The latest addition to my website is Vítězslav Nezval‘s Žena v množném čísle (Woman in the Plural). This is not even vaguely a novel but,rather, a collection of pieces – poetry, short prose pieces and a drama – all of which are surrealistic in nature, as Nezval was on one of, if not the leading Czech surrealist, a friend of Breton and other leading French surrealists. The drama, for example, starts off with the Bird of Doom and a Neurasthenic Woman, and an event for which may people have paid but not only do neither we nor they know what it is about, nor do the organisers. It gets worse. The poems and prose pieces are full of surrealistic imagery – no Moon in June or daffodils floating in the breeze, even though his poems are vaguely love poems or, at least, about women, and a few nature poems. Images such as widowed scallops and a chess-playing flea abound. It is all enormous fun but, of course, serious fun. He concludes But what disgusts me most is the fool who laughs at this desperate poem of mine.