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This is a bit complicated.

First, at a hundred pages (plus an appendix that really is part of the novel) this is pretty much in novella territory. Really though, it’s a jumble of short stories with the same inciting event.

This is contemporary fantasy (keep in mind, “contemporary” when it was written was 1935), while the Hollywood adaptation The Seven Faces of Dr. Lao was shifted to western/fantasy. (Given everything, it was probably a lot easier to do it as a western than set in 1935 for ’60s Hollywood….) The movie adds an overall plot to tie things together, and sadly, you see all the stitches of the graft clearly, as it feels foreign to a lot of the other incidents that come from the book. But, I’m a very plot-centric person, so I actually do appreciate that attempt.

That makes this a really hard book to talk about. Dr. Lao’s circus arrives, seemingly out of nowhere, in a small Arizona town, various people decide to visit this small show, and react to what they encounter there. That’s nearly the entire book. The secret is what all those interactions are, and frankly, few of them have any kind of closure, making much of the book to feel like jumbled incidents.

It does seem like Finney had a few things to say, but I’m not entirely sure what, though much revolves around the inability to recognize the fantastic when it comes knocking on your door. A screed against a lack of sense of wonder in this materialistic world.