"A group of Florida stoners tour France to visit the apartment of an obscure psychedelic sci-fi writer called Rocco Atebly, who not only was a necromancer, and played the theremin like a champ, but created an apocalyptic, device called Fat Tornado Clock, that messes with other dimensions and layers of reality.Chase Griffin and Christina Quay’s novel is not a puzzle, but some esoteric kind of improv that explores Borges’ thesis on causality as the main problem of the literary arts. This narrative seeks to transcend the giant dead whale of postmodernism without undoing any of its promethean conclusions, driven by a passion that fears no ironic judgment.You may have seen a dime-a-dozen indie lit psychedelia writers exploring and at the same time ironizing their very quest to better understand their world, yet this hysterically silly and viscerally paranoid work of metafiction tries its dang hardest to sketch the blueprint of the authors’ still beating hearts: something that no posers can ever do. Maybe you read people who have read Foster Wallace, Vonnegut, Pynchon and Wittgenstein before, but trust me, you have not read Florida’s finest freaks’ meditations on the nature of reality, nor their musings over the consequences of this never-ending human quest for transcendence and authentic, spíritually meaningful living in our techno-infused carnival of political horrors called early 21th century late-capitalism."—Kelvin Matheus Rosa, English literature researcher, writer and teacher from Brazil

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About the authors

Christina Quay and Chase Griffin are reclusive authors and not much is known about them. It is rumored that they live in Florida, they have three children, they have pet alligators, and they spend their spare time building orgone accumulators.

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"D.T. Robbins writes like he met the Devil at the crossroads, sold his soul, and dropped acid in the underworld. The stories in Birds Aren’t Real are psychedelic fables of tunnels and ghosts, hair and graveyards, but underneath the Danse Macabre is a painful quest for love in a heartbroken world."—Kevin Maloney, author of The Red-Headed Pilgrim"A boyfriend once told me the best art leaves you disoriented. It makes you question reality, as if what changed wasn’t you—it was everything around you. In that case, Birds Aren’t Real is a masterpiece."—Danielle Chelosy, author of Cheat"The stories in Birds Are Real are so exuberant, so chaotic, so full of energy and sentiment and joy and romance and the belief in both themselves and the world around them that anything is possible — they feel a little like you've jumped in the sidecar of Evel Knievel's motorcycle for a journey across the country, around the globe, through the galaxy, while Evel points out all these beautiful moments hidden everywhere you'd never even thought to look."—Aaron Burch, author of Year of the Buffalo"Birds Aren't Real is euphoric, ridiculously funny, and so very good. These stories feel like the wild west of fiction, like pure freedom."—Amina Cain, author of Indelicacy"Anything can happen in these wild dream-like stories."—Bud Smith

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