Amerika is a sewn hardcover book of 63 pages with dust-jacket, silk ribbon, endpapers and a full-colour frontispiece. Collector's edition limited to only 100 hand numbered copies. America has disappeared. Resources at the US Embassy in Copenhagen are a little stretched, and the extraordinary circumstances therefore require extraordinary measures, even if it means drawing upon the services of the world’s second greatest living detective - a disillusioned American expatriate called Mr. Denmark who is currently living in Copenhagen. Meanwhile, a travel writer called Mr. Sweden finds himself in a precarious position as the very subject matter of his next travel book seems to have disappeared. Copenhagen is gripped by a deep sense of unease. Bookshops and countries are disappearing, animals wearing Bowler hats are overrunning the city, the central immigration services have been beleaguered by tuxedo wearing penguins- infernal forces might be at work. And then there is that walking, talking Mauser-toting cat who might or might not be in cahoots with the Execrate Himself. A superlative homage to Mikhail Bulgakov in which the weird story meets detective fiction, the surrealism of past European masters and the allegory of dissident writers to create a geopolitical occult work to end all politics.

Ever since Amerika has disappeared, the Supreme Chancellor of Europa and his military apparatus have been on high alert. Caustic with fear and paranoia that they could be next, the Supreme Chancellor’s Purple Guard and the D.S.V. now rule the walled- in jigsaw of nation states with an iron fist- and the occasional motivational slogan. Dogs and baboons in military uniforms routinely march on the streets, rockets are tested fired into the Atlantic in the direction of the disappeared continent, huge air balloons release hourly precipitations of info confetti upon the hoi-polloi as special treats, service announcements and surveillance alerts blare out of static filled speakers on every street corner, sprawling Mar-a-Lago detention centers are strained by the large influx of newly arrived American refugees. But the fires of revolution are starting to stir in the ancient forges of Europa. Now rumors are circulating that the steady stream of American refugees have been infiltrated by infernal forces. All six thousand paintings of the Supreme at the National Portrait Gallery have vanished overnight. Postal services are in flux. Carousels are all turning in the wrong direction. The Roshlon mannequin of the Great Dictator Himself at the Albion Waxworks seems to have been reassigned to the Fifth Dimension. Chimneys over London release huge clouds of blackened smoke in fearful symmetries. Suddenly Travel Writers, Epic Poets and the occasional Pamphleteer are subject to increased scrutiny and suspicion… Meanwhile the Eternal Detective, long dormant in a strange, fugue-like space, has begun to stir…