Book Review: Phantasia by Laeth
I once heard someone describe slipstream fiction as magic realism for Anglo-Saxons, and Phantasia may be the most convincing example of that idea I have ever encountered. It is a novel that resists neat categorisation, drifting effortlessly between philosophy, myth, humour and deeply human reflection. From the opening pages, it makes clear that this is not a book that wants to be consumed quickly or passively. It asks something of the reader, and in return, it offers a rare and rewarding experience.
Set in a reality where imagination can be made manifest, though only by a select few, Phantasia unfolds in a world that feels both dreamlike and uncomfortably familiar. The presence of the seven deadly sins as characters could easily become gimmicky in less capable hands, but here they are woven into the narrative with intelligence and restraint. Rather than serving as simple allegories, they become reflections of humanity itself, flawed, contradictory, and strangely sympathetic. At its core, this is a story about love, connection, and what it means to be human when reality itself is pliable.
One of the novel’s greatest strengths lies in its narrator. Omniscient, witty, and quietly mischievous, the voice guiding the reader through Phantasia is unafraid to break the fourth wall, to comment on its own storytelling, or to challenge the reader directly. This creates an intimacy that feels almost conspiratorial, as though the book itself is in conversation with you. It is clever without being smug, playful without undermining the emotional weight of the story.
Laeth is a master storyteller, and nowhere is this more evident than in the novel’s distinctive prose. Written as a flowing stream of consciousness, the text blends dialogue and narration with little concern for conventional punctuation. The comparison to José Saramago is an obvious one, particularly in the way voices merge and thoughts bleed into one another, but where Saramago can sometimes feel distant or austere, Laeth brings warmth, empathy, and genuine tenderness to the page. The result is prose that feels alive, intimate, and deeply felt.
What makes this achievement even more impressive is the way the author adapts a distinctly Portuguese storytelling sensibility into English. This is no small task. The rhythms, cadences, and emotional beats of the original style are preserved without feeling forced or artificial. Instead, the language feels natural, immersive, and carefully tuned, drawing the reader deeper with each page. The book is rich with wisdom and humour, offering moments of quiet insight alongside passages that provoke laughter or thoughtful pause.
That said, the writing style will not suit everyone. It demands a certain openness, a willingness to let go of rigid expectations about structure and punctuation. Readers must allow their eyes and minds to flow with the text, unrestrained by preconceptions about how fiction should behave. Those who do will find themselves richly rewarded.
If you are looking for something genuinely original, thoughtful, and unlike anything else on your shelf, Phantasia is well worth your time.
