Put these in your eyes.

Only Revolutions
Mark Z. Danielewski



I'd like to think that the word "novelty" is the linguistic step-cousin-in-law to the word "novel". I'd like to think that over time ideas turn their course and gain momentum. I would especially like to think that one day this writer will out-do his first novel and leave me damaged and needing to make some of it go away. . . again.

So get some:

This Novel has no discernible front or back. You pick it up and it rolls and tumbles in your curious palms like a pet doing circles around the carpet before finding it's "spot". Then you realize you've already made a choice and it's stuck. You'll probably think about it a lot when you're not reading and wonder how it would have been different the other way.

Inside both identical but vertically reversed jacket flaps is an inconspicuous box that reads:

"The publisher suggests alternating between Hailey & Sam, reading eight pages at a time."

It comes fully equipped with two opposing cloth bookmarks.

The Holy
Daniel Quinn



What if all the religions, at once, proved without a doubt that their faith was the truest reality? What if Santa Clause grew a pair of serpentine horns and vacationed amongst the dead in the mountains of Colorado? What if that robot fortune teller decided to walk and frequent hotel bars that don't exist anymore?

It's a detective story, a fable, a myth and a self-help book. The fantastic truth of religion is, at best, a true fantasy from the perspective of detective Howard Scheim. He's recently retired, divorced and the most youthful member of the Herman Litvak Chess Club on North Sheridan Road in Chicago.

Seems Howard has one case left in a nine live cat and a dog eat dog sly smile.


Oh yeah, and no talking apes.