A Work in Progress

Ghost Story Sunday: The Past

A little "fresh blood" this week for my ghost story reading.  I came across this new book via my public library's virtual new books list and couldn't pass it up.  This hefty collection of stories, The Big Book of Ghost Stories edited by Otto Penzler, is put out by Vintage Crime/Black Lizard and assures me it is the "most complete collection of uncanny, spooky, creepy tales ever published".  We'll just see about that, shall we?  Actually it looks quite promising with over 800 pages filled with stories by a variety of writers--from O. Henry to E.F. Benson to Joyce Carol Oates and a number of authors I have never come across before.  It has a suitably pulpy cover illustration and I think there are quite a few pulp writers represented.  The stories are divided by themes such as "I'll Love You Forever (or Maybe Not), "Kids Will Be Kids", "A Negative Train of Thought", and "Beaten to a Pulp" which makes me think it's at least in part an irreverent collection, so it will be fun exploring the stories.

Where to start, that's always the question.  With anthologies like this I like to dip into the book and pick and choose according to mood.  I'm happy to see quite a few women authors included (though they are still outnumbered by the men), and as Ellen Glasgow is someone I've long wanted to read, I decided to start with her.  Somehow I wouldn't have expected her work to end up in a collection of ghost stories, which just goes to show you how versatile some writers can be.

"There is such a strong sense of realism in the work of the noted Southern Writer Ellen Glasgow that it takes a little while to accept the notion that a story does, actually have supernatural elements.  Her portrayal of Southern life within its aristocracy and lower social levels had a particular emphasis on the relationship between Southern women and the men in their lives."

It was the opening line of "The Past" which really caught my eye, however. "I had  no sooner entered the house than I knew something was wrong."  Glasgow was born in Richmond, Virginia but lived for a short time in New York City, where the story is set.  It was first published in Good Housekeeping in October 1920 and later in her collection, The Shadowy Third and Other Stories.  The story has very Rebecca-like overtones and concerns the haunting of a married couple by the husband's previous wife, though in this case the narrator is a woman who is the new secretary just arrived.

"Devoted as they were, a nameless dread, fear, or apprehension divided them.  It was the thing I had felt from the moment I entered the house; the thing I had heard in the tearful voice of the maid.  One could scarcely call it horror, because it was too vague, too impalpable, for so vivid a name; yet, after all these quiet months, horror is the only word I can think of that in any way expresses the emotion that pervaded the house."

Miss Wrenn takes immediately to her new employer, Mrs. Vanderbridge, a beautiful woman who seems to be stricken with a case of melancholy.  Although the Vanderbridges seem companionably happy, something hangs over their heads casting a dark gloom in the house.  She's taken aback one evening when at dinner a young woman, not really beautiful but most graceful, sits down at the table yet is ignored by all seated there and by the servants as well. 

This Other One is Mr. Vanderbridge's former wife who's now dead but lingers.  Not everyone can see her and she doesn't come always, but she is a presence who is a wedge driven between the two.  Mr. Vanderbridge worshipped her and then lost her after only a year of marriage, and much as he loves his new wife, he'll never be completely hers while the former Mrs. Vanderbridge lurks in the background.  She's an unspoken presence between the couple.  Mrs. Vanderbridge tells her secretary, "She is killing him--and me.  I believe that is why she does it."  A vengeful spirit is not one easily delt with.. 

In its own way, like the Bradbury last week, this is a story of good vs. evil and the power it holds over the Vanderbridges.  "The Past" comes with a clever twist, but unlike the Bradbury it ends on a more optimistic note.  I like Ellen Glasgow's style.  The story was nicely developed and well written and if it's representative of her work I'll definitely have to try some of her longer fiction soon.

A nod in the direction of creepiness.  The Big Book of Ghost Stories has passed the test and I'll be picking another story from it for next week (may even have to add it to my wishlist as I think it's going to be a keeper). 

Peace by Richard Bausch

In his novel Peace Richard Bausch explores the nature of violence in an already violent setting.  The choice of title is an interesting and fleeting one since this is a story that takes place during the latter part of World War II in northern Italy.  The story revolves around three American soldiers who must decide where their moral compass lies, at what point does killing become murder and how does one live with these acts of violence.  They are faced with the dilemma of doing their duty yet feeling culpability for their actions.

Is it a particular act of brutality when the commanding officer of a unit of soldiers shoots and kills the woman a German soldier had been hiding with?  The German soldier had taken the men by surprise and killed two, before paying with his own life when they returned fire.  The woman, a prostitute and probably German, too, in anger and repulsion fights to get free throwing curses at the men.  So the Sergeant aims and fires.  And the image of the dead German soldier and especially the woman follow the men through the remainder of the story.  Perhaps haunt is a better word to use.

Corporal Marson is ordered to take two soldiers, Asch and Joyner, on a recon mission.  Marson is slightly older with a wife and baby daughter he has never seen back home.  Asch, Jewish, is constantly at odds with Joyner whose belligerent and racist attitude is like sandpaper that grates on the men.  An already dismal day filled with endless cold rain turns even darker when the hill they begin to climb stretches out into a mountain.  The frigid cold becomes bitter when wind and snow arrive.  They are guided by an elderly Italian man whose loyalty they soon begin to question when they encounter German soldiers and then a sniper.  It seems as though the war and maybe even world itself begins to press in on the men and conspires against them as they trudge ever upwards.

For a war novel this felt like a surprisingly quiet sort of story, aside from the profanity-laced dialogue whipped out rapid-fire and increasingly intense as emotions and ire were raised.  There are no battlefield scenes, not much blood, though a fair amount of suspense in its own way.  It's the sort of story, however, you begin peeling back with each new development bringing to light what's inside.  Each conversation and thought shedding a little more light on the inconsistencies Bausch raises in the face of war and its futility.

"Like I said, you might've noticed that two of us got it when she fell out of that cart."

"She didn't do the shooting.  For all we know she was a refugee, a victim."

"She was a Nazi man.  They don't like Jews.  That's your people, isn't it?"

******

"Otherwise, we're no different than they are."

Perhaps that's the crux of the story.  Knowing where to draw the line between necessity and humanity.

"The waiting was changing him, emptying him, draining all the human elements, as if the spirit were bleeding."

As the men file up the hill and the day darkens to night their thoughts, though it's primarily Corporal Marson whose story this is, are filled with images of home and of their first days on Sardinia before the war became real and the invasion of the mainland began (but by then the Italians had capitulated and the Germans began their retreat).  But the cold and the pain and especially the fear numb the men.  Fear of what they'll find on the other side when they get over the top and fear of death, fear of whoever it is that has them in their crosshair.  The choices they must make in order to survive bring to sharp relief the questions they ask after the murder of the woman.  The peace of the title, when it finally comes, is a tenuous condition.  During war it's fleeting at best.

I'd never read Bausch before this, hadn't even thought of reading him as a matter of fact, but I'm glad I did.  He's published almost as many short story collections as novels, and this spare and slender story feels almost novella-like--a short story expanded.  He seems to come at the subject of war from a different perspective than other writers I've read for the readalong (or maybe it's just his approach that feels different).  It's not an epic story, even quite narrow in its view, but for all that the issues he raises are very good ones.  He deals in shades of grey, however.  This is a story that asks far more questions than offers answers.  There are few resolutions at the end, but Marson feels more grounded and even a little closer to home at least momentarily.

You can read Caroline's take on the story here.  October's book is The Violin of Auschwitz by Maria Angels Anglada who is a Catalan author.   

The Hunting Ground by Cliff McNish

The Hunting Ground by Cliff McNish is a classic story of good vs. evil.  Suitably creepy for adults, it's actually a YA novel that comes with a warning that it is not for younger readers.  I can see why since it's not only dark but verges on the disturbing as well.  It reminded me at times of Shirley Jackson's The Haunting of Hill House, where the setting takes on such a life of its own it becomes a character in its own right.  Another haunted house, and another unsuspecting group of individuals getting much more than they bargained for when they come under the sway of the evil influence lurking inside its walls.  There's not just a powerful force to be reckoned with but ghosts as well, lost souls who need to be set to rest.  All dished up quite cleverly by Cliff McNish who I see has other ghost stories to his name.

Glebe House is the setting, but when sixteen-year-old Elliott, his younger brother Ben and his father move in they have no idea that the house is anything more than a vacant property that needs to be renovated before it's sold off.  Elliott's father makes his living by fixing up old houses for their owners, moving from place to place with his sons in tow.  It's just another job in another town, though Glebe House is more unnerving than most.  Standing for several centuries, it's massive in size with five storeys and a grand staircase that is the focal point of the house.  It's strange, though, too.  Set in a gloomy prospect amongst towering trees on many, many acres of land, it's all weird angles and long corridors, and there is an East Wing that has been boarded over.  

Although he won't admit to it, Ben has already been investigating that side of the house, and has a nasty bruise to show for it to the disappointment of his father who had warned both boys off already.  

"It's a bespoke job.  A truly nasty bit of construction.  Now that it's been conveniently opened up--Dad didn't avoid looking at Ben--I've had a chance to check around in there.  It's a labyrinth.  Deliberately underlit and confusing throughout.  Literally hundreds of criss-crossing corridors that all lead back on themselves."

"From outside the East Wing looks innocent enough.  Inside's another story.  It's full of nearly identical rooms.  One half is all bedrooms, the other half all bathrooms.  And the longer corridors look as if they run in a straight line, but don't.  They bring you in a circle, only so gradually that you can't tell.  I used a compass to navigate, and I still nearly got lost inside there."     

The odd East Wing wasn't part of the original construction but was added on by its seventeenth century owner who seems to have had a strange predilection for hanging portraits of himself throughout the house especially in the later-built wing.  The closed wing is already a temptation, but then the boys begin reading a diary found in the library which was kept by a former occupant of the house some fifty years earlier.  Elliott and Ben keep finding pages to Theo's diary, a boy of about their age, almost as though someone is feeding them bits of it in instalments.  The diary reveals the tragedy that happened to Theo's family, but by the time the boys get to the last pages will it be too late to save their own?

The story is told in a very traditional YA manner--only one parent and too busy to be of any real help.  It'll be up to Elliott to try and save Ben from the grasp of Evil that lurks in the East Wing and the ghost girl who makes contact with them.  I'm being purposely vague about details as this is a story that is best revealed as you read and I don't like to ruin anyon's "pleasure".  Elliott tells the story in first person, and it's an engaging voice.  He's uncertain and afraid and will need to find courage to do battle.  Help will come from an unlikely corner, and the reader is often uncertain just who is good and who is bad in the story, but one thing is certain--the man in the paintings was depraved and amoral, which creates a horror all its own besides (and probably more so) than the many ghosts that make their presence felt.

I'm still working away on Peter Straub's Ghost Story, but think for my last read I need something a little bit different.  I'm contemplating picking up John Wyndham's The Day of the Triffids or Stephen King's The Gunslinger (first book in his Dark Tower series).  I've still got a full month to go, but I seem to be blowing through my RIP reads!

Nature Writing: Ten Books

I don't read enough nonfiction, and when I do I am even more predictable in my choices than I am with fiction.  Of late, it's been diaries that I reach for.  Otherwise it is almost always memoirs (and here, too).  Of course there is nothing wrong with this as there are certainly some very good diaries and memoirs out there these days.  As so typically it goes with my reading, one book almost always leads to another, and sometimes a whole new reading project will form in my mind that I excitedly plan (and buy . . .) for. 

It's thanks to Roger Deakin that I have added nature books to my list of nonfiction interests.  Actually my nonfiction interests are really quite broad but I tend to put off reading certain books thinking I need to set aside a chunk of reading time, which never seems to materialize by the way, in order to really tackle a subject--nonfiction books so often being very dense with information.  So these books tend to be pushed back for later or aside for books that will be 'easier' to manage.  

So, Notes from Walnut Tree Farm (and a few other books) have led to a new desire to read more about the natural world.  And being fond of list making in general and book lists in particular I've come up with a list of ten books I would love to read in the near future (near meaning I would start now but with no set date to finish the list--just meander through it as time and mood permit).  Most are books I own (a few are recent acquisitions, but many I have owned for far too long without having read) or are books my library has available.

My list is pretty idiosyncratic and I've left off lots of classic authors (like Henry David Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson and John Muir . . .), but these are books that have been on my mind of late and appeal the most at the moment.

The Morville Hours by Katherine Swift -- "This beautifully written, utterly absorbing book is the history of the many people who have lived in the same Shropshire house, tending the same soil, passing down stories over the generations. Spanning thousands of years, The Morville Hours takes the form of a medieval Book of Hours. It is a meditative journey through the seasons, but also a journey of self-exploration."

Apples by Frankin Browning -- "Frank Browning leads us on a beguiling journey through the primal myths of the world's most popular fruit, then explains that the first apples really appeared in Kazakhstan on the slopes of the Heavenly Mountains. He visits the apple germ-plasm repository in Geneva, New York, and describes the powerful effects of genetic engineering on the apples of the future. In Wenatchee, Washington, world capital of apple growing, he meets Mr. Granny Smith and learns about the apple's niche in the global marketplace, before setting off to sample Calvados from the pot stills of Normandy and cider from Somerset."

Wildwood: A Journey Through Trees by Roger Deakin -- "In Deakin's glorious meditation on wood, the "fifth element" -- as it exists in nature, in our culture, and in our souls -- the reader accompanies Deakin through the woods of Britain, Europe, Kazakhstan, and Australia in search of what lies behind man's profound and enduring connection with trees."

To the River by Olivia Laing -- "One midsummer week more than 60 years after Virginia Woolf drowned in the Ouse in 1941, Olivia Laing walked that same Sussex river from source to sea. The result is a passionate investigation into how history resides in a landscape—and how ghosts never quite leave the places they love. Along the way, Laing explores the roles rivers play in human lives, tracing their intricate flow through literature and mythology alike."

Stones of Aran: Pilgrimage by Tim Robinson -- "Robinson explores Aran in both its elemental and mythical dimensions, taking us deep into the island’s folklore, wildlife, names, habitations, and natural and human histories."

Sweetness and Light: The Mysterious History of the Honeybee by Hattie Ellis (a good companion read: Robbing the Bees: A Biography of Honey--The Sweet Liquid that Seduced the World by Holley Bishop) -- "Hattie Ellis leads us into the hive, revealing the fascinating story of bees and honey from the Stone Age to the present, from Nepalese honey hunters to urban hives on the rooftops of New York City. Uncovering the secrets of the honeybee one by one, Ellis shows how this small insect, with a collective significance so much greater than its individual size, can carry us through past and present to tell us more about ourselves than any other living creature."

Silent Spring by Rachel Carson -- "Carson’s passionate concern for the future of our planet reverberated powerfully throughout the world, and her eloquent book was instrumental in launching the environmental movement. It is without question one of the landmark books of the twentieth century."

Beatrix Potter: A Life in Nature by Linda Lear -- "In this remarkable biography, Linda Lear offers a new look at the extraordinary woman who gave us some of the most beloved children’s books of all time. Potter found freedom from her conventional Victorian upbringing in the countryside. Nature inspired her imagination as an artist and scientific illustrator."

Arctic Dreams by Barry Lopez -- "Lopez offers a thorough examination of this obscure world-its terrain, its wildlife, its history of Eskimo natives and intrepid explorers who have arrived on their icy shores. But what turns this marvelous work of natural history into a breathtaking study of profound originality is his unique meditation on how the landscape can shape our imagination, desires, and dreams."

The Botany of Desire: A Plant's-Eye View of the World by Michael Pollan -- "Every schoolchild learns about the mutually beneficial dance of honeybees and flowers: The bee collects nectar and pollen to make honey and, in the process, spreads the flowers’ genes far and wide. In The Botany of Desire, Michael Pollan ingeniously demonstrates how people and domesticated plants have formed a similarly reciprocal relationship."

Of course I am always happy to take recommendations, so please share any favorites or must-reads of yours as well!  I am especially interested, too, in gardening books (or rather books about gardens--I suppose there's a difference), but haven't come across quite what I have in mind yet.  I think I will likely start with Apples by the way.

A Childhood In Scotland by Christian Miller

Christian Miller's A Childhood in Scotland is an absolute gem of a book.  It had been hidden in plain sight on my bookshelves for at least a decade.  I'm sure this was one of my "Common Reader" purchases. The Common Reader, if you're unfamiliar with it, was a mail order catalog that specialized in books for the Anglophile.  Lamentably they went out of business years ago, but I still have a few of their old catalogs tucked away, which I enjoy perusing now and again (and wishing they still existed).  It was always a feast for the eyes to get one in the mail and I wonder how many of their books line my bookshelves.

Looking for a good nonfiction book to read I couldn't have chosen better.  From the opening line, "When I was a little girl, the ghosts were more real to me than the people", I found myself immersed in Miller's memories of growing up in the 1920s in a Scottish castle.  Think Downton Abbey but set in the far reaches of northern Scotland, except this is the real thing.  If you want authenticity, go no further, as you'll find it here in the pages of Miller's reminiscences.  This is a charming book and I would call her childhood almost idyllic were it not her the stories of deprivation and loneliness that resulted from the stern upbringing she and her siblings received.  But it wasn't all gloom as mixed in are many happier moments, too.  Still, she manages to write with great warmth and sensitivity about her childhood and family despite some of the bleaker moments.       

Christian was the youngest daughter of six (ebullient she tells us) children, or as they were known--the Girls, the Boys, and the Children.  Her elder siblings had already been sent off to school leaving herself and a slightly older sister at home with their parents, governess, and an assortment of servants--both indoor and out--who cared for the vast estate where she spent the first decade of her life.  Her father was particularly strict and extremely practical not caring for vanity in his children or time not spent industriously.  Perhaps his outlook can be explained by his own harsh and loveless upbringing.  He was never very good at showing affection towards his children.  Christian calls him proud and fierce but for all that he was never self-important.  Her mother was English and while more sympathetic towards the plight of the children could never be seen as going against the wishes of her husband.  She was a caring woman but perhaps the care was often misplaced.  In any case it was up to others, the governesses in particular (there were a string of them), for the care and well-being of the children.

Navigating childhood in the circumstances Christian was raised was fairly tricky.  She was never quite sure by which set of rules she needed to play, as it was hard to tell who was in charge sometimes.  She feared all the adults in her life with the exception of her mother (and one nanny she was especially close with), but even she was overruled by her father.

"The question of manners was especially confusing, for governesses often had different rules from parents.  At breakfast, a governess might deprive me of brown sugar on my porridge--sugar being a luxury, for salt, put in during the cooking, was the more normal flavoring--because, while waiting to be served, I had not placed my hands neatly on the table, one on each side of my plate; at luncheon, my father would send mt out of the room precisely because I had put my hands on the table--he thought they should be clasped in my lap."

The castle and estate where Christian grew up was vast and extensive and her family tree was quite illustrious (on her father's side she was descended from King Duncan--the victim of Macbeth, and Napoleon had surrendered to her great-great-grandfather on her mother's side).  Dating back to the 13th century it was in many ways ideal, though there was no electricity and it must have been absolutely frigid in winter.  It only lacked a seashore but otherwise it "contained virtually every type of land and sport to be found in Scotland."

"In spring and summer, it was one of the prettiest places on earth, and when autumn came, baring the trees and covering mountain, forest and field with snow, its prettiness did not fade but was transformed to beauty."

She recounts growing up in an atmosphere of privilege, but privilege that brought with it mostly duties and few rights.  The household was managed frugally and the children had many tasks that might not normally be associated with a wealthy family--like gathering branches in winter for fires or stone gathering in summer.  And there was always an ever-present fear amongst the children of not getting enough to eat.  Although their parents always had the welfare of the children at heart, they had the idea that it was sinful to pay too much attention to worldly things such as food. 

"As the first dish was handed to my mother, six anxious eyes would assess the quantity of food that it held.  Nine small rissoles of leftover meat.  well, at least that was fair--one each (our governess ate lunch with us).  Then came the potatoes--misery, there were only sixteen.  Which of us would get two, and which only one?  My mother took a single potato--oh, good.  But then my father took four, and gloom descended on those children who were waiting to be served after him.  Even the quantity of green peas was avidly estimated, and though we were would never have dared to complain while actually at table, the post mortems that took place after the meals were acrimonious."

"You took two teaspoonfuls of peas--I saw you!"

"I didn't."

"You did."

"Well,  perhaps I did have a very small second teaspoonful, but some of my first teaspoonful were maggoty."

"Greedy pig."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"And everyone would fall on the floor, fighting."

It seems as though Victorian ideals on household management and childcare were still in favor despite the reign of Victoria being long over.  The children had hand me downs and very few treats.  Being the youngest Christian fared the worst in some ways, such as having to wear mismatched clothing from both older sisters and brothers.  But there were hunting parties and tennis parties and visits to the tenant families.  And Christian's mother did her best to import activities and new traditions to the estate.  Many other young women in the area were stuck alone at home with few social opportunities so she began hosting hockey parties, and when she discovered that Christmas was just another workday she began many of her own traditions.

The world Christian Miller writes about is long gone, and perhaps that's not entirely a bad thing.  A Childhood in Scotland is absolutely fascinating reading, and I only wish the book had been twice as long (my copy has a mere 97 pages).  As well, I wouldn't have minded if she had written more intimately about her siblings or her later life and experiences, though she ends the book at a natural cut off.  She writes, however, in such an engaging manner you feel like you've walked the vast estate and been inside the rooms of the castle with her and met the people who reside there (ghosts included).  As far as I can discover she wrote only one novel, The Champagne Sandwich, which I am trying to get my hands on now.  This is a book I will definitely revisit again sometime--it is definitely a 'why did I wait so long to read this' sort of book.  And now I must go and see what other gems are hidden on my bookshelves. 

Mythology: The Adventures of Aeneas

The tricky thing about mythology is keeping all the gods and goddesses and the children of gods and mortals and then mortals straight.  Part of the reason I like to write about my reading is to try and fix it all in my mind, and short of that have somewhere I can look to get a little refresher on my reading.  So, onward to Aeneas.  Virgil is the main source for this story, which was written in Latin.  To complicate things, the names used are Roman/Latin versions, but thankfully it wasn't too confusing.

With Aeneas (the son Venus by the way), we get a different perspective as he was a Trojan.  He comes second only to Hector in terms of heroism and he had the good luck to escape Troy after its defeat.  He eventually settles in Italy, which was then known as Hesperia, the Western Country, but first his journey was a long and difficult one.

Since the Fates have foretold Aeneas will found Rome, we know he'll get there in the end, but roadblocks (thanks to Juno, Jupiter's wife) are going to be thrown in his way.  First he and his fellow sailors must avoid the reach of the Cyclopes, which they unknowingly encounter as they round the island of Sicily.  Once out of their reach they think it'll be smooth sailing, but a violent storm throws them off course and they end up in Carthage (destined to be sacked/conquered one day).  Juno thinks she might be able to use this all to her advantage.  She conspires to have him fall for Dido, the ruler of Carthage keeping him well away from Italy.

"He lived at ease with a beautiful woman and a powerful Queen to love him and provide everything for him and arrange hunting parties for his amusement and not only permit him, but beg him, to tell her over and over again the tale of his adventures."

Brought to you by the goddess Juno.  What man would ever want to leave, right?  It takes a little gentle prodding from Mercury (sent by Jupiter) to draw Aeneas out of his indolence, but crushes Dido at the same time as she kills herself after he leaves (men seem to have this effect on women a lot in Greek Mythology).  Aeneas makes a detour to the underworld where he speaks with his father and receives advice and instructions on how to establish his new home in Italy.

Aeneas arrives in Italy without further ado and all should be well, right?  But Juno decides to make more trouble.  She stirs up the various rulers and creates a war, and a bloody and long one at that.  The story spirals down into horror--so many that they cease to horrify Edith Hamilton notes.  The redeeming part of this latter section is a story of friendship between two Trojans, Nisus and Euryalus, who die in battle (reminiscent of Achilles and Patroclus to me).  Aeneas marries at the end of the war and goes on to found the Roman race.  According to Virgil the Romans,

"left to other nations such things as art and science, and ever remembered that they were destined to bring under their empire the peoples of earth, to impose the rule of submissive nonresistance, to spare the humbled and to crush the proud."

Why does that not seem wholly accurate to me?

Coming so soon after the Trojan War and the Adventures of Odysseus, I must admit my enjoyment of all things Greek is waning a tiny bit.  Too much war and bloodshed.  I need a gentle story next (can we go back to Cupid and Psyche?).  I'm ready to begin a new section, however, the Great Families of Mythology and first up is the House of Atreus.  I think there are not many happy stories in Greek Mythology, are there?  I do look forward to next week's reading, however, since it is taken from Aeschylus' Oresteia, a play I do want to read eventually.

Ghost Story Sunday: The Playground

Isn't this a great cover for a book that is filled with tales of the strange and unusual?  I can't remember where I first came across it, but Black Water: The Book of Fantastic Literature is a real find for short story enthusiasts.  It's chock full of stories that deal with the uncanny, and while many are not exactly scary they do give the reader a sense of unease.

". . . a mesmerizing book that evokes the darkness that lies beyond the real world.  Seventy-two tales of hauntings, dreams, time warps, transformations, and the dealings with God and the Devil--stories to take you to the edge of the twilight zone."

The stories are chosen and introduced by Alberto Manguel (and there is a companion volume if you want even more) and he always relates each piece back to something personal, so you get the feeling that it was with an undertaking of love which he took on this project and that these are stories that meant something to him upon reading them.  I always think I'd like to set myself the task of reading one story a week and reading through from beginning to end, but it hasn't quite happened yet.  The authors run the gamut from Daphne du Maurier to Charles Dickens and from Jorge Luis Borges to Ray Bradbury, and it's a story by Bradbury that I chose to read this weekend. 

I really like Ray Bradbury and want to read more by him.  I've read Fahrenheit 451 twice (and listened to the audio version once as well--one of my better audio book experiences), and listened to Something Wicked This Way Comes (also an excellent audio experience), but I've only read one of his short stories previously--"There Will Come Soft Rains", which I wrote only briefly about.  It has to rank as one of the best and most memorable short stories I've ever read.

Just a heads up--there are possible spoilers in my post, but I've tried not to give all the details or ending away.

In "The Playground" (copyright 1953), Bradbury takes the subject of childhood, a childhood not remembered fondly as being idyllic but rather with fear, as his theme.  As a parent how far would you go to protect your child?  Charles Underhill walks past the neighborhood playground every day on the way from his train, usually with newspaper in hand and attention focused elsewhere.  When one day his wife tells him she's going to begin taking their three-year-old son Jim there, he decides he must take a closer look at it. 

"At first there was nothing.  And then, as his ears adjusted outward from his usual interior monologues, it was like turning the volume dial of a radio louder.  And the scene before him, like a grey, blurred television image, came to a slow focus.  Primarily, there were faint voices, faint cries, streaks and shadows, vague impressions.  And sharp visions, children dashing, children fighting, pummelling, bleeding, screaming!  He saw the tiniest scabs on their faces and knees in amazing clarity."

The sights, the sounds and the smells all come into clear and sharp focus.  He calls it a "pen of misery" and aks his wife why must children make life miserable for each other?  He's happy his own childhood is over and the ugliness, the pinchings and bruisings and everything else associated with it are behind him.  He'd do anything to save Jim from having to endure the playground.  Why did he ever think back on his own younger days with so much nostalgia, when it is all nothing but silly sentimentality.  His wife, however, is of the opposite opinion.  "You can't live Jim's life for him, you know that," she tells him.  "He has to learn the hard way.  He's got to be beat up and beat others up; children are like that."  So the question is--do you send in your child to learn the hard way how the world works or do you shelter him from the realities and the pain that are sometimes associated with growing up.

There's one boy at the playground who looks familiar to Charles.  The boy shouts at him, calling him Charlie.  The son of an old friend, perhaps?  His name is familiar, someone Charles grew up with.  The resemblance between child and father is amazing.  Or maybe it's his old friend in the guise of a young boy.  He has the face and body of a child, but speaks with the wisdom of an adult.  He looks Charles in the eye and tells him he understands and couldn't face letting his son be broken by the playground either.  He tells Charles he "made a deal with the playground", and Charles can, too.  The story takes on Faustian overtones when Charles decides to talk to the playground manager. 

"Far across the field footballs sailed, baseballs whizzed, bats flew, fists jabbed up, and the door of the Manager's office stood open, the desk empty, a lone light burning in it."

Bradbury's story is simplicity itself, but he plays on fears that every reader can identify with.  Children can be cruel and I have my own fair share of stories of the meanness children are capable of.  Of course it is always the very best and the very worst that get etched so deeply in our memories.  Bradbury has a knack for pulling these experiences out and weaving a story around them and playing on a reader's fears.  You'll have to read the story yourself to find out what happens to Charles and Jim.  I will say, however, that this is a dark story without a flicker of redemption, which just goes to show that not all scary stories need to have ghosts in them.

Just in case you're curious, this is the painting that the cover detail came from.  George Tooker, The Subway (1950).  Egg tempera on composition board.  Collection of Whitney Museum of American Art.  Doesn't the woman look hopelessly bewildered and as if she were lost?

Bookish Opportunities . . . Reading Along

October and November are going to be busy reading months!

I sometimes think I need to keep a flow chart of books to stay organized.  The book blogosphere can be both a dangerous and exciting place to be.  Exciting because I am constantly discovering new things--new books, new authors, new publishers, new bloggers, new . . . well, you get the idea.  But dangerous as I am so easily hooked when it comes to wanting to read and experience books that others are reading now, too.  Why does everything sound so good? 

So in an effort to get things straight in my mind (and to avoid having to create a mental, or real for that matter, flow chart) let me give a little run down on reading opportunities that are coming up in the next couple of months.  Some are large groups that have been carefully organized and a few are just off the cuff opportunities of my own (and another reader's making).

I'll be starting Peace by Richard Bausch tomorrow for Caroline's Literature and War readalong.  She'll be writing about the book and having a discussion on Friday September 28.  It's less than 200 pages so there is still time to read the book and join in.  The setting is WWII Italy.

Of course Carl's RIP VII is ongoing through the end of October.  I've read two of my four books (still contemplating what else to read as my fourth book as I am well underway book #3 already).  I'm off soon to choose a new ghost story for this weekend's reading.  Carl has a few other group reads planned as well.

Buried in Print and I are reading Anne Marie MacDonald's The Way the Crow Flies at the moment and are hoping to finish by the end of October as well (if not sooner).  I both want to keep reading as it is so good, but at the same time I want to turn away, too.  You know something bad is going to happen as she has thrown out teasers, but the more she reveals the more I both want to know and don't--if you know what I mean? 

I was happy to see that Cornflower has chosen Mary Stewart's Touch Not the Cat for her October selection for the Cornflower Book Group.  She'll begin discussing it Saturday October 27.  I'm always up to read a book by Mary Stewart and am pleased it is one that I have not yet had the chance to read.  I've got a copy winging its way to me even as I type.   

Caroline and Lizzy are getting things organized for a German Literature Month in November.  I really enjoyed participating last year and am excited to read along this year as well.  Surely it's not too soon to begin a mental list of books to choose from?  I've already ordered a book for that as well.     

I've already mentioned that the Slaves of Golconda are going to be reading Crewe Train by Rose Macaulay in November.  We'll begin discussing the book November 17 and you're welcome to join in as well.

Sometime this fall Litlove and I might be reading Susan Howatch's Cashelmara in tandem.  It's a lovely chunkster of a book that I've been eyeing for a while now.  It looks to be an epic family drama set in 19th century Ireland--the perfect book to get lost in just in time for the holidays (I'm looking forward to having some time off from work later this fall). 

Then there is the year long (running from July 1, 2012-July 1, 2013) Canadian Reading Challenge hosted by John Mutford of The Book Mine Set.  The goal is to read thirteen books by Canadian writers (or books about Canada--the rules are quite loose actually).  I've read three so far and am hoping to easily read ten more by next summer. 

I think I've got one or two other plans up my reading sleeve as well for later.  I'm sure there are many more readalongs going on.  These few are the ones on my radar at the moment.

I'm sure I've left off lots of other interesting online reading events.  Later in the winter there will be my public library's annual Winter Reading Program that I often join.  I haven't participated the last couple of years, but considering how many library books I seem to be reading this year, I think I will have to join in.  Will you be joining in any readalongs?  Or maybe you belong to a real life reading group rather than a virtual one?  Or maybe you like to follow your own reading path?   

Meeting the Author: Francesca Segal

Last week I had the good fortune of hearing author Jennie Fields speak at an event my public library organized as part of their Omaha Reads month long celebration of Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence.  You've probably heard of the 'one book, one city' programs lots of cities put on?  This year's line up of events has been especially well planned, and the choice of Edith Wharton has been very serendipitous as not only is it the 150th anniversary of her birth, but there have been several novels published this year related to Edith Wharton.  

This week British author Francesca Segal spoke and signed copies of her book, The Innocents.  Of course I couldn't pass up the opportunity to meet Segal.  I was already looking forward to reading her debut novel, but after hearing her speak and discuss her book I'm even more excited.  I do have to start first, however, with sharing a few photos of the venue.  

Did you know that Omaha has its own castle?  The Joslyn Castle was completed in 1903 (the Joslyn family was quite generous and our local art museum also carries the family name), and as you see it was modeled after a Scottish baronial house.  What better place than a castle to hold a literary event related to Edith Wharton.  It's beautiful outside and in--I had a few moments to spare so sat outside before the reading began and enjoyed the peace and quiet as the house sits back in one of the older neighborhoods of the city.

I'm not sure what this room was originally intended for, but it was a gorgeous and elegant space to hold a reading. 

Francesca Segal is a really lovely young woman--articulate and well spoken with a sense of humor.  She spoke a bit about her book and read a couple of excerpts from the story.  The Innocents, set in a Jewish suburb of London, is about newly engaged Adam Newman who meets his fiancé's beautiful and independent cousin, Ellie.  She couldn't be more different than conventional Rachel who he's dated since they were teenagers and always planned and expected to marry.  Adam is then faced with the dilemma of doing what's expected or striking out on his own.

Segal notes that The Innocents isn't a straightforward retelling of The Age of Innocence but a recasting of the story using her own preoccupations in forming the story.  She used The Age of Innocence as a sort of scaffolding and wove bits of it into her own book, but ultimately her characters have different dilemmas to work through.  There are two themes Segal was interested in exploring in The Innocents--how the characters, twenty-somethings, distinguish their own wants and needs from those of their parent's and family's and what makes a good marriage.

An excerpt from The Innocents was published in the June issue of Vogue (you can read an interview with Segal here).  It's not been a shabby year for Edith Wharton either.  Not only does she continue to inspire new books to be written, she's still much loved and much read, and even iconic Vogue magazine compliments her with an eighteen-page spread!

So, another enjoyable (and bookish) evening.  I hope there will be more of them in the future!

And, yes, I had to splurge and buy a copy of The Innocents, which Francesca Segal kindly signed.  I'm eager to start reading and I do still plan on picking up something by Edith Wharton.  I've tentatively got Ethan Frome on my night table (too bleak for fall reading?) and might even dip into her collection of ghost stories this weekend.  So my own Edith Wharton reading continues apace.

September 19: Reading Notes (RIP Edition)

I'm a little bit miffed at Typepad at the moment.  Of late the service has had a lot of annoying little bugs that seem to take forever to be worked out, and some of the problems have been ongoing for many weeks.  The one that has been perturbing me most is an inability to update my books lists on my right sidebar.  So, you see those books I am reading?  Well, I might or might not be reading them at the moment.  If I remove titles from the lists, I can't put in anything new as they will not update.  There have been a couple of workarounds, but I don't like either of them--I can either add an Amazon widget (but I don't like the idea of ads on my sidebar) or add HTML and manually incorporate the books, which sounds like a lot of work (and a large part of the reason I am paying to have Typepad is the idea that this will all be made easy for me and work seamlessly).  The problem has been occurring for at least three weeks now, but it was likely around earlier since I was on vacation before that.  Then there is the small issue of the spell check turning off a second after I click on it rendering it all but useless, and the weird formatting that has been going on within my posts that I have to mess about with to set to rights.

Okay.  Mini rant over.  I know these glitches happen and I am sure Typepad is working on coming up with proper solutions, but whenever I check the 'Help' page to look for updates, the only update seems to be "we know it's an issue and are working on it, no date yet for a fix".  So tell me to be patient.  Okay, I'm going to try and continue to be patient, but when you have a book blog you really do like updating your books!  

Instead, let me tell you about what I am currently reading.  And I am reading some very good books (and wish I could have them displayed in my sidebar).  Most of my reading at the moment is revolving around  RIP VII.  The book stack I put together has offered some really good choices.  I've finished my first book, and am reading my second, third, and what might be considered a fourth.  And actually am contemplating a fifth (as yet to be determined, but half the fun is thinking about reading something new, right?).  My weekly ghost stories have been fun and I am always looking for something new to read and write about on Sundays.  Do you have a favorite ghost story (short story that is) that you can recommend?   

I've been thinking about what makes a ghost story scary.  Most of the time I just go with the flow and enjoy the atmosphere, but there have been a few cases where I actually have been a little scared by a book.  Susan Hill's The Woman in Black rarely fails to raise the hairs on the back of my neck.  Sarah Waters's The Little Stranger did give me a shiver or two.  Cliff McNish's YA novel, The Hunting Ground, is the tiniest bit disturbing and I can see why there is a warning on the book that it is not suitable for younger children.  Had I not been reading it in the bright lights of the gym I might be looking over my shoulder when I hear a noise or sense a movment behind me (I think I could apply the laundry test to it and it would pass--I'd skip getting that last load out of the dryer until morning). 

It's Peter Straub's Ghost Story, however, that is giving me chills even in the light of day.  I think it is the ordinariness of the story that makes it scary--the events are so plausible and creepy that it's not so far fetched to imagine them actually happening.  Also Straub knows just how to tease his reader.  He gives just enough information to make you interested, a little doubtful, and very uncertain as to the character's motivations.  Is a character doing something not just illegal but sinister as well?  And then cut to another group of characters.  You know the stories are going to tie together eventually so you keep reading out of curiosity, maybe against your better judgement even, since there are unnerving substories being told as well.  All good stuff and it hangs together well.   

I'm also reading Anne-Marie MacDonald's The Way the Crow Flies in tandem with Buried in Print, and we've decided it actually fits in well with the RIP reading that is going on at the moment.  I'd been looking for a book that had a more substantial and complex story than the sorts I'd been reading of late (keeping in mind how much I love my comfort reads, but I like an occasional story where you have to slow down and read more closely, too), and I think I've found it here.  It's substantial in more ways than one as it is a chunkster of a book, weighing in with over 800 pages.  Still, it's the sort of story where you don't really feel bogged down by those pages since they are turning so rapidly.  It reads almost like a coming of age story, but there is  more to it than that, something darker and more complex since there is a murder involved.  But let me save this one to talk about more in depth later.

A few other quick mentions.  I've been reading a little of Roger Deakin's Notes from Walnut Tree Farm every day.  It's a book, since it is in diary format, that really calls for steady dipping into rather than flat out gulping to finish in one reading session.  I could just breeze through it, but there is too much there to savor.  I'm also working on my latest postal reading group book, which I know I mentioned once before.  I think nature writing in general is going to be my next reading project since I am learning so much and have discovered that I really like this type of writing. 

I've been 'trying out' some other nonfiction books, since I am looking for a new nonfiction read (the last one having had to be returned to the library unfinished).  Do I pick a new nature book, a memoir, something entirely different?  My problem is there are too many books I want to read and have a hard time deciding just what exactly I am in the mood for.  And one last note--the Slaves of Golconda have picked Rose Macaulay's Crewe Train as their next read.  I'm quite excited since I really liked The World My Wilderness when I read it last year.  I've wanted to read more of her work since and am finally being given the excuse.  We won't be discussing it until November, so there is plenty of time to get a copy of the book and read along if we can tempt you.

So just mentally add these books to my sidebar and you'll have a pretty good snapshot of what I'm reading (and enjoying) at the moment.