Much like Orpheus, Rushdie gets turned around in his descent into this novel of parallel universes, rock and doomed love. The plot line spurts and stops like the punctuated equilibrium theory and Rushdie's attempt at capturing the essence of rock and roll comes across like one of George Harrison's sitar solos, half-baked mimicry. Nonetheless, Rushdie's lyricism and intelligence still sets The Ground Beneath Her Feet head and shoulders above most of his peers' recent work.