The early exploration writing of Philip Sava bent the limits of post-modern fiction, revealing fantastical worlds that fooled many into believing they were, in fact, real. Sava’s kaleidoscopic collections, of which Memoirs of a Trespasser is the undeniable centerpiece, drew upon true experiences from his exotic travels but were infused with a hallucinatory inventiveness that set his work apart from others in the genre.

Though Sava had associates all over the world, he spent most of his time living in solitude on a ranch in southern Madagascar. When interrogated by the press on his cloistered lifestyle he notoriously answered, “Who needs love when you have cognac?”

When I reviewed two fragrances (An Air of Despair and A City On Fire) from indie niche line Imaginary Authors back in June, I asked people to name their own favorites from the brand in the comments. Memoirs of a Trespasser garnered the most mentions, and now that I’ve smelled it, I can see why…

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