A syncretic sweep of the ghostly and mordant. there is a necessity in Sinclair's memory, however flawed and decayed such has become. I type this as Dale Peck is speaking on tv from the PEN Conference. There is a grim irony I adn't anticipated. ( )

Throughout Lights Out for the Territory Iain Sinclair is accompanied on his walks by Marc Atkins, usually described as rabidly photographing what they encounter. Descriptions of picture taking and the photographs themselves fill that book, and Atkins is a major character in that book. Sinclair even profiles Atkins in his chapter on contemporary artists in London. So it is a great disappointment that the book is so sparsely illustrated. Thus comes its companion book Liquid City containing Atkins’ photos from Lights Out for the Territory walks and other adventures as well as essays, profiles, and poetry composed by Sinclair. It is a much easier read than its predecessor, although having some previous knowledge of Sinclair’s themes goes a long way. The photographs themselves are indescribably phenomenal.

“London is whatever can be reached in a one hour walk. The rest is fictional.” (p. 40)

“This book is not, I hope, one of those strategic collaborations where well-behaved samples of text are found to dress up otherwise unpromotable landscapes. It never worked like that. The books don’t need images, and the photographs don’t need words. Often the prints are more fictional – richer and stranger – than the stories they never purported to illustrate. There is a world out there that isn’t London and that belongs to no particular time or period. I look back on it, despite all the evidence to the contrary, as a collaboration that never happened. A series of accidents that occasionally fused discrete worlds.” (p. 223) ( )