Eva Figes, Konek Landing, intense and clever, sparing with articles, pronouns, connectives: prefers deep visionary murmur, hard delphic spasms, very painful. Also archetypes: waves, pools, seeds, cupboard/womb, bonfire/orgasm, amputation, rats in the cellarage (yours and mine).

Konek, oppressed everyman, crawls ashore out of stinking sea-sludge. Then memories of persecuted childhood, twisted spine, escape from reformatory, retreat into various holes in ground, scribbles on the walls…. Crosses borders, escaping, seeking. Seeking? Ah, identity….

Part Two, at sea again, visionary note stepped up, syntax shakier. Alas, your reviewer flags, loses track, recognises only familiar wastelandmarks. Then TRANSCENDENCE! swims ashore to tropic isle, drums throb, gourds of sweet drug, becomes a god. Anthropology ex machina. Floats off tranced on raft with white bird: ah, soul.

What can poor lifebound critic say, only that imagination pretty active here, in a protozoic way, but reductive style dissolves all separate things, moments...