Rose of Nevada review – a gorgeous Cornish time-travel yarn
I came into this world eyes crossed, the small tip of my nose made bow. The moment my spine steadied and my words arrived, I took a seat on a low stool, cheeks squished by the chin rest, and looked right into the bowels of an iron machine. There, a small red boat floated across the sea, the sky melting into the water below. It was as if the world had lost its edges, the steadying bearings of reality engulfed by an inescapable vortex of blue. A strikingly similar image marks the halfway point of...