I am planning very soon (November 2) to celebrate the year’s anniversary of my commencement of a massive Autumnal ‘real-time review’ of a massive book: a book even more massive (in all senses) — indeed a review even more massive — from the perspective of hindsight. Yes, The WEIRD, co-edited by Ann VanderMeer and Jeff VanderMeer. More and more massive as the days expire between reading it and my ever diminishing ‘now’.
What new is there now to be said about it? Well, re-reading my own year-old daily postings about the book — in this renewal of an eternal Autumn — I know I shall dwell on ever newer things that arrive towards my mind.
Goodness knows what would happen if I actually started reading the book itself again! My mind would explode, no doubt. I might indeed repeat all my unstinting praise of the book as well as any remaining ‘Unanswered Question’ that I made in the review and elsewhere (the year before the year before) about the genre of Weird Literature, its definitions, its exponents.
The WEIRD book is not so much a Weirdmonger’s Bible, but a journey I made, am still making: an accretively recurrent ‘Road to Damascus’ where creative dreams are more important than destructive bombs.
Beware the Ives of November, the Sturgeon pointing along a new river of thought. But the dream may indeed be finally mended, each Unanswered Question retrocausally answered, for each of us in our own way.
Last Balcony: Essex Serpents and Pier’s Echo 
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