WHERE FURNACES BURN by Joel Lane
My real-time review continued from HERE.
The Sunken City
“What I read, I’m still not sure.”
This is a companion piece, it seems, to the previous one in the book, where the echoes of our policeman’s private life and misgivings mingle with an investigation where a figure who was filmed giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation turns out to be giving quite the opposite. I was reminded of Debussy’s ‘cathedrale engloutie’ when first reading the title and I also now feel I was on a correct, if slightly confused, track in my interpretation of the previous story in the light of this one. In the womb a child needs no air. But when is the exact astrological epochal moment when it needs to take its first breath? And we know that both victim and culprit, detective and suspect, mother and child, abortionist and aborted, could quite so easily become each other. The mockery of official and unofficial forces with just the same lack of relativity. And it was only the gift of a chance that each of us survived our own birth to tell our own story. Until the same chance took it away again from us – gratuitously, often suddenly – returning us into the Boschean sunken realms.
THIS REVIEW WILL CONTINUE IN THE COMMENT STREAM BELOW AS AND WHEN I READ EACH OF THE REMAINING STORIES.