Your cart is currently empty!
Amphetamine Sulphate
Audrey Szasz 'Counterillumination' Book
£27.99
Amphetamine Sulphate
Audrey Szasz 'Counterillumination' Book
£27.99
402 pages, hardcover. The Story of Z. A witty and extravagant erotic classic for the 21st Century. Audrey Szasz’s third novel is her most ambitious trip yet.
A 400 page psychic assault course journeying through the delirious present and harrowed hellscapes of futures past.
This truly encyclopaedic outsider vision of ecstasy and, until now, unimaginable horror will surely warp your pretty little mind forever. But you love it really, don’t you. So come on, don’t be late. Take a chance with us. The train is about to leave .…
File under: Sex (deviant). Violence (frequent). Psychology (experimental). Science (fiction). Literature (Radical). Counter (Illumination)
A 400 page psychic assault course journeying through the delirious present and harrowed hellscapes of futures past.
This truly encyclopaedic outsider vision of ecstasy and, until now, unimaginable horror will surely warp your pretty little mind forever. But you love it really, don’t you. So come on, don’t be late. Take a chance with us. The train is about to leave .…
File under: Sex (deviant). Violence (frequent). Psychology (experimental). Science (fiction). Literature (Radical). Counter (Illumination)
Related products
-
Release Date: 24/05/2024Visit product page →
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.) -
Visit product page →Are You Ready To Have Your Skull Scraped?
Introducing AS Horror
With cover design, illustrations and Art Cards by Steven Purtill (Human Rights, Small Talk at the Clinic etc.).“Bodies are weird. I think that’s why I’ve always been so drawn to them. Watching them, that is. You could call it a curiosity but I get how it looks. My eyes are always drawn to skin and the way you can see the calcified pistons and joints bend and protrude, testing the limits of the soft nets protecting them. I see the jocks stretching in their muscle shirts and think about how their shoulder blades look like vultures’ wings trying to tear free.”
In my imagination I’ve killed myself a thousand times. Others, too. Max Restaino’s Coyote is a drawn out dissociative episode, a lucid nightmare of disemboweled animals, nosebleeds, vomit, tapeworms, soundtracked to System of a Down. Kids play video games, trespass into abandoned homes, chat in the school cafeteria, but the universe disintegrates slowly, leeches crawling underneath skin, every moment pierced by a knife. Coyote is raw, enveloping violence. -- Danielle Chelosky -
“I’m so close to falling apart. Fuck it. Who isn’t?”Visit product page →
Thomas Moore’s latest novel Your Dreams, the follow-up to 2021’s devastating Forever, is a visceral yet contained inquiry into the endless need to be understood.
Eavesdropping on a debate about cancelled bands, listening to a close friend’s explanation of his disturbing desires, facilitating a conversation about kinks at a party until it goes wrong, Moore’s narrator is less of a character than a witness of desperate disconnection.
Your Dreams, despite its impulse to hide, faces the reader head-on in an intimate unmasking, still grasping for closeness in a world of limits.
“Simple words. Deep emotions … beyond prose to another plane. Openness that pours through you.” Jack Skelley, The Los Angeles Review of Books
“Thomas Moore is one of the best writers the world has in stock.”
Dennis Cooper -
“It’s a wanker’s hell, a nothing, with everything wrong in it. Civvy Life is a fucking boredom cruise across the dead med. Fuck that.Visit product page →
Responsibility isn’t for animals on drugs and when the sharpened cone emerges, the green twisted wart, the wicked witch; then you go for it big time, open your legs, fuck them, let them fuck your face, become the god and don’t feel bad about it either.”
Put a song in your heart (and a pill your tongue) with these five stories of misery, mirth and mental mayhem from the ground zero of UK grimness. “'Amphetamine Sulphate', a chapbook press that prides itself on the cheap, brutal rush of pure literature.
Among the writers of the first collection is Sleaford Mods' Jason Williamson, who's turned his pen to a collection of five stories titled Slabs From Paradise.” Quietus
v
