Fire in the hole - A review of the novel The Iron Cage by Amos Keppler

   The Janus Clan series of novels starts off in The Defenseless as a fairly ordinary story about a seemingly all-American family. It changes slowly from that, turning into blood and strife, ghosts and shadows.

  There are several images of symbolic nature in the series. There is the river, the desert, the shadow and the fire, all important throughout the series.

  The Iron Cage is the tenth book. It is the last being published, but there are three more books that have already been released. This one is still an ending of sorts.

  Don’t expect anything even remotely mainstream here. Some mainstream people will be scared out of their wits if they should stumble upon this book. Seekers and open-minded people and those wanting a true description of the ongoing modern inhuman society will love it.

  Amos Keppler’s books can’t really be categorized, no matter how hard you try. They are far beyond any average attempt at doing that. Perhaps the entire Janus Clan series can be said to lean towards science fiction, but even that is a stretch. Each of the novels can touch anything, any genre, really.

  Most of all they are both a grim and optimistic tale about the modern world and those not fitting in there.

  The is about a different world in the late eighties, with both similarities and notable differences from our world. Ronald Reagan has become downright unpopular. The entire idea of neoliberalism and western establishment society have been seriously questioned by many people, not merely those walking in the Janus Clan’s tracks.

  The story follows the clan of warriors and subversives at various squatted buildings across the United States, in Miami, Chicago, and eventually Las Vegas, where everything crashes and burns, exploding both literally and metaphorically. A parallel story follows Mike and Linda, as they gather their other group of subversives and warriors. Those two groups have much in common, but not everything. The differences seem bigger than the similarities.

  Everyone should write about what Amos Keppler is writing about. The stories are so potent and powerful, so well describing human existence. This book is no exception in that regard.

  The last four chapters taking place in Las Vegas are a pleasure to read. An event that has been hinted at in several other books is finally happening. The payoff is amazing, the final chapter impossible to give proper praise. My advice is to read all the books in the series. The long story told in thirteen books is a modern classic transcending all genres and expectations, an epic story, in the true sense of the word.

  This is my first blog post in almost eight years, but the book is an event, so the occasion fits well with that.

Urban Prose

I recently started something in my head I call Urban Prose. It might be something to consider actualizing, pursuing. I report from the urban landscape, its horrors and alienation, as I walk, sit and watch. There are a thousand things happening even in a quiet street, and a million in one filled with people and machines, with four-wheeled coffins. It feels like a moving painting. The insane modern condition is unfolding and crunching in my head.

Strasbourg burning

Radio Baghdad broadcasting from hot Strasbourg nights:

We use gas masks and have covered every piece of skin. It’s quite unpleasant, but nothing compared to the teargas and all the other sinister stuff the Gestapo is throwing at us. Today is sixty years since NATO, the attack alliance was formed, and the war continues, both against defenseless developing countries and all of us protesting and fighting NATO’s ruthless militarism.

Strasbourg is burning and it is a great sight. Strasbourg and every other place where tyrants meet should burn.

Western governments have for a long time done everything in its power, used the most despicable methods to crush all opposition. It’s great to know that they have failed miserably.

Rebels have for so long been struck by clubs and closed fists every time they have attempted to express themselves strongly against the insanity ruling today’s world. We wake up with bruises for weeks afterwards, also bruises we are not aware of at first, but we decided long ago that we won’t just lay down and die, like the sheep do, like the majority of the world’s population does faced with what they see as the superior power.

But that power is brittle. The thin surface keeping the rotten blood inside is easily cracked. Cut just a bit and you reach its rotten heart, and the entire corrupt society falls apart, like it should have done long ago.

Nights of rage and fire

Radio Baghdad broadcasting from Rostock nights:

Heiligendamm is surrounded by tall walls. Nobody, except those living there or the dogs faithful to the world’s elite can possibly get past the high fences and wire there.

So we go to Rostock, to protest against the destroyers gathering in Heiligendamm, for this version of Smoke and Mirrors, for this G8 meeting. But the storm troopers, the current version of the Gestapo attack us even there. There is no pretense, really, no attempt from the cops, the «riot police» to come off as benevolent. They are after us from the moment we arrive at Copenhagen Central Station, and when we arrive at the German border that presence is doubled many times. They harass us and attempt to intimidate us at every juncture on the journey to Rostock. When we arrive there they greet us in their warm and pleasant manner. We are roughed up and searched, and they do their utmost to make it pleasant for us…

But still thousands of people gather in Rostock, in spite of their efforts. And we see how that frustrates them, how it infuriates them. They attack the gathering almost immediately. First there are a few «exercises», limited excursions into the crowd. We know this pattern well and know what to expect.

Then… it begins. They attack us with a viciousness and brutality that quite frankly scares the shit out of me. But we have long ago decided not to let us be intimidated or scared by these people. Their beyond cruel methods and systematic terror just give us one more reason to stand up against them.

They attack us with their clubs and everything. As stated there is no pretence here, in the streets of teargas and coughing and screaming and pain. We fight back, and I’m pleased to declare that more of us fight back this time than ever before. We meet Gestapo with a force easily overwhelming theirs. This is different, different from all the times we have been easy prey. We strike back, and these soldiers of tyranny begin to fall, begin to lose. They drop in the dozens, in the hundreds. We do, too. Wails of pain and horror rise from these streets of fire, but this time we aren’t helpless victims. There are sufficient numbers of angry protesters to stem the advancing tide of tyranny’s brutal thugs. Hundreds are injured and for once they are mostly cops, and we shout in triumph. We know we haven’t really won anything, that this is at best, just another illusionary victory, but it feels good, and it might yet again be the beginning of something new and dangerous and great, a great omen for the future.

We cough again, in surroundings of teargas and steam and body fluids, and cry out in pain and rage, and it is a wonder to behold.

A runaway elephant

Ekstrabladet writes about an elephant running away from a circus on Jylland, Denmark, where he had been held captive. It ran off and created chaos on the highway when it decided to stop on the road and rub an itch it had. What a fabulous sight it must have been. Chaos is always great to behold.

Unfortunately as it is the story has a tragic end: the elephant returned to his keepers. It has clearly been too ruined during his time in captivity to seek freedom above all else.

That it is still allowed to keep animals in any circus and in cages on pelt farms, and in laboratories is certainly yet another tragedy elevating the insanity of today’s society. The poor elephant experienced briefly the freedom that should have been a given, to him, to all of us.

This story is presented in a cheerful way in established media, a tiny slice of today’s reality designed to make people chuckle a bit, to make them tell themselves that existence is bearable, after all. Very few think much about the deeper aspects, the horrible consequences of it all.

Damn it, how I loathe the world’s jailers and torturers. My contempt for them is as deep as the ocean.