Little, Big… August
For some reason I asked myself earlier in the day, what could be the worst curse one can have? Midas came to mind, as did Sisyphus, but as I looked over my bedside table, I settled on a singular answer for today… August from John Crowley’s Little, Big.
Why? August had made a trade, a deck of cards in return for power over the hearts of all women. Cursed he had become.
He learned, though slowly, what all great harrowed lovers learn: that love is what most surely compels love–is perhaps, except for brute force, the only thing that does, though only (and this was the terrible gift he had been given) when the lover truly believes, as August could, that when his love is strong enough it must surely be returned–and August’s was.
…he came to know that it did not and had not ever contained his power over women: his power over women lay in their power over him.
Imagine having the love of every woman. Imagine not being able to stop loving them. Imagine not being to stop their love from being returned. Imagine endless heartbreaks. A curse indeed.
His role in the novel wasn’t major and in fact there are characters with even more tragic happenings, heroes even, but his short role in those pages was… refreshing. Seeing a gift in a different light. But I guess, sadly, it seems to be one of those curses that you must experience yourself to truly fear. I wouldn’t mind being rewarded with this curse (or cursed with this gift), as I’m sure all of you wouldn’t mind either.
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