THE PERFECT GOLDEN CIRCLE

A quiet, peculiar, and utterly charming novel about...crop circles.

Myers' new book—brief though it is—contains a buzzing, busy multitude. It's part Künstlerroman, part rural idyll, part environmental alarm, part picaresque about two outcasts, part philosophical novel. The setting is summer 1989, in southern England, and two men are embarking again on—trying to perfect—the work they began the summer before. Amid strict secrecy, and in accordance with an elaborate set of rules they've developed to keep themselves safe and anonymous, they steal off at sunset in a battered camper van, park along a verge, walk at least one mile to a field they have identified and scouted, and spend the long summer dark meticulously creating ever larger, ever more elaborate designs (all without breaking the stalks of wheat or rapeseed, so as to be committing acts of art and not vandalism, addition and not subtraction). The two men are Calvert, an anxious ex-soldier who wears dark glasses even at night to protect his eyes and his scars, and his friend Redbone, imaginative, unpredictable, and cheerful. The book consists of a brief chronicle of each of their summer exploits in the field, one by one, with quick news breaks between to record their rising fame as their work garners attention from tabloids, UFO enthusiasts, landowners, and others taken by this mysterious, gigantic-scale environmental art. They are moving always toward what they know will be their end-of-summer culmination, the Honeycomb Double Helix. Myers' newest is a lyrical novel, leisurely of pace and rich in nuance, that rewards the reader who slows to its rhythms.

An odd and winsome pleasure: a novel of friendship, collaboration, and environmental guerrilla art.