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Alex Kurtagic's Mister
Review by Edmund Connelly

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Alex Kurtagic’s Mister features both the Orwellian logic of a highly technologized but dehumanized society and the inundation of Europe by non-white swarms. It is the story of an unnamed Brit who leaves his comfortable home outside London for a business trip to Spain. Known only as “Mister,” the protagonist is highly intelligent, at least in the fields of technology, business, and tax evasion. An apolitical gentleman, as Tomislav Sunic describes him in the book’s foreword, Mister exhibits a shocking shallowness that turns out to be central to both his impending predicament, as well as what has already befallen his less intelligent fellow white Europeans.

Kurtagic’s blog describes Mister and his setting:

A status-conscious IT consultant travels to Madrid for a week of meetings at Scoptic, who have hired him to implement a fiendishly arcane accounting system equipped with artificial intelligence, in an effort to keep the company one step ahead of the government’s rapacious tax authorities. Renowned within the catacombs of the scientific community, and with an impressive publishing record in the most prestigious trade and academic journals, he expects to do serious business with a serious organisation. The only problem is that he lives in a hot, overcrowded world where nothing works: hyperinflation, crumbling infrastructure, rampant crime, political correctness, corruption at all levels, and a new world order globalist government, determined to regulate, monitor, and tax every aspect of a person’s life; opposed to the forces of totalitarian democracy are occult underground movements, most notably the Esoteric Hitlerists. As a result, nothing goes according to plan, and frustrations mount as things go only from bad to worse . . .

Kurtagic is a master at creating a living, breathing impression of this nightmarish world, beginning on the very first pages where Mister prepares to board his British Airways flight:

By the time the announcement had been made in English, it was almost impossible to hear anything beyond the foreground murmur of human conversation. The gate had by then long disappeared behind a forest of boubous, abayas, burqas, and business suits, rising above a chaotic undergrowth of push-chairs, plastic bags, rucksacks, handbags, briefcases, and screaming children. Of course, the pre-boarding announcement had invited only a fraction of those standing, but it was clear to him that they all thought themselves in competition for space inside the overhead compartments inside the aircraft; their strategising had begun the moment they had entered the departure lounge, their eyes darting towards the front of the enclousure, scanning for empty seats and cunningly calculating optimal positions.

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