Noir for the Course

My new book from BLACK SCAT has just hit the fan. The publisher assures me REAR WINDOWS is destined to be the bible of film studies departments at universities here and abroad. But why wait  for that when you can order a copy right now HERE.

Bard from Outer Space

 

This book is full of shit!

But I mean that in the best sense of the word. This rare anthology features scatological texts by the following period luminaries: Alphonse Allais, George Auriol, Georges Courteline, Edmond Haraucourt, Vincent Hyspa, Maurice Mac-Nab, and Erik Satie.

It has been tastefully compiled & translated by the great Doug Skinner—the man behind Black Scat’s sublime translation of Alphonse Allais’s CAPTAIN CAP: HIS ADVENTURES, HIS IDEAS, HIS DRINKS.

For those of you too shy to carry around the limited print edition of MERDE, the publisher has also released an electronic version which can be discreetly read on your iPad

I advise everyone to obtain a copy HERE.

Teen Queen Dreams

 

 

How many people can honestly say “I was a teenage Surrealist”? 

The only person I know of is the writer Gisèle Prassinos—discovered at the age of 14 by
André Breton.  

Black Scat Books has just published a marvelous, limited edition collection of 20 texts by Prassinos—half of them written when she 14 and 15—lovingly translated by Ellen Nations. 

SURREALIST TEXTS is illustrated with haunting surreal watercolor paintings by Bruce Hutchinson.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER A COPY

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Taking a step back and trying to be objective, Hotel Ortolan reminds me of those early paperbacks published by City Lights… little gems like A Hundred Camels in the Courtyard  and True Minds. Or, perhaps, Breton’s illustrated novel Nadja published by Grove Press. Certainly Michel Varisco’s photographs are equally haunting.

Ortolan is the sort of slender surrealist volume one dreams of encountering at a bookshop in Paris. The door on the cover dares you to enter. And, of course, you do. You open that forbidding door, step inside and then…well, it’s too late. Whalen’s words are in your bloodstream. The book is destined to be  displayed face out on one’s bookshelf, or even under glass. It’s surely not an edition one loans to a friend, as it will never be returned. It won’t find itself in a box at a yard sale in Greenwich, or at the Salvation Army in Sacramento. Maybe, just maybe, a copy will appear in the bin outside Strand in NYC, but only because it arrived from an estate sale and was mistakenly sorted by an ignorant temp.

Limited to only 125 copies, it’s already imbued with the aura of an avant-garde classic that collectors will search for without success.

“Ever seen a copy of Whalen’s Ortolan?”

Here’s your chance, only 75 copies remaining.

CLICK HERE TO ORDER