Review
Like Mike (or Mick) himself, [
Valley] is not normal, but, it is indeed, well. Pick it up and it seems ordinary enough... flip through it, on the other hand, and you will do a double take. The mixing of styles from chapter to chapter make it look more like the hodgepodge of an anthology, but the narrative is continuous. --
Lodown Magazine, Germany, January 1999Mike Daily's sensibility is seriously skewed ... [
Valley is] an epic of fragmentation and disjointed thought processes, cutting from genre to genre (screenplay, poetry, journalism, even a college science lecture), with deliberately unrelenting commentary in the form of margin writings, footnotes, snapshots, bludgeoning headline-size type, and illustrations bleeding off the page. It should logically be a jarring, disjointed read. Miraculously it isn't. The reason is Daily's uncanny fluidity and rhythm. --
Level Magazine, UK, March 1999The book jumps from genre to genre turning the author, Mike Daily, into a young Frankenstein, concocting his own literary monster [by using] a pastiche of journal entries, newspaper clippings, poetry and screenplay scenes ... It is Daily's trade as an editor that allows him the insight of scrutinizing the mundane, turning a bland, everyday occurrence into a profound revelation. By the book's end you're bound to realize that, yes, we are all crazy in our own special way. --
Warp Magazine, Feb. 1999
Product Description
Novel. "...the book jumps from genre to genre, turning the author, Mike Daily, into a young Frankenstein, concocting his own literary monster [by using] a pastiche of journal entries, newspaper clippings, poetry and screenplay scenes..."--Warp Magazine. Daily's novel begins with a list of the zero other books he has written and ends with several blank pages for "notes," and, at points between, touches on topics ranging from Dostoevsky to the absence of the letter "Q" on most soda machines. The book is tentatively set in the post-apocalyptic/ present-day moonscape of the San Fernando Valley, sports chapter-titles such as "long-distance methamphetamine lamentations" and "the bathroom god," and features hand-written marginalia, a burnt page "specially singed [sic] by the poet," and a pervasive sense of aesthetic indeterminacy interrupted regularly by bouts of hilarity: "Freya was making dinner and I was leafing through Gunshot and Stab Wounds, a brochure I must have picked up at the hospital, when someone knocked at the door." Daily lives in the San Fernando Valley, where he edits international BMX magazines.