If it were an adventure novel, then this volume of Friday’s, Bunghoggle, might have been seen as a flash back, which it isn’t. Bunghoggle is a time warp, where we travel through time and meet various people at different times in the same places. Craftsmen and draftsmen, politicians and pragmatists, interlopers and interpolators, elocutionists and environmentalists, ecologists and conjurors, trade smiths and travelers, fabricators of sorts, bunglers, they have a single vision. It is a moving experience to witness their playful enterprises and demons. What are they doing? What are they up to now, I thought often enough. The answer expectedly, are circuitous realities; what so ever is conceivable; shown to exist; can be engineered; reverse engineered; predicted to exist as an actuality, or object, in the simultaneity of time, as it is in the world. Such is the phenomenology, immense, that Bunghoggle left me breathless.
„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.