River
BY OLIVIA LAING
In her magical meditation on landscape and memory, Olivia Laing follows the course of the River Ouse in Sussex, tracking its ebbs and flows, and pondering the meanings of solitude and loneliness, myth and history, geology and ghosts.
I’m haunted by waters. It may be that I’m too dry in myself, too English, or it may be simply that I’m susceptible to beauty, but I do not feel at truly at ease on this earth unless there is a river nearby. “When it hurts,” wrote the poet Czeslaw Milosz, “we return to the banks of certain rivers”. I take comfort in his words, for there’s a river I’ve returned to over and again, in sickness and health, in grief, desolation and joy.
I first came to…
