Tag Archives: exposition internationale

Real books on this morning’s sunlit shelf…

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Sculpture by Tony Lovell

Sculpture by Tony Lovell

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Links to more of my rocks and books in the comment below.

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The Seer Is Never Thanked

I have just received the lovely box and covers for THE LAST THINKERS set plus THE MADMAN OF TOSTERGLOPE by Louis Marvick:


My reviews of the Last Thinker books:

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THE NEW FATE by Jonathan Wood

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The description of this book I’ve just purchased from the publisher does not yet seem to be shown here: http://www.exoccidente.com/ but, in any event, I do not wish to read any extraneous information about it till I have finished my real-time review of it.

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A Last Thinkers Edition. 64 pages – with hedonistic cover, a sturdy strokeable luxury book backed by bock-skin (my description of the surface-to-touch effect of which I’ve attempted to give some inkling below in one of my photographs). Stiff paper pages. Stitched to your reading-skin.

EXPOSITION INTERNATIONALE – Bucharest – MMXIII

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MY NEW-STYLE REAL-TIME REVIEW WILL CONTINUE BELOW IN THE COMMENTS TO THIS POST.

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The Last Gold of Decayed Stars

by Colin Insole

Publisher’s description here: http://www.exoccidente.com/stars.html

On final page of this book: “‘The Last Gold of Decayed Stars’ has been limited to 158 numbered copies for sale, plus extra copies, which are reserved for private distribution. This is copy number” 24 (in red ink)

64 pages – with hedonistic cover, partly spine-overlapped decadent shivery hardish velvet to the touch in black (and I have been told by a third party that this is some weird animal hide).  Luxury stiff paper pages. Stitched to your reading-skin.

EXPOSITION INTERNATIONALE – Bucharest – MMXIII

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A Secret in Illyria
“Anna hid her irritation at the woman’s glib and facile remark, but on her way home, her anger and self-reproach grew.”
Anita Brookner has been one of my favourite writers for many years, but sadly I have not seen a new novel from her recently.  This book — that I already (perhaps too early) infer to be a quilted novella of episodes imbued by vicarious Proustian memory — seems to have Brookner’s ‘soul’.  Now, having read this the first ‘story’ and riffled through the rest without yet reading them, this is Anna’s answer to what she sees as the tawdry seaside world (where I live): her threaded threnody with the musical sensibilities of, say, the Delius ‘Song of Summer’ deliciously prose-mingled with the Peter Warlock ‘Curlew’ – an idyllic revery in confrontation with modernity, reliving the past of foreigh climes with their even more foreign ‘mores’ where her grandmother once ‘inhabited’. Of course I may be completely wrong. We shall see… An exquisite start, though

THE ABOVE NEW-STYLE REAL-TIME REVIEW WILL CONTINUE BELOW IN THE COMMENTS TO THIS POST.

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Weirdtongue and the latest meat news

This has been main headline news in UK: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-21401111 regarding a Romanian abattoir. Nothing established for certain as I write this.

First, I was wondering about the cat’s meat trade — as depicted in my novella WEIRDTONGUE (The InkerMen Press 2010) — and whether Blasphemy Fitzworth’s trade between the UK and Middle Europe was a staggering premonition of similar news in 2013. Or was ‘Weirdtongue’ indeed affected retrocausally?

Also, I am still real-time reviewing, DEHISCENCE, a quilted patchwork novella published a few weeks ago in Romania, the plot of which seeming at least obliquely relevant to this news issue. Like a few of the publisher’s previous ‘Last Thinkers’ books, this one seems bound in some unknown animal skin, an arguable phenomenon that I think you can see from this photo I’ve just taken:

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No sign of this skin dehiscing.  It is a very well made book.

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NUMBERED AS SAND OR THE STARS – John Howard

Publisher’s description here: http://www.exoccidente.com/sand.html

On final page of this book: “‘Numbered as Sand or the Stars’ has been limited to 235 numbered copies for sale, plus extra copies, which are reserved for private distribution. This is copy number” 20 (in red ink)

64 pages – with hedonistic cover, partly spine-overlapped decadent shivery hardish velvet to the touch in black (and I have been told by a third party that this is some weird animal hide – such as that of the pengö’s?), and partly stitched yellow-smoky laid-back young-bright-thing depressed gorgeousness to the renewed touch with hardened heart, but a heart not as hard as the jacketless cover itself. Office-cluttered inside cover image at either end of the book. Luxury stiff paper pages.

EXPOSITION INTERNATIONALE – Bucharest – MMXII

This is my sixth post-real-time review after recently announcing my retirement from real-time reviewing following four ostensibly self- and autre-fulfilling years doing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The women’s faces covering the wall stare out at him. He returns their gaze. They are terraced like spectators’ heads in a stadium, or at a thousand tiny windows.”

[Cf Sand’s Dusk. And James Joyce’s Sermon on Hell.]

NUMBERED AS SAND OR THE STARS is a novelette by another of my favourite writers – John Howard –  cf my review of his story ‘The White City’ here = and here the currency talks like more stamps or faces on the wall, evoking a historical Hungary facing conspiring regents or hyperinflation or other loose ‘borders’ of integrity – even that era’s  equivalent (my inference, not necessarily the book’s) mentality of Stalinist ‘ebooks’ when compared to the hard currency of the stiff paper pages which this book boasts.  Hard coin or paper money? False borders or fixed geomancy? All in a stylish prose to die for – and to be buried with.

Loved it.  The ambivalence of right and wrong amid a Philosophy of History as another version of the ‘synchronised shards of random truth and fiction’. Challenge and response in endless cycle. Imagination or belief as you hold a banknote or a page of fiction. Or, God forbid, an ebook!

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AT DUSK – Mark Valentine

Publisher’s description here: http://www.exoccidente.com/dusk.html

On final page of this book: “‘At Dusk’ has been limited to 235 numbered copies for sale, plus extra copies, which are reserved for private distribution. This is copy number” 20 (in red ink)

80 pages – including 17 stunning coloured ‘hard’ images with wonderful intricate building-scapes, cornerstones etc. scattered throughout.

Hedonistic cover partly spine-overlapped decadent shivery hardish velvet to the touch in black, partly stitched yellow gorgeousness to the renewed touch with hardened heart, but a heart not as hard as the jacketless cover itself. Office-orientated inside cover image at either end of the book. Luxury stiff paper pages.

EXPOSITION INTERNATIONALE – Bucharest – MMXII

This is my fifth post-real-time review after recently announcing my retirement from real-time reviewing following four ostensibly self- and autre-fulfilling years doing it.

AT DUSK by Mark Valentine is a series of short prose pieces that ostensibly channel into us visionary glances of the between-world-war poets generated by an erstwhile Europe vision, that remarkably combines all the bespoke beauty of language we expect from this author but here with new souls as writers, new readers as souls, too. For example, at one point, I had a premonition of reading this book on my own death bed (whenever that should turn out to be), as the last book I read or re-read.

 

Always Autumn, leaves the surrendered coins of Summer, payment for a passage to the dark.”

There is a sense of a telling gestalt with the world today, the news today, this precise day I write this,  as with mention here of ‘Israfel’ … and with another recent book emanating from this publisher: “The saints in their tombs are starting to smile.” All is meant to be.

The Peacock Escritoire has become here a series of “viola cases” with “viola chords“.

I am already entranced. But I shall re-read it one day, resisting the strong temptation or ‘Desnos’ to do so till then. (It definitely needs reading several times).

We walk in this world as if it were the only one. Yet there is a side-step when we seem to stray into another. A few moments pass, we waver on the brink of a revelation. We could dissolve into another existence.” …towards, eventually into, this exquisite book.

‘Always Autumn’ … FOREVER AUTUMN

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PS: the 17 amazing photographs by Geticus Polus
– one of which has a nice pussy-cat.

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