Haroun and the Sea of Stories (1-211)

Haroun and the Sea of Stories by Salman Rushdie is a fantastical tale of a young boy who lives in "a city so ruinously sad that it had forgotten its name." (15) Haroun's father is the greatest storyteller in the land, but grief steals this gift away from him after his wife leaves for another man. Haroun then travels to the Sea of Stories to petition on his father's behalf, that he may once again spin the fables that he was once famous for. The story is an allegory for problems with society in India today and, indeed, much of the world. Following is a quotation regarding that allegory:

'[...] -Because it's true what you have heard rumours of: the Land of Chup has fallen under the power of the "Mystery of Bezaban", a cult of Dumbness or Muteness, whose followers swear vows of lifelong silence to show their devotion. [...] In the old days the Cultmaster, Khattam-Shud, preached hatred only towards stories and fancies and dreams; but now he has become more severe, and opposes Speech for any reason at all. In Chup City the schools and law-courts and theatres are all closed now, unable to operate because of the Silence Laws. -And I heard it said that some wild devotees of the Mystery work themselves up into great frenzies and sew their lips together with stout twine; so they die slowly of hunger and thirst, sacrificing themselves for the love of Bezaban...' (101)

Although obviously an example of fiction, this passage is a representation of what may happen and has happened should ignorance, intolerance and fanaticism take hold of a people. "Schools", "law-courts", and "theatres" symbolize intellectualism and the liberal arts, whereas the "'Mystery of Bezaban'" stands for any force or action opposing them, such as censorship, book-burning, purges, etc. The author himself was subject to such forces when, after the publication of his earlier novel, The Satanic Verses, a fatwa was issued concerning Salman Rushdie's life.

Rushdie, Salman. Haroun and the Sea of Stories. London: Granta Books, 1990. Print.

The Haunted Looking Glass (75-272)

Gorey, Edward, ed. The Haunted Looking Glass. New York: The New York Review of Books, 1959. Print.

The Haunted Looking Glass: A Visitor from Down Under (35-74)

"A Visitor from Down Under" by L. P. Hartley is yet another ghost story in Edward Gorey's The Haunted Looking Glass. The story is set in London on a wet and foggy night. In the following passage, the conductor of a bus is attempting to hand a man his ticket.

The conductor felt reluctant, he did not know why, to oblige the passenger in this. The rigidity of the hand disconcerted him: it was stiff, he supposed, or perhaps paralyzed. And since he had been standing on top his own hands were none too warm. The ticket doubled up and grew limp under his repeated efforts to push it in. He bent lower, for he was a goodhearted fellow, and using both hands, one above and one below, he slid the ticket into its bony slot.

"Right you are, Kaiser Bill." (57)

The quotation describes the gaunt and scrawny hand of the passenger. The "stiffness" is reminiscent of rigor mortis, or the rigidity of the joints and muscles after death, obviously hinting at the man's identity. And of course, the joke at the end is a reference to Kaiser Wilhelm (William) II of Germany during WWI who was know to have an infirmity of the arm.

Hartley, L. P. "A Visitor from Down Under." The Haunted Looking Glass. Ed. Edward Gorey. New York: The New York Review of Books, 1959. 57. Print.

The Haunted Looking Glass: The Signalman (35-52)

"The Signalman," written by the great Charles Dickens, is the third story of Edward Gorey's The Haunted Looking Glass. The story is told by a wanderer who, one evening, happens upon a stretch of rail within a gorge. At its side is an unimposing switch box manned by a lonely signalman. After a night's conversation, the signalman admits to having seen a specter in the nearby tunnel whose appearance has forewarned of misfortunes. Here, the wanderer believes he sees the spirit for the first time:

Before pursuing my stroll, I stepped to the brink, and mechanically looked down, from the point from which I had first seen [the signalman]. I cannot describe the thrill that seized upon me, when, close at the mouth of the tunnel, I saw the appearance of a man, with his left sleeve across his eyes, passionately waving his right arm. (50)

Those who have read "The Signalman" will recognize the gestures as that of the ghost which the signalman described to the wanderer. This was perhaps the most chilling example of foreshadowing in the story, and possibly even symbolism - that of the admonishing specter. Unfortunately, I must leave you at that cliffhanger, lest the conclusion be ruined!

Dickens, Charles. "The Signalman." The Haunted Looking Glass. Ed. Edward Gorey. New York: The New York Review of Books, 1959. 50. Print.

The Haunted Looking Glass: August Heat (25-34)

The second story in Edward Gorey's The Haunted Looking Glass, "August Heat" by W. F. Harvey, is a day in the life of James Clarence Withencroft, a forty-year-old artist. The following is a description of the subject of a picture he sketches over lunch:

It showed a criminal in the dock immediately after the judge had pronounced sentence. The man was fat - enormously fat. The flesh hung in rolls about his chin; it creased his huge, stumpy neck. He was clean-shaven (perhaps I should say a few days before, he must have been clean-shaven) and almost bald. He stood in the dock, his short, clumsy fingers clasping the rail, looking straight in front of him. The feeling that his expression conveyed was not so much one of horror as of utter, absolute collapse. (28)

This passage is notable for the imagery created to describe the appearance (specifically the corpulence) of the convict, as well as his expression. One can just imagine the forlorn countenance that would accompany this pathetic figure as he seemed to wilt in the brutal heat - melt in the uncaring sun. This "character" later plays a crucial role in the story, one that I will not share. That would take all the fun out of it!

Harvey, W. F. "August Heat." The Haunted Looking Glass. Ed. Edward Gorey. New York: The New York Review of Books, 1959. 28. Print.

The Haunted Looking Glass: The Empty House (1-24)

The Haunted Looking Glass is a compilation of Edward Gorey's favorite ghost stories, all by different authors. The first one, spanning just over twenty pages, is "The Empty House" by Algernon Blackwood. It is the story of a nephew and aunt who decide to stay the night in a haunted house which has already scared away three tenants in about as many months. The following quotation relates to us one of the harrowing incidents that befall the two thrill-seekers:

Leaving the main kitchen, they next went towards the scullery. The door was standing ajar, and as they pushed it open to its full extent Aunt Julia uttered a piercing scream, which she instantly tried to stifle by placing her hand over her mouth. For a second, Shorthouse stood stock-still, catching his breath. He felt as if his spine had suddenly become hollow and someone had filled it with particles of ice.

Facing them, directly in their way between the doorposts, stood the figure of a woman. She had disheveled hair and wildly staring eyes, and her face was terrified and white as death.

She stood there motionless for the space of a single second. Then the candle flickered and she was gone - gone utterly - and the door framed nothing but empty darkness. (14)

I found this passage interesting because it gave me something of a start as I read it and it occurred to me that the writing accomplished something that could not be accomplished through any other medium. It offered all the imagery that was required - Aunt Julia crying out as if gasping for her last breath of life, Shorthouse rendered motionless by the horror of the sight, the woman's twisted countenance twitching with the flame and her eyes that still saw that which she saw the moment before her grisly demise - but then leaves the rest to one's imagination. Was it really the figment of both onlookers' imaginations, or could it have been the ghost of the servant-girl murdered there so many years ago?

Blackwood, Algernon. "The Empty House." The Haunted Looking Glass. Ed. Edward Gorey. New York: The New York Review of Books, 1959. 14. Print.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (153-272)

Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1993. Print.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (87-152)

As I continued reading The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, I could not help but take notice of the charming little witticisms that the author is so famous for. I was so taken by one of them, that I have decided to share. Here, Lord Henry Wotton, a cynic and member of the leisure class, and Basil Hallward, a famous artist, discuss the marriage of their friend, Dorian Gray:

"Dorian Gray is engaged to be married," said Lord Henry, watching him as he spoke.

Hallward started, and then frowned. "Dorian engaged to be married!" he cried. "Impossible!"

"It is perfectly true."

"To whom?"

"To some little actress or other."

"I can't believe it. Dorian is far too sensible."

"Dorian is far too wise not to do foolish things now and then, my dear Basil."

"Marriage is hardly a thing that one can do now and then, Harry."

"Except in America," rejoined Lord Henry, languidly. "But I didn't say that he was married. I said he was engaged to be married. There is a great difference. I have a distinct remembrance of being married, but I have no recollection at all of being engaged. I am inclined to think that I was never engaged." (87)

This quotation is admittedly not particularly profound in any cosmic sense or even crucial within the book, but it demonstrates the dry humor and stinging satire that is Oscar Wilde. Of course, the joke is the double entendre. "Engaged" in this sense does not mean "betrothed" but rather "involved." The author is mocking the lack of fidelity in marriage not only in Victorian London, but America as well.

Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1993. Print.

The Picture of Dorian Gray (1-86)

I recently began reading The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, a task which I admittedly initiated with some trepidation. However, the book thus far turned out to be humorous and easy to read, especially for one that has been dubbed a "classic." The story is about a young man who sells his soul so he may forever remain beautiful while a painting of himself ages. As of yet, my favorite quotation regards the thoughts that cross through the title character's mind when he first sets eyes on his portrait, painted by a friend and great artist of the time, Basil Hallward. Dorian Gray has only recently met Lord Henry Wotton, a friend of Hallward's, who has warned Dorian Gray that youth and beauty is all he possesses and that it will disappear with time.

Dorian made no answer, but passed listlessly in front of his picture and turned toward it. When he saw it he drew back, and his cheeks flushed for a moment with pleasure. A look of joy came into his eyes, as if he had recognized himself for the first time. He stood there motionless and in wonder, dimly conscious that Hallward was speaking to him, but not catching the meaning of his words. The sense of his own beauty came on him like a revelation. He had never felt it before. Basil Hallward's compliments had seemed to him to be merely the charming exaggerations of friendship. He had listened to them, laughed at them, forgotten them. They had not influenced his nature. Then had come Lord Henry Wotton with his strange panegyric on youth, his terrible warning of its brevity. That had stirred him at the time, and now, as he stood gazing at the shadow of his own loveliness, the full reality of the description flashed across him. Yes there would be a day when his face would be wrinkled and wizen, his eyes dim and colorless, the grace of his figure broken and deformed. The scarlet would pass away from his lips, and the gold steal from his hair. The life that was to make his soul would mar his body. He would become dreadful, hideous, and uncouth. (30)

This paragraph struck me as being filled with emotion and insatiable longing. It captures the exact moment when Dorian Gray realizes how fleeting youth and beauty are - how fast and how far he can descend from the ideal to the grotesque. Oscar Wilde orchestrates the reaction perfectly. From this moment on in the book, Dorian Gray, in a effort to savor life while he can, plunges into a world of sin and hedonism from which there is no return.

Wilde, Oscar. The Picture of Dorian Gray. New York: Quality Paperback Book Club, 1993. Print.