“Michael Pershan’s writing takes us to forbidden islands, alien planets, and abandoned museums. Readers will be delighted, frightened, and enlightened, though a few will want to skip a certain scene—you’ll know which one.”

“Leave your preconceptions behind and enter the wild imagination of Michael Pershan, where lightspeed travel is possible and, in one chapter, clothes are optional.”

“While tempting to compare SPACE CENTRAL to the great works of Isaac Asimov and Leo Tolstoy, this novel is entirely its own, especially the bit towards the end with all that tentacle licking.”

“A stunning, almost revelatory novel…I admire both his sharp prose and his ability to keep quiet about sensitive matters, per the terms of our agreement.”

“Every generation a writer arrives with a work that slingshots the novel in a new, filthier, direction. That writer is Michael Pershan and the book is SPACE CENTRAL. He writes with the confidence of a man who has information about other writers that he would never, ever share.

“What an amazing, completely made-up book.”

“Brilliant…whip-smart…most remarkable. There you bastard, I said it, this means we’re square. Don’t forget to remove this sentence from the blurb along with the previous sentence too.”

“This middling book from Michael Pershan, a talentless hack, has to its credit one remarkable scene. There it faithfully recreates, barely disguised, a party I hosted for the literary community at my home in the Poconos. There we were free to experiment with our bodies. Free simply to be. I’d rather be dragged through a parade of public disapproval than pretend this tripe has the least bit of literary merit. I despise you, Michael Pershan. I hope you rot.”

“I kind of liked that he filmed us. Book was fine, but works so much better as a movie.”