Family Romance cover image

"Our guarantee: pictures preexist prose."

From Patterson's unconsciousness a hundred images geyser forth. Observing no order, acknowledging no linguistic import, they loom up in Bradley's face and gradually coalesce into this--

Family Romance

All-new Second Edition, rewritten, re-formatted in adherence to the creators' original vision and verbalization! Now with even more visuals, exvaginating yet further verbals!

“…There is no denying the imagination on show here, both in the excellent artwork and in Bradley’s interpretation of it. Patterson’s pictures are an unsettling mix of body horror, twisted erotica, 1950s sci-fi and biblical iconography… It is to Bradley’s credit that he
manages to create a cohesive story around these visuals, often surpassing them in gross-out strangeness. Thankfully there is meat under all the blood and amniotic fluid. Family Romance works both as a coming-of-age story and a critique of organised religion…”
–PANK Magazine

Buy Family Romance in paperback at Amazon or ebook at Kobo



Elmer Crowley: A Katabasic Nekyia

Second Edition! Improved production values! Critically appendicized by the leading lights of Thelema/Crowleyanity!

“The voice is dead perfect… I can’t imagine a hip Thelemite NOT having this book in her library.”
–Don Webb, former High Priest, Temple of Set

“This ‘picaresque graphic novel’ reads like an account of Crowley’s death-bed fever dream or an afterlife bardo journey gone terribly wrong, wherein the fifty-eight Wrathful Deities take on the aspect of warped and sinister versions of Looney Toons archetype…. the result reads like a trippy, post-mortem, long-lost epilogue to The Confessions.”
–Richard Kaczynski, author of Perdurbo: The Life of Aleister Crowley

“Reading Elmer Crowley is like reading Crowley’s inner dialogue at 3am, after an intensive journey into his own inner abyss. It is, therefore, a magickal working that Crowley himself would be proud of.”
–Gwendolyn Taunton, author of Northern Traditons

“Of Aleister Crowley’s many fictionalizations, this novel gets best into his head. Erudite, prideful, lascivious, funniest man of his time, and the mightiest spiritual spelunker–he speaks and shouts from these pages as clearly as he did in his Autohagiography, which is paradoxical, given the irreal setting.”
–Barry Katz, HTMLGIANT

“This book…captures the feel of Crowley with his bawdy, politically incorrect irreverence, his arrogance and his committed magickal spirituality and awareness.”
–Charlotte Rodgers, author of P is for Prostitute

“Crowley, Fudd, Hitler, Buddha, Yeats, Heliopolitan hierophants, the Goddess Baubo, assorted “Nilotic dream despots”, a carrot-eating Madame Blavatsky, Bugs Bunny, Daffy Duck and their Warner Brothers producer, Leon Schlesinger bounce and boing their way across human history. These are the launch points for Bradley’s inquiries into questions of meta-ethics and truth against a background of ‘Esoteric Hitlerists.'”
–John-Ivan Palmer, Fortrean Times

Buy Elmer Crowley in paperback at Amazon or ebook at Kobo



other collaborations by Baubo people

Useful Despair as Taught to the Hemorrhaging Slave of an Obese Eunuch

Set during Nero’s psychotic reign, this BLANK VERSE EPIC plunges a transsexed priestess of a Phrygian fertility cult into the becalmed Adriatic. He/She’s attended by his/her erotically indecisive traveling partner who can’t swim a stroke, and is clinging to him/her in this exhausted frame of mind–

…For me the Adriatic’s sickly-warm,
as one imagines amniotic sauce
to be, or maybe recollects it as.
Existence dragged beyond the edge of surfeit
this time around, I balk to get re-sucked
into the crumby syrup of the womb…



We'll See Who Seduces Whom

“Whose shiny prosthesis
unhymens this prairie,
obtruding on soil
like a smooth hookah-tube
urged on a flippant girl,
trying to get her to
do smoke as vulvas do semen?”
The painter and poet, in a death-wrestle, try to disentangle their protean identities, or at least to maintain a numerical tally of the limbs, heads, and torsos their shifting persons comprise.
As with FAMILY ROMANCE, Tom has accepted the challenge posed by a stack of preexisting art. In this case the ekphrasis is in verse, and the ineffable images have sprung from the cranial alembic of alchemical visionary David Aronson.
Publisher Jonathan Penton says, “This is the most peculiar book of erotica, and the weirdest book of poetry outside of psychoses outright, I’ve ever seen. This is BHAGAVAD-GITA PORN



Felicia's Nose

Posthumous collaboration with Carol Novack.

"...Being a writer, Carol's method of self-excavation was literary, and she recruited my help, two shovels being better than one...She wanted me to dig under her characters and situations, to dissect her names, numbers, references, to turn her allusions, both deliberate and unconscious, inside-out.


Carol wanted a running commentary that furtively pursued—she cringed at the word—psychoanalytical strategies. She envisaged an infestation of ten-point type skittering along the bottom of her novel like army ants underfoot.

“‘We need a literal subtext!’ she cried…”

Cover art and illustrations by Nick Patterson.



Family Romance: black & white edition

Black and white version from Jaded Ibis Press, described by Forbes magazine as a "hotpoint where the novel is undergoing radical transformation to reflect its time."

The Church of Latter-Day Eugenics

Chris Kelso, the charismatic Caledonian, has collaborated with Tom Bradley in writing this book. Cover art and interior illustrations are by the astonishing Nick Patterson!

Depicted here is Sheila the She-God, who presides over London’s formerly semi-fashionable Goneril Square. Inspired by the Cathars and the Bogomils, the Chabad-Lubavitcher Hasidim and the Mohel Rabbis, the

Borborites and the Manichaeans, the Vajrayana Buddhists and the ecclesiastical branch of Aleister Crowley’s Ordo Templi Orientis, not to mention the Carpocratians and sundry other Spermo-Gnostic sects, Sheila’s transgendered clergy hunt down and sacrifice–not humans, but human bodily fluids. Splooge plus catamenia are harvested and wafted aloft, burnt-offering-wise, to our She-God in the smog.