alt.books.ghost-fiction

rbadac  (April 18, 2000)

Back in the Seventies I was first exposed to a copy of AMPHIGOREY and was thereby inducted into an excellent fellowship. From that point on I had bearded beetle-browed men, kohl-eyed consumptive women, round- headed inscrutable children blighted by fate, bizarre birds, hideous fat striped-sweatered cats, and other creatures of even more inexplicable provenance as intimate friends.

The book and its sequels became perennial Christmas and birthday presents to everyone I loved; like fungi, once having seen one, examples of this spidery, mood-charged and meticulous black-and-white art seemed to crop up everywhere, associated with other items of like interest: Edward Lear, T.S. Eliot, and Dracula, covers of mystery novels, the Looking Glass Library, John Bellairs, Marvin Kaye anthologies, Mazzeo's HAUNTINGS, and the books of a writer named Robert Aickman. I made mobiles of my favorite characters by blowing them up on the copy machine and tracing the back, copying them, then gluing them to cardboard and trimming the edges. I tried to work the puzzles of the Nursery Frieze (every fourth letter is capitalized, the standing letters pictured spell the work and author, the words are real ones), and on rainy days I stared at the hand-lettered mutterings, pulsating linework, and ominous, murky panels where nothing was happening (but something always seemed about to), and wondered how anyone could have had the patience to do all that, and without using a ruler.

That someone, I found out later, was an eccentric old recluse who presently lived in Massachusetts and only went out when he had to do a local puppet show or something, but who, when he lived in New York, had managed to catch nearly every consecutive season of the New York Ballet from 1956 to 1983.

What a debt that can never be repaid. I learned everything one needs to know about the life of a novelist from reading of one C(lavius) F (redrick) Earbrass of Hobbies Odd, near Collapsed Pudding in Mortshire, surrounded by crumpled and scratched-out versions of a single sentence he has worked on all afternoon, and now at nightfall regards with horror as reading "It had begun to snow," who cannot find the reference he is seeking, but does find a presentation copy of his second novel in the two shilling bin, with an inscription he does not remember writing, whose characters haunt him on the stair, and who attends a literary dinner where everyone looks exactly like him ('The Unstrung Harp'). I learned how bugs get along ('The Bug Book'), how to amuse children and make serious men mad ('The Salt Herring'), and enjoyed the best limericks ever written by anyone ('The Listing Attic').

You will pardon me then this bit of doggerel, I hope, and let it bring to mind a sprinkling of certain crepuscular fancies that will always be dear to my heart; still with us, though their creator has gone on to his.
 

A for the title of each Amphigorey
B for the Black Doll that haunted the story
C is the Curious Sofa so drastic
D is for Dracula's stage sets fantastic
E is for Earbrass, an author confessed
F is for Fantod, the dark Doubtful Guest
G is for Garden, its Evil spread far
H is the Hapless Child struck by a car
I is the Insect God's foul reign of fear
J are the Jumblies, drawn for Edward Lear
K is the Kiosk in 'The Object Lesson'
L the Leotard ballet dancers dress in
M is the Mate of the Abandoned Sock
N for the Nursery Frieze, thrice round the block
O is for Osbick Bird, drawn in mid-jump
P, Pious Infant, little Henry Clump
Q's Quoggenzocker, a word I don't know
R the Roses Deranged Cousins would grow
S is Miss Squill, whose Summons was horrible
T, Two-Holed Button and its chum, Glass Marble
U's Unstrung Harp, or perhaps Utter Zoo?
V the Vinegar Works that we all knew
W is for Wuggly Ump, hungry as hell
X the unknown thing in 'The Sinking Spell'
Y is the Yegg, who rubber soles donned
Z, little Zooks, of whom no one was fond.
 

Rest in peace, Edward St John Gorey, and a thousand thank yous for these and all the other sinister and hilarious glimpses of your unforgettable weird world.

rbadac

oOo

 
 

Paul Vincent  (April 18, 2000)

> (snipped a very fine eulogy)

Many thanks for that, rbadac. From the first glimpse of his work (The Gashlycrumb Tinies, by magnificent chance) I was lost in it. One of the "Suspect" drawings from "The Awdrey-Gore Legacy" gazes truculently out from my "A Gorey Year" desk calendar, reinforcing the sad thought that there'll be no more Gorey Years.

Still, he's left us many puzzles to delight us - surprising how many of his tales reward careful and repeated re-reading to find all the secrets contained therein. I'll never forget my pleasure at first noticing the small white visiting card which lies discarded somewhere in *almost* every Gorey tale (or is it "every" tale, and I'm still missing some?), and which immediately sent me thumbing back through the Amphigoreys to find as many as I could. Only Edward Gorey had this effect on people.

Yes, as has been said - time to repay a visit to the West Wing, methinks.

Paul

oOo

 
 

rbadac  (April 19, 2000)

Visiting card ????

Oh, no...

rbadac, gone back to the books

oOo

 
 

Mark Dillon  (April 19, 2000)

Very, very well done.  And very fitting as well.  Bravo!
 

Mark Dillon
Quebec, Canada

ooOoo

 
 

Edward Gorey websites:
The Edward Gorey Bibliography Web Site
The West Wing