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200 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
"Nothing original, in short they live off the human flesh thrown into the water after a burial ceremony. They grab the bodies downstream and eat the flesh. It's already been roasted but mostly it's also gone rancid and rotten and they love that because the do it for the religious reasons, and when you've got religious reasons then no filth is filthy enough."
"No, I dont'," I said vacantly. Right then I was contemplating the huge harpoon in Zeman's film version of Baron Munchausen, the one the size of a cargo plane, which the castaways in the belly of the whale don't notice until it drives through the monster's ribs right next to them. I was thinking that despite being simplistic it's an exact representation of the moment I've been waiting for all my life. The moment when the cataract of routine is ripped and something, something, finally happens. I'll be waiting forever, of course. Everyone will. Because everything that does actually happen, immediately takes on the traits of the ordinary. And the brain, that contented brute? That mushy landlord? That aesthete? That Oscar Wilde in my head? It immediately refuses to concern itself with anything new and unknown. Life is driving away under our arses like a bus driven by a stroke-victim, yet the brain is only capable of adding: Oh dear! Well, I never! How curious!