VI. The Way of the Eld
(Excerpt from my RTR of – ‘WOLVES OF THE CALLA’ by Stephen King)
“And of course they have to be watched more or less constant, for if they get something they like, they’ll eat it until they bust.”
Readers of ‘The Dark Tower’ series? Or is it this series with its own gauche giantism: as a result of abduction by readers and their (or its) later giantism? The permutations of creativity or “tough bubbles“? Palaver while Andy Robot helps Eddie with a “personal moment” of ablution in the woods. [Eddie Stobart sadly died today or yesterday and his lorries had girls’ names.] The ‘Wolves’ seem to be described as dour forms of Cromwellian Roundhead (my idea not the book’s). And the refoundling fathers: Callahan and Overholser are in two minds about the nature of the Wolvish threat and of the threat’s antidote. The fact remains that laissez faire does not seem to be an option for readers or author. We shall never know whether they were right. Just dip your nibs into the inkwell and write: readers write as well as authors, I say. And until you read the rest, it was never written at all. Reading something ensures it will be written. But writing something does not ensure it will be read. Any old fool knows that! (1 April 11)
So who abducted whom?
(Excerpt from my RTR of – THE MAN WHO COLLECTED MACHEN by Mark Samuels)
“Its first appearance occurred moments after I had woken for the day, had lit a cigarette and sat absent-mindedly in my easy chair looking out the window, with a completely clear frame of reference.”
I feel I was destined to leave reading this story until now. For the past few weeks – quite by chance – and due to be continued in forthcoming weeks – I have been reading and real-time reviewing on-line – the epic novel series by Stephen King with the overall title of ‘The Dark Tower’. Of overall Proustian length and strength. A gigantic and hugely important work for any interested in Weird Literature I feel. Whether it be by seepage between the doors of the Jungian archetypes, this short story by Samuels has for me crystallised a major event in my reading life. And I still don’t know how it may be further crystallised. The Samuels story seems to be a personal catharsis of life, death, politics, (un)sociableness, eschatology, spirituality, creativity, Ligottian pessimism (and variations thereon), etc…..using the narrative tropes of Lovecraft, Machen and other story writers of this ilk, yet, knowing his fiction as I do, this is entirely crystallised and discretely pure Samuels – a major visionary work that actually makes the Chômu book complete, a sense of satisfaction for me, hanging in the air as it has been, without me knowing it was hanging in the air, like the Tower itself. (31 Mar 11)