Amphetamine Sulphate

I WILL FILL MY BELOVED MEXICO WITH BETTER DISFIGURED GHOSTS

David Kuhnlein writes like he’s casting a spell. Bloodletter is entrancingly evil, every sentence a revelation and a curse: “How much can you care for someone if you can’t afford to dress them in a body bag? ”

A grotesque world unfurls from his searing prose: “Ghosts reveal their measurements in smoke, different shades, more rings in the middle if they died long ago. Satan can’t keep up.” Blood sacrifices have never been so beautiful. -- Danielle Chelosky

"Half our clothes are on the floor. The other half hang from the ceiling. Labyrinthine flesh-piles make a staircase. Polishing the soot off a breast with my sleeve, I dance horizontally. The band regurgitates into their instruments to slow the tempo, blowing catchy bubbles of sick. Sweat snows upward, stagnant when we see ourselves pooled within it, mosquitoes in a tin can. Vestigial, amoebic replications, abominable degenerations of the ape, totems fucked through stained glass. I toast the trash.
Out of mounds, shaved together into a consciousness, a golden star excretes, floating toward me in a mist, apples singed in her teenaged hair, waist the width of a cigarette. I’m going to bugger her so hard they’ll have to put a serial number on the headstone. “If I’m to your taste, mister, this might spell the end for you.” What more could I ask of a woman?
A heart condition of a child, torqued to breed too soon. I offer dialectic fugues, 77 press her forehead, cast a sigil tuned to the cacophony around us. Swaying, she enters a canyon trance, plummeting under magma.
Beautiful funerals for all my friends. Remember me as an itch."

With cover design, illustrations and Art Cards by Steven Purtill (Human Rights, Coyote, Small Talk at the Clinic etc.)

“A series of shit dominoes forever falling onto each other; the bloodline never stops creating a firm continual history of behavioural mess.” 

It’s comedy night on the terminal ward. Jason Williamson returns with thirteen all-new short stories from a grim and desperate world where everything is either ‘knackered and shit or new and shit.’

Sound familiar? Here you’ll meet roaming loners, twats in fast cars, hard men telling porkies, strong women who know the score, various music maniacs and sex-addled, whizz-infested pub warts galore. But it’s not all abject fucking misery, Williamson’s characters come alive and somehow manage to conjure some happy days from the endless, panicked slog of caged poverty and bad choices.

So settle down for some porn barks, crap nature, terrible housing and dogging hotspots. Life à la fuckin sniff innit.

Jason Williamson is, of course, in the Sleaford Mods

‘Slabs from Paradise’ (2017)

Isabelle Nicou returns with her fiercely imaginative new novel Stricture.

A dizzying, kaleidoscopic work of filial obligation, literary mentorship and childhood dreams of alien abduction.

"In Harry’s suburban house, cluttered with books and stacks of papers, time was bending in an elliptical orb that never failed to constrain me during the few months broken by vacations and interruptions—several, for Harry was often invited abroad—where I went once a week to, as my famous mentor put it, “assist” him.

"Around 9:30 in the morning, after he had come—often still in pajamas over which he put on a putty-colored raincoat—to look for me at the train station in his white Fiat Panda, after we had a cup of coffee in the kitchen and greeted his wife who was leaving for her job in Paris, in the fifth arrondissement, just a few streets over from my studio, I had to climb the stairs and get started."

Suffused with eroticism and troubling despair, Stricture is the work of a major talent at the very height of her considerable powers.

Paperback, 168 pages.

Amphetamine Sulphate Science Fiction is here.

Hardback cover with over 600 pages of original SF novellas and stories by Thomas Moore, Audrey Szasz, Christopher Zeischegg, Simon Morris (his final completed novella), Blake Butler, Kenji Siratori, SJXSJC, Alexandrine Ogundimu, David Cotner, Ian Haig and Philip Best, plus Adam Lehrer on Crypto-Transgression in Art and Jarett Kobek interviewed by Grant Maierhofer. With a selected bibliography, 1967-1978.

Limited copies receive Philip Best signed postcard.

B&W illustrations by Steven Purtill.

108 pages, paperback book.

Isabelle Nicou is a major French literary writer, dealing in explicit themes and appearing in English translation for the very first time.

"The asphalt was still swaying to the sound of the neume, reverberating off the metal bodies of cars, when, lying on the sidewalk on boulevard de Sébastopol, teeth grinding, I distinctly heard a voice breathe behind me: 'Elizabeth! Elizabeth! Is this how the child leaped in your womb?'"

A claustrophobic novel of poisonous desire.

122 pages, paperback book.

Isabelle Nicou is a major French literary writer, dealing in explicit themes and appearing in English translation for the very first time.

"The taste of my skin nauseates you, but my breath doesn't disgust you as much as the thought of what people might make of your nausea. Burrowed in the veins that quiver at my temples, I can glimpse the fissure in the one who so skillfully broke me in half. My inhibition is only a veneer; don't cry victory."

An erotic novel of hypnotic abandon.