Pico Iyer’s essay-review of Nicolas Rothwell’s The Red Highway (‘Into the Shadowed Heart’, August) was almost too thrilling, too transformative, to read – just like Rothwell’s work itself. When I read Rothwell’s Wings of the Kite-Hawk, its imagery stayed with me for months. Even Rothwell’s journalism is so finely tuned, so fragile, and so philosophical that it makes me fear that I might go somewhere and not return. Iyer demands that I better grapple with the mysterious challenges of Rothwell’s work. I once met Rothwell in person and whispered some clichéd expressions of gratitude for his work before shrinking away, mortified that I’d done such an impoverished job of describing its effects upon me. There was, as Iyer suggests, nothing prosaic about him.