The Extreme End of Rhys Hughes

THE FOREVER MAN by Rhys Hughes

“But perhaps beans on toast would no longer exist in the future world, that shiny utopia, the unimaginable and abruptly dehumanised civilisation that would supersede our own.”

A story for Rhys Hughes specialists or those who appreciate Rhys Hughes at the most extreme end of the naïve-literary logic-illogic expressed by his fictionatronics of verbal trickery (with ideas and ironies leapfrogging each other) and, at least in part in this work, of sheer conceit of genius.
This particular example is about a vegetative, stinky man they call Beroul of Thumbe in the hotel where he has sat in the same hideous (prehensile?) chair almost forever and still going! — if going means staying.
Till the Logic Police come. But here he is, still in this story!
His thumb as squeezed out in the same manner as each of this book’s amazing inverted commas are squeezed out by the letters they are between.


Also with a perfect description of the pretentious ethos of gestalt real-time reviewing…
“The Logic Police care little for motives. We care only for consequences, for the result of the things.”
Thus effectively squeezing out any heavenward-excreted dollops of deduced didacticism or upspoken assumptions of authorial intent.

The Forever Man as the most striking example of Gluey Zenoism yet!

Full context of this review here:

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