bend and redefine themselves according to rules built solely on the whim of the typical fantasy author. This amalgam of the supernatural with a real point in a timeline (in this case, the pre-moon-landing sixties) positions Joyce on an upper tier of novelists of which few exist----Elizabeth Hand (Mortal Love, Waking the Moon, Black Light) whose clever interventions between folklore characters and mere and haplessly ill-prepared mortals immediately comes to mind as does Keith Donohue whose changeling story in "The Stolen Child" mesmerizes with a similar mix of the inexplicable and the routine. The ability to render a world seen through the somewhat undefined haze of the unexplained while still recounting quotidian events in a thrilling plotline hallmarks Joyce's success as not only a storyteller of great deftness but, a craftsman of almost incomparable skill.

Joyce's artistry consumes the reader with an inside look into the angry changing world of twenty-one year old Fern, adopted daughter to Mammy, the village hedgerow medicine woman. Like us all, Fern perceives that which she has become familiar as natural. Women in pre-legal abortion England in 1966 flock to Mammy with their "problems" and with the aid of a herbal concoction and an unexplained knowledge of the ways of the "Mistress", Mammy launches them back into their lives trouble-free after revealing to her the paternity of the unborn child. Over the years the list of fathers has grown substantially providing an insurance of sorts for this herbalist threatened by the advent of socialized medicine and an overall transcendence from the unexplained great mysteries to the rigid science and technology. Even more, the list hedges all of Mammy's bets as with her seventy-seven years of wisdom she understands sadly that true darkness does not lie beneath a waning moon or in adverse interpretations of cosmology but in the hearts of those who have something less than pure to hide and manifest their desires in the form of brutal inhumanity. Sheltered by Mammy's experience, Fern sits on the fence of a proverbial Age of Aquarius, struggling to find some correlation between the sagacity and necessity of secrecy of an older oral tradition most of which Mammy hints to her about but never reveals and the legitimacy of joining the new establishment where science and a degree in midwifery reign supreme in a more departmentalized world.

As Joyce telescopes in and out from one definition of the world to the other, we discover that we, too, share Fern's confused perspective. We appreciate Mammy and her knowledge and yet we simultaneously scoff at it. We admire our so-called betters and applaud the accolades of those who achieve degrees of professional success on the established "ladder" but we also shake our heads over the mundane conformity of such a routine track. The freewheeling life of the 60s hippie calls to us, but doesn't the lack of structure and functionalism suggest indolence rather than the dawning of a new world? Like Fern and her intimate knowledge of child birthing, we think we know all there is to know about the mysteries of sex---that is until that other sex confronts us with intimacies we are unable to ever fully absorb. How foolish to think one could ever know anyone let alone one's self?

"The Limits of Enchantment" explores the ceilings we impose upon ourselves by challenging what we really believe in. Whether we live an existence where magic is possible or not, we still have to contend with the motivations and machinations of the human heart----in this case a veritable "heart of darkness" propelled by selfish intent to keep those in power in power and disable those of a purer essence with societal rules forged to curb change.

When Fern enters a realm she barely believes in, she teeters precariously towards insanity replete with talking hares and dancing ghosts. Only through a kindness that she finds more substantial than the proverbial thicker-than-water blood does she come of age, defining herself in her own terms as she straddles the past and present to create an interesting future for herself.

Bottom line? Graham Joyce outdoes himself in "The Limits of Enchantment." Not only is his creation of Fern's narration authentically believable in every way, his ability to kaleidoscope from the supernatural to the practical keeps the reader spellbound. His uncanny way of explaining events without fully disclosing every detail imbues the indefinable with a mystical definition that adds dimension to the story and complexity to the characters. Simply wonderfully done! Highly recommended--- more, Mr. Graham, more!
Diana Faillace Von Behren
"reneofc"

In his novel "The Limits of Enchantment", Graham Joyce seemingly effortlessly insinuates the manifestation of magic in the everyday world without the need to create an entirely imaginary universe where the laws of classical physics bend and redefine themselves according to rules built solely on the whim of the typical fantasy author. This amalgam of the supernatural with a real point in a timeline (in this case, the pre-moon-landing sixties) positions Joyce on an upper tier of novelists of which few exist----Elizabeth Hand (Mortal Love, Waking the Moon, Black Light) whose clever interventions between folklore characters and mere and haplessly ill-prepared mortals immediately comes to mind as does Keith Donohue whose changeling story in "The Stolen Child" mesmerizes with a similar mix of the inexplicable and the routine. The ability to render a world seen through the somewhat undefined haze of the unexplained while still recounting quotidian events in a thrilling plotline hallmarks Joyce's success as not only a storyteller of great deftness but, a craftsman of almost incomparable skill.

Joyce's artistry consumes the reader with an inside look into the angry changing world of twenty-one year old Fern, adopted daughter to Mammy, the village hedgerow medicine woman. Like us all, Fern perceives that which she has become familiar as natural. Women in pre-legal abortion England in 1966 flock to Mammy with their "problems" and with the aid of a herbal concoction and an unexplained knowledge of the ways of the "Mistress", Mammy launches them back into their lives trouble-free after revealing to her the paternity of the unborn child. Over the years the list of fathers has grown substantially providing an insurance of sorts for this herbalist threatened by the advent of socialized medicine and an overall transcendence from the unexplained great mysteries to the rigid science and technology. Even more, the list hedges all of Mammy's bets as with her seventy-seven years of wisdom she understands sadly that true darkness does not lie beneath a waning moon or in adverse interpretations of cosmology but in the hearts of those who have something less than pure to hide and manifest their desires in the form of brutal inhumanity. Sheltered by Mammy's experience, Fern sits on the fence of a proverbial Age of Aquarius, struggling to find some correlation between the sagacity and necessity of secrecy of an older oral tradition most of which Mammy hints to her about but never reveals and the legitimacy of joining the new establishment where science and a degree in midwifery reign supreme in a more departmentalized world.

As Joyce telescopes in and out from one definition of the world to the other, we discover that we, too, share Fern's confused perspective. We appreciate Mammy and her knowledge and yet we simultaneously scoff at it. We admire our so-called betters and applaud the accolades of those who achieve degrees of professional success on the established "ladder" but we also shake our heads over the mundane conformity of such a routine track. The freewheeling life of the 60s hippie calls to us, but doesn't the lack of structure and functionalism suggest indolence rather than the dawning of a new world? Like Fern and her intimate knowledge of child birthing, we think we know all there is to know about the mysteries of sex---that is until that other sex confronts us with intimacies we are unable to ever fully absorb. How foolish to think one could ever know anyone let alone one's self?

"The Limits of Enchantment" explores the ceilings we impose upon ourselves by challenging what we really believe in. Whether we live an existence where magic is possible or not, we still have to contend with the motivations and machinations of the human heart----in this case a veritable "heart of darkness" propelled by selfish intent to keep those in power in power and disable those of a purer essence with societal rules forged to curb change.

When Fern enters a realm she barely believes in, she teeters precariously towards insanity replete with talking hares and dancing ghosts. Only through a kindness that she finds more substantial than the proverbial thicker-than-water blood does she come of age, defining herself in her own terms as she straddles the past and present to create an interesting future for herself.

Bottom line? Graham Joyce outdoes himself in "The Limits of Enchantment." Not only is his creation of Fern's narration authentically believable in every way, his ability to kaleidoscope from the supernatural to the practical keeps the reader spellbound. His uncanny way of explaining events without fully disclosing every detail imbues the indefinable with a mystical definition that adds dimension to the story and complexity to the characters. Simply wonderfully done! Highly recommended--- more, Mr. Graham, more!
Diana Faillace Von Behren
"reneofc"

Worlds collide--folk, hippie, modern--and magic leaks in around the edges. Finely written female viewpoint from a male writer.