Pan
I am protective enough of the strange, idiosyncratic beauty of this book to worry in turn that some readers might not be up to the challenge of following his more baroque trains of thought ... A testament to the novel’s powers of enchantment; it seduces you into thinking like a child again ... Clune has achieved a remarkable sleight of genre, threading realism’s dull needle with a semi-magical thread.
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Clune doesn’t choose between what we might describe as the poetic and the novelistic, the mystic and the naturalistic, explanations of Nick’s experience. When it comes to time and consciousness, Clune’s perennial topics, visionary perception is perhaps just a deeper form of realism.
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A novel that runs more on vibes than plot or character ... The novel is heavy with impending violence, but despite the foreboding there is no climactic event ... The book feels inescapably adolescent ... Some readers may be hypnotised by Clune’s slippery, sensual prose. I found it muggy and oppressive — like being stuck with a bunch of stoners who refuse to open the windows.
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