David McLean is a Welsh pervert from Sweden, where he lives with dog and cats and wife in a house on a small island in a very large lake near to Stockholm. He has books out that you can, and should, buy, or even read for free in a couple of cases. He has had a lot of work published in various zines, reputable and otherwise, and is submitting to zines very seldom nowadays.

He has a full length out NOW at Epic Rites bookstore called laughing at funerals. Like all epic rites publications this will be available in quality bookstores and through Small Press Distribution. This is easily his best book so far, he feels, and you should buy it. Details follow, it is AVAILABLE NOW along with three other books, and the two previously published books from 2009, see the navbar for details of these and you won't be disappointed with the samples.

He is just finishing off his first novel, which is a little over 60 000 words and a sort of perverse Bildungsroman about an existentially disillusioned and thoroughly despicable junkie called Henrietta. She is based on him so she is obliged to a lesbian. This is probably coming some time in 2011, since books should be decently spaced out.

This is AVAILABLE FOR ORDERS NOW, COMING 1ST MARCH 2010. Released in a four book release, along with books by Wolfgang Carstens, John Yamrus, and Todd Moore. The latter three edited by me, and McLean can say that they are all going to rock. Anyhow, he wanted a plain cover, and, thanks to multi-talented Pablo Vision, artist, wirter and pervert, here it is. if you look long enough, you see girl on girl action in the black, Pablo likes to spread his deviant vision.

Most recently he has given out a chapbook Hellbound from epic rites about Japan's number two sex symbol, the gorgeous Pinhead and the cenobites. (McLean himself prefers Cuntthroat as sex symbol out of the original cenobites, Sister Nikoletta as she was called once.) This thing wilöl be coming soon in a second edition as full length book.

The shorter version is reviewed by Jane Crown at her wordpress blog and reproduced at McLean's blog here. Also reviewed by proflific and talented NY poet Puma Perl here.

This sucker, which is pretty good, can be ordered here. As said, the second enlarged edition is coming soonish.

Among things currently available, there's a full length from Erbacce called pushing lemmings, 128 pages that can be bought direct from McLean, signed with his mark, and he will spend all profits on chemically enhancing his receptivity to Christianity and other mythologies.So send £9.95 via paypal to regnruta@gmail.com. The postage is very expensive unfortuantely, since Sweden is a small town in Norway, as Americans know very well. Santa Claus lives there.

pushing lemmings is reviewed by Pablo Vision here and Constance Stadler here.





our walls, according to Butters Stotch (also in Lit Up zine)


the walls that hem us in
are words, and stone piled,
fragments of void,
empty we.

once they asked for
gods to besiege us,
called on creators as ancient
enemies, and no crevice

for us to crawl into
as snails or insects,
unhidden and bright in his light
yet, evasion fruitless.

so they burned their youths
as sacrifices torn in their callow
monkish desire, twisted
away from life.

and the true seed, the meat's
naked faith, is all we believe in
now. passion is our timeless
duty, empty banal replication

casting forms again
we stay in. sinless
oblivion the body is,
fateful mating

predisposed to nothing.
and yet love a minute
is our truth, like Butters
said. then we are empty

husks. dead.

 
a cold beach (also in Pocket Change zine)


somewhere is a cold stony beach
where waves like lemmings on ecstasy
suicide on their nothing

somewhere a childhood is mine
where stones on beaches are cold
and wracked with nature's bladder.

here there is just this wood before me
where i sit, and there is risk of fire
looking at summery Swedish woods

so i pour coffee in the ashtray
like they once believed in fate
and Oasis, a band i actually still

listen to. i am just Chef's “children”
in that sense - drinking coffee,
reading, sweating, listening to

“rehab,” waiting for death

There is another, his first, full length book from Whistling Shade press called Cadaver's dance here. it's available from Amazon and is reviewed by Rachel Kendall here.

The character Cadaver is not from Dylan Thomas, he's the single cadaver who comes out of the wall and goes under the house in "under the house," the classic song by PIL on the brilliant flowers of romance album.

This is probably his best book, so far at least.

samples from Cadaver's dance - 


the patient cancer waits (also in The Delinquent)


like bloody beef tied up in string,
king of the sharks, my fish gnosis
is laid out before me -
the table i stole from the house of my enemies.

the shore sweeps ungainly down to the fertile sea,
her mumbling rumbustiousness, her greed,
savoring the ex-lives fed with
the strange exigencies of death;
drawn stretched in white and sparkling sea-green
the end of feeling, mysterious beauty -
we were a box of apples with truth in.


if i open the window

if i open the window in this recalcitrant flat
the dark is there and full of snow -
white and night and black.

behind our broken and blinded window
grow floodlight pylons
and the desperate fingers of grasping trees
clutching our need -
the only things we dare to see

and my embarrassing before-seen is truthful too,
posted here on solitary stakes,
the weight of wallpaper and curtains
as brutal as ethics, as tumescent,
defacing the beigey colors of culture
and leisurely dis-spelling the lines of proud that poets have written
with the pungent truths of solar systems,
displacing the structure that love is,
the trembling erection

There's a recent chapbook of dead snakes out from Rain over Bouville which you can buy for three bucks or download as pdf FREE at Lulu here. Rain Over Bouville have other books there too, as you will see from their page. If links above don't work those at McLean's blog do. Read it anyway, it's free to read, if you want to have the paper version to tear it up there's a token fee.

With cover art by Pablo Vision, it's a good buy or even better freebie. Rain over Bouville say of it "David Mclean’s anarchic, pitch-black poetry snatches the philosophies and theologies of history out of the air like mosquitoes or bad smells and subjects them to a twenty-first century frisk. From the micro to the macro, no sacred cow is safe..."

Rain over Bouville have a variety of other excellent books available too.

There's also a chapbook la morte vivante at Shadow Archer Press with sales page with blurbs here. This is a little chapbook McLean wrote while actually watching the film of the same name and distractedly reading Paul Verlaine. It's not bad for a chapbook written in 80 minutes while doing something else (and some serious morning drinking). This, like Hellbound, is sort of horror related (with apologies to the restless shade of M. Verlaine).

The first of David's chapbooks is still on sale at Erbacce and called a hunger for mourning. It's reviewed by Ceris Dien here and Marie Lecrivain here.

There's McLean flavored Instant Pussy up at Lulu here.

A free sample is an e-chapbook at Why vandalism? It's called poems against Enlighhtenment and is here.

Look for breaking news from David at his blogspot here.

A second edition of hellbound and a third full length laughing at funerals coming from epic rites. That will make four full length books. Also probably a prose book coming from them. He's not submitting anywhere else.