Chris reviewed The Medusa Frequency by Russell Hoban
None
5 stars
I read this in a couple of late night sessions in my now-lost little flat in West Kensington, above one of the lost rivers of west London. I remember being reduced to helpless laughter by the word 'blughole'; but also the weirdness and the wildness of the hapless death of Orpheus and his wandering head seeking vengeance (probably And why not?) have stayed with me ever since. The Medusa of course was also a thing with a head and in its case turned others to stone even after it was cut off and Perseus drew it from his bag.
This is a book as full of mythology and immanence as the place I read it in, and as much as the place I live in now does not - as far as I can tell - have those things, although trees are a kind of nexus (Nexo? Vollma?) for those …
I read this in a couple of late night sessions in my now-lost little flat in West Kensington, above one of the lost rivers of west London. I remember being reduced to helpless laughter by the word 'blughole'; but also the weirdness and the wildness of the hapless death of Orpheus and his wandering head seeking vengeance (probably And why not?) have stayed with me ever since. The Medusa of course was also a thing with a head and in its case turned others to stone even after it was cut off and Perseus drew it from his bag.
This is a book as full of mythology and immanence as the place I read it in, and as much as the place I live in now does not - as far as I can tell - have those things, although trees are a kind of nexus (Nexo? Vollma?) for those things glimpsed out of the corner of the eye, but when you turn to look they're gone.
