From Publishers Weekly
Wolfe's novel about a bitter old man whose highly imaginative memoirs go beyond the real world and into another dimension is available for the first time in over a decade.
Copyright 1995 Reed Business Information, Inc.
Product Description
On the face of it, it is almost impossible to classify Peace as a book of fantasy. So much of it is rooted so squarely,
and so beautifully, in small-town mid-America, that it could simply be a book of Literature with a capital L. It might
well be the ultimate book to hand to someone who dismisses all speculative fiction as a child of a lesser literary
god. It is possible to have a science fiction book be lyrical, philosophical, intricate, possessed of both enough depth to
drown in and enough wit to do so while smiling. Peace is such a book.
It is full of wonderful snatched flights of whimsy and of fancy -- the porcelain teapot adorned with the faces of its
previous owners, and which, when filled up, will break; the transformation of an every day neat and tidy store into an Antique
Bookshop, with gold leaf lettering on the door which instantly "goes from bright newness to an antique patina that might
have graced the Great Chalice of Antioch"; the aboriginal people who, ten thousand years ago, crossed the Bering Straits
into what would become America and "...eventually settled at Indianola, Indianapolis, Indian Lake, and various other
places at which point they were forced to become Indians in order to justify the place names."
This is a writer's book, in a way. It is brimming with the kind of
language which will find an echo in anyone who's
ever written a word, as well as with insights into how the writer
thinks, how he is born, how he is made, how he changes the world.
The protagonist of Peace, (while not himself a writer) is a
creature of brooding creativity of which he himself may be
almost unaware but which enables him to give the book its fantastical
edge. It allows him to live in a house which
is infinitely larger inside than out, and whose many rooms reflect not
so much the genius of an architect but rather the
living memories inside his own mind. He moves freely between the future
and the past, talking as an adult to people long
dead whom he knew as a boy -- even asking advice from an old doctor as
to what he should do when he gets his stroke many years in the future.
The reader is never quite sure who this man is, or where precisely he
came from, or what exactly he is trying to do -- but there
is a little of all of us in him, and one way or another he takes up
every reader and carries them all through into his timeless realm with
him.