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Unlanguage
From Michael Cisco, one of the most innovative and subversive writers working today, comes the long-awaited, ground-breaking novel of a suicide survivor trying in vain to write himself back into existence.
Unlanguage is the story of a man transformed by death and by language change. The language, once understood, transforms him, and transforms learning itself. One day, he looks down at the hand resting on his thigh and sees that it's just an ordinary hand. What had been composed of colored light made solid goes back to being meat and blood. His body reverts to the ordinary sloshing heaviness of a regular body. The exalted vision of his eyes becomes the filmy, blurred vision of the usual kind. He slumps back into his former self. Whirlwinds of shame close on him. With a violent, monkey-like energy he wracks his brains for a way back. Then it occurs to him, he can still write that language. He must write his way back.
Told as a structural guide to impossible grammar, Michael Cisco’s Unlanguage is a brilliant, thought-provoking novel that not only pushes the boundaries of literature but of language itself.
Unlanguage is the story of a man transformed by death and by language change. The language, once understood, transforms him, and transforms learning itself. One day, he looks down at the hand resting on his thigh and sees that it's just an ordinary hand. What had been composed of colored light made solid goes back to being meat and blood. His body reverts to the ordinary sloshing heaviness of a regular body. The exalted vision of his eyes becomes the filmy, blurred vision of the usual kind. He slumps back into his former self. Whirlwinds of shame close on him. With a violent, monkey-like energy he wracks his brains for a way back. Then it occurs to him, he can still write that language. He must write his way back.
Told as a structural guide to impossible grammar, Michael Cisco’s Unlanguage is a brilliant, thought-provoking novel that not only pushes the boundaries of literature but of language itself.
278 pages, Paperback
First published April 1, 2018
24 people are currently reading
1113 people want to read
About the author
Michael Cisco
91 books487 followersMichael Cisco is an American weird fiction writer, Deleuzian academic and a teacher, currently living in New York City. He is best known for his first novel, The Divinity Student, winner of the International Horror Guild Award for Best First Novel of 1999.
He is interested in confusion.
He is interested in confusion.
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Displaying 1 - 14 of 14 reviews
April 13, 2018
one of the strangest and at times incomprehensible (purposefully so) books you'll ever read, but the end, your brain has been rewired and there's understanding that you can't explain because the only way to explain is to hand this book to the person you might try and explain to.
January 3, 2020
Forever I’ve been a haunted by the idea that language is after life and we speak read and write ghosts. I ask myself what do I want here. But that I want something, and expect to get it, is not something that I need to ask.
I’m cheating a bit on this designation - I started this book in 2019, so it counts - but this is the best book I read in 2019.
In part it’s a work book for a student learning unlanguage; the book skirts the impossibility of unlanguage by referencing that what the reader is reading is in fact a translation; but all the various tenses and subjects and styles are described in great linguistic detail through each section of the workbook. In part it’s nonsense - you know, because it’s a deeply surrealistic invention - but on the other hand it positively pulses with a deep understanding of grammar and linguistics, while at the same time being really funny (mostly in the instructions/tasks provided with each reading/exercise).
The descriptions of unlanguage are all written in a very elevated scholarly tone:
One of the greatest of the many challenges facing the student of phantasmagoria is the development of a proper conceptualization of the parabolic contour of its grammar. As was mentioned above, all inflection in unlanguage may be decomposed into at least two simultaneous counterinflections, a unique characteristic also known as inflect-reflect. Now that the student has a firm grasp of unlanguage’s elementary grammar, the next step must involve making an attempt to fathom the complicated inter-relationships of libidinal vectrality which, in the aggregate, direct the overall tonality or energy-level of the inflection in any given logism.
While the exercises that close each section ARE the actual narrative of the book. That narrative describes the creation of unlanguage, the teaching of unlanguage, the school/cult it’s built around, and so on. The text goes out of its way to inform the student/reader that the workbook being read is in effect creating its own narrative, and narrating the reader/student into existence through the employment of unlangauge.
This is probably my second or third favorite Cisco book (can’t decide if I like this or Animal Money more; but I know I still like The Narrator best); and this is the third time this century that he’s written my favorite book I’ve read in a year (and this would have been my favorite book of 2018 had I not fallen way behind in my reading over the past 18 months). What I’m trying to say is I like him a lot - he’s a fucking tough read when he’s as on as he is here, but he hits all right notes for me, and his brand of dark surrealism really shines here.
I’m cheating a bit on this designation - I started this book in 2019, so it counts - but this is the best book I read in 2019.
In part it’s a work book for a student learning unlanguage; the book skirts the impossibility of unlanguage by referencing that what the reader is reading is in fact a translation; but all the various tenses and subjects and styles are described in great linguistic detail through each section of the workbook. In part it’s nonsense - you know, because it’s a deeply surrealistic invention - but on the other hand it positively pulses with a deep understanding of grammar and linguistics, while at the same time being really funny (mostly in the instructions/tasks provided with each reading/exercise).
The descriptions of unlanguage are all written in a very elevated scholarly tone:
One of the greatest of the many challenges facing the student of phantasmagoria is the development of a proper conceptualization of the parabolic contour of its grammar. As was mentioned above, all inflection in unlanguage may be decomposed into at least two simultaneous counterinflections, a unique characteristic also known as inflect-reflect. Now that the student has a firm grasp of unlanguage’s elementary grammar, the next step must involve making an attempt to fathom the complicated inter-relationships of libidinal vectrality which, in the aggregate, direct the overall tonality or energy-level of the inflection in any given logism.
While the exercises that close each section ARE the actual narrative of the book. That narrative describes the creation of unlanguage, the teaching of unlanguage, the school/cult it’s built around, and so on. The text goes out of its way to inform the student/reader that the workbook being read is in effect creating its own narrative, and narrating the reader/student into existence through the employment of unlangauge.
This is probably my second or third favorite Cisco book (can’t decide if I like this or Animal Money more; but I know I still like The Narrator best); and this is the third time this century that he’s written my favorite book I’ve read in a year (and this would have been my favorite book of 2018 had I not fallen way behind in my reading over the past 18 months). What I’m trying to say is I like him a lot - he’s a fucking tough read when he’s as on as he is here, but he hits all right notes for me, and his brand of dark surrealism really shines here.
June 10, 2018
I’m 10% smarter and 15% more insane after reading this. Would I recommend it? If you are ready for it. Put aside your notions of conventional plot, take a clean slate approach to what it means to be a reader, and tap into some blend of highly philosophical yet softly intuitive analysis. The foundations in language theory and language philosophy are startlingly juxtaposed against the starkly horrific.
July 3, 2019
Is this really a novel? Unlanguage presents itself as a work book for a student of the unlanguage of unknowing. This is a playful conceit, and Cisco has a lot of fun with it. Instead of chapters there are units. The contents of a unit vary a little from one to the next, but most conform to a similar pattern. A unit is a study of one aspect of unlanguage, with a basic description of the aspect, followed by a reading that supposedly illustrates the aspect under discussion. The aspects are anything from parables, orthography, negative voice to the form of grammatical representation to, finally, the end tense. There are sometimes questions, exercises and notes. It is probably the last form one would ever think of for a novel. In other words, Cisco has decided to give himself a challenge.
The various aspects of unlanguage are in most cases described in ways that render them logically self-contradictory, but it does give Cisco the chance to do a little linguistic archaeology and unearth some perfectly good words like clinamen and enthymeme. These descriptions are very enjoyable so long as one keeps in mind that Cisco is playing a game and, so far as I could tell, there isn't really any portentous philosophical significance. The readings are beautifully done pastiches that circle around a general narrative, but don't go so far as genuinely to tell a story. The pastiches evoke a wide range of literary types, without trivializing them in any way. The writing is quite striking. Cisco's extensive vocabulary keeps him coming up with exactly the right word, and the sentences are crafted to please the ear. The narrative is a horrific one. In the final unit Cisco tries to provide the reader a suitable ending but, in my opinion, doesn't quite bring it off. It was probably an impossible task.
In sum, this is an exuberant and witty book full of beautifully crafted writing. The only thing that keeps it from being a true tour de force is that it really is not a novel. I miss characters and a well told story. Cisco's technical mastery is breathtaking. Someday he's bound to find something that matters to him that he wants to tell us and when that happens the result will be a great book.
The various aspects of unlanguage are in most cases described in ways that render them logically self-contradictory, but it does give Cisco the chance to do a little linguistic archaeology and unearth some perfectly good words like clinamen and enthymeme. These descriptions are very enjoyable so long as one keeps in mind that Cisco is playing a game and, so far as I could tell, there isn't really any portentous philosophical significance. The readings are beautifully done pastiches that circle around a general narrative, but don't go so far as genuinely to tell a story. The pastiches evoke a wide range of literary types, without trivializing them in any way. The writing is quite striking. Cisco's extensive vocabulary keeps him coming up with exactly the right word, and the sentences are crafted to please the ear. The narrative is a horrific one. In the final unit Cisco tries to provide the reader a suitable ending but, in my opinion, doesn't quite bring it off. It was probably an impossible task.
In sum, this is an exuberant and witty book full of beautifully crafted writing. The only thing that keeps it from being a true tour de force is that it really is not a novel. I miss characters and a well told story. Cisco's technical mastery is breathtaking. Someday he's bound to find something that matters to him that he wants to tell us and when that happens the result will be a great book.
June 6, 2025
I don't think I like this one as much as I've liked many of his other books. But it was full of some truly nutty, confusing, fun stuff. Not sure what happened. Less sure what didn't happen. Maybe both.
September 6, 2023
This book was incredibly hard to read, even for someone who studied and still studies Linguistics for a living, Cisco managed to create a whole book about "anti-linguistics" and make it utterly inaccessible and sybilline, I probably understood a third of what it is trying to convey.
Still, it was one of the most endearing and engrossing readings of my life, I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be read as a novel but rather as a linguistics textbook, you really have to study it.
4/5 just because it's very hard to follow and grasp.
Still, it was one of the most endearing and engrossing readings of my life, I'm pretty sure it's not supposed to be read as a novel but rather as a linguistics textbook, you really have to study it.
4/5 just because it's very hard to follow and grasp.
December 11, 2024
When I set down UNLANGUAGE, by Michael Cisco, one of the more challenging reading experiences I’ve ever had, what I didn’t expect was the hand-trembling dread I’d feel at its completion. It was a couple hours past midnight—which is to say, this is one of those special books responsible for messing up my sleep schedule—and I knew immediately I wouldn’t be sleeping for awhile longer. My mind was racing, my heart was pounding, and I was aware of a distinct feeling: I felt unsafe. Not in my house, not anything to do with any sort of situation; I felt unsafe in my own body, my own mind, and in others’ perception of me.
What’s funny about that, to me, is how irrational it is. It’s just a book, Michael Cisco is quite possibly a genius, and this is was surely how Cisco wanted me to feel. I could rationalize all of that, but the feeling remained. This book felt like something I shouldn’t have read, something I wasn’t supposed to read.
UNLANGUAGE is less a novel, more a… a composed decomposition of a novel. An experiment in engagement and narrative that not merely challenges, but demands of the reader the willingness to reduce and reconsider how to engage with narrative. The thing is: It’s a workbook, of sorts. A style and usage guide to impossible grammar: unlanguage of unknowing, the language of the quiet depths. The chapters are Units, with introductions to such unconventions as Void Nouns, Decomposition Metaphors, Antitenses, Negative Voice, etc. Along with each unit is typically an Exercise and a Unit Reading. It is in these readings that a narrative, or something that occasionally resembles a narrative, unfolds. The workbook appears, and with it there is a teacher reanimated from death by unlanguage, and there are the students (including us, the reader), and there is decay.
And let me tell you: this is easily one of the most demanding books I’ve ever read. The workbook segments are written in an elevated scholarly language which simultaneously shines with a sophisticated understanding of linguistics and grammar, and is also intentionally impenetrable and disorienting. The effect is that it’s a hilarious book, sometimes—when it isn’t deeply unsettling and outright disturbing. I often slowed down to try and better understand these lessons, to see if I could better grasp how they applied to the readings, but this only heightened my sense of confusion. It was always entertaining and weirdly funny, but for the same reasons could also be frustrating, even maddening. Sometimes all I could do was laugh.
Then I came to the end, and the cumulative effect of all this confusion, horror, and bafflement revealed itself in that feeling I mentioned above. The feeling that somehow I’d put myself in an implacable, ineffable sense of danger by reading this text.
UNLANGUAGE resists cohesive interpretation at every turn. There were times when I thought I was moving toward better understanding, but then I’d turn the page and the next Unit would change all that, and the narrative would transform again according to the new unit. It’s a book that seems somehow to contain knowledge I was only ever able to skim the surface of, unable to escape the feeling I was missing so much but that, maybe, trying to go deeper and grasp more of it was either impossible or unwise.
The book does warn the reader in myriad ways to stop reading, unlanguage is forbidden and it is dangerous. It’s a fun conceit, but what caught me so off guard is how the book wormed its way under my skin, making it feel like so much more than a conceit.
So, I mean it when I say that picking up my copy of the book to take a photo of it, to pair with this review—even that gave me a small sense of unease. If ever there was, in the world, a truly cursed book, a book that curses and dooms its reader by exposure to its contents, UNLANGUAGE feels very much how I imagine such a book would read. Something that disorients and confuses, impossible to fully wrap one’s mind around save for small, scattered moments of troubling clarity.
It is possibly the most challenging book I’ve ever read. I found myself grateful for my past experience with dense, obscure art cinema and other works of demanding weird literature, experience that has taught me how to engage with art that refuses to yield to any conventional sense of engagement. But the reward with this peculiar work was immense, to go along with the challenge. I feel inexplicably altered by it, in love with it, and irrationally freaked out by it. I can’t even say I’m over those feelings of being unsafe, despite the rational parts of my mind.
What’s funny about that, to me, is how irrational it is. It’s just a book, Michael Cisco is quite possibly a genius, and this is was surely how Cisco wanted me to feel. I could rationalize all of that, but the feeling remained. This book felt like something I shouldn’t have read, something I wasn’t supposed to read.
UNLANGUAGE is less a novel, more a… a composed decomposition of a novel. An experiment in engagement and narrative that not merely challenges, but demands of the reader the willingness to reduce and reconsider how to engage with narrative. The thing is: It’s a workbook, of sorts. A style and usage guide to impossible grammar: unlanguage of unknowing, the language of the quiet depths. The chapters are Units, with introductions to such unconventions as Void Nouns, Decomposition Metaphors, Antitenses, Negative Voice, etc. Along with each unit is typically an Exercise and a Unit Reading. It is in these readings that a narrative, or something that occasionally resembles a narrative, unfolds. The workbook appears, and with it there is a teacher reanimated from death by unlanguage, and there are the students (including us, the reader), and there is decay.
And let me tell you: this is easily one of the most demanding books I’ve ever read. The workbook segments are written in an elevated scholarly language which simultaneously shines with a sophisticated understanding of linguistics and grammar, and is also intentionally impenetrable and disorienting. The effect is that it’s a hilarious book, sometimes—when it isn’t deeply unsettling and outright disturbing. I often slowed down to try and better understand these lessons, to see if I could better grasp how they applied to the readings, but this only heightened my sense of confusion. It was always entertaining and weirdly funny, but for the same reasons could also be frustrating, even maddening. Sometimes all I could do was laugh.
Then I came to the end, and the cumulative effect of all this confusion, horror, and bafflement revealed itself in that feeling I mentioned above. The feeling that somehow I’d put myself in an implacable, ineffable sense of danger by reading this text.
UNLANGUAGE resists cohesive interpretation at every turn. There were times when I thought I was moving toward better understanding, but then I’d turn the page and the next Unit would change all that, and the narrative would transform again according to the new unit. It’s a book that seems somehow to contain knowledge I was only ever able to skim the surface of, unable to escape the feeling I was missing so much but that, maybe, trying to go deeper and grasp more of it was either impossible or unwise.
The book does warn the reader in myriad ways to stop reading, unlanguage is forbidden and it is dangerous. It’s a fun conceit, but what caught me so off guard is how the book wormed its way under my skin, making it feel like so much more than a conceit.
So, I mean it when I say that picking up my copy of the book to take a photo of it, to pair with this review—even that gave me a small sense of unease. If ever there was, in the world, a truly cursed book, a book that curses and dooms its reader by exposure to its contents, UNLANGUAGE feels very much how I imagine such a book would read. Something that disorients and confuses, impossible to fully wrap one’s mind around save for small, scattered moments of troubling clarity.
It is possibly the most challenging book I’ve ever read. I found myself grateful for my past experience with dense, obscure art cinema and other works of demanding weird literature, experience that has taught me how to engage with art that refuses to yield to any conventional sense of engagement. But the reward with this peculiar work was immense, to go along with the challenge. I feel inexplicably altered by it, in love with it, and irrationally freaked out by it. I can’t even say I’m over those feelings of being unsafe, despite the rational parts of my mind.
May 8, 2020
So this is one of the more insane things I've ever read. I really only write reviews on Goodreads when I feel like I really need to get my thoughts straight on a book; otherwise, it feels kind of like screaming into the void (which is something Unlanguage frequently made me feel like doing). In fact the only other book I read that spurred me to write a review here is Ulysses, and I think this book is a work of prose and narrative fuckery that deserves to be put on a comparable pedestal.
It actually reminds me more of the 50 pages I've read of Finnegans Wake (which I do really hope to get back to at some point). It seems written in a way in which you read every sentence and it almost makes sense but not quite, coming away usually with a very grim image and a very disquieting mood, along with a sense of confusion that, ultimately, seems to be the point. To people who have watched Twin Peaks, it's like reading a book written by the Log Lady if she had a tendency to go into graphic tangents about rotting corpses. What narrative there is imitates this dreamlike structure. The way that the “story” is more-or-less a crop of grim, extremely surrealistic vignettes that share some connective tissue. While they share common characters and themes, these feel less like a true “narrative” and more like the kinds of vague-but-undeniable synchronicities that could drive a reader to madness.
The grammar textbook structure of it is intriguing, and it's the academic "units" that really embody that maddening almost-sense that the writing creates. While I'm not sure if anything this "conventional" was Michael Cisco's intention, it does feel like reading a damned book, something like the Necronomicon. Not just a "big book of spooky stuff", but a book that genuinely makes you feel like you're plumbing the depths of truly forbidden knowledge, something that feels as if it's actually making you less sane while reading it. Cisco's style feels as if it's just beyond understanding in a way that's genuinely maddening and creepy as hell.
I've read three other books by Cisco - The Divinity Student, The Tyrant and The Narrator. He immediately stood out to me as one of the most intriguing authors I've ever read, as a fan of both horror and bizarre, metatextual/postmodern literature. And while I can say I "liked" The Divinity Student most of what I've read by him - if only because it seems to be the most tightly written and conventionally satisfying of his works - this was the book that truly sold him to me as one of my favorite authors, one who I plan to half-coherently rave about to anyone who will listen to me from now on. I look forward to reading the rest of his works, hopefully with my brain intact by the end.
It actually reminds me more of the 50 pages I've read of Finnegans Wake (which I do really hope to get back to at some point). It seems written in a way in which you read every sentence and it almost makes sense but not quite, coming away usually with a very grim image and a very disquieting mood, along with a sense of confusion that, ultimately, seems to be the point. To people who have watched Twin Peaks, it's like reading a book written by the Log Lady if she had a tendency to go into graphic tangents about rotting corpses. What narrative there is imitates this dreamlike structure. The way that the “story” is more-or-less a crop of grim, extremely surrealistic vignettes that share some connective tissue. While they share common characters and themes, these feel less like a true “narrative” and more like the kinds of vague-but-undeniable synchronicities that could drive a reader to madness.
The grammar textbook structure of it is intriguing, and it's the academic "units" that really embody that maddening almost-sense that the writing creates. While I'm not sure if anything this "conventional" was Michael Cisco's intention, it does feel like reading a damned book, something like the Necronomicon. Not just a "big book of spooky stuff", but a book that genuinely makes you feel like you're plumbing the depths of truly forbidden knowledge, something that feels as if it's actually making you less sane while reading it. Cisco's style feels as if it's just beyond understanding in a way that's genuinely maddening and creepy as hell.
I've read three other books by Cisco - The Divinity Student, The Tyrant and The Narrator. He immediately stood out to me as one of the most intriguing authors I've ever read, as a fan of both horror and bizarre, metatextual/postmodern literature. And while I can say I "liked" The Divinity Student most of what I've read by him - if only because it seems to be the most tightly written and conventionally satisfying of his works - this was the book that truly sold him to me as one of my favorite authors, one who I plan to half-coherently rave about to anyone who will listen to me from now on. I look forward to reading the rest of his works, hopefully with my brain intact by the end.
July 1, 2024
"The purpose of the course is to change you, so that you will learn to see the world, speak and write, like someone who has come back from the dead. For that to happen you must die, reading. Death is vanquished. Death is espoused. Sobriety presumes again. The idea is all wrong. Tragically."
Complete this exercise:
- You begin reading this book.
- (you heard of it through less than trustworthy channels)
- The writing style grabs you for the first 20 pages.
- (and never again after that point)
- You explicitly state that you hate this work.
- (you are telling the truth)
- And yet you complete it.
- (and are somewhat un---satisfied)
I don’t know how to describe this other than through comparisons. As unintelligible and requiring of rereading as the bible, as gory and lusty as house of leaves, as obtuse and detail rich as time war, as interestingly crafted as ship of theseus, and as boring and incomprehensible as a random biography. If nothing else it’s impressive to keep this insane writing style up for so many pages. I can get this being my favorite author's favorite author, and maybe that’s why I cannot even begin to understand what this book is trying to say.
I definitely began to figure this book out in the last hundred pages— but sadly that was because I was HEAVILY glossing while also skipping all of the grammar sections. It made sense by the end but the twist felt underdone and very much like a copout. It made the very disparate sections make sense but in a pretty simple way for how mind-meldy the rest of the book is. And holy wow is this book a mind meld. Indirect Biblical allusions, chapter long parables that never seem to mean anything, necrophilia and rape, and some insane descriptions of decay and some sort of plague that contorts and grow into fungal structures. But the best parts of this book are easily when it leans into the grammatical and plot parallelism and symbolism. The novelty of the grammar descriptions lining up with the plot never got old. What did get old very quickly was the actual grammar sections. Again, it is impressive to keep that style up for the entire book--but (very sadly) it was physically draining and grating to read it after about the third chapter. Overall I was glad I kept with this but I would be very hard-pressed to recommend this to literally anyone.
Complete this exercise:
- You begin reading this book.
- (you heard of it through less than trustworthy channels)
- The writing style grabs you for the first 20 pages.
- (and never again after that point)
- You explicitly state that you hate this work.
- (you are telling the truth)
- And yet you complete it.
- (and are somewhat un---satisfied)
I don’t know how to describe this other than through comparisons. As unintelligible and requiring of rereading as the bible, as gory and lusty as house of leaves, as obtuse and detail rich as time war, as interestingly crafted as ship of theseus, and as boring and incomprehensible as a random biography. If nothing else it’s impressive to keep this insane writing style up for so many pages. I can get this being my favorite author's favorite author, and maybe that’s why I cannot even begin to understand what this book is trying to say.
I definitely began to figure this book out in the last hundred pages— but sadly that was because I was HEAVILY glossing while also skipping all of the grammar sections. It made sense by the end but the twist felt underdone and very much like a copout. It made the very disparate sections make sense but in a pretty simple way for how mind-meldy the rest of the book is. And holy wow is this book a mind meld. Indirect Biblical allusions, chapter long parables that never seem to mean anything, necrophilia and rape, and some insane descriptions of decay and some sort of plague that contorts and grow into fungal structures. But the best parts of this book are easily when it leans into the grammatical and plot parallelism and symbolism. The novelty of the grammar descriptions lining up with the plot never got old. What did get old very quickly was the actual grammar sections. Again, it is impressive to keep that style up for the entire book--but (very sadly) it was physically draining and grating to read it after about the third chapter. Overall I was glad I kept with this but I would be very hard-pressed to recommend this to literally anyone.
June 18, 2025
This book is much like House of Leaves, but it poses as a linguistics grimoire, featuring chapters as “Units” and has mini surrealistic horror stories as “Readings”.
I think I wasted some time trying to memorize the completely fictitious rules for “Unlanguage”, but I did learn about linguistics from this, and I also learned a ton of (real) words. It should be said that this was written with a thesaurus and you will read it with a dictionary. Standout words include: “integument” and “interstice”, “dispondees” and “dochmiacs”, “coruscations” and “coition”, “friable” and “fatuously”. It has a nice sheen of horror that gives you an atmosphere to relax to Lofi beats and study fiction, but this book does a good job of reminding you that not all of what’s fictitious is false. This fades as the book goes on though.
One review I saw compared this book to the Necronomicon, which I think is apt, but I’ll approach the comparison from a different angle. This book is physically uncomfortable. It’s printed on extra wide paper without a hardcover, so it’s constantly flopping around in your hands, both of which are required to read it. I think it fell on my face like eight times. It really adds to the unsettling nature of the book, makes you feel like it’s not meant to be read. To my point, I imagine it’s similar to the effect of how the Necronomicon is bound in human flesh.
Or maybe it was just made this way to better resemble a school workbook.
Anyway if you really liked House of Leaves, you will probably like this too.
I think I wasted some time trying to memorize the completely fictitious rules for “Unlanguage”, but I did learn about linguistics from this, and I also learned a ton of (real) words. It should be said that this was written with a thesaurus and you will read it with a dictionary. Standout words include: “integument” and “interstice”, “dispondees” and “dochmiacs”, “coruscations” and “coition”, “friable” and “fatuously”. It has a nice sheen of horror that gives you an atmosphere to relax to Lofi beats and study fiction, but this book does a good job of reminding you that not all of what’s fictitious is false. This fades as the book goes on though.
One review I saw compared this book to the Necronomicon, which I think is apt, but I’ll approach the comparison from a different angle. This book is physically uncomfortable. It’s printed on extra wide paper without a hardcover, so it’s constantly flopping around in your hands, both of which are required to read it. I think it fell on my face like eight times. It really adds to the unsettling nature of the book, makes you feel like it’s not meant to be read. To my point, I imagine it’s similar to the effect of how the Necronomicon is bound in human flesh.
Or maybe it was just made this way to better resemble a school workbook.
Anyway if you really liked House of Leaves, you will probably like this too.
June 10, 2021
I’m giving up on this book having only made it half way through, but it still gets a solid 4 stars—and I suspect it deserves 5. Cisco deals in (among other things) the literature of confusion and this book gets at a particularly existential and phenomenological brand of confusion similar to what Beckett explores in Molloy (another masterpiece that I am perpetually only halfway through). I am fascinated by these books and am certain that they are revealing something profound about the poetics of unknowing, but I can’t commit to visiting these ideas on a regular enough basis to reach the back cover and so I’m admitting defeat.
In both Molloy and Unlanguage, some base-level consciousness tries and fails (fails toward a different type of success maybe?) to use narrative as a means of parsing the paradox of being vs. non-being. That’s the best I can do without resorting to grunting noises and flailing gestures.
In both Molloy and Unlanguage, some base-level consciousness tries and fails (fails toward a different type of success maybe?) to use narrative as a means of parsing the paradox of being vs. non-being. That’s the best I can do without resorting to grunting noises and flailing gestures.
July 25, 2020
English
Now hard.
The undead, the beyond. It whispers to me
Now hard.
The undead, the beyond. It whispers to me
February 19, 2024
Biased for Cisco. Love the way he writes. Skip the lil definition things at the beginning of each chapter. Detracted from the story but kudos for the attempts to describe unlanguage
June 1, 2025
"Mom, Michael Cisco's inventing new languages again, you need to make him stop!"
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