A promotional panel for Moon Over Brendle by Jeff Noon. It shows the cover. The text reads: 12th May 2026.
Contemporary fantasy meets fantastical memoir in the new novel from @jeffnoon.bsky.social
"Part ghost story, part magical coming of age tale but most of all a story about stories, memory and the ties that connect us all."
@stewarthotston.com, author of Project Hanuman
12th May 2026
Preorder NOW
Writing never writes all that needs writing.
Erasure never erases all that needs erasing.
Slowly, one layer at a time, the moon is drawing back her silver from every mirror on the planet. Now her face will shine brightly once more, whilst our reflections darken.
The songs live on. Not in downloads, or grooves, or ones and zeros. And not in the fans’ eyes, nor in their ears or their minds. But in the gaps between the stars where the singer’s body ground to dust floats away, scattered...
Day told moth, and moth told night. And night told moon and moon told ghost and ghost told man. The man told no one. He sold it on, encoded.
Gladys Underwood worked in secret for most of her adult life on The Complete Encyclopedia of Silence. The final entry was a blank page.
Jonah sat alone in his prison cell, picturing the film star in his mind. Details were added daily, weekly, monthly: her body, skin tone, bone structure, eyes, nails, hairstyle, her lips.
And finally, after two full years: a breath.
Their dream slept in the nursery.
Their dream went to school, grew older, got a job, got married.
Their dream had dreams of her own, two of them, twins.
Do we have to wake, the dreamers said. Do we really have to wake?
I have threaded the long black strands of hair onto my guitar, six of them tuned to a minor chord. The strings tighten and warp. The neck bends, the bone pegs creak. A ghostly voice sounds. Maria sings in the night.
Moon Over Brendle by @jeffnoon.bsky.social? Don't listen to us, listen to Martin.
Thanks for reading! You are my rocket fuel.
in a landscape of oils
a sole figure moves,
a woman in watercolour
an exile
Let it be known that I wish to rip out page 152 of the operator’s manual. I want to touch human flesh. I want to feel rain pouring down on my exoskeleton. I fear not rust, nor malfunction, only the secret of love beyond my circuits.
The New Folklore
A wolf may rob the spirit from your sheep or calfskin drum. But much worse: the wolf virus can steal the soul of your Roland 808 drum machine samples.
A busker chalks a song on the pavement in musical notation: stave, crotchets, quavers, accent marks, sharps and flats, bar lines. A tin cup fills up with drawings of coins and banknotes.
Seventeen vast crumbling bullet-ridden battle-scarred migration ships, each one the size of city, riding the waves of space along unknown routes, away from planet Earth. The dying Earth. The whole armada powered by the last remaining Commodore 64, circa 1987.
Dear User. More than [5] days have passed since you last upgraded your device. Update now to avoid social embarrassment and intense self-hatred.
William Burroughs hoped, via the cut-up method, to step outside of linear time. And thereby to live forever. Alas, Death has his own scissors and glue.
A wall reflected in a mirror. Years, years, years passing by. The wall, the silence, the dust, and then a woman’s face one day so briefly glimpsed and then gone, a blur, a ghost.
The mirror covered in soot.
Sometimes a crowd
Sometimes an empty mall
Sometimes a riot
Sometimes a mirage
Sometimes a mask
Sometimes a neon-drenched paradise
Sometimes a home
Sometimes a trap
Always a city
And even the cuckoos are leaving Cloud Cuckoo Land.
1274 AD: head on a coin
1279 AD: head on a pole
Moon Over Brendle proof spotted.
Gogmagog by @jeffnoon.bsky.social a...
"fascinating fantasy novel about an old, fucked-up plant woman doing her best to travel up a river made of a dead(?) dragon"?
Fair enough.
A photo of a bound proof of the 2026 Angry Robot edition of Moon Over Brendle by Jeff Noon.
"And then I found him. Mr Holbrook was standing amid the trees, speaking to whomever might be listening, the mice and voles, the birds, the insects. The spell was in his hands and he offered this up.
In the dusty darkness, dark dusty words are waiting."
@jeffnoon.bsky.social
But soft! What light through yon green screen breaks? It is the CGI Sun, and these few million pixels are Juliet: her face, her form.
At last, Romeo stirs awake.
Update
Former First Minister Emma Kovak was arrested today for smuggling illegal drugs across her own internal boundaries.
The country’s new borderlines have finally been agreed upon. They will exist inside the body of the First Minister, Emma Kovak.
The Queen’s body was buried facing the West. Found with her in the grave, the following items: bronze coins, food, a silver brooch, a ceremonial dagger, an ivory comb, her crown. And of course, all the necessary cheat codes for the Next Level of the game.
He had to be seen, to be believed. Without belief, he was not seen. Without being seen, there was no belief in his being seen to be believed.