Trespassing

Standing in a room with eight thousand tiny creatures, witnessing them perform a dance that few humans even knew occurred; this was life. Everywhere she looked, each caterpillar nosed the air like a wand and out passed silk. They sashayed to the left and swivelled to the right. They bobbed and undulated, dotting the air in figure-eights. They worked ceaselessly for three days and nights, with material entirely of their own, and with nothing to orchestrate them besides their own internal clock. Each, a perfectly self-contained unit of life.
Trespassing is intricately and delicately made. Its characters-and their desti nies are utterly clear before us and the reader is driven hurriedly through the book seeking shelter-for the characters they have come to love as much as for themselves.