Novels/ Creative Works
SOUND: original music by Paul D Miller aka DJ Spooky
Davis Schneiderman’s 206-page novel, Blank, contains only compelling chapter titles. The story is – as it always has been – up to the reader. White-on-white pyrographic images are by notable artist Susan White. The fine art edition is shrink-wrapped and enclosed in a wooden box that is fully encased in plaster and can be opened with a pull-tab. Once opened, the box cannot be re-encased. Music will be composed and performed by renowned experimental hip hop musician, Paul D Miller aka DJ Spooky.
This book helps preserve a culture, an environment, and a future for the arts. Half of our proceeds from the sale of this book help support the The Vanuatu Pacifica Project and Tanna Center for The Arts. The Project is a 14.8-acre off-the-grid artists retreat, cultural preservation and technological education space. Its site is situated on the island of Tanna’s northern up-country, in the archipelago of Vanuatu.
In this seemingly endless desert east of Chicago, three factions are locked in conflict: the original end-of-times cultist settlers who follow religious visionary Fulcrum Maneuvers and worship a giant World Worm they deem responsible for the drained lake; the megacorporation Quadrilateral, a mega-consumerist, planned-community combine of bourgeois city planners developing what is now called the Wildland-Urban Interface; and the Blackout Angels, landlocked punk pirates raised in Quadrilateral cities, who oppose everything and everyone.
In Davis Schneiderman’s shocking novel, Drain, freedom, creativity, and transgression wage war with forces of control, censorship, and conformity. The wordscapes of William S. Burroughs and Thomas Pynchon, the dystopic nightmares of Philip K. Dick, and the transgressive punch of Chuck Palahniuk and Georges Bataille together convene in this stunning and thrilling work.
Drain is a post-American post-apocalyptic novel of excess, at once hilarious and brutal, with all the over-the-top energy and weird delight of a psychedelic cartoon. A mash-up of worm-worshipping cultists, a corporation committed to colonizing the deadland that used to be one of the Great Lakes with planned communities, and more, Schneiderman’s latest warns us about what’s next if we’re not careful while creating an outrageous cultural critique that Bataille, Burroughs, and Acker would be proud of.
Think the poetic stew/spew of an illegitimate son of Wm. Burroughs and K. Acker in a mid-21st century Midwest comix reverie of punk hoodlums as if ashioned by Elmore Leonard gone mad as Lear upon Mackinac Island, the great lakes likewise gone cloacal, the Post-American wind done gone wrong, and all of it a gleeful earful of eloquent Ballardian-cum-Bardic effluvia, and you’ve almost got what Schneiderman’s fashioned in Drain; a headily obscene (in the root sense) tour de-literal- force beyond anything you can, or perhaps ought to, imagine, but which you will not forget.
Schneiderman has become a literary postmodern real-estate developer–slash–water-reclamation engineer from Mars.
Don’t you dare blink. Not even once. There is no time to blink and there is too much at stake with looking away or awry. Davis Schneiderman’s prose is lightning. Mad flashes of electric energy. I’m not even sure if this guy actually writes sentences. I think he has invented something else to carry his stories. No good old-fashioned sentence could possibly contain the crazed linguistic feats and actions packed into every moment, every movement of Schneiderman’s language. I was exhausted when I finished reading Drain. And perhaps even more so, I was unnerved. Schneiderman’s narrative hijinx will change the way you think you think. Each sentence is a fit, a sputter of theoretical rage. I know something now, something that worries me and I am not sure what to do with this new way for knowing. I am not sure if I should thank Schneiderman or run for the hills. Schneiderman does what good writers must do: he tells riveting stories that change how we see into the world. His characters, his plots, twist us out of our comfortably numb rocking chairs and wake us up.
Drain is the Clockwork Orange of our age, and anyone who cares about what we are becoming should read this book lest it become prophetic.
Sleek like a culture-jamming missile, satisfying like a cheap bottle of wine, ferocious like a genetically modified Carnival Dragon, Abecedarium rolls all three into one mother of a tale.