Thustly the author, Rod Longuestte, has defined his Nadventures of Nad series. Yet what exactly is the underlying message of the series? Is it, as some have suggested, an engine, obscured by unbreakable ciphers, designed to rent the underlying fabric of society? At what price? Is there a security deposit involved? We will unsuccessfully attempt to answer this and other questions. Questions like: "What the hell is this?"
We open our exploration with a description of the influences on the author.
Mr. Longuestte's approach is hardly original. He readily credits John Lennon with the barely readable style he uses threwout. Unfamiliar readers may not be aware but John Lennon wrote several well receipted books. In His Own Write was the first. Beatled band member John went to on write A Spaniard In The Works and Skywriting By Way Of Mouth one after the other mostly in that order. A reading of these firmly establishes Mr. Longuestte's lack of originality. Nonethemore, Mr. Longuestte insists that his Nadventures are not merely stalen copies of Lennan's marks.
Longuestte's works read like those which Edgar Rice Burroughs, H.G Wells, and Jules Verne tossed as unsuitable. Only worse. A cursory leafing through the pictures before tossing the entire collection may leave the tosser with the impression that Longuestte's Nadventures are written in Ebonics, an insider dialect inner-citied people often of color use because they live there. This resemblance is vague, at best (a closer correlation esists between Ebonics and Popeyemonics). Faulty comparisons of Ebonics and Nadmonics may stem from contrastive similarities; both resort to cadential offsets which bastardize the King's English (required school curriculum so everyone will know what the King's on about now). Be that as it may (or may not be), those suggesting that Nadventures are Ebonic in nature show themselves to be tossers, not readers.
And what of Shakespeare? Are comparisons of the works of Rod Longuestte to those of the Bard of Lard academically reasonable? Mayhaps. People are inclined to look at Mr. Longuestte's Nads in the same way they look at Shakespeare's. They simply avoid them. Consider this however. Mr. Longuestte's invention of words is not unlike Shakespeare's own. It is said, by those so intellectually superior the other 7.6 billion dare not question them or they'll have their dumbasses bombed, that Shakespeare invented modern English.
To quote Mr. Longuestte: "Shakespeare's English was so ahead of his time that people still don't talk that way."
Be that as it is, Shakespeare could not have anticipated, nor could he control, the impact his work would have beyond his time. A slimiar fate may await the works of Longuestte. Like Shakespeare, who would lose control of his plays, Longuestte has no control over his Nads.
To be clear; Rod Longuestte is not within a metric Al Gore of parity with the talent and genius of the above personages. They are influences. Other influences - arguably the larger influences - cannot be explored in depth by exclusive high-collar reviews like this, because those influences include stuff like Rocky and Bullwinkle, the backs of cereal boxes, Beany and Cecil, the Bible...
So let's just quickly move to the review quickly, shall we?
Nad is an archetypal figure in the same vain as Tarzan. Other reviewers ask, "Archetypical or plagiarized?" These are hyper-redundantly synonymous, according to Mr. Longuestte. Except Tarzan wears a loincloth and Nad wears a groincloth. The underlying matter is firmer however. The differences are startling even more.
At this point it should be pointedly pointed out that: A). Tarzan never toured with The Beatles. B). John Lennon never said his books were bigger than Edgar Rice Burroughs'. 3 ). Shakespeare is rumoured to have been Gael as a nine-bob scone molded in latex, and died peenyless in a water closet near Broek.
The Nadventures of Nad series is flawed by grammatical errors, random punctuations, preposterous spellings, polysemous zeugmas, and above all made up words - lobbed about without definition. To excuse these as purposeful puns, or cleverly calculated spoonerisms, or intentionally banked-shot malapropisms is literary masturbation in Freudian slippers.
It is quiet impossible to read them out loud. Efforts to read the series silently to one's self are much like attempts to view stereograms. You know, those pictures that look like flourescent vomit until you cross your eyes and stare at them for 10 minutes, and magically an amazing 3 dementional image appears. Of a carrot. However, only a portion of the population is able to resolve the carrot; unyielding flourescent vomit troubles the remainder.
Readers completing this book are, by definition, not tossers. The hurdles past now, lettuce leaf tossers behinds and hope the suspenseful forthcoming volumes of The Nadventures of Nad are suspenseful. And forthcoming.