Well, I think many people will say 'life's just too short for books like this' – even while grudgingly admitting the other response, that they will barely have seen the like anywhere else before. We get a welter of (mostly) two page stories, all black and white inked, all wordless, and all with a bonkers surreality that makes 'The Persistence of Memory' look like a perfect still life. Here's just a summary of one, and remember, this is six panels and two pages.
An artist sits at his easel under his parasol, alongside a lake or lagoon, across which a camel is walking with a large book on its back, while a person floats along mid-air holding a large die. The camel walks away, as the trees shading it slowly turn into architectural columns, the floating man rolls his die, and one side comes up plain white. Meanwhile, a final character is hooking up the shore of the lake as if it's a giant bed sheet to reveal a gigantic fish underneath – oh, and the artist is of course disappearing through his canvas. Next, the die man turns to the artist, who is still going through his canvas, but reappearing in the middle of the lake, while the giant fish is goaded out from under the water, and the book – remember the book? - starts flapping about and going wappy under the columns. The fish goes through the canvas after the artist, who has been persuaded to paint a solo dot on the blank face of the die. We end with the die owner very happy with the dot, the book now a thousand pages – all bearing a single dot – while the canvas is also shown to have one large solid circle in it, as the fisherman walks off with it (and his hat, which blew off and has had to be rescued by a passing bird). We never see the camel again.
I don't think a review is really necessary – there are thirty more of those, often awkward-to-follow, surrealist dramas if you choose to get on board with this. The craftsmanship is certainly to the fore, as are adverts for the creator's oddball monthly magazine, produced in his native Turkey for almost all the 2000s. It's a pity the scale of things gets so large at the end to make them almost impossible to 'read' on a digital format, but the Turkish edition, if it exists on paper, would be just as viable a way of seeing these unique creations. And they really are unique.