You Jojo Lapin X led me, perhaps indirectly, to Robert Aickman. Thank you! He was an unlikely prospect, that I wouldn't have touched, if not overcoming my initial lack of attraction, and repellence to his aura. I imagine, if meeting him, that a heated, and possibly nasty conflict of personalities would have started immediately. Not so much a case of differing opinions, as of his eccentricity and emotional high-strung.
You might have been surprised. In person Robert was very civilised and (in my experience) anything but confrontational. Hugh Lamb is rather further to the left politically than I am, but got on with Robert very well, though he certainly didn't share his politics.
You might have been surprised. In person Robert was very civilised and (in my experience) anything but confrontational. Hugh Lamb is rather further to the left politically than I am, but got on with Robert very well, though he certainly didn't share his politics.
Hello Ramsey,
I believe you that Robert Aickman was civilised. He looks that way. Well dressed. Academic and architect. I may well be wrong, and perhaps would have got along fine with him; I'm sure he was interesting, in any case.
To me there is something eccentric about his appearance on photos. Energy seething under the surface. Elizabeth Jane Howard says he had problems getting along with men and could snap into a rage.
Which story was it? Others might disagree with me, but I find Aickman to have written many different kinds of stories (not all of which I've enjoyed) - some are relatively straight-forward, some are (to me) extremely obtuse.
It was "The Swords". I have also peeked a bit into a few other stories.
In two ways he reminds me of Lovecraft; Lovecraft theorized that a good weird story, to pull the reader into its spell, first needs to build up a setting of believability by using convincing mundane details. Lovecraft did this really well, but it appears to me that Aickman is even better at it. He does it so well that it's hard to know if the story has actually started, or if he is still just chatting with the reader over preliminary circumstances to the story before it begins; he creates havoc between reality and fiction, making a very convincing illusion by using oddly unique, and seemingly haphazard situations not possibly invented and constructed (which therefore appear realistic).
The second way he is similar to Lovecraft is that the milieu descriptions are not simply materialistically presented settings for the story, but are simultaneously filled with symbolic or larger perspective meaning. He understands the correlation between inner and outer reality.
In the case of Charles Birkin I don't know. I want quality literature, by great minds. That's the most important guideline for me. Not light or speculative entertainment; then I might as well turn on the abominable TV.
It is unlikely that you will see anything on television that resembles the work of Birkin, unless it is a public safety message.
My interest is whether Birkin's fiction is speculative and light entertainment, or if it is more profound writing by a great mind. Do his descriptions surrounding the disturbing settings go beyond the trite? I am not implying that a writer necessarily is bad because of moral decadence and repulsive preferences. (Like most journalists and critics of today do, judging the quality of a work simply by its degree of political correctness). He can still have artistic integrity.
Like I said, one of my favorites. Also, maybe the best entry point to Aickman besides "Ringing the Changes."
The first Aickman story I read was "The Hospice"--not one of his most straightforward tales, but still a relatively accessible one. Also, besides "Wood," it might be his funniest one.
I once persuaded my wife to read "The Inner Room," but it failed to convert her to Aickman. She didn't find it frightening (whereas I think that it's his creepiest story--but, then, I have a thing about dolls). Her only other comment was that she did not think that his attempt at writing in a woman's voice was believable.
As for Birkin, I recently had my first encounter with him: "Waiting for Trains." I found it effective but not enjoyable.
I once persuaded my wife to read "The Inner Room," but it failed to convert her to Aickman. She didn't find it frightening (whereas I think that it's his creepiest story--but, then, I have a thing about dolls). Her only other comment was that she did not think that his attempt at writing in a woman's voice was believable.
Would anyone enjoy give a synopsis of what the spookiness or strangeness in "Wood" is about? To see if its subject stirs up some part of my soul, enough to make it worthwhile chasing after another anthology collection for it. There is not much space left on my book-shelves, . . . even less time for reading all.
I (like Dr. Strange, I'm guessing) feel a need to "get it," even if that's not the point--or even if it's actually impossible. I sometimes get the sense that Aickman's stories possess layers of meaning accessible only to him (or at least not to me).
Would anyone enjoy give a synopsis of what the spookiness or strangeness in "Wood" is about? To see if its subject stirs up some part of my soul, enough to make it worthwhile chasing after another anthology collection for it. There is not much space left on my book-shelves, . . . even less time for reading all.
Let me just say that it ends with a physical transformation that's unusually gruesome for one of Robert's tales.
A reviewer said it's impossible to summerize any story by Aickman: If one of his stories is like a cake, then explaining it would be like force feeding you all of the ingredients before mixing and cooking.
Eating a raw egg, munching on a scoop of butter, and stuffing the mouth full of flour, is quite different from tasting the alchemical transmutation that has taken place in the finished cake.
I have seldom considered literature in terms of alchemy. A story develops gradually, or in leaps, in linear fashion. On rare occasions I may have experienced a sort of alchemy, a feeling towering up, after the story is finished, being completely different from everything experienced while still reading. In a subtle way.
For the author, on the other hand, it may be an alchemical process, as the artistic struggles finally transform into a written free-standing work.
There may be a delayed alchemical effect on the reader, if he learns something from the story and matures afterwards.
I read 'The Inner Room' ages ago but that is the only story of Aickman's that I have read. Admittedly, I'm an odd one in that Aickman is not my vintage, literally speaking. I keep my horror reading to a particular period for practical reasons. From about the 1890s till the end of Weird Tales is broad enough for this slow and fussy reader.
Anyway, I can't say I sympathise with those that want their horror to have a point outside of the actually 'spookiness' of the tale. I think it's a great gift to be able to make a story 'work' without there being any great logic to what is actually happening or without their being any real point to proceedings. Many of the very best horror stories don't explain things, they rely on a kind of subconscious connection. It's the old cliché that whatever someone writes will never match what is in our imaginations.
I read somewhere that Aickman's preoccupations are largely with the upper classes so some of his imagery might not connect with some people. That's the main fear that I have if I ever decide to give his stuff a go.
. . . From about the 1890s till the end of Weird Tales is broad enough for this slow and fussy reader.
You have not missed Sheridan Le Fanu? His work may be much about the upper classes though, or a mix.
I am a slow reader too, and think it's a good idea to try to limit the scope in some way. At least be selective, and not waste time on stuff I don't genuinely feel in tune with. I would rather find time to revisit my old books, than only read newly acquired things. Getting a more profound experience by looking closer into a work, may be more rewarding than always chasing after new sensations.
Getting a more profound experience by looking closer into a work, may be more rewarding than always chasing after new sensations.
I freely confess to being one of those who's always chasing after new sensations. Every so often, when my "books to buy/read" list grows relatively short, I'm plagued with fears that I've already read everything out there worth reading in the world of horror fiction. When that happens, I start digging in the Vault and elsewhere to find books to add to the list. So far, it's always worked.
Once upon a time, I focused my reading on the Weird Tales era, plus the big names from the Poe-to-WT era. Gradually, I've found myself working forward in time (but not backward to the Gothics, at least not yet). Tonight, for example, I plan to start reading Robert Lory's Dracula Returns, the first NEL novel I've ever bought and something that I never would have come across without the Vault.