Reviews for My Elvis Blackout
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From this surreal collection of vignettes emerges a deliciously obscene and blackly comic vision of the king. Crump’s Elvis Presley is an object of fantasy, fear and fun. He is a gun-toting murderer, a paranoid drug addict and a foetus. He is the killer of Barbara Cartland, the decapitator of Chris de Burgh and the bank robbing partner-in-crime of Roy Orbison. Think Quentin Tararntino on acid in Graceland. Extraordinary.
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In counterpoint to the world’s predilection for Elvis-as-hero and back-from-the-dead fantasies, philosopher Simon Crump has concocted the surreal and often grotesque My Elvis Blackout. In an unnervingly bizarre series of vignettes, Elvis and his friends [and a monkey called Scatter] go on the rampage, exterminating fans and enemies alike with a range of lethal weapons. Like an episode of South Park, where just as you get into the story something goes splat, Crump’s contorted imagination is alarmingly enjoyable.
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Here’s a book to really make you laugh, providing you have tough constitution. A twisted take on an iconic subject, this unusual work features Elvis as a serial- killing preacher who listens to his hairdresser’s advice to get in touch with other cultures. But instead of taking up yoga Elvis gets into cannibalism. Each chapter is written almost as a short story; best is Lady In Red, where Chris de Burgh meets with the King’s scorn, and fails to get out alive.
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Elvis regularly ate deep-fried squirrels; Elvis faked his death to work undercover for the CIA; when Elvis died, the shit in his constipated bowels was denser than concrete: There’s just no stopping the mythology surrounding the Pelvis. Simon Crump’ superb debut, however, takes this to extremes – whether painting him as a Yorkshire hitman buying electricity tokens, or mutilating a crowd of Led Zeppelin fans by bombing them with frozen pig excrement. Consequently, this is less a coherent novel than a series of surreal, perverse images. But Crump writes with such a lack of fear that it’s both hilariously refreshing a destined to gloriously offend any fans who prefer to forget hid amphetamine-stuffed cheeseburger death.
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Primary school prose and a plot out of a cokehead’s arse, this book is a waste of paper.
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In this macabre fantasy based on the life and troubled times of Elvis Presley, Crump takes the reader on a disturbingly funny journey inside the mind of his central character. Frequently inspired, often darkly witty, Crump is a writer with an imagination the size of a house. There are elements here of Irvine Welsh, but the cinematic style of writing also suggests a bizarre coupling of Pulp fiction and The Waltons. Clever, twisted, you have to admire the sheer verve and audacity.
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From the official Chris de Burgh website:
October 21 2004
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Lance Johnson [35] Mesa, Arizona, USA:
I read a book called My Elvis Blackout by Simon Crump. I wouldn’t really recommend the book, but I read it out of curiosity due to the fact that you were in it. In this book, the author’s character kills you and you come back for a little time in a zombie-like state. As much as we like to say that these types of things do not bother us, I imagine that is not really the case. How do you personally deal with something sick and hateful like this?
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Chris de Burgh:
Well, you know what Lance, if I was born with a name like Simon Crump, I would spend the rest of my life trying to get all that anger and resentment out of me by being very rude about other people. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words can never hurt me. Or something like that. No, I wouldn’t even give this a passing thought. When you are a famous person, you are there; you are up for grabs for people to have a go at. I know there are comedians who make fun of me. But, you know, I look at my beautiful family, I look at the house I live in and I look at my fans all over the world, and I look at my career and I think, well it’s all based on jealousy and envy and really I don’t give a toss. Thanks for the question though!
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