This was a good afternoon to sit and read, so I indulged in a little non-work-related reading, picking at a my perennial pair of voluminous tomes: Wise and Fraser’s Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural and Michael Shea’s The Autopsy and Other Tales. These are heavy books, 2 lbs, 1.8 oz for Wise and Fraser and 3lbs, 13.3 oz for Shea; a thousand brittle, crackling pages in Wise and Fraser compared to Shea’s six hundred heavy stock pages sandwiched between thick, textured, leather-covered boards. Substance. Enough to cramp your hands, crease your lap, mark your flesh. Nothing quite like books that leave a mark. Here’s what I read and a few scattered thoughts:
“How Love Came to Professor Guildea” – Robert Hichens: An amorous ghost, a parrot, and a pair of stuffy British celibates. That’s a sure-fire recipe for horripilation.
“Rappaccini’s Daughter” – Nathaniel Hawthorne: I’ve known some poisonous people, but Beatrice takes the cake. Dialogue’s a bit encumbered, though.
“The Trial for Murder” – Charles Allston Collins and Charles Dickens: A not-entirely-chilling courtroom ghost story from Wilkie Collins’ little brother and his somewhat more interesting father-in-law.
“The Extra” – Michael Shea – Action-packed, grotesque, and poetic. Damn, did I really miss Shea’s signing for the novelization of this at Copperfield’s Sebastopol? I shouldn’t have.
“The Growlimb” – Michael Shea – Like a map of Sonoma County. With monsters.
“The Autopsy” – Michael Shea – Cathartic cosmic horror? You bet! I first encountered this story in Hartwell’s The Dark Descent. This re-read confirms my every impression about this story’s visceral transcendency.
So, do I read another from Shea, or one from Wise & Frasier? Or then again, should I re-read John Langan’s elegant werewolf deconstruction, “The Revel,” from the latest issue of F&SF? That one blew my mind last weekend, and I’m not yet sure I want to go back and examine the seams, joins, and bolts. Let the magic linger.
“I wanna hear more about the werewolf,” says Maddie.
—
(Imagine, if you will, the “fwip, fwip, fwip” of Maddie’s tail…)
“Hurrah!” shouts Maddie as the door opens. She pirouettes. “You’re home! You’re home! I was so worried. I thought you’d be gone forever. But now you’re home!” Maddie wags her tail fiercely.
“Maddie,” I answer. “We were only next door for five minutes.” I hold up a hand, fingers splayed, countable. “Five minutes.”
“Five l-o-n-g minutes,” says Maddie. “Now that you’re home, have you got any treats?”
—
Charles. Location: Randy’s knee.
—
Just a few more pictures from our afternoon with Aslan:
Water dog. Aslan enjoys playing with the hose almost as much as he does standing in his water dish.
Puppy tongue!
(Not so) Little Puppy’s (not so) Big Sister, Peanut, takes a break on Jan’s lap.
