The week before Empty Space was published I reread Light and Nova Swing. What followed was two weeks of the most hallucinatory, vivid dreaming I've ever experienced. Harrison's prose contains worlds, not just in paragraphs but in sentences. Voice and discourse clash in a discordant epiphanic yearning for meaning, even as the prose seduces you in it's dreamy embrace. Worlds, realities and artefacts protrude, stack or curve around each other: breaking through, seeping out, vacuumed back in.
I lay down sleepily to reread parts and see what would emerge from that half dreaming place - no drugs required. “What are you doing down there” (10) was answered not by this but this.*
!?
*Really! The melody, familiar as a 70s morning with Terry Wogan. I had to look up the words. I'm NOT a Supertramp fan, though I grew up with it, omnipresent, on the radio.
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