The Passion Of New Eve
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I know nothing. I am a tabula rasa, a blank sheet of paper, an unhatched egg. I have not yet become a woman, although I possess a woman’s shape. Not a woman, no: both more and less than a real woman. Now I am a being as mythic and monstrous as Mother herself . . . ‘
New York has become the City of Dreadful Night where dissolute Leilah performs a dance of chaos for Evelyn. But this young Englishman’s fate lies in the arid desert, where a many-breasted fertility goddess will wield her scalpel to transform him into the new Eve.
‘If you can imagine Baudelaire, Blake and Kafka getting together to describe America, you are well on the way to Carter’s visionary and lurid world’ THE TIMES ‘Her writing is pyrotechnic’ OBSERVER
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