Normanghast - Robert Rankin

   2023; 332 pages. Book 9 (out of 9) in the “Brentford Trilogy” series.  New Author? : No.  Genres : Absurdism; British Humour; Far-Fetched Fantasy; End of the World.  Overall Rating : 8½*/10.

 

    The end of the world is coming!!  It’ll be via a nuclear holocaust.  And there’s nothing to be done to stop it.

 

    Well, there is one solution, as anyone who reads science-fiction can tell you.  To quote the great Meldrew the Magician, “Create a temporal paradox which might precipitate a causal loop whereby a future event, this being of the now, would influence a past event in such a fashion that the change would alter the future event which had caused it in the first place.”  Yeah, trying saying that three times real fast.

 

    Anyhoo, a slim chance is better than none at all, so why not send a couple guys back in time to create a temporal paradox.  And I just happen to know a duo who have experience in that.

 

    Elvis Presley and Barry, the time-traveling sprout from the planet Phnargos.

 

What’s To Like...

    Normanghast is the ninth book in Robert Rankin’s “Brentford Trilogy” series, or, if you believe the Amazon blurb about it, Book 12 (out of 9) in the “Legendary Brentford Quadrilogy of Trilogies”.  Amazon also lists the order of the nine books in this series, but frankly, you don’t need to read them in that manner.

 

    The author describes his writing style as “farfetched fiction”, and I think that’s accurate.  The main storyline concerns saving the world from nuclear annihilation, but lots of other plot threads quickly pop up.  A need arises for a foolproof way of telling a good person from an evil one.  Brentford’s dynamic duo, Jim Pooley and John Omally, are convinced they’re just a metal detector away from finding buried treasure.  Strange phenomena are happening on a nearby island.  And perhaps most serious of all, Brentford’s favorite pub, The Flying Swan, is in danger of being closed and torn down.

 

    If you’re a rabid Rankin reader, and I am, you’ll be happy to know all of his wacky characters and running gags are once again present in Normanghast.  I was particularly thrilled to see “the lady in the straw hat” have a prominent role in this book.  The storyline is also graced by not one, but two, characters named Elon Musk, much to both of their dismay.

 

    I loved the subtle nod to one of my favorite authors via a slight corrupting of the town’s name to “Brentfforde”.  It was neat to see Douglas Adams’s masterpiece, The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, get mentioned as well.  A bunch of music acts also get worked into the text, including Captain Beefheart, The Fugs, Pink Floyd, Cannibal Corpse, Dusty Springfield, and Mojo Nixon.  I am amazed that Robert Rankin, a British citizen, has heard of, and indeed appreciates, that last musician.

 

    The ending is farfetched, fractal, frenetic, unforeseen, and fun.  Like the author, I love stooping to alliterative allusions.  All the plot threads are dealt with, although one of them turns out to be a MacGuffin.  There is room for a sequel, although I get the feeling Normanghast is Robert Rankin’s swan song.  If so, this is a great way to close out his career.

 

Kewlest New Word ...

Budgie Smugglers (n.) : a style of tight-fitting men’s swimming attire.  (Google it)

Others: Sweary (adj.); Stonker (n.), Gurning (v.).

 

Ratings…
    Amazon:  4.50/5 based on 0 ratings and 2 reviews.

    Goodreads: 4.50/5 based on 10 ratings and 2 reviews.

 

Excerpts...

    The previous incumbent, Augustus Howe, for example.  This unfortunate had become convinced that his body was composed of cheese.  An obsession which had led him to taking many extreme precautions against being eaten by mice.  His doctor had eventually given up all hope of curing this folly and had recommended a nice long relaxing holiday upon a tropical island that was certified free of mice and all other cheese-eating vermin.

    Word had it that Mr. Howe had melted away on a sun lounger in Barbados.  Grilled to perfection.  (pg. 21)

 

    "The pussy cat/buttered toast enigma,” said Norman to Zara.

    “The whatever are you talking about?” said Zara in reply.

    “It is something that Hugo Rune wrote about.  He reasoned that a pussy cat when dropped from a height will always land on its feet.  And a piece of buttered toast when dropped from a height will always land butter-side down.  Therefore if you strap a piece of buttered toast, butter side up to the back of a cat and throw the cat from a high building the cat should just hover in the air.”  (pg. 266)

 

Kindle Details…

    Normanghast presently costs $5.99 at Amazon, but keep in mind this is a new release.  Robert Rankin offers another 3 dozen or so “far-fetched fantasy” e-books for your reading pleasure, mostly in the price range of $2.99-$7.99, plus one autobiography, I, Robert, which costs $9.00.

 

Elvis snored in the key of uh-huh.  (pg. 117)

    The use of profanity is sparse in Normanghast; I counted just five instances in the first 25%.  Later on, a recurring cussing trope is used, utilizing asterisks.  For example: “you ******”, and “and so I kicked the ******* in his ******* nuts”.  I very much like that innovation.

 

    Making sense of the storytelling is an acquired taste.  The “fourth wall” is breached numerous times, and Robert Rankin adheres to the advice of the incomparable Hugo Rune, who once said: “The best way to avoid losing the plot is not to have one in the first place.”

 

    I was surprised to see how often commas were missing when addressing someone in direct dialogue.  This happened ten times in the first 33% of the book.  There was one instance of a missing apostrophe, and I was amused by the chemistry typo of H²O instead of the correct H₂O.

 

    But these are quibbles.  For me, Normanghast was a literary delight.  I happen to love the writing style, and view it as a challenge to keep track of a dozen plot threads at the same time.  If you’ve never read anything by this author before, this probably isn’t the book to start with, but veteran Robert Rankin readers will find it a joy to learn what their favorite characters from earlier novels readers have been up to.

 

    8½ Stars.  One last thing.  The book’s title, Normanghast, never showed up in the story, which frankly left me perplexed.  But thanks to Wikipedia, I discovered it is a play on words for “Gormenghast”, a fantasy trilogy by Mervyn Peake.  I have Book One of that series, Titus Groan, on my Kindle.  If Robert Rankin thinks enough of it to give it a titular nod, I really need to read it.

Nostradamus Ate My Hamster - Robert Rankin

   1996; 317 pages.  New Author? : No.  Genres : Humorous Science Fiction; British Humour; Absurdism; Time Travel.  Overall Rating : 8*/10.

 

    Something terrible has happened to Brentford!  Adolf Hitler has shown up there.

 

    Naturally, there is some doubt whether it’s really him.  It’s likely an impostor, since this is the 1990s and this Hitler looks like the real one did way back in the 1940s.  And the real Adolf Hitler has been dead for a half century.  So if it is someone impersonating him, it’s in very poor taste.

 

    Anyway, that’s not the terrible thing.  The real calamity is that everyone’s favorite pub in Brentford, The Flying Swan, has disappeared.  Atomized in the twinkling of an eye.  Along with everyone who was in there at the time.  That includes the famous patrons, Jim Pooley and John Omally, as well as the part-time barman, Neville.

 

    And as any loyal reader of Robert Rankin’s “far-fetched fantasy novels” (the author’s self-description) can tell you, the disappearance of those three characters is a huge loss.

 

What’s To Like...

    Nostradamus Ate My Hamster centers around the workers at a Brentford “prop house” (suppliers of the props for any movies being made in the vicinity) called Fudgepacker’s Emporium.  The main characters are Ernest Fudgepacker (the owner), Frank (the manager), Bobby Boy (the gofer), and Russell (the salesman), the latter being our protagonist.

 

    There are three main plotlines to follow: a.) what the heck happened to The Flying Swan?, b.) is that really Adolf Hitler?, and c.) which of the various 'other worlds’ that Russell gets dropped into is the real one?  Mayhem and confusion abound as Russell (and the reader) try to make sense of it all.

 

    The book is written in English, not American, and that’s always a delight for me.  It was fun to suss out things like groaning trays, gasometers, Arthur Negus, Dixon of Dock Green, and get reacquainted with that esoteric bit of slang “having a shifty”.

 

    The “Terry Pratchett-esque” footnotes were a treat, so was the bit of poetry by the author on pages 220-21.  The “Magic Stone” tale was enlightening (be sure to ponder its metaphor), and the concept making “Hologram Movies” felt like a glimpse of cinematic technology that will be routine in another 50 years or so.  The clever way that Robert Rankin inserted himself into the storyline as a minor character made me chuckle.

 

    The ending was decent and wraps up the main plotlines nicely.  It’s not particularly exciting, but it is a happy one, and as the author points out, that counts for something.  Although the setting is a familiar one, Nostradamus Ate My Hamster is a standalone novel and not part of any of the various series that Robert Rankin has penned.

 

Kewlest New Word ...

Skip (n., slang) : a dumpster (British).

 

Ratings…
    Amazon: 4.5*/5, based on 44 ratings and 18 reviews.

    Goodreads: 3.73*/5, based on 1,168 ratings and 59 reviews.

 

Excerpts...

    “You’ve a memo on your desk, though.”

    “A memo?”  Russell perused his empty desk top.  “Where is it?” he asked.

    “I threw it away,” said Frank.

    “Why?”

    “Because it was exactly the same as the one I got.”

    “But it was addressed to me?”

    “Yes, but it was the same memo.”

    “So what did it say?”

    “Yours or mine?”  (pg. 88)

 

    “So what you’re saying, is that by going into the future and stealing the equipment that would change the future, the future Bobby Boy went into what was a future that had already been changed, by him having stolen the equipment and used it in the then-past, which is our present?”

    “Exactly.  It’s all so simple when you put it like that.”  (pg. 248)

 

“Our good woman the fairy has made her yearly phoenix rise from the biscuit tin, I see.”  (pg. 13)

    I’m a longtime fan of anything Robert Rankin pens, so it is not surprising that the quibbles are minor.

 

    The cussing is minimal; I noted only a half-dozen instances in the first third of the book, and those were five references to the excretory system, plus one f-bomb.

 

    The book’s enigmatic title was a major draw for me, but it was a bit of a letdown that neither Nostradamus nor a hamster showed up in the story.  In fairness, the title does get tied into the plotline twice, but it would be a spoiler to go into details.

 

    Lastly and leastly, although I can grudgingly accept Pooley, O’Mally, and Neville being relegated to supporting characters for a change, the poor spaniel Spot getting run over by a bus was just too much for my sensitive psyche.

 

    8 Stars.  Several reviewers noted that they had trouble following the storyline.  They have a point, but letting the plot threads run amok before deftly resolving them is a trademark of a Robert Rankin tale.  Nostradamus Ate My Hamster was an enjoyable read for me, but if you’ve never read anything by this author, I wouldn’t recommend starting with this one.

The Antipope - Robert Rankin

    1981; 284 pages.  Book 1 (out of 8) in the “Brentford Trilogy” series.  New Author? : No.  Genres : Absurdism; Humorous Fiction; Far-Fetched Fantasy.  Overall Rating : 7*/10.

 

    There’s something just a bit askew today in the charming West London neighborhood of Brentford.  Neville, the part-time barman at the Flying Swan, can feel it.

 

    No, it’s not any of the patrons at his pub.  As always, John Omally and Jim Pooley are trying to coax a free pint of ale out of him.  Old Pete is merrily drinking with his dog “Chips” and Soap Distant keeps going on about how the earth is a hollow sphere and he can get to the center of it just by going down the steps in his basement.

 

    Maybe it’s that new stranger in town, some tramp in sorry footwear who seems to materialize out of thin air, scaring the bejeezus out of everyone, and apologizing for doing so.  Maybe it’s Omally’s neighbor Archroy, whose wife has just traded his car for five magic beans.

 

    Nope, those aren't the sources of what’s changed.  It’s that dang brewery that supplies the alcoholic libations to the Flying Swan.  They want to redo the tavern's décor and turn it into an American wild west bar.  And what they want, they will get.

    Really guys?  Cowboy-and-Indian decorations in a West London pub?!

 

What’s To Like...

    Robert Rankin is a top-tier author in a genre he calls “far-fetched fiction”, and The Antipope is his debut novel, published way back in 1981.  We get introduced to Jim Pooley and John Omally, who are masters of wit and paragons of anti-heroics, and who also star in a number of other novels in the author's portfolio.

 

    Robert Rankin is British, which means this story is written in English, not American.  So there are things like aluminium and pedlars, kharma and windscreen-wipers, eyries and kerbs, etc.; and they might be fuelled, cosy, skilful, swopping, lustreless, and sombre.  I learned an old Latin motto: “auspicium melioris gevi” (which means “a hope for a better age”) and a handy Gaelic catchphrase: “pogue mahone” (which means… um, okay, google it.)

 

There are a number of interesting subplots for Jim and John to solve:

    a.) What happens if you plant those “magic beans”?

    b.) Who or what is that mysterious tramp with a bad taste in shoes?

    c.) What’s going on with Captain Carson and his “Mission scam”?

    d.) Is the Earth really hollow?

    e.) Are English tipplers ready for a Cowboy bar?

 

    It was enlightening to learn about “Page Three girls” (see below), and the mysterious and mystical fighting art of “Dimac”, the latter being a recurring gag in Robert Rankin books.  “Reekie’s Syndrome” and “The Brentford Shroud” both made me chuckle.  I was surprised by the brief nod to “Brylcreem” (do they still make that stuff?) and loved the titular reference to the historical Pope Alexander VI.

 

    The final showdown is entertainingly tense, although not particularly twisty.  Our pair of antiheroes are forced against their will to do something heroic, and get a bit of help from a friend.  That too is a recurring theme in books featuring Jim and John.  The final chapter is both a touching epilogue and an effective teaser.

 

Kewlest New Word ...

Page Three Girl (n., phrase) : a woman who appears topless in some popular UK newspapers.

Others: Titfer (n., cockney rhyming); Vindaloo (n.), Barnet (n., cockney rhyming); Gobshite (n., vulgar), Flettons (n., plural); Alopecia (n.).

 

 

Ratings…
    Amazon:  4.4/5 based on 189 ratings and 84 reviews.

    Goodreads: 3.74/5 based on 5,013 ratings and 162 reviews.

 

Excerpts...

    “Soap was telling me that flying saucers are manifestations of the static souls of bygone civilizations,” said Neville, who was not only pleased that the subject of Cowboy Night had been forgotten but was also a great stirrer.

    “I’ve heard that little gem on more than one occasion,” said John, “but you and I know that there is a logical and straightforward explanation for that particular phenomenon.”

    “There is?”

    “Of course, flying saucers are in fact nothing more than the chrome-plated helmets of five-mile high invisible fairy folk.”  (loc. 963)

 

    “By fire and water only may they be destroyed,” said the Professor.  “By fire and water and the holy word.”

    Pooley pulled at his sideburns.  “I will put a match to the blighters,” he said valiantly.

    “It is not as simple as that, it never is.  These beans are the symptom, not the cause.  To destroy them now would be to throw away the only hope we have of locating the evil force which brought them here.”

    “I don’t like the sound of this ‘we’ you keep referring to,” said Jim.  (loc. 4958)

 

Kindle Details…

    The Antipope sells for $6.99 at Amazon.  The other seven books in the trilogy (that is not a typo) go for either $3.99 or $6.99, and Robert Rankin also offers a bunch of other standalone novels, ranging from $2.99 to $7.99, plus his 2015 autobiography, I, Robert, priced at $9.00.

 

“If there are no spots on a sugar cube then I’ve just put a dice in my tea.”  (loc. 986)

    According to Wikipedia, The Antipope is actually a combination of several short stories by Robert Rankin, done in order to come up with a full-length novel which would then be hopefully picked up by a publishing house.

 

    The success of this effort is undeniable: it jumpstarted Robert Rankin’s career as a “Far-Fetched Fiction” novelist, and has since spawned more than three dozen books by him, many of which I’ve read and thoroughly enjoyed.

 

    Unfortunately, the patchworking of short stories shows through here.  Several plotlines, such as the hollow earth angle, enter the tale, tease the reader’s imagination, then drift off, never to be seen again or resolved.  Some, such as the cowboy-bar remodeling, simply have no relevance to the main “antipope” storyline and just serve to add pages to the book.

 

    But if the storytelling meanders a bit, Robert Rankin's writing skills save the day.  I still enjoyed tagging along with John and Jim as they save the world in spite of themselves.  My only caveat is: if you’ve never read any Robert Rankin books, this is not the one to read first.

 

    7 Stars.  A bit of music trivia to close things out,  The original name of the Celtic punk band The Pogues was the phrase cited above, Pogue Mahone, but as their popularity grew, they were forced to abandon that name due to BBC censorship.  Somehow that seems strangely fitting for them.

The Chronicles of Banarnia - Robert Rankin

    2019; 284 pages.  Book 2 of the "Final Brentford Trilogy" series.  New Author? : No.  Genre : Absurdism; British Humour; Far Fetched Fantasy.  Overall Rating : 8*/10.

    “Brentford is under attack.  From a race of beings that most would consider imaginary.  Namely, the fairy folk.”

    Thus spoke Professor Slocombe to his three guests, Julian Adams (aka “the Goodwill Giant”), Jim Pooley and John Omalley (aka “Jim Polly” and John “O’Mary” when they’re getting in touch with their feminine side).

    The fairies’ war plan was diabolically simple.  One night they installed a huge, magic "fairy ring” disguised as a ring-road around Brentford.  No one gets in, no one gets out.  And now the good citizens of Brentford find that Time has reversed itself and with each day they’re moving back towards 1796.

    Why that particular year?  That’s when a major battle was fought between the Fairies and us humans; we who the fairies scornfully refer to as “the Sons of the Simian”.  We won; and the fairies ever since have been relegated to the underground.  The Earth is hollow, you know.

    Now they’re back, and spoiling for a replay of that 1796 battle, and this time they intend to win.  And wipe out every Son of the Simian from the face of the Earth.

What’s To Like...

    The Chronicles of Banarnia is the second book in Robert Rankin’s The Final Brentford Trilogy series.  I haven’t read the first book (The Lord of the Ring Road), so I appreciated that the first chapter here gives a brief backstory.  I haven't read any of C.S. Lewis’s Narnia books either, so I can’t say how much this parodies that series.

    The main plotline features various Brentfordians attempting in various ways to thwart the fairies’ plans.  Some head underground to carry the fighting to Banarnia; others seek to avenge the only casualty in the war so far: “Old Pete” who was done in by a fairy operative nicknamed Dundledots.  Most of these efforts soon go awry, with a number of our heroes getting captured along the way.  The fun is watching the mayhem that ensues.

    This is vintage Robert Rankin, with a slew of his recurring gags showing up: “talking the toot”, alliterative paragraphs (see the excerpt below), lots of wittily-named pubs and booze, and my personal favorite, the lady in the straw hat.  The mystical fighting art of Dimac and Barry the Sprout are missing, but we can live with that.

    The pacing is brisk; there are all sorts of new characters to meet (including the charming, literary-talented P.P. Penrose), and Robert Rankin’s patented wit (which is the main reason I'm hooked on his books) abounds.  The text bounces around from one hero's tale to another's (almost always via a clever segue), yet the storyline is remarkably easy to follow.  The Chronicles of Banarnia is written in English, not American, so you can endeavour to reconnoitre, and be knackered in your leathern attire.

    There are always loads of trivia references in a Robert Rankin book, here they include nods to several other writers in the Fantasy genre.  The musical nods range from Donovan to Adam Ant to Napalm Death, and I was left yearning to hear the song “Werewolves of Wimbledon”.  I also liked the historical mentions of Rorke’s Drift, the Lords of Misrule, and the artists Caravaggio and Hieronymus Bosch.

    The ending is skillfully contrived, twisty, and surprisingly exciting.  Have fun trying to guess which character ultimately turns the tide of battle.  The main plotline – the skullduggery of the fairies – is seemingly resolved, despite this being the second book in a trilogy.  But it should be noted that Robert Rankin considers the proper number of books in a trilogy to be anything other than “three”.

Kewlest New Word...

Mooncalf (n.) : a foolish person (archaic)

Others : Charabanc (n.); Bonce (n.); Toff (n.); Cagoule (n.).

Excerpts...

    This bar did have a certain p-ness about it.

    Patrons perched on pub stools, purveying pump room patter to their peers.  Pinstriped personages perorated with peerless production.  Pints a plenty poured and a pianist named Percy plonked poignantly upon a pink piano.

    “Perfect,” said Omally, “Simply perfect.”

    The three travellers approached the pub counter.  From behind this a plump publican, perused them through a puce and purple peeper.

    “A prial of peregrinators,” he said.  “Welcome to the Pflying Pig.”  (loc. 3092)

    “Where is Jim Pooley?  Bring him to me now.”

    John Omally raised a hand.  “Just why do you want Jim Pooley?”

   “I have come to make him rich.  I am Prince Goodwill Jeremy from Nigeria.  Good friend Pooley helped me when I was without funds and now I am here to reward him.”

    Jim Pooley rose with a smile.  “I am Jim Pooley,” he said.

    Old Pete raised his walking stick.  “I am Jim Pooley,” said he.

    “No, I am Jim Pooley,” said John Omally.

    “I am too,” said Norman.

    “And I an’ I,” said Leo.  (loc. 6809)

Kindle Details...

    The Chronicles of Banarnia sells for $7.99 right now at Amazon, as does the other book in the series, The Lord of the Ring Roads.  Other e-books by Robert Rankin are priced in the $0.99-$7.99 range, with most of them either $3.99 or $6.99.

“There’s more than one way to pickle a beetroot and make it fink it’s an apple.”  (loc. 5354)

    The Chronicles of Banarnia is a typical Robert Rankin offering, but I recognize that can be a plus or a minus.  If you’re yearning for a new literary direction from this author, and he’s penned a slew of novels that do just that, you might be disappointed.  OTOH, if you were wishing he’d stick with the tried-&-true, you’ll be delighted with this one.  I was.

    The final chapter gives an epilogue-like recap of where everyone in the story ends up, which in turn closes with a teaser hinting that there might be at least one more book in the series, possibly titled Normanghast.  If you follow Robert Rankin on Facebook (as I do), you’ll know that 2019 was both a busy year (working on an all-illustrations book) and one with a few health issues.  Here’s hoping that 2020 turns out to be a fantastic year for him, and that we haven’t seen the last of Jim Pooley, John Omally, and Barry the Holy Guardian Sprout.

    8 Stars.  Add 1 Star if you read The Lord of the Ring Roads first.  You’ll undoubtedly get more out of the book than I did, but I still found it a satisfying read.

The Brentford Chainstore Massacre - Robert Rankin

    1997; 366 pages.  Full Title: The Brentford Chainstore Massacre : The Fifth Novel in the Now Legendary Brentford Trilogy.  New Author? : No.  Genre : Absurdism; British Humor; Fantasy; “Far Fetched Fiction”; Running Gags.  Laurels: Nominee, British Fantasy Society “Best Novel” (1997).  Overall Rating : 9*/10.

    The year is 1997, and the world is starting to make plans to welcome in the new millennium.  Of course, it’s still a couple years away, so there’s lots of time to form committees, schedule celebrations, and come up with whatever other festivities are appropriate for welcoming in a new thousand-year stretch of time.

    But in quaint little Brentford, the time schedule is different.  They're planning for the  millennium to arrive two years early, and that means it’s just around the corner.  They’re entitled to this, they claim, because of some sort of document, issued by some Pope way back when, as a Papal Bull and called “the Brentford Scrolls”.  In it he bequeathed Brentford two extra days per year.  And as everyone knows, you can’t rescind something the Pope writes.

    Well, that might sound pretty silly, and it doesn’t help that no one remembers exactly where the Brentford Scrolls are located anymore, or indeed if it still exists.  Maybe it’s all a hoax, or an urban legend.

    But what if the Brentford way of calendar-reckoning is correct?  What if they’re the only ones who will be ushering in the new millennium at the precisely correct moment?  It might unleash something really cosmically good into the world.

    Or something really diabolically evil.

What’s To Like...

    The Brentford Chainstore Massacre is the fifth novel (out of ten, at last count) in the oxymoronically titled “Brentford Trilogy”, and that should give you a hint that the book will be full of the usual absurdities that run through anything penned by Robert Rankin.  The two main characters are Jim Pooley and John Omally, a pair of world-saving antiheroes who love to drink beer at the local pub called “The Flying Swan” and engage in witty repartee.  They are recurring Rankin characters, although I don’t think they are in every book in the quasi-trilogy.

     The storyline is convoluted and nonsensical.  There are two Ultimate Evils: Fred, who’s sold his soul to the Devil, and Dr. Steven Malone, who wants to clone Jesus Christ.  They are joined by a couple of brutish but somewhat dense thugs, Clive and Derek, so our two heroes will have to watch their step.

    The book is written in English, not American.  So you’ll run across words and spellings such as: lino, programme, marvellous, judgement, chilli pepper, and hoovering.  I love books written in English.  You’ll also be introduced to a pair of obscure (but real) medical terms, Idrophroisia and Sacofricosis, neither of which I had heard of before.  Google them at your own peril.

    I loved the ersatz Cockney rhyming schemes, such as “Sandra’s Thighs” standing for “eyes”, and laughed at acronyms such as SUCK (“Secret Unification for the Coming King”).  I was impressed by the two-page run-on sentence (shades of Jack Kerouac!) and another page devoted to F-alliteration.  And the secrets to traveling faster than the speed of light and “de-entropizing” will certainly come in handy. 

    There are 33 chapters (plus three short snippets of stories at the beginning) to cover 366 pages in the book.  There’s even a smidgen of a love story, which is somewhat rare in a Robert Rankin story, but don’t worry, this is not a Harlequin Romance.  The book’s title is referenced on page 242, but frankly, it's a very tenuous tie-in.

    The book’s ending is kind of a stutter-step affair.  The search for the Brentford Scrolls is resolved first, then the millennial celebration begins, with all its looming consequences.  It is all suitably climactic, exciting, and absurd; and you’ll get a new appreciation of the term “deus ex machina”.  Somehow it works out quite well.

    Which is what you’d expect from a gifted wit like Robert Rankin.

Kewlest New Word...

Shufty (n.) : a look; a peep; a peek  (a Britishism).

Others : Dosh (n.; a Britishism); Fractious (adj.); Calumny (n.); Picaresque (adj.); Scrofulous (adj.).

Excerpts...

    A lady in the straw hat sat down beside him.  “Are you lost?” she asked Jack.

    Jack clutched his package to his chest.  “Certainly not,” he told her.

    “Only I get lost sometimes.  I have who’ja vu.”

    “What’s that?”

    “It’s the opposite of déjà vu.  I can be in the middle of the supermarket and suddenly I get this feeling, I’ve never been here before.”
    “I have to go,” said Jack.  “I have a very important package to deliver.”

    “The doctor put me on a course of placebos,” said the lady in the straw hat.  “But I don’t take them.  I’m saving them all up for a mock suicide attempt.”  (pg. 65)

    “I come from a very musical family.  Even the dog hummed in the warm weather.”

    “How interesting,” said the Englishman.

    “Oh yes, very musical.  When I was only three I played on the linoleum.  We had a flood and my mother floated out on the table.  I accompanied her on the piano.  Talking of pianos, the cat sat down at ours once and played a tune, and my mum said, “We must get that orchestrated,” and the cat ran out and we never saw it again.  Now my father, my father died from music on the brain.  A piano fell on his head.”

    “Was that the same piano?” asked the Irishman.

    “Same one,” said Old Pete.  “I never played it myself.  I was going to learn the harp, but I didn’t have the pluck.”  (pg. 332)

“Crop circles are the stigmata of the Corn God.”  (pg. 249)

        There aren’t really any R-rated parts, but there are all sorts of double-entendres and ethnic jokes.  Those easily offended and/or prudish might have some uncomfortable moments.  If little Susie or Timmy reads this book, they might ask embarrassing questions.

    Also, if you’re looking for compelling storyline that will suck you into the tale, Robert Rankin probably isn’t for you.  His books are all about showcasing his delightful writing style, chuckling at running gags and zany happenings, learning all sorts of obscure trivia, admiring the author’s tastes in music, and wondering how in the world he’s going to wrap all the plot threads up.

    The Brentford Chainstore Massacre is my twelfth Robert Rankin book, and I have yet to be bored or disappointed by any of his works.

    9 Stars.  If you happen to be a Facebook member, you might consider following Robert Rankin.  Besides keeping you updated on the latest book he's working on, he also recounts all the bizarre events in his life.  And he seems to have a lot of them.