He had walked the earth as Nostradamus, Uther Pendragon, Count Cagliostro and Rodrigo Borgia.
He could open a tin of sardines with his teeth, strike a Swan Vesta on his chin, rope steers, drive a steam locomotive and hum all the works of Gilbert & Sullivan without becoming confused or breaking down in tears.
He died, penniless, at a Hastings boarding house, in his ninetieth year.
His name was Hugo Artemis Solon Saturnicus Reginald Arthur Rune, and he was never bored.
Hailed as the 'guru's guru', Rune penned more than eight million words of genius including his greatest work, The Book of Ultimate Truths.
But vital chapters of The Book were suppressed, chapters which could have changed the whole course of human history.
Now, seventeen-year-old Cornelius Murphy, together with his best friend Tuppe, sets out on an epic quest.
Their mission - recover the missing chapters. Re-publish The Book of Ultimate Truths. And save the world.
- Format: Paperback
- Pages: 352 pages
- Publisher: Transworld Publishers Ltd
- Publication Date: 28/04/1994
- Category: Science fiction
- ISBN: 9780552139229
- Paperback from £9.99
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Showing 1 - 3 of 3 reviews.
Review by isabelx
Obviously I'd heard of Hugo Rune as the inventor of the martial art Dimac, so this was a welcome chance to learn more about the guru's guru. Robert Rankin manages to get in his usual mentions of Penge, but sprouts don't turn up until the end of the story.I didn't find it as funny as the Brentford Trilogy, but it was still good.
Review by grandpahobo
This is a fun book. You really have to pay attention and can't go days between reading without losing track of the story (at least I couldn't). I had a little trouble with the British slang, but it became easier as I went along. <br/><br/>I think the main drawback is the lack of connection between the characters throughout the book. In many cases characters came and went with minimal explanation of there relationship to the other characters or the story as a whole. Many of these loose end were tied up in the end, but by that point I had lost track of where the character fit in the body of the story.<br/><br/>
Review by Xleptodactylous
Cornelius Murphy and his friend Tuppe set off on an epic adventure to find the missing papers of self-proclaimed Grand Master of Everything, Hugo Artemis Solon Saturnicus Reginald Arthur Rune's book; The Book of Ultimate Truths. Starting out in Scotland, ready to buy the remaining items of an estate belonging to an old friend of Rune's, they make one too many enemies along the way, up to and including angry Scots.<br/><br/>Of all the authors I read, likeable and dislikeable, Robert Rankin is the only one that has taught me something in every single book. It may only be trivial matters, though can often be cultural gems, but every single book I read of his I have to hop on to Google and find out what he's talking about. His wonderful references to obscure little facts, or passing mentions of wonderful people who were alive long ago and have been forgotten by most, have been instrumental in my education of non-academic fancies.<br/><br/>I have yet to read every Rankin book, but thus far I have gleamed knowledge of the cornerstones of past cultures, from the academic to the (more often than not) occult. Crowley, Babbage, Tesla, Dadd: all were introduced to me via Rankin. Popular Culture also gets its foot in, from musicians to TV personalities: the kind of people that, as a young'un, have by-passed me because if it's not current, it's not popular, right?<br/><br/>Robert Rankin's writing is not sublime. It is often long-winded and he is very over-fond of the running gag. But he is the only writer who has ever made me laugh out loud in public (at a Cricket match, no less) and also sitting alone in my room. I cannot pick the book up again due to being unable to breath. No other writer has done that: not even Sir Terry Pratchett. He writes in the style of that secret voice we have in our mind, the one that is laughing at the person who has just tripped over, and won't stop giggling even as we help them up. It is the childlike voice that holds nothing sacred.