Savoring it slowly is the only approach that worked for me. It’s so dreamy that I could only read so much in any one sitting without risking drifting off into dreamland myself (not because it’s so boring I fall asleep – just the opposite: Calasso’s imagery calls up so many personal and mythic associations for me, and pulls me out of linear, directed thinking, pitching me into the realm of dream and myth).
And often I’d find I had to just sit with a compelling paragraph and let it sink in – and then re-read it and peel back more layers of the mythic onion.
Nandu – Calasso does this again in Ka: Stories of the Mind and Gods of India, which is his every bit as exquisite and elegant, at least to someone like myself born out side that culture. Of course, there’s no one today raised as devotees of the Olympic pantheon, whereas Hinduism is an active believe system. I’ll be curious what your perception will be (I am far from finished with it – takes a long time to read a Calasso book).