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Lint

von Steve Aylett

MitgliederRezensionenBeliebtheitDurchschnittliche BewertungDiskussionen
18911145,480 (3.63)9
"There was also a problem with the first edition of Rigor Mortis. The biographical notes on the back cover-- with the by now inevitable photo of Lint kissing a tortoise-- stated that Lint had died in 1972. The media, poised to praise him after his death, sprang in with lamentations that he had been tragically neglected by commercial enterprise and that it was baffling that his artistic genius had not been more appreciated. Their bitter embarrassment upon learning that he was still alive and open to their patronage drove a bigger wedge than ever between the media and Lint-- they had no recourse but to pretend he did not exist at all. 'So in terms of money, publicity and ease of progress,' Lint observed, 'all remains the same.'" Jeff Lint was author of some of the strangest and most inventive satirical SF of the twentieth century. He transcended genre in classics such as Jelly Result and The Stupid Conversation, becoming a cult figure and pariah. Like his contemporary Philip K. Dick, he was blithely ahead of his time. Aylett follows Lint through his Beat days; his immersion in pulp SF, psychedelia and resentment; his disastrous scripts for Star Trek and Patton; the controversies of The Caterer comic and the scariest kids' cartoon ever aired; and his belated Hollywood success in the 1990s. It was a career haunted by death, including the undetected death of his agent, the suspicious death of his rival Herzog, and the unshakable "Lint is dead" rumors, which persisted even after his death.… (mehr)
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Wow...let me try to collect my thoughts. I was quite close to giving this 4 stars, or 2. This is a biography of a fictional writer. One of those fringe experimental types.
Take every parody you've ever seen of the kind of people who make one man shows, or do performance art. Mix in William S. Burroughs using his cut-up technique, a dash of Lovecraft, add a sprinkling of Andy Kaufman, maybe a touch of Alan Moore, Hunter S. Thompson or Michael Moorcock during his Jerry Cornelius writings. Oh and pour in some of Frank from the film 'Frank'.

So to try to find the point i lost somewhere above. This is a biography about a guy that writes complete bollocks. I mean it is the worst kind of 60's experimental garbage. Its a very well told bio, and is best when it interweaves with the real world.

The problem is that all the quotes from Lint are such nonsense, somehow even the fact that this is a satire doesn't lessen their annoyance... and yet and yet. After about a third of the way through i actually found some of the nonsense making sense. I can't tell whether the author was getting less obtuse or the text actually rewired my brain.

It helps that tv and film are mixed in, did you know Lint wrote an used script for the Star-Trek animated show? He didn't because he's fictional but still .

By the end i think i'm adding this to my reread list if only to see if the first third is still as annoying. If you've ever read any surreal or really artistic or experimental fiction, or experienced that kind of stuff in film, music or theatre then you might get a kick out this.
Or you might want to hunt down the author and club them to death with an imaginary wedge, or maybe both .

I think this might be the least insightful review i've ever written :lol. ( )
  wreade1872 | Nov 28, 2021 |
what. the. fuck.

I have no idea what to think of this book. in part it was the funniest thing I've ever read, at other points it was completely baffling bollocks.

confusing, hilarious and incomprehensible. ( )
1 abstimmen mjhunt | Jan 22, 2021 |
Absurdist fictional biography of an Asimovian Pulp writer without the talent.

The surrealist and intentionally underground tone of the book reminds me of Derek and Clive. And the 10th chapter *Catty and the Major* features a horrifying children's cartoon shared on recycled VHS by aficionados as with D&C.

Lint's fractured book synopses read like Aylett's real-life bedside table fragments. Half formed ideas for implausible and impossible stories. Summaries that work as trailers, but not features (a hotel with each floor is located in a different year). Lines too good to leave in a notebook and needing a form to be released.
  thenumeraltwo | Feb 11, 2020 |
Bonkers. Stark raving bonkers. But also brilliant. From its opening epigraph to its closing acknowledgements, this fictional biography of science fiction “legend” Jeff Lint is a breathtaking tour-de-force. It traces Lint’s life from his birth in 1928 to his death in 1994. Typically, Lint’s death was immediately preceded by a near-death experience. He was that kind of guy.

Lint’s life, such as it was, really began when he sought to publish his first stories during the hey-day of pulp science fiction. Lint’s stories were beyond the edge of sensible. So much so that quoting from any of them would render this account senseless. And his periodic forays into other media — comics, film, even pop music — were equally bizarre and disastrous. It’s the kind of life you won’t struggle to remember.

Aylett’s attention to detail is astounding. There is a bibliography at the end that stretches to a hundred blissfully imagined publications. He provides pages of “Lint Quotations” with such memorable lines as, “When the abyss gazes into you, bill it.” And there is a comprehensive 11 page index. Did I mention it was bonkers?

The downside of all this inventiveness is that reading the book is exhausting. Even a few pages at a time. I kept wondering how exhausting it must have been for Steve Aylett to write. And why. Certainly he has created something utterly unique. We can only hope it remains that way.

Cautiously recommended to those who either already are bonkers, or are hoping to go there. ( )
  RandyMetcalfe | Dec 20, 2019 |
Mildly amusing but goes on too long in the same vein. Might have been better as a short. ( )
  SChant | Jul 12, 2018 |
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'When the abyss gazes into you, bill it.'
Jeff Lint
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for Alan Moore
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Pulp science fiction author Jeff Lint has loomed large as an influence on my own work since I found a scarred copy of I Blame Ferns in a Charing Cross basement, an apparently baffled chef staring from the cover.
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"There was also a problem with the first edition of Rigor Mortis. The biographical notes on the back cover-- with the by now inevitable photo of Lint kissing a tortoise-- stated that Lint had died in 1972. The media, poised to praise him after his death, sprang in with lamentations that he had been tragically neglected by commercial enterprise and that it was baffling that his artistic genius had not been more appreciated. Their bitter embarrassment upon learning that he was still alive and open to their patronage drove a bigger wedge than ever between the media and Lint-- they had no recourse but to pretend he did not exist at all. 'So in terms of money, publicity and ease of progress,' Lint observed, 'all remains the same.'" Jeff Lint was author of some of the strangest and most inventive satirical SF of the twentieth century. He transcended genre in classics such as Jelly Result and The Stupid Conversation, becoming a cult figure and pariah. Like his contemporary Philip K. Dick, he was blithely ahead of his time. Aylett follows Lint through his Beat days; his immersion in pulp SF, psychedelia and resentment; his disastrous scripts for Star Trek and Patton; the controversies of The Caterer comic and the scariest kids' cartoon ever aired; and his belated Hollywood success in the 1990s. It was a career haunted by death, including the undetected death of his agent, the suspicious death of his rival Herzog, and the unshakable "Lint is dead" rumors, which persisted even after his death.

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