To look at Miss Georgina Carter you would never have suspected that a woman of her age and character would have allowed herself to be so wholeheartedly mixed up with an Ifrit.
It’s the final months of World War II and Georgina Carter, a single woman in her late forties with a drab job in the Censorship office, is convinced that nothing very shattering, nothing very devastating could happen to one after that age. But then she buys some wood blocks from a blitzed roadway, one of which, when burned in her fireplace, releases a long-imprisoned Ifrit (don’t call him a genie) eager to do her bidding. Nicknamed Joe, he zaps in exotic foods and luxurious decor, and takes her on a dizzying hurtle through space to visit a beloved nephew in Canada. Then an old flame visits and Joe senses possibilities . . .
This delightful 1945 novel, alongside its fantasy elements, depicts the mood of the later war years, with bombed out buildings, dirt, cravings for impossible-to-find foods, and the surliness and fatigue of many Londoners—but all are considerably enlivened by an energetic, well-meaning, but slightly overly-enthusiastic Ifrit.
