Light, M. John Harrison
Reading “Light” is hard to explain. Its three narrative threads are braided and woven with a beauty few people can imagine. Each thread a rubbing off on the other as they touch, gently, exchanging the faintest touch before drifting apart yet again. In the end, I realized from whence I came when I was reading Harrisons work:
Life is a ride, like days in a train
Cities rush by, like ghosts in the night
The rhythm of wheels, time fades away
Stations of a journey, destination unknown.
“On track”, from the album “Pocket Universe” by Yello
Every strain within “Light” touches people in a different light, they’re rarely “good” people, but they’re people none the less. We’re taken on a journey to a destination unknown to us, the Kefahuchi Tract. All we know about it explains how fleeting that knowledge is. The only thing that’s obvious is that it draws “Light” onto, and into, itself as the pages turn.
There is much praise for Harrisons literary skill, his ability to write not unlike how a painter paints. Strokes of words applied to paper, blended into each other to reveal patterns and colors just outside what you thought you’d ever see. It’s a marvelous read. It’s not unlike Gaimans work — something which might explain why Gaiman has spoken so fondly of “Light”. It’s worth reading even if the story wasn’t that good.
The story, however, is that good. If the writing is good, the story is stellar. If you’ve ever looked up at the veil of lights painting a clear night sky, the story is all that. It’s mystifying, surprising, full of detail and it’ll warm you up after you’ve read it. Yes, it’s gritty, it has some characters that aren’t quite nice, you often feel you’re catching a slide show of acts where the thread is more visible than every detail around you. And you’d be right. But that being said, the story takes your breath away.
If I am to present one word of warning it would be that “Light”, simply due to its three threads, their weaving and the prose of the language in which they live, isn’t an easy page-flipper to read. You can’t skim sentances, every word requires you to stop and evaluate, no, experience, it. Just like every speck of light in the Kefahuchi Tract.