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    Line to Night Island
    Line to Night Island
    Line to Night Island
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    Line to Night Island

    By Robin Wyatt Dunn

    2.5/5

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Kiss me, you’re beautiful.

    Will you come to Night Island?

    I’ve been calling.

    Tell me, are you there?

    I am coming but I cannot say what it is; what are you? Do I understand it right, that you are reading me?

    My name is Dun; I am Dark Knight, I am Dark Island, from Night Island.

    These words hurt me but they are necessary; tell me, can you feel it too? That something is coming to an end?

    Hold my hand, won’t you?

    This transmission, this dream, it frightens me?tell me, won’t you, will it turn out all right? Will I be bright? And glorious?

    I am a knight though I do not serve a lord; I am anachronism; I am lost but I am moving. I am moving towards you.

    Tell me, do you see me yet?

    I’m coming!

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherRobin Wyatt Dunn
    Release dateMar 7, 2014
    ISBN9781940830018
    Line to Night Island
    Author

    Robin Wyatt Dunn

    Robin Wyatt Dunn lives in Los Angeles.

    Read more from Robin Wyatt Dunn

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    Reviews for Line to Night Island

    2.5/5

    20 ratings12 reviews

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    • 1/5
      I'm certain there is an audience for this book. I am not it. I like books that are like canoes - you get into them, and they take you down the stream of narrative and storytelling. Sometimes the waters may be choppy, and that's fine. This canoe however was capsizing within the first chapter. That being said, I've never been able to marshal James Joyce's canoes either, and perhaps this is Joycean in scope and I'm just not getting it. In any case, I had to bail early in search of more stable craft.
    • 2/5
      I didn't finish the book. The beginning looked quite poetic, kind of like some of Roger Zelazny's work, but it had not evolved into something meaningful before it stopped working for me.
    • 1/5
      I gave this book my best shot but found the writing style too impossible to read and enjoy. The lack of plot and stream of consciousness writing style just wasn't for me.
    • 4/5
      "In the heath there is no memory. And there is no undoing. Everything you do is done and it can never be undone; it is incorruptible"I received this ARC Novella a month back, and had a bit of trouble to get started as the e-pub file did not like my Nook color at the first go. I emailed back the author and got the PDF file to head start the review!When I was almost finishing the novella, and browsing to look for pages on the same book- to write my review, i found that some early reviewers were pretty confused. Wait a minute, i was still not confused...lets see why!When you read a novella, you have to have the special concentric characteristics of a reader. Not asking you all to know how to read but definitely you need to understand the intellectualism behind each sentence. You might feel lost- but if you read it at one go, you will get its grip and story line. There might be open ended story lines, well, the author wants you to fit in your thoughts there!"Line to Night Island" by robin Dunn tells you of the loneliness that engulfs everyone. Yes it does, you cant say you are exceptional! Everyone has their own dull day, they feel left alone like a lighthouse in midst of a wide sea of thoughts, wait and monotonic sound, sometimes that sound reminds you of the beating empty heart. You feel chasing your dream person, you cant achieve him/her.You meet someone later, with the same old features and past makes you dream during the day. You still wait to chase like the same before. You stand in the dark night, tall and waiting, guiding others, but in all that you are still alone.I would not suggest this piece to people who can only read positive stuffs, this needs courage to accept that you can read other's thought, align with yourselves and then change to positives. A good read for the Literary crowd, for students who are in search of metaphors, and those who have had similar days in their life to appreciate the author's thought.Well, there are more in this book, i do not want to write the entire story as i want you to buy and read it for yourself!
    • 1/5
      You know what, I'm a former punk and I don't mean green hair and pop punk. I mean A//Political, Crass, Inure, d beat, train hopping, hitch hiking, distro running political punk. I did the whole pretentious, outlandish, string together random words and phrases and call it something before it was cool. Still, that mess was better than this. I HATE giving bad reviews because it's so hard to get published and beyond that fund readers who will actually review honestly but this title is a mess. Pretentious would be a compliment. This is just dribble. I'm sorry. Really I am.
    • 3/5
      I received a free copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. To be honest, I didn't really understand what this book was all about. Although the writing was quite vivid and imaginative, it sort of left me scratching my head.
    • 3/5
      A very fast, surreal read that seems to meld stream-of-consciousness (though not the author but the main character) and slipstream. I am not sure I got everything out of it I was supposed to.
    • 3/5
      This book might be a novel. I'm about half way through, and it's so poetic. Stream of consciousness poetry. There is some thread of logic but it's a bit weak. You have to be willing to read a lot of poetic imagery in order to enjoy this book. It has a bit of a sixties feel to it.
    • 4/5
      This was a strange one. Pretty surrealistic, on the surface it tells of a knight, hailing from Night Island who is on a quest. For his wife, for God, to buy some milk, to go to Los Angeles, to New York and to produce a movie. I am either not experienced enough in surrealistic material or not smart enough (probably both), but I did not really get what it wants to represent. It reads like either a drug trip or, without meaning any offensiveness, the experience of a mentally challenged person (the latter was actually suggested to me by tags here on LT). Nevertheless, it was a good read!
    • 3/5
      Frozen winter night favorite flannel nightie on snug as bug in rug I-pad open. Strike one. Second verse same as the first. Strike two. Day three ice day home from work. Persist...press on...you are a conservatory grad...there's no crying in reviewing. Caffeinated up brain engaged, Houston cancel that problem. I see the light. Reflecting back to the time I was beamed up. Aliens really need to brush up on Assimilation 101. I got you, Dunn. Magical Mystery Tour leftover mushrooms meets Ulysses. Give it a read, people of earth or surrender now.
    • 2/5
      I cannot give a synopsis of the plot because I have no idea what the book was about. I hate giving a bad review because the authors work so hard. But the commitment I made was to provide an honest review.The author uses words well, painting beautiful word pictures. The author is creative and seems to have a good imagination. I read the book twice and just didn't "get it". I consider myself to be an intelligent woman, but the book was a collection of vivid descriptions and nothing else.
    • 1/5
      As I started reading this Novella, I was thinking “this doesn’t make much sense.” The further I read the more it seemed like a dream, or someone on hallucinogenic drugs – jumping from one place or idea to another and sometimes back to previous places. Great imagination and description of peopl and places. I did not care for some of the very foul language. After finishing the novella, I was still wondering what the story was about, not really any plot.

    Book preview

    Line to Night Island - Robin Wyatt Dunn

    LINE TO NIGHT ISLAND

    by

    ROBIN WYATT DUNN

    Published by

    JOHN OTT

    San Diego

    © Robin Wyatt Dunn 2014

    This book was published in the United States of America while it still existed. This document is in your hands and you are reading this while the world spins about you and you are ours, and we are yours, in Night Island and elsewhere, a tribe in night without a name, but with no ill designs on you, Gentle Reader. This is a story told for you by one of yours, wherever we may be, and whenever, we are connected: in the bonds of words and stars, limitless horizons--

    Cover art by Barbara Sobczyńska

    ISBN 978-1-940830-01-8

    Library of Congress Control Number: 2013922202

    Smashwords edition

    Learn more about the author at www.robindunn.com

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

    of this author

    * * *

    for Sarah

    * * *

    Full of wonder at so strange a form of madness, they flocked to see it from a distance.

    --Cervantes

    * * *

    Chapter 1 - Awake

    I hold the beacon in my hand, shining up into the sky. Its signal is religious in intensity, mutant freak sanctuary night, limpid circle summoning the thirst for meaning, inside the cavity of my skull my holy roar is culled and cooled and caught mapped spiked like the beacon in my hand, shining in the sky.

    It's Power Rangers; it's Thundercats. Ho!

    Thundercats, ho, baby, but listen to what I'm gonna tell you now:

    This wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last, because we have entered Night Island.

    I got a line baby but it ain't gonna hold for long, so jump on with your friends, jump on and rock this whale road with your wishes, it's a long way down (to Earth)--

    - -

    My hand is lit, huge and white, like a fish. That's how it seems, because it's so dark here by the lighthouse on the rocks. The beacon is a white streaming phosphorous dream.

    If I would speak, I could say:

    Well. What could I say. There aren't any words that are right; it's too immense.

    Finally I turn it off. I head back to the lighthouse, strapping the beacon into the bed of the boat, listening to the sky, as I row, listening for what I might have summoned.

    A summoning is raw, and I'm a raw foodist in this way: experience unmollified, and my neighbors are Villains, I know them well. I am Uncle but I am under every standing face, I am an aspect of you.

    - -

    The truth is that I'm still learning the place myself. It has so many meanings I can sense behind the things I see, and every one of them is real, and true. But, just like on Earth, here on Night Island there is a limited field of truth, too, pick any truth you like but it's got to fall into that window, that limited limitless that is the sky of your mind. That is you and yours and the world.

    The lighthouse has no light in it, which is why I have the beacon, but the lighthouse is tall, and, you might say, righteous, because the lighthouse in its mood and spirit invites sensible behavior and wholesome friendships, tasty dinners and good conversation. It is that kind of place, in spite of the fact that it borders on Nightmare, it is good.

    - -

    I saw her rowing north and I thought: my god, look at that hair. I'm only a man, it's what I saw, her red hair. On Earth, I might have thought, O, not another redhead, but here those sentiments don't have meaning, here we are not reducible to our stereotypes; here every action has a meaning and every person is full of action, like a dream, only realer.

    - -

    I felt one of the Villains in the sky, like a brother, as I set to water again, north from my lighthouse, seeking the woman I had seen, but more than that--

    Mapping the territory. Who knows when I can again return?

    - -

    Night Island has no proper name. It has no proper habits. It is more wit than writing, and more wail than whale; it is tiny. It speaks, a music you may have heard, only listen:

    - -

    I sail under sea by gobbets of the city that was nuked inside my fever I am fine but outside it I am raging on a mountain of desire and flaking skin that is the old me, that is the one I was, that was the Lighthouse Keeper.

    Once I kept a lighthouse with no light but now I sail north without a sail and I am free. Freedom, the end of the earth, the beginning of the serpent wheel, ourobourous urge my oars--bore my ears to hear the rearing fears who fill my eyes!

    Synethesthesia is a meal. Yummy yummy--

    Stroke. Stroke, Stroke. I smell the woman on the breeze.

    - -

    A redhead but north is where the women live; they make the rules. But now I know the Villain is yet further north, beyond their purview, for they make no rules for Villains, I see the map inside my mind:

    - -

    What was the lighthouse? What was it I was keeping? And where am I bound?

    On the shore approaching:

    I see her hair again in this not-light without source musicking wiles onto the map of her flaming head enraging taming my man's heart my eyes driven wicked and divine--

    She is stepping off her boat. I can see, a mile distant, a

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