Philip K. Dick is the Hugo Award Winning author of the Man in the High Castle and dozens of other fine works. He is widely acclaimed as one of our best science fiction writer, which means one our best writers. Confessions of a Crap Artist is the first non-science- fiction novel by Philip K. Dick that's ever been pubished. A hard cover collector's edition was published in 1975 and is now out of print; copies are changing hands for $25. or more. The present edition is the first time this extraordinary novel has been available to the general public.

"A funny, horribly accurate portrait of life in California in the 1950's" -Rolling Stone

"Very good....I recommend it highly"-Charles N Brown, Locus

"The heroin, so to speak, is the best portrait of a woman in the whole body of his work." Thomas DIsh, Crawdaddy

" A stunning Novel, one which will please anyone who has enjoyed Dick's sf novels. Like those novels it is at times surreal and at times funny; it is also something of a tragedy. Like his other works it explores the interface between sanity aqnd reality (or insanity and unreality). A pleasure to read." Ted White, Amazing

"The fact that what Dick is entertaining us about is reality and madness, time and death, sin and salvatiob -this has escaped most critics. Nobody notices that we have our own homegrown Borges, and have had him for thirty years." Ursula K, Le Guin, The New Republic.

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From the back cover of the 1982 Timescape edition

ON APRIL 23, 1959, THE WORLD IS GOING TO END. NODOUBT ABOUT IT.

In norther California's marin county, Fay and Charlie Hume lived with their two daughters, four black-faced sheep, blue collie dog, Arabian horses, imported ducks and Fay's brother, Jack Isidore, the crap artist.

It was a verified scientific fact that the Hume's world, alomng everybody else's was about to explode.

It was a verified scientific fact that the Humes were to busy with adultery, insanity, fantasy and badmington too care....

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From the back cover of the 1992 Vintage edition

Confessions of a Crap Artist is one of Philip K. Dick's weirdest and most accomplished novels. Jack Isidore is a crap artist -- a collector of crackpot ideas (among other things, he believes that the earth is hallow and that sunlight has weight) and worthless objects, a man so grossly unequipped for real life that his sister and brother-in-law feel compelled to rescue him from it. But seen through Jack's murderously innocent gaze, Charlie and Juddy Hume prove to be just as sealed off from reality, in thrall to obsessions that are slightly more acceptable than Jack's, but a great deal uglier.