Here is the ritualism of Tokyo where lovers ponder the intangible reflections of themselves, 'reflections of nothing but appearances, in a city dedicated to seeming', and 'the velvet nights spaked with menace' of a wasted London, poised on the brink of destruction. In these extraordinary tales Angela Carter pinpoints the symbolism of the city streets and weaves allegories around forests and jungles of strange and erotic landscapes of the imagination.

This book is going with me to my writing group this evening (as I'm having a clear out) where, no doubt, it will be snapped up by one of my fellow writers :o)