EXTRACT from forthcoming POST-NEARLY PRESS book, the 5th in the Conversations Series, with STEWART LEE – here discussing Iain Sinclair and White Chappell: Scarlet Tracings…
It had the same effect as From Hell had on me, and Arthur Machen subsequently. It made London come alive in four dimensions – suddenly you’re looking all around. And what I like about Sinclair is – I like so many things about him – but I like the fact he writes these compound sentences of ideas that are really funny. Another thing – and I’m not sure he was aware he was doing it – in the 1990s there was a division between factual writing and fiction, and now, the supposedly factual things, like The Last London, are written by this persona, which is a self-conscious parody of who people think Iain Sinclair is, which is a bookish flaneur, wandering around, regarding the world, and seeing… he wouldn’t see that [hits table] – he would think about where it was from; how it had got into this building; what that told you about the transport network. I find it inspiring how he’s basically worked out that if he writes in this character, there’s no difference between the fiction and the documentary. It’s all viewed through the prism of this narrator character. Who is him, admittedly. But I don’t think he can live like that narrator does, all the time.
Delighted to say that a new, fifth, issue in the conversations series is beginning production, tentatively scheduled to appear late Feb/early March 2018 – and perfectly, the subject is comedian and writer STEWART LEE, who aside from being arguably the finest stand-up working today, is very much there in the narrative of the series with connecting strands involving Iain Sinclair, Andrew Kötting and Alan Moore – all of whom are discussed. More information will follow, and most likely a short extract in due course. In terms of format, the new publication will be much the same as all the others – see the catalogue page – and distribution will be in the same way too. As with the Alan Moore edition, a ‘waiting list’ scenario is on offer (please just send an email to enquire). — Neil.
Note: there is no new content in this second printing.
Orders and enquiries welcome now. Details here and here.
Alan Moore – Cometh The Moment, Cometh The Mandrill
Available now! Please order/enquire via email at email@example.com.
Thrilled and delighted to announce that the fourth edition in the Post-Nearly Press conversations series will be the great ALAN MOORE and Cometh The Moment, Cometh The Mandrill. As usual it’s from a live, face-to-face conversation, and will be a print-only, limited edition item. Scheduled for January 2017 release.
The range of work covered by Alan is vast and utterly compelling, from St Pancras Panda to Jerusalem via topics as diverse as Mark E Smith; Ballard; Moorcock; a journey from the Arts Lab to Apollo, by way of The Boroughs.
Huge thanks to all those who have taken such a great interest in the series so far. Below is a brief, slightly edited extract from this new edition, with Alan discussing a recent performance as our titular mandrill…
“We’ve all got our apocalypses in our heads haven’t we? And in times of a political vacuum, that’s when you get monsters emerging. Tyrants. Dictators. So if it’s a cultural vacuum, maybe you can have some sort of totalitarian art fascist emerge. And it would probably be a mandrill. The mandrill is the most beautiful and terrifying thing in creation; a baboon with a devil mask. I saw some footage of a leopard stalking in the long grass, creeping up on a mandrill that was sitting with its back to camera. The leopard must have made a noise. The mandrill suddenly turned round, and you could see the moment when the leopard realised it had made a really huge mistake. The mandrill was after it, with those beautiful blue flashes on its face, the teeth bared. So the dictator I imagined would be a mandrill. At the end of the gig, the compere is about to introduce the next act when a bunch of black-clad paramilitaries get onto the stage, cut the throat of the presenter, and announce we are now under mandrill law. At which point a siren goes off; the lights flash, and I enter – I’ve been hiding upstairs the entire gig – wearing a beautiful three-quarter length satin frock coat, with golden boots with wings on the heel. My strategy was to have different costumes and eventually accumulate a brilliant wardrobe. So I took to the stage as a mandrill. Fully made up. It worked pretty well, I have to say. I was a pretty good mandrill.“