As I strolled through Nottingham, I happened across one of the three remaining bookstores in England. I walked in to see if they had Stewart's latest book, Blood Rites of the Bourgeoisie. While my copy was waiting for me somewhere in London, I thought I'd take a quick peek at the work. I asked the clerk and she laughed.
"Oh, don't you know the joke? It's really an open secret in the industry. Stewart Home does not exist. "He" [air quotes] is actually a computer program that randomizes text and spits the results out as a novel. In any case, I heard that this latest work has been declared out of print. And this is before it has actually been printed! Which is quite an achievement."
She gave me directions to a bookstore in Milton Keynes, and suggested I try there. I thanked her, although I thought her theory about Mr. Home to be ludicrous. How could someone with a webpage not be real?
My webpage exists, therefore I am.