Gillian Greenwood
Flying Circus
To finish Angela Carter’s extraordinary new novel is like waking from a dream and crying out ‘But I remember it all. It was so vivid! It seemed to make sense at the time!’ And indeed it does, in a sense, make sense. It has its own internal logic supported by continuously recurring themes and imagery. It has the intensity of a dream which haunts you all the following day (the lurking tigers and flying women are sufficiently archetypal to make all schools of analysis happy).
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