Absence makes the art grow yonder
From an overview of the works of John Crowley by James Hynes (in the Boston Review), via Maud:
Given the gloriously odd ambition of these novels, it’s no wonder that the books come across as well-crafted but impenetrable to anyone who tries to read them for the usual literary reasons–plot, character, suspense–and why they are next to impossible to review as independent volumes.From the subhed to a Guardian review:
A plot-less, character-less novel shouldn't work, but in Doris Lessing's expert hands, The Cleft most certainly does
Both sound appealing to me...