I have a friend who is terrified of symmetry in nature. Truly phobic. I once witnessed her have a meltdown at the thought of the honeycomb in Keats' 'To Autumn'. I've never really understood where she way coming from... until I read this book.
I'd been meaning to read something by Marcus Sedgwick for a while: he keeps on popping up in things I'm reading, writing interesting articles about Vikings or being nominated for prizes. So, when I found this spirally treat in a bookshop last week, I had to give it a go.
In case the cover doesn't make it clear enough, its worth pointing out that spirals are the point of this novel. It's utterly fascinating, and more than a little unsettling: a story broken into four parts which can be read in any order (but are presented chronologically), all of which circle around spiral motifs. Whether it's a prehistorical cave painting, ringlets in an accused witch's hair, the staircase of an asylum, the golden ratio (phi), or the path of an intergalactic spacecraft, the spiral is a constant presence of indeterminate significance.
Sedgwick's treatment of the shape is almost mystical. The stories he tells are absorbing in and of themselves, but the interweaving of fiction and fact ultimately casts a much deeper and more disturbing spell. Believe me when I tell you that you'll never look at spirals the same way again.
How to read it: Somewhere with no spirals nearby. Which, as you'll soon realise, is not actually possible.