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lungfish

by Louis Armand

ISBN 978-1-7394310-8-2. 1st edition. Paperback. 388 pages. Publication date: 26 January 2026. Equus Press: London & Prague.

Order the paperback edition via Lulu (€35.00 for the EU, 54.00 AUD for Australia), or try the Kindle (ebook) editions (Australia- or Central Europe-friendly).

Lungfish is a multi-layered work of docufiction, weaving myth, memory & true crime into a sprawling narrative of Australia & its shadows. From Terra Nullius to Pine Gap & beyond, Lungfish questions how stories are told & who owns them. At once intimate & epic, it is a novel about love & survival, lament, reclamation, & the many ways in which the forces of history brutalise the present.

“Dense, playful writing that boldly & unapologetically experiments with form & tone. Louis Armand’s Lungfish is a stream of conscience machine gun fever dream that feels strangely familiar, but also like no place I’ve ever been.”—Glendyn Ivin

“Necromodernist travel writing from another dimension. Armand returns to his Antipodean roots in an unsettling and raucous effort which takes pot shots at settler-colonial sacred cows.”—Wayne Bradshaw

“A late-80s phantasmagoria set in a rural Australian town, trailing a pack of whacked-out kids & a battered VH Valiant Ranger as it tears through heat, dust, riverbeds, & bad history. What starts as adolescent misadventure mutates fast into something darker, stranger, far less containable. Lungfish fuses a nation’s myth, personal memory, & true crime into a volatile multimedia text, where childhood scenes bleed into archives & black-site geopolitics intrudes on the everyday. History here doesn’t just settle for haunting from a distance, it occupies, surveils, disciplines. Lungfish holds Australia open, exposing storytelling itself as a contested terrain shaped by erasure & violence, all the while refusing to forget.”—David Vichnar

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"Modernity today is not in the hands of the poets, but in the hands of the cops" // Louis Aragon
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“I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us. If the book we are reading doesn’t wake us up with a blow on the head, what are we reading it for?…we need the books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside us” // Franz Kafka, letter to Oskar Pollack, 27 January 1904
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