Des Lewis will be 77 years old on 18 January 2025
Those who have read these episodic brainstorming reviews of mine must know they are very personal — rough-shod and spontaneous. Synchronicity and anagram mixed. I know they are not professional, never potentially publishable other than in the madness of my head, but I do hope they show grains of dark truth and cosmic panache.
These Des Lewis Gestalt Real-Time Reviews were founded in 2008.
‘What’s the loveliest word in the English language, officer? In the sound it makes in your mouth, in the shape it makes on the page? What do you think? Well now, I’ll tell you: E-L-B-O-W. Elbow.’ — THE SINGING DETECTIVE
“How shall a man find his way unless he lose it?” — Walter de la Mare
To any current genre author I have reviewed before — if you have a new story recently published or soon to be published in a collection or anthology, you may have a review by me of the story that also showcases where it is published. See HERE. (This is because I am no longer well enough to review as many books as I once did.)
Fresh Fictions, free to read HERE.
No AI input in preparation of my texts whatsoever.
THE NEW NONSCENIC
Photos here: https://conezero.wordpress.com/2024/02/24/d-f-lewis-recent-photos-1/
ONLY SIXTY-NINE WHIMS AWAY
“I resent the suggestion that I am the human version of a rogue planet.”
Rhys Hughes famously wrote: “Review my work just once, you’ll review my work evermore.” Trouble is, it came too late for me.
And this is 69 chapters of 69 words each — making, guess what, a gestalt tall tale. Full of his customary joys, jokes and jumps in meaning. About Jessica, and jolly much more.
The photo above was taken a week or two ago, and the hand used is that of a lady the same age as Lady Hale who became a noted figure yesterday.by giving the PM a slap on the wrist to end all such slaps on the wrist!
POSTCARDS FROM THE HEDGE
“Listen carefully, Boris…”
Fifty messages on postcards with fifty words each, messages left by a crashed bus’s fifty passengers to their relatives. They each see themselves now as different animals or plants or mythical creatures. I have not yet counted the words in this book to check the numbers are correct. Hedging my bets. Meanwhile, I will not fully divulge the end of this set of messages and its significance. But a bit like Boris in drag as a bus driver? “Nuts to you!”
A 10,000 word treat (plus titles) for Rhys Hughes fans, featuring, inter alios, Cupid and Reginald.
TEN OF OUR TROMBONES ARE MISSING
“We are stuck here now. ‘Stuck at home,’ I say.”
But if you are, life is still good with this book to read.
This story has 66 sections, each with 66 words. Another treat.
This whole book is like travelling in the head provided by a gifted traveller of the world as well as of his own head. Free with constraints, cloistered with sky. Meanwhile, beware the patronage spider.