Review: In Calabria by Peter S. Beagle

In Calabria 

by Peter S. Beagle 

Tachyon Publications 

General Fiction (Adult) , Sci Fi & Fantasy

This was up for the World Fantasy and Locus Awards for best novella.

There's something magical about Beagle's prose that I still haven't put my finger on. He can write about nothing happening and have it still be interesting (not riveting but piquing curiosity). Here's how he opens. There a little aggravations between these two that are both real digs but gentle ribbing:

THE WHOLE TROUBLE with your farm," Romano Muscari said, "is that it is too far uphill for the American suntanners, and too low for the German skiers. Location is everything." 

"The trouble with my farm," Claudio Bianchi growled through his heavy, still-black mustache, "is that, no matter where it is located, the postino somehow manages to find his way out here twice a week. Rain or shine. Mail or no mail." 

Romano grinned. "Three times a week, starting next month. New government." He was barely more than half Bianchi's age, but a friend of long enough standing to take no offense at anything the Calabrese said to him. Romano himself had been born in the Abruzzi, and in a bad mood Bianchi would inform him that his name suited him to perfection, since he spoke like a Roman. It was not meant as a compliment. Now he leaned on the little blue van that served him as a mail truck and continued, "No, I am serious. Whichever way you look — down toward Scilla, Tropea, up to Monte Sant' Elia, you are simply in the wrong place to attract the tourists. I grieve to mention this, but it is unlikely that you will ever be able to convert this farm into a celebrated tourist attraction. No bikinis, no ski lifts and charming snow outfits. A great pity." 

"A blessing. What do I need with tourists, when I have you to harass me with useless advertisements, and Domenico down in the villaggio to sell me elderly chickens, and that thief Falcone to cheat me on the price of my produce, when I could get twice as much in Reggio —" 

"If that truck of yours could get even halfway to Reggio —" 

"It is a fine truck — Studebaker, American-made, a classic. All it needs is to have the transmission repaired, which I will not have Giorgio Malatesta do, because he uses cheap parts from Albania. Meanwhile, I endure what I must. Whom I must." He squinted dourly at the young postman. "Do you not have somewhere else to be? Truly? On a fine day like today?"

We know that we have two characters that care about each other yet still have opposing world views--they gather to nag and complain in a way that shows they are close. Any character Beagle chooses to develop, the reader will likely develop a fondness for, which is part of his magic.

That's the energy that powers the opening until Bianchi spots cloven hoof prints in the ground and spies a unicorn. 

Cherubino [Bianchi 's goat] was a little way from [the unicorn in his vineyard], seemingly frozen in the attitude of a fawning acolyte: head bowed, front legs stretched out on the ground before him, as Bianchi had never seen the old goat. The unicorn ignored him in a courteous manner, moving with notable care around the fragile arbors, never touching the vines, but nibbling what weeds it could find on the cold ground. It was a kind of golden white, though its mane and tail — long and tufted, like a lion's tail — were slightly darker, as was the horn set high on its silken brow.

At first it's a mystery why it's around. He even questions it though it does not reply. He wonders if it's a sign:

For a second time, Bianchi asked, "What do you want of me? Are you here to tell me something?" The unicorn only looked calmly back at him. Bianchi fought to clear his throat, finally managing to speak again. "Am I going to die?"

Eventually he realizes she is pregnant.

He tells someone, a postmistress he likes who happen to tell her brother who happens to tell... and so on until the whole community and reporters swarm the area. Worse comes to worse when "the monster" arrives.

Up until this point the narrative has a slow-building drive, and it continues to be interesting and certainly more dynamic, but the monster is too undeveloped to carry the weight of the narrative dynamo. Even so, the story maintains your interest and ends satisfactorily--with the unicorn accruing a mythic symbolism--but one can sense that maybe a more powerful narrative lurked beneath this one had the antagonist been built with the same care as Bianchi.

If you love Peter S. Beagle, you won't want to miss this one either. If you like the samples above, then you will enjoy this tale as well.