"Aickman is the greatest and worst writer there ever was. Sometimes I just think he was smashed off his face on whatever he could get into his stomach and wrote and wrote loads of shite and still thought it good in the morning."
There can be no denying Robert Aickman enjoyed a drink or two. However, his tales tend to reflect his view that modern life is without true meaning.
I haven't been able to talk myself into reading any of Aickman's tales. It always sounds too much like something between going to the Doctor and visiting an elderly war veteran who tends to be slightly tipsy all the time and rambles on until he abruptly stops because he just drifted off into a doze.
I've read plenty of stories that lacked any discernible point or conclusion, however. There are loads of them in the Asquith Ghost Books. And I survived. Irritated and baffled but I did live to tell the tale (that there was no tale to tell). So maybe it wouldn't be so bad. There's one in the Fourth Ghost Book I may try on, one of those dark autumn afternoons.