What I Did In The Summerland (And What The Mind Bees Did To Me): Or, the Discover'd Notebooks Of A Neuro-Apiarist, Lately Found By A Wandering Gumshoe

An eccentric Victorian doctor, haunted by his childhood among an incestuous cannibal cult in the Scottish Borders - and appalled by the seedy goings on around his present home in Edinburgh - attempts a mysterious project to ally science, metaphysics and morals. In the inter-rim period, he also reminiscences on his childhood punching sea-birds until they vomited flavourings for tea. His notebooks, incomplete and quixotic, are found by a hard-bitten cynical detective from Post-War L.A. intent on besting the Cthulhoid menace at their own game. The detective - whose name may well be Moonstone - is somehow linked to a series of eldritch events. The exact nature of this link is unclear, even to the reader. A volume as incomplete as life itself, brimming with: sinister intrigue; sinister hard-boiled detectives; sinister self-constructing organic plague masks, sinister cthonic vivisectionists from beyond our ken, sinister opium fiends; sinister cannibal etymologists; sinister occult circles (at least two); sinister rats; sinister bees (at least hinted at); sinister references to more justly famous books; sinister people write with their left hands; sinister people often have monobrows; sinister flavourings for tea. What may have occurred if Flann O'Brien had suffered from cretinism, and had visions. Of bees. Note: Nicholas Cage was not harmed in the mating of these bees.