Hyperlink from Hell is witty, complex, profane, inane and insane. Its author, Lindy Moone, gives fair warning of this on its title page:
“Caution: In(s)ane Mystery ahead. If you have any sense, or sensibilities, this senseless novel will surely offend some or all of them. Just put the book down, and back away. (Now).” The italics are mine.
It has two narrators. The first is female, the acting director of The Haven, an insane asylum. Already you may guess where this is going, though I didn’t. The second narrator is an inmate who’s gone missing, Jimmie Canning, a former TV reality show star. Jimmie has left behind a first-person account of his activities since his disappearance/murder. He’s left this document, “Hyperlink from Hell” in the possession of Al, the former director of the asylum.
In his autobiographical account, Jimmie does not understand what’s happening to him, and the reader doesn’t either. But hey, maybe this is what insanity feels like (or reality, to some). I’d nearly finished the book before I realized who Al and Jimmie represent. Both are crazy.
Jimmie’s narrative is chock full of altered references to television characters and shows, plus Shakespearean allusions and potty jokes. I kept thinking of “a tale told by an idiot” (Macbeth). Because the characters are lovable, the story never feels dark nor the satire harsh.
Hyperlink from Hell could become a cult classic. It’s substantial enough, and poses abundant questions for analysis in college literature classes. I envision term papers, theses, dissertations, bull-sessions. In a few places, a “banned book,” because some will take offense.
My experience: In the beginning, I kept wanting more of the first narrator– the sane one–and a traditional-type story. That desire, too, may be part of the message. We want the universe to make sense. I skimmed some of the manic scenes (the book is long) and grew a little tired of farce, but by the end, I loved how the author puzzled the pieces together, and I was ready to read again from the beginning.
Contemporary fiction seldom presents such a challenge, or such fine writing. Kudos, Lindy Moone!