Bestiality, eh?

In real terms, it's just a bit sick. And, from what I understand, pretty effort-intensive. Except for ducks, of course - I bet those homosexual necrophiles will bonk anything.

But nevertheless, real life perversions aside, the idea of a possible union between the human and the animal, of Leda's soft thighs parting willingly for the swan, of Little Red Riding Hood distracting the hungry wolf by shedding her garments, the idea is powerful and compelling. In myth and folklore, the boundary between the human and the animal, between the external and internal, has always been blurry. Ultimately the only difference between a wolf and woodsman is a big axe; and they both want the same thing from Little Red Hiding Hood. And the further we move from the natural world, the more sanitised and civilised we grow, the harder we try to convince ourselves that, beneath our 21st century lifestyles, beats the dark, wild heart of the primitive.

Johanna Sinisalos' debut novel Troll: A Love Story is part fable, part meditation on the wild versus the civilised and, quite frankly, it's rather weird but also rather haunting. It is the story of a beautiful young (and gay) photographer called Angel who finds a baby troll being tormented by hooligans one night and, on a impulse, takes it in. As he attempts to care for the troll, which he names Pessi, after a troll in a fairytale, it begins to affect his relationships with those around him (his ex-lover, the man who currently desires him, the man he himself desires and his peculiar friendship with the desperately unhappy mail-order bride who lives in his apartment complex).

The book is heavily segmented. The chapters are exceptionally short, and are usually from the point of view of one of the characters or excerpts from the scholarly articles and books about trolls that Angel devours in any effort to understand and help Pessi. The result is self-consciously tantalising and, therefore, feels frustratingly artificial and shallow - the climax of the book is particularly egregious for this, building tension with such unsubtle blatancy it has the opposite result. For example, there's a chapter that simply consists of the words "the key turns in the lock" and then the viewpoint shifts again. Argh! The most successful chapters are those from the point of view of Angel and Palomita, the mail order bride, Angel's because he is the central character and Palomita's because, in the stark absence of anything from Pessi himself, her lonely yearning and effective captivity make her as much of an misunderstood animal as the troll. Angel's interchangeable lovers very contribute little to the deepening of the narrative.

Pessi, and Angel's growing relationship and desire for him, is by far the most interesting aspect of the story but, despite being the central premise, it does not receive nearly as much development and attention as it deserves. The narrative gains most of its focus and intensity when Angel and Pessi are together:

"...I stretch my hand out and slide it around his sweet, narrow, smooth, burning-hot waist. Pessi's ears tremble... I've locked him in here. I've tried to capture part of the forest, and now the forest has captured me."

But Pessi himself remains frustratingly (although perhaps necessarily?) elusive. We witness him creating "art" twice (once in the blood of a fallen enemy, one a pyramid out of building blocks) and we know he is (consciously?) emitting a cocktail of pheromones that have a profound affect on Angel but his responses to his situation and to Angel remain muted and oblique. Perhaps this is a deliberate attempt to show that the wild's answer to civilisation will always be a mystery, but one cannot quite shake the sense that the ideas are the heart of Troll are never fully embraced.

It is always difficult to respond appropriately to a book that has been read in translation. The language is sometimes just a little clumsy, a little cliched and a little incongruous which is a shame because, just as often, it is often quite lyrical and affecting. I suspect the author's use of language might be quite interesting and intriguing but, unfortunately, the translation is rather uneven.

Overall it's an entertaining and thought-provoking book, and raises the usual questions about the relationship of human beings with their environment and the power of the wild and the unknown on the human imagination. Its strength is the depiction of the bond between Angel and Pessi, which is both startling and yet strangely credible in its sensuality and intensity. The book self-identifies as a "love story" and it is, not only between Angel and Pessi, but between the primitive and the civilised, and the real and the fairytale. It's a shame, really, that it feels just a little bit shallow.