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Until that day when Brunelleschi sees one thousand vanishing points in every painting. The lines tangle. He slips and falls, and is still falling...

Oh Narcissus! Oh mirror, oh beam of light! Oh sticky greedy retina that devours all! Oh chemicals! Oh optic nerve! Oh never-ending desire!

Through the crackle of broken devices, in the scattered alphabets of Earth, through undiscovered skies; the last ever television broadcast travels on.

Each day Leonard shaves the five o’clock shadow from his face and glues it to his bald pate. Question: how many layers of shadow equal darkness?

We were half asleep in the multiplex, watching half a film and half a dream; happy to be the stars of our very own story, where film and dream intermingled.

A gun that shoots live dragonflies from larva bullets, six in the magazine, one in the chamber. The night lit up with electric blues and greens.

Finally, after many hours, they managed to find a way out of the garden maze. Their love, however, was still wandering the pathways, lost.

All things unknown, unseen and unsaid are yours. Unless they become known, are seen or said aloud, in which case they belong to the Company.

Urgently needed by the British Library: five hundred glow-worms, each housed in its own glass bulb. All other forms of light cause the manuscripts to fade.

In Fog Town, music travels so slowly we hear it ten minutes after the busker has left. Our words hang over the cafe table as our bodies walk away.

Silence Fiction: the genre without words, images, characters or plot. Or books. Only the rumours of a story once read by somebody, years and years before.

Reader, I downloaded him.

They have carried the camera for many weeks now, the lens cracked, the chemical plate faltering on that last captured image: the man from the skies.

The girls of Dusk arrive at first shadow to feed on the insects that flit around the pond. The boys of Summer catch pollen on their tongues.

The nouns are always accompanied by adjectives, except when nearing mirrors; in which case they prefer to be alone, and indescribable.

ICYMI: Angry Robot Books has acquired the rights to Jeff Noon’s memoir-inspired fantasy, Moon Over Brendle. Blending magical contemporary fantasy with memoir, the book is set to be published 12 May 2026 👇 thebookseller.com/rights/jeff-no…

We are thrilled to announce the acquisition of Jeff Noon's memoir-inspired fantasy Moon Over Brendle. Blending magical contemporary fantasy with memoir, the book is set to be published 12 May 2026. Discover more over at The Bookseller ! thebookseller.com/rights/jeff-...

A while back I did the Papertrail podcast discussing 3 of my favourite books, by David Markson, David Peace & Jeff Noon papertrailpodcast.libsyn.com/037-marc-nash

Contact us for free #reviewcopies of these anti-oedipal titles from James Reich, Norman Spinrad, John Madera, Jeff Noon, D. Harlan Wilson, (((Moribund Facekvetch))) (he/him), Tom Prime, Andrew Joron, Andrew C. Wenaus, and Steve Beard. anti-oedipuspress.com/books

Special Barnes & Noble pre-order sale on the new Angry Robot Books edition of Pollen. Check it out here: barnesandnoble.com/w/pollen-jeff-…