Siggy Lindo, a young bookkeeper living a rather mundane life, suddenly finds herself possessed by the power of the moon, symptoms that lead her to a psychiatric clinic, where she meets Daniel.
I’m a novelist and student of the imagination living in Honolulu. Fantasies, visions, hallucinations or whatever we call those irrational powers that illuminate our inner life fascinate me. I’m particularly intrigued by the creative intelligence that scripts our dreams. And I love carrying this soulful energy outside my mind, into the one form that most precisely defines who we are: story.
The best thing I liked about this story is that, at the end, it's unclear whether or not the events actually happened as written, or if Siggy, the narrator, was just out of her mind/unreliable the whole time.
Not too long ago, I read an interview by Elizabeth Hand where she talked about her inspiration for Waking the Moon which was published about the same time as this novel. She mentioned that "there was a lot of empty-headed New Age goddess stuff" going on at the time she was writing it. And while this isn't entirely empty-headed, (I've read much, much worse from that era) it's a bit more apt of a description than I'd like to admit.
Attanasio is trying to set up some ambiguity as to whether the magic is really happening or whether it's just a delusion brought on by a brain abnormality. Unfortunately, it didn't quite work for me. I wish that aspect of the book was a bit more ... artful? I'm not sure that's the right word... There's some segments where the only answer seems to be that magic as real and other sections where the only possible answer seems to be that it's a delusion. But there's very little where both explanations appear equally valid. I just wish there was more ambiguity within individual scenes rather than ambiguity brought about by some portions of the book thinking one thing was true and other portions saying another thing is true.
"One does not travel to the house of Hades lightly," Daniel murmured. "We trespass hell whenever we go into ourselves, either through depression, as with me, or by being snatched out of life like you, like Persephone. We go to hell whenever we seek our souls or they claim us for the home of their failures."
a strange sort of love story, often grotesquely overwritten and occasionally insulting (namely due to the author's treatment of modern witches), but interesting overall.