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Träumerei: Co-Vivid Dreaming
All reviews linked for each of these years:
2008/9 – 2010 – 2011 – 2012 – 2013 – 2014 – 2015 – 2016 – 2017 – 2018 – 2019 – 2020
And Click: HERE for full Navigation, Stop Press & Backstory.
The Three Ages of D.F. Lewis
0. 1948-1985 — Poems / Zeroist Group (1960s), The Visitor (Novel) 1973, Agra Aska (novella) 1983.
1. 1986-2000 – Over 1000 fiction publications in magazines and anthologies, some selected for the Prime Books D.F. Lewis collection ‘Weirdmonger’ (2003).
He was awarded the BFS Karl Edward Wagner Award.
2. 2001-2010 – Publishing multi-authored ‘Nemonymous’.
3. 2008-
GESTALT REAL-TIME REVIEWING (www.nemonymous.com),
Plus one novel NEMONYMOUS NIGHT (Chômu Press), a story collection and two novellas entitled THE LAST BALCONY (InkerMen Press), and a novella entitled Weirdtongue (InkerMen Press), and my reprint of Agra Aska that was originally published in 1998 by Scorpion Press,
Plus three originally created multi-authored anthologies that I published,
Plus two books from Mount Abraxas Press, and an Eibonvale chapbook called The Big Headed People. And a book collection from Eibonvale: DABBLING WITH DIABELLI,
Plus, in July 2020, a past story selected for THE BIG BOOK OF MODERN FANTASY edited by Ann and Jeff VanderMeer.
Available DFL books: HERE
All reviews linked for each of these years:
2008/9 – 2010 – 2011 – 2012 – 2013 – 2014 – 2015 – 2016 – 2017 – 2018 – 2019 – 2020
And Click: HERE for full Navigation, Stop Press & Backstory.
It may be some while before I am able to read this material.
FIENDISH PAMPHLETS by Roman Lasalle (MMXIX)
The first item here I reviewed in 2017 in ALL IS FULL OF HELL, as follows, but there I seemed to call him Ramon Lasalle! Which is his correct name?
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NOCTURNAL GARDENS by Ramon Lasalle
“It is necessary to emphasise that not a single person took note of his absence.”
I, too, used to dream about dreams during high-flying business meetings in the 1980s. And many of my ex-colleagues have probably forgotten I ever existed. This an obsessively wrought account of those dreams, of one we shall now call Uriel, deadpan but also rapturous. No mean feat. In various stages, one leading to the next, but at each interface of stages one needed to consciously re-live those interfaces as part of the very duration of the dream as gestalt, what I shall call — within the Blakean terms of this whole book, interface to interface — Eschristology. And part of the end-to-end quality of the dreams is both hellish and heavenly, a menagerie, a disposal of childish pets before emotional attachment can set in, a sexual progression from infant to adult, a self-harming by stigmata, and hopefully an eventual catharsis for us all. But the text withholds any hope. Needs to be read and absorbed with care, allowing it to be absorbed without removing one’s protection from it. A delicate job like an emotional bomb disposal.
DISTANT REALMS OF THE KINGDOM
“iT WAs the first step of a wide ruined staircase.”
Whom we shall call King for our purposes here? As we follow him in the current ruined extravaganza of a building amongst other such structures of state, upward counterintuitively to escape the raging fire below us, as we have done with him while food foraging, too, amid inclemencies of his reign.
Wild though it may seem to others for us to think, even to the text’s author, but we think this King, this hefty thinKing, seems to emulate all the traits directly or by symbol of Trump. Read it and see; join us. Far fetched or not, it all fits. Giant letters and small. Roman comme Néro, la salle à la salle, l’escalier à l’escalier, ensuite le toit.
THE DREAM
“, all male, who devoted their lives to ruining the existence…”
A dream of a book or a the book itself. Rather, a blend of both. Tantalising two pages.
THE FOUNDRY
“How many times in our existence did we not find the meaning of life or a fragment of God but we do not understand?”
As I fail to understand this work, yet I know it is a fragment of a Gestalt towards which I work, notwithstanding the airbrushing of reality despite hawling by dint of precarious memory: monastery or foundry. These sections are called segments in this book, not fragments. But I sense they are one and the same.
Now for an enforced sabbatical in my reviewing for a week or two.
THE COLLECTION, THE OBLIVION
The Zeno’s Paradox of book collecting. Even the dissemination of rarities over the Internet, as I have been doing. I feel all this is very personal. The Gestalt ethos, too. Real-time librarianship.
This book itself being the book itself, so no wonder pamphlets (assonant with fragments) and segments merge! The creation of the book by fiendishly slo-mo dissemination. And epilogues logjam all our oblivious ends.
And now the following separate chapbook:-
NOVY YS by Krzysztof Fijalkowski
“submerged maps, undersea memories”
A striking, littoral vision of a city, amazingly after I visited a city last week that was continuously under heavy rain! (Mentioned earlier today hereabout catacombs in yet another city: here)
A city of salt, silt and stilts.
THE PLAZAS OF MADNESS by Luiz Nazario
Abu-Kamba having toured in Europe…or exiled, or back home again while being pleasured by plazas as essence of a city. A madness campaign, like this review. Indescribable plazas, reviewer and reviewed in creative dysfunction. Who went insane first? I did, I fear. In the Plaza of Absolute Disgust.
IMAGES REGARDING SECLUSION, a photo-story based on Thomas Bailey Aldrich narrative, layout by Alcebiades Diniz Miguel, photos by Fernando Klabin.
“Imagine all human beings being swept off the face of the earth, excepting one man.”
Last week’s vast city I visited, now a dream?
Is above brown parchment bearing a picture of Abu-Kamba with his doppelgänger?
Wordless except for an intro by Damian Murphy and an end title/copyright page that I shall now read for the first time.