by D.F. Lewis
Publication Date: 15th June, 2011
Paperback, 392 pages
The carpet was quite ordinary. In Man City an ocean liner is mysteriously stranded in Dry Dock. The children are missing and a search party has been sent out. The inhabitants of the city have taken to drinking Angel Wine, or dreaming that they do. Meat and poultry are merging in disquieting ways. Only at the zoo can the citizens be sure that dreams are not reality. It will take Mike, the Hawler, to heal the city of its dream sickness. But first he must learn what a Hawler is. A second search party is sent from elsewhere by the Jules Verne Tour Company in a Drill with unkempt carpets in its library and cockpit or was it in the dowagers’ bedroom? Perhaps the original carpet was not quite so ordinary, after all.
This is not a novel, not a book, not even fiction. It is something else, something nameless, something… nemonymous!
About The Author
D.F. Lewis received the British Fantasy Society Karl Edward Wagner Award in 1998.
After having had published around 1500 of his fictions in magazines and anthologies during the Nineties, he now seeks a unified morality from among the Synchronised Shards of Random Truth & Fiction. He created/distributed the acclaimed, innovative series of multi-authored anthologies entitled Nemonymous (2001 – 2010). For the last two or three years, he has written a series of ground-breaking internet ‘real-time reviews’ of other writers’ fiction.
What Nemos Say
“There is certainly a spiralling ominous weirdness here, a sense of shifting scales such as reveal to us the bizarre denizens of the world beneath a microscope, so much a part of our mundane existence but usually invisible to us (not to mention the possibly more bizarre world we would see through a macroscope), but the psychedelia of Nemonymous Night perhaps owes less to the sixties than it does to the lucid and lyrical ostranenie of writers such as Denton Welch. There is an understanding here of the piquant craft of strangeness that is the basis of all lasting fiction. The inside-out logic is Carrollian. The word-play, dare I say it, is Jungian; it is the wordplay of dreams.”
Quentin S. Crisp
“I saw Elvis at the mall last night. He was eating pizza with DF Lewis. Can’t think why they’d ordered anchovies.”