HAPPYLAND: A Fairy Tale in Two Parts

No Label/Publisher; 2013 


3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679 (Pi Up to 100) *

8.5 BEST NEW MUSIC (Unpublished Fiction)

"The Kanye West of fairy tale!" 

[Last Review: Dopin’ Ain’t Hopin’ by Lil’ god, a trap-EDM album]

Can a book make you believe in God? No, but this book has one more o which makes it good. Hence the fictitious pie score of 3.1forever. In this book's possession is an airy timelessness. 

    Strait [sic'] out of his Mother'sland, 'it’s a crazy motherfucking refugee from Sudan who came to America with a tattered black suit and a dream.' And here he is now writing some literary fiction oozing with mojo drizzled with Sriracha and caked in sugar. This little book is overwhelmed with a spicy sweetness. Prior to tackling this book filled with gilded sovereigns, let us examine the man and then separate the man from the work of fiction. He is a man and that is the sum of him. We usually critic music, but the musicality of this book warranted a review. His words are the music and they talk like a songbird. This book is music and it just happens to be in book form. Cosmically orgasmic in the free-flowing siren-like lyricism—this is the quintessential ivory tower of song. Read it aloud and you too will have a golden voice because these words were scribed with a golden pen.

    Musicality official, we ruminate. It is a novella fraught with overwhelming, unbridled thug passion. Man, this is a philosophical gangster who disowns philosophy, but creates it at the same damn time. He is the Kanye West of fairy tales and he dropped out of college twice (that is like College Dropout: Double Album Edition). A cappella literature, or litter-true. This is truest shit he ever wrote because it is the only thing he wrote so far. Once again. this is a philosophical gangster. He hides big philosophical problems within a fairy tale. He is a prophet that only poses good questions. He doesn't know the answers and he let's you know he doesn't. The book ends at the gates of Happyland. He doesn't care if it exists. I am not God, so what?

    This book contains an allegorical intensity. Allegory, to myself, is vague in meaning, but it is a story that has some meaning or a revelatory truth. Prince Gobbledygook has just tried self-murdering himself (gauzed wrist) and he is trapped in some sort of colorful purgatory. Every character is a reflection of Prince Gobbledygook. He has lost his name and his appellation is Prince Gobbledygook. I initially thought of Prince Idiot (Fyodor Dostoevsky), but I canceled that thought and I didn’t understand the arising of that little thought. Existentialism entered my mind with the inclusion of that knock-knock joke (Who? Absurd cow, Albert Camus). Gobbledygook leads to nonsense and the logical fallacy became an absurd world. There is a great deal of absurdism. Lily Marshmallow represents life (“Lily Marshmallow is the embodiment of life, but she is lifeless.”) —his life. This is the world of Billy Lavender, formerly Prince Gobbledygook. She begins with death breathing heavily. Underneath the willow tree, she is ominous, sad figure. Her samovar looks like an urn—mentioned later as, 'urns are sad samovars,' by the pig.

    He commences on this...pilgrim's progression. He first must define happiness and a sly pig directs him to Cornelius Wordbook (an Englishman with a book-head). And he wants to quit after he realizes there is no definition. Part II is a less weightier and is more funner. Chapter 6 captures the writer's life in stunning, hilarious fashion.

    You read this story for the wordplay and the colorful imagery and the rather fresh illustrations. He doesn't cover new ground, but utilizes old ground in a fresher way. Saunter on this holy world of his. The only concern is it lacks a specific demographic, but that is no worry to people that enjoy a work and not a box to place the work in. 

Yours Truly, 

Piggie Piggington