In S.I., the novel's narrator, an anthropologist, succumbs to a vivid fever dream in which he finds himself flying offshore over an island—an "excrescence, a protuberance"—of waste, runoff, sewage, detritus, crude oil... a beautiful and corrupted "satin island."
(On the jacket: an archipelago of oil; a ballistic aftermath of ink; a Triste Tropique of spillage.)
This dreamscape (Tom just informed me, after seeing the jacket) contains conscious echoes of G.M. Hopkins's poem God's Grandeur:
|"The world is charged with the grandeur of God.|
|It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;|
| It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil..."|
I quite like "shook foil," and am intending to use a gradient metallic foil on the jacket itself.