The setting is tumultuous, and it mostly trucks in truth: the German Peasants’ War and the Münster Rebellion loom large, both for the PTSD-inducing horrors involved and for the scrabbling for power that underpinned them. The story is presented through a collection of contemporaneous narratives by a many-named Anabaptist radical – most commonly referred to as Gert-of-the-Well – and through the letters and diary entries of Qoèlet (the titular Q), a Roman Catholic cardinal’s spy. Luther: full-time theologian, part-time footy nugget.
It could be superficial on my part – hey, these novels involve religion and monks and mystery! – but it seems appropriate. Not because the authors are Italian also – though that may play a lesser part – but because the circuitous intrigues of works such as The Name of the Rose and Foucault’s Pendulum seem very closely aligned to Blissett’s work here. The nearest thing I could liken it to was some of Umberto Eco’s work. In terms of Q, Blissett was the name given a writing project masterminded by a couple of particular authors, who now write as Wu Ming because they’ve solidified their endeavours and cemented their lineup. (It’s safe to say that the real Luther Blissett, a former football player for AC Milan, Watford FC and England, is not an expert on theological intrigue, but I am open to being corrected.)
The activities, aside from novels, include the presentation of fake ape art, spoiling the ending of Harry Potter books and, somewhat circuitously, being involved with the K Foundation’s burning of a million pounds in Scotland. A mask to pull on for endeavours creative and political – or, ideally, both.
He’s kind of a George Kaplan figure: an open-source pseudonym with roots in activism and pranks. Pictured: the author, but also not the author.
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