Robichaud’s prose is lyrical and engaging. Pan, this mythical, awe inspiring creature, whom very few dare to inquire into, is brought to us as this all encompassing god, who is everything and nothing at the same time. Through the minds of the curious, those who heard the calling of the pipes of pan, and dared to venture into the grove to encounter the deity. You almost feel like you’re witnessing Pan yourself, recounting those memories in the woods by yourself, feeling as if there was something or someone else with you, you couldn’t quite understand or grasp what exactly it was, because it was only meant to be felt. Robichaud is that third person spying through the trees, on you and Pan, somehow he makes an account in words, tangibilizing the experience as a whole, not only through his words, but by means of the working of others who have witnessed and summoned the great god.
Nowadays, with climate change and the global crisis. We see and hear these urgent calls to actions. Nonetheless they have lost their impact, due to their constant exposure and exploitation. Even though Robichaud is not writing about ecology or scolding you for not taking care of the planet, the quote that he repeats in every chapter: “The Great God Pan is Dead” echoes deeply within, knowing well that it is our fault, our apathy and selfishness which alienates us from earth, and the root of the problem’s we’re just beginning to face at the start of this century.
Pan, The Great God’s Modern Return, was a beautifully composed anthology of the multidimensional deity who could barely be grasped due to his polysemic nature, but through every poem, book, opera, movie, or artwork, I somehow saw a reflection of what I felt and what it means to be in the presence of Pan, somewhat nostalgic, longing for our instinctual nature unconstrained, wandering and roaming harmoniously through this beautiful place we call earth.