1. With two new series of avant garde fiction Innovative Fiction Press hopes to publish novels that feature creativity in typographical design and narrative strategy.

  2. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, Sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam.

    JOHN STEVENS

Innovative Fiction: Avant Garde Novel Series

Avant garde book design for the innovative novel will enhance the esthetic pleasure of the reading experience making the book a collector's item to be appreciated as something new, so that a book can be displayed for its visual appeal. Too often we see non-descript book covers for fiction, and by placing the novel within the context of modern art we can accompany the literary text with an artistic image that matches the genre. There is a demand for innovative fiction that has not been fulfilled by the literary presses, who often select conventional writing without consideration for type font or page design. With the use of innovative book design the novel could become a sought after literary work, or book-as-art-object that can be taken more seriously as a significant contribution to American literature. These innovative novels become the pride of the literary press which will attract critical attention for the author, and a novel that is worth studying in the Literature department. Innovative Fiction Press hopes to fulfill this esthetic dream with the selection of innovative novels which will become American classics.​

Surrealist Star Clustered Illuminations: Avant Garde Novel Series

Avant garde design for the Surrealist novel will place the book in the context of Surrealist art with innovative cover designs and color illustrations from Surrealist artists. This ideal began years ago with avant garde book design, and the Surrealist Star Clustered Illuminations: Avant Garde Novel Series hopes to publish novels that are developing the style and narrative techniques of the original Surrealist novels of André Breton, Michel Leiris, Joyce Mansour, and Salvador Dali. Surrealism in the 21st Century has become second and third generation Surrealism with a noticeable progression each decade, so that the novel can become ultramodern in the architextual sense with sleek typographic design which exemplifies Surrealist art. The trend in Surrealist writing is towards poetic density with subjective polysemantic nuance, and with the translation of novels from the French this is an opportunity for the English speaking novelists to show an understanding of the original style of Surrealism. The book arts have shown the posibility of using Surrealist materials for book covers with drawings or color photographs to accompany the work. 
Titles
​David Detrich   Big Sur Marvels & Wondrous Delights
              (2001) Novel. Out of print.
Jorge Ottaviano  The Buddha Trip
              (2005) Novel. Out of print.
Big Sur Marvels & Wondrous Delights
A Novel by
David Detrich

A first novel published in 2001, Big Sur Marvels & Wondrous Delights is an artist's book that includes fiction, poetry, artwork, and photographs. The novel begins in Big Sur with a camping trip on the Big Sur River where the narrator plays twelve string guitar while sitting on some giant boulders near the river. This book represents the early writings of David Detrich which form a continuity of chapters based on the short story Meditations at Big Sur.


  1. Big Sur Marvels & Wondrous Delights
Excerpt from Big Sur Marvels & Wondrous Delights
 
Clouds of Butterflies
Fiction by
David Detrich
 
Dearest love clouds of butterfly palette with trees of light, and many colors filming the sky abreast. Waters flowing from the sea in waves of deep blue, thus the flowering of love lingering with hearts sacred somnolence sublime. Your hair a wave of silken stallions climbing upwards, milk white textures stroked across waves of silent gallery space, this infinitely cedar sand in ivory. Circumference of the circle/
 
Juniper berry and purple snap dragon, near the tumultuous nebulosity of Bridal Veil Falls. Concentric circles.
 
Radiant sun emerging through the gray of blue mists, India ink calligraphic waves of curved deep waters, the frigate flying colors & all. The galaxy spiralling strata of fauna and fern, this glaciation of time’s passing a human skull held up in the soft diffuse light. Indentations in the form of a symbol on the cerebral sphere, as somewhere in ages past the formation of a teardrop lingers opening deep wellsprings onto the infinite.
 
Your hair on the horizon shadowing the oncoming knight. A portfolio of dreams in photogenic jeans prancing the dance of the sidewalks, this violet blue aura flows through the heart of the composition. St. Stephen arriving on the shores in realtime as we await. The table sketched in here. A beautiful young woman.
 
We are within the warmth of this blanket far beyond the sphere. These silent hills spilling the Milky Way into the darkness, ivory curving into starlight. Angelic voices speaking through the divine presence, the Annunciation a line of golden thread leading out of the labyrinth. Clear ringed with spheres of light, concentric, renaissance perspective of two lines converging on infinity. Hovering on the horizon, invoicing the articulate night.
 
Within the sound heartbeat, drifting in the snow white sleep of moonlit milk. The sound of your breath, dreams of distant constellations. I meditate in the evening’s gray wash of watery satin, smooth white skin in the falling veils of moist crystalline water droplets. 
 
Through binoculars Jupiter above, and the comet's trail, while a female apparition girl woman shadow figure moves through the clouds, this forest illumined with spirit. Chocolate chalk o'lake meditating on the silent hills, the blue skies encompassing this vast space of the canvas. The trail leads up towards the sky, this healing heart feels a sense of joy and well being. 
 
Spinning galaxy above radiant, looking within, Indian feathers engendering this perfected form. Leather tan in the twilight, by candlelight the stars above. Music opens the spirit onto the infinite, lighting the page of the book. Dance across the water in a fluidity of motion ascending into the luminous light/ pyramid and hieroglyph of the queen's train. Sky formations of tree verticalities, free violet pistils of mirroring wet chasms. Topographic contours of kelly green hills of vale and hearthside, waves of grass moistened in a kiss across time.
 
Birdsong echoes in the forestation of the concert hall inner sanctum, the bard with lyre lilting loving O the waves! Conversant with the Lord, bowed strings and candle flame, the wind at the windows reflected dream sequence. The jaguar calm and purring. The Indians passing the peace pipe in times of unanimous Thanksgiving. At the trading post departure of the US Mail, while life on the island becomes a child's footsteps on the wooden floor. 
 
The evening sky through binoculars, Omega Centuri a distant globular cluster. A mellifluous blonde dancing naked across the dome of the sky mapped with glistening signification. A golden braid entwining souls, her pink tipped breasts perfect in the soft light.
 
Meditations on the inner light of river flow and waterfall, as the future reveals itself in timeless sands of simultaneity. Wildflowers and distant cities fading into curves of sand, and the evolution of the shoreline rising up in a rainbow palette, heartbeat. Space of the page alive with color, envisioning, becoming. Your eyelids in the sunlight, and the creamy milkshake color of your tan lines, as a bikini is tossed to the side. Multifaceted this palette of kiss.
 
This way to the Museyroom Ladles and Gentlemoan. The skeleton of a ship, and a treasure chest with gold doubloons. Here a reflector mirror from a lighthouse. Turn up the century ship design as you walk through the fine oak of the louvered doors, schooners with sails stretched taut, as satiny strokes of moist acrylic flow across the canvas. Two deer grazing at dusk, freckled and graceful in motion, while I sit on the porch reading a novel. The sky a gradual pink fading to the ideal azure of electric blue, as fiction becomes a conscious moment.
 
 
 
Biographical Information
  1. The Buddha Trip is among the coolest novels to come out of the psychedelic & spiritual consciousness of the 70's. David Detrich

  2. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipisicing elit, Sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua. Ut enim ad minim veniam.

    JOHN STEVENS

The Buddha Trip
A Novel by
Jorge Ottaviano


The Buddha Trip is the story of a relationship between the narrator and Nina, that begins in Berkeley and moves to Santa Cruz. Written with psychological insight, the painter Dennis visits from Santa Barabara where they discuss the enlightened philosophy that gives the book its title. Published in 2005. The Buddha Trip is modern classic of the California lifestyle.



Excerpt from The Buddha Trip
     

    I remember well that winter of early 1980, in Santa Cruz, California, when my friend Dennis used to come around. I was living with my girlfriend Nina at the time, and she had introduced me to him.
     Dennis had been traveling on the West Coast between Santa Barbara and Santa Cruz, having only recently separated from his girlfriend after a prolonged dispute. Now he was back on the road as a loner and a bachelor, driving his pick-up truck with camper on the back, out of which he was living in makeshift style. He was now one more of the many gypsy travelers whose vehicles on wheels—(motorized), were their only homes.
     Dennis had first met Nina in Santa Cruz after she had moved there from Berkeley.
     She and I were also going through a rough period in our romance, when things were starting to break up, as far as living together was concerned. I would leave and go back to Berkeley to live the vagabond life on the streets, as the only security I could cling to.
     But somehow we would always be drawn back to each other. She would come up and look for me on the streets and find me like magic—and we would have these blazing reunions and be totally happy with each other and want to live together all over again, if only for a short sweet spell of ecstatic love-making.
That is the way it went, back and forth, many times over, as we experienced the confusion and need of two lovers in love. We couldn't let go of our love for each other, even though it was so often tearing us apart.
     It was on one of those occasions, when I had just arrived back in Santa Cruz, that I found Dennis at the house, heavily into his Buddha trip.
     I was nervous and self-conscious, having smoked some powerful marijuana with the guy that had picked me up hitchhiking.
     I was too upset to go to the house directly, so I went to the place where I always go when I when I need to restore the balance in my soul—the ocean.
     I ran up and down the beach a few times to ease up the tension in my system. I had to dissipate that marijuana effect, because it had bound me up too tightly.
     Finally, when I felt a little saner, I headed up to King Street; and, as I was welcomed into the house by Nina, who was already expecting my arrival, I found Dennis ensonced at the kitchen table. He was rapping to her about his new liberation.
     I never saw a man so intent on proclaiming his happiness. He had found the elixir of life, and it was a sight to see. I was completely taken in by his candidness.
     It was obvious that Dennis had accomplished some clean and definite breakthrough in his life's story, and he wanted to tell the world about it, but most especially his dear and close friends, whom we were. His case looked to me like an authentic case of conversion. He wasn't 
looking for any followers, he merely wanted to proclaim his message. He was insisting on continuing his trip on a more independent line, free of false attachment, possessions, or relationships. His relationship was now to the Truth. 
     It was his joy to share his awakening with his friends. It was easy to tell that he was releasing incredible amount of pent up energy that had never until now had the free chance to come out.
     All of this came as a lightning flash across my life. It represented a turning point in m own evolution.
     Dennis would turn out to have a subtle, pervasive influence in my mind long after the events that occurred.
     This was the first time that we met, but he already acted like he had known me for some time, smiling his widest grin and beaming his newly-found cosmic bliss my way, and to Nina also. We were suddenly a threesome esoteric circle, floating in the cozy space bubble of our apartment.
     Nina was the one who had brought him there. They had befriended each other on the street. Suddenly Dennis had an invitation and a place to go. That was the kind of warm-hearted, generous person Nina was, and I dearly loved her. She was always ready to take a chance, to make a new encounter. Isn't that the way I had met her myself, 4 years before, when I had gone to visit Cambridge, Massachusetts?

 She was free to chose her friends as she pleased. My understanding with her was that we would trust each other and be free of jealousy. She would go wherever she liked as she felt it, and be with whoever she wanted to be with. All I asked for was that she let me know what was going on so I could be informed. Our agreement was not to lie to each other, or even to hold any secrets from each other, if we could help it.
     This worked out for quite some time while we were still being tight with each other as lovers. But later on, when things changed, and we started moving away from each other, the telepathic closeness also evaporated. I guess that's the way things are.
     As far as Nina was concerned, I was on a Buddha trip of my own, going back to the time when she had first met me. I was in a very philosophical mood back then, and that was the way she had experienced me, and this had greatly intrigued her, because it offered such a contrast to where she was coming from at the time. She was thinking about things, but in a much more romantic, poetic way. What we both had in common was our thirst to experience life, and to understand it. We were approaching the quest from two slightly different angles, with our highly magnetic, sensual love for each other as the focal point.

     She thought Dennis and I would have a lot in common, since we had both gone on the visionary trail, each in our own way, and so she had wanted to introduce us.
     When I walked through the door I gathered that this had been the gist of their conversation in anticipation of my arrival.
When we were introduced I noticed that Dennis did not attempt to tone down the state of his euphoria, rather he converted it into a more concentrated stance.
     He went into the living room, which was uncluttered with any furniture, but liberally sprinkled with comfortable pillows, and took a seated, adept posture on the floor, and began a close scrutiny of the way Nina and I related to each other.
     It turned out that Dennis was a painter. His canvasses were done in oils that had a pastel coloring to them. They were beautiful landscape shots of Santa Barbara, and the seashore and parks of that coastal area. Palm-tree-lined streets, pottery and ceramic displays, golf courses, and gala events—all of these portrayed with an exquisite touch of professional quality done well enough to be noticed. He had even earned a living from his talent.
     His luscious green and heavenly blue pastel colors perfectly reflected the wonderful summer light of dreamy, opulent California myth, and many people wanted these vibrations to adorn their homes, and were willing to pay good money for them. So he had been lucky in that sense. Enough to buy what he needed to support himself as a gypsy artist roaming the countryside for his new sketch. But of course this wasn't all he was interested in. He was interested in life for its own sake, and not just for a drawing. He had discovered the magic of consciousness to create its own realities above and beyond artistic sensibility. 
     He was full of a thirst to be free to practice his art in a completely individualistic manner, unhampered by any bothersome conventions of what was acceptable or not. He wanted to make his own rules in that department.

 His greatest wish, overall, was to be free of all illusory involvements that did not give energy and life to his vision of what was beautiful.
     He kept stressing the importance that his meditations on consciousness were having on his art. Art and religion were all one to him, he was saying.
     God was there in nature for all to see if they cared to look closely enough. It had been a great revelation to him. Not that he hadn't known it before, even as a kid. He had. But now he had found the key of conscious assent, the awakening that led from intuition to design, and he was being truly inspired to make an example of freedom and self-expression out of his life. He had a reason to live, he wanted to express something to people that would bring about the big change in their lives. He was stepping
out of the mould and going it alone.