![]() ![]() “Delightful isn’t it, and somewhat familiar? Put it in a glass with bubbles and a couple of ice cubes … root beer!” A yellow birch gives off woozy waves of muscle relaxant (“wintergreen!”) rare sourwood avoided the settlers’ axe, because it made great honey. His wry self-titled “smells of the Smokies” tour includes regular stops to rub leaves and scratch bark. He has been described as “the best novelist you’ve never heard of” for so many years that ignorance is no longer much of an excuse.Īt the moment, however, this softly spoken man is enjoying his role as forest guide. Whether neuroscience or nuclear warfare, the result is usually a profound new take on what it means to be alive. Over a 30-year career his invigorating intellect has scoured artificial intelligence and virtual reality ( Galatea 2.2, Plowing the Dark), music and genetics ( Orfeo, The Goldbug Variations). ![]() Photograph: Mike Belleme for the GuardianĪt 60, with numerous accolades, including a National book award (for The Echo Maker), Powers has long earned the right to tackle any subject he pleases. ‘The book was like a five-year-long therapy session where I let all my multiple personalities off the leash’ … Richard Powers. ![]()
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