A seeker after knowledge in the Himalayas. An old man whose kind secretly run the world. A historian with a special source of knowledge about things past. A very ... special child. These are the characters that come to life in the four short stories in this collection.
Michel Clasquin-Johnson is an Associate Professor of Religious Studies at the University of South Africa and was, until recently, the entire Buddhological establishment on the continent of Africa. He lives in Pretoria, South Africa with his wife, son and two motorcycles. He likes to think that he practices Buddhism (in his own way) as well as thinking about it. The entire Buddhist world disagrees, but is too polite to say so. In his spare time, he writes what can loosely be called science fiction. Not a lot of science involved, and a fine disregard for the rules of fiction.
I have never written a review of a book before so please bear with me. This morning I completed reading the last of the short stories in this book (I began in the wee small hours of last night.) They impressed me very much in a variety of ways. I chose this book for no better reasons than it was next to my own book in the Booktango bookstore Science Fiction (General) section. But I am very glad I did so. The thought occurs to me, am I character in one of Mr Clasquib-Johnson's future stories, or even an alter-ego of his (or he of me)? Now, this may seem quite a strange thing to say if you have not read these stories, but after you have it could well appear an entirely natural and logical concept. We both appear to have had a lifelong interest in reincarnation, we both have a love of those early science fiction stories that embroidered fascinatingly upon a single imaginitive concept and (from my own viewpoint) we both seem to be in the business of gently nudging readers' minds into areas they may not have encountered before. Oh, and we both eschew the modern indented paragraph structure. In my case it is because of my inclination toward single sentence paragraphs, in his case I can only speculate he (like me) finds the older-style un-indented paragraphs more pleasing on the eye.
These stories really get inside your head and tease the envelope of the mind out a little (or in some cases, a lot) further. I have often thought that the more free-form jazz musicians do much the same thing. You can almost feel your mind enlarging as novel concepts and an utterly new way of thinking (or hearing) takes place. I was very impressed by the high standard of writing which I feel is an absolute requirement if the suspension of disbelief is to be achieved. You believe the things Mr Clasquin-Johnson is telling you through these tales in spite of your all-too-familiar and highly logical mental processes insisting otherwise.
If you like your brain to be tickled every once in a while, if you are one of those who find a little safe mind-expansion pleasurable and if you enjoy good intelligent writing then I thoroughly recommend this book to you.
Allan Edward Tierney