By Prof. Jason Crest

May 2007
Paperback | 110 x 160 mm | 130 pages

SKU: 66mf99 Categories: , ,


My “good” “friend” Prof. Jason Crest was in touch after a long hiatus that wasn’t quite so long as I would have liked. He’d got wind of the Russian translation of Octopus and it had inspired him to dig out some of his old scribblings. Not only that, he’d got wind.

Well, every silver lining has a cloud, and being a somewhat obtuse character (my most serious competition for the mantle of World’s Most Obscure Experimental Novelist) his book was eventuating with no discernable publisher, isbn or identification. Admittedly, the book is a bit rude (as the title infers) but I questioned whether it warranted quite that level of paranoia. Prof. Crest replied that he held the traffic in illegal narcotics in high (?!) regard as a best-practice model for efficent distribution networks. The serious social costs attendant on the trade were merely indicative of its effectiveness. Prof. Crest had therefore taken the radical, though logical, step of appropriating their methods of transacting business, notwithstanding the legality of his own product. It goes without saying that Prof. Crest is noted for his moral courage and the novelty of his thinking rather than his pragmatism.

Consequently, should you wish to obtain a copy of this marvellous novel, you will either have to know someone who can fix you up or be prepared to hang around near the khazi of the scungiest pub you can find nearby. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t help feeling that he may be onto something.

When I told him that I didn’t want to pay for my copy on the grounds that the first hit was customarily free, he laughed in my face and told me to send that one in to Mythbusters, one of his least favourite television shows. Then he punched me in the face and told me to send that one in to Australia’s Funniest Home Videos, one of his favourites. He’s a wag, that Cresty. I could have fucking had him only I thought it was funny. Next time, twat…

Simon Strong,
18 May 2007


  1. Stewart Home

    Well here’s a strange little object that arrived in the mail with no return address and no publishing details on it. Part homage and part pastiche of the Olympia Press, this is an anti-narrative in the tradition of de Sade and Stewart Home (that’s me btw), in which the beginning isn’t really a beginning and the end definitely isn’t an end. The narrator is airlifted from a ship and taken to a secret sex laboratory in Australia where the brain waves of nymphomaniac cyborg sex slaves are recorded to no apparent purpose; after a slew of over the top shagging this novella ends before it ever really begins (well at least the reader isn’t bored) with the funerary rites of one of the narrator’s co-workers (who is also the author of a notorious but unavailable experimental sex novel “Rape vs. Murder”). “66 Mindfuck 99” is short, sweet, filthy and contains a whole slew of amusing footnotes, and its author(s) very self-consciously break every literary rule they can think of. If like me, you like to read about men having perverse sex with androids (the author takes particular delight in describing female sex kitten cyborgs pissing in the open mouths of willing young men) then this is the novella for you. ‘A whole New Dimension of Sex’ trumpets the back cover blurb, and for once the product lives up to the promotion. I laughed my metaphorical cock off reading this, and I’m sure you will too… One chapter is even a word for word plagiarism of Simon Strong’s story contribution to my ten year old fiction anthology “Suspect Device”; I’m sure the Pink Stainless frontman will be well flattered. I haven’t got a clue how you get hold of “66 Mindfuck 99” but make sure you do… It is a corker…. in fact the best piece of fiction I’ve read since erm, Snowbooks published my novel “Memphis Underground” earlier this year…

  2. Thee Rockhunter

    Just got me a copy of 66 MIND FUCK 99, a new novella by Jason Crest. It came in the post yesterday. It’s a wildly incoherent tale of sexology, international travel and the mathematics of identity. I’m obviously on someone’s mailing list, although the author’s package was not labelled with a return address. So I’ve no idea where this came from. It appears to be a self-published work as there are no publisher’s details anywhere within. The colour photocopied dust-jacket is very prettily done. In 66 MIND FUCK 99, surely we are presented with a mystery wrapped in an enema.

    I always wondered where the band responsible for the awesome tune, “Black Mass”, got their name from and now I know. The bibliography at this novella’s rear tells me Jason Crest was a mid-60s writer on literary erotica. Intriguingly, it also cites Posh Boy Records, Bryon Gysin, Ian Fleming, Isaac Asimov and Alan Turing as textual references.

    I’m not sure whether the Jason Crest who wrote this is the same Jason Crest who was published by the British Journal of Experimental Literature in 1966. In fact, I don’t give a monkey’s. I want my bookshelves filled with recognisably experimental literature, and this fits the bill very nicely. It’s so literary, in fact, that it mentions a cunt, lady-juice or a spouting cock at least on every other page. The world we thought we had lost is with us once more. No longer do we have to raise our faces expectantly to receive anaemic offerings from the likes of Eggers, Self or the rest. Here’s some good gravy worth slurping!

    In other news, it may delight the publishers of 66 MIND FUCK 99 to hear that the well-known Brighton mobile phone retailed, King of GSM, has opened an outlet on St James’s Street.

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