I haven’t used the term “far out” in... well, a few years, but-- Like, WOW, too!
“MR. BLUR” is an artful work of genre blending. The novel opens full-throttle, introducing us to Paul Bezier, a private detective who “involuntarily” creates his own case when his chosen Lady of the Evening wakes up dead in the morning. The police crave all the gory details. So does Bezier. Thus begins a mystery of mushrooming magnitude.
The reader is immersed, bug-eyed, into a dazzling world of surrealistic exaggerations, ironic contradictions, and subliminal undercurrents. The scenes and characters, though larger than life, tug at the emotions like multi-layered mindscapes. They probe the psyche’s guarded areas of dark and light...
Looming over all, is the recurring intrusion of a shadowy figure—
Underneath it all, is a coveted slippery black cube. I soon felt myself bouncing off the walls of its padded interior.
c. c. dust’s literary style is the epitome of Present Tense. The immediacy is relentless and vivid, as rabid Cyberpunk challenges/merges with classic drawling Gumshoe. This is the author’s first full length work, and evidently he couldn’t resist a pinch of self indulgence. His intermittent appearances in his own tale bring Alfred Hitchcock to mind. A humorous, sly tip-of the-hat.
It works.
But I must get back to that pesky black cube. The significance. And who exactly is MR. BLUR? As in the scenario of a downed aircraft, the “black box” tells the story... or maybe it doesn’t?
Try your luck and decide. Hone those reflexes diamond sharp. To navigate this wild ride, you’ll need a joystick instead of a bookmark—
Lurking in the pixilated shadow between Question and Answer is...
MR. BLUR
