I started this book on an airplane, which wasn't a good fit, because it's not the kind of book you can just immerse yourself in, or at least I couldn't. I finished it during jury duty, which was perfect, because it filled in the ticking minutes between panel selection and court prep and voir dire with fantastic creatures and gentle natural history. These are brief vignettes of encounters with animals that have taken a sharp turn on the evolutionary path. The stories are only loosely connected and arranged, so you have to power through on your own curiousity, but this is rewarded--especially in the last half of the book--with some lovely images.

Sharona Muir's Invisible Beasts is whimsical and very intelligently written. It's hard to pin down exactly what it is. It's a novel, but it reads more like a series of essays. It's fantasy, yet it parallels the human experience; it may, in fact, be the human experience. It's witty and dry, a field guide to those invisible beasts that teach us to see things differently.

Aside from theme, I'm not sure these short pieces come together to make a singular story. Each pretty much stands on its own. And I think that's how they're best kept. Muir's story is the kind of story I'd appreciate in a literary magazine, a distraction from the monotony of Chekhov- and Carver-emulators. In the context of a complete “novel,” however, these stories become tedious. As I neared the end of this work, I wanted to hurl it across the room, convinced of a two-star ranking at best. But looking at these pieces individually, I can appreciate them.

I think this book is best viewed as a collection of pieces to be read when one is in a meditative mood: a journal of exploration by an author who truly sees what others cannot. Let's not lose sight of an author's true talent here.