C

onfusion abounds.

In the last book The Three and I read together, author Terry Pratchett taught us the meaning of the word ‘egress’ by way of a retired witch’s circus poster, a memento from her glory days. It turns out that egress is a word worth knowing. For a not insubstantial part of the book, our heroine, the young witch, Tiffany, finds that she is trapped inside of herself. How she returns to self-possession and, subsequently, makes peace with that which held her prisoner are matters resolved only after Tiffany’s means of egress has been secured.

Peaches’ Arrow Land got me to thinking again about the mystery inherent to finding our way over, under and through. It is difficult to judge which was is up, much less which way is out. But in Arrow Land, denizens with problems just like you and me—and, okay, some weirder ones, like missing whiskers you were forced to eat yourself during a time or extreme privation or a congenital predisposition to glow blue—have help in navigating their way through the world. Direction is available everywhere, in fact: embedded in objects and exchanges, blinking at you in the posture and words of others.

Seeking clarity? Or maybe just egress? It’s there, I think. Follow the signs.