Casual Shorts 4: John Keefauver, "The Tree" (1997)

Keefauver, John. "The Tree." Manoa, Century of Dreams: New Writings from the Philippines. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press. Vol. 9, No 2. Winter 1997. 86-90

The story is available online at JSTOR, for those with access.

Little-known writer John Keefauver has written some truly unique stories, among them "The Pile of Sand" (1971), "The Great Moveway Jam" (1979) and "The Tree" (1997). These stories are not about single individuals in crisis, but about communities faced with some unusual, even fantastical  situation, and it tells of how each community, in all its different facets, deals with their unlikely circumstance. In "The Pile of Sand," a large sand mountain appears one morning on a beach, and despite the incessant tides it refuses to get washed away. In "The Great Moveway Jam," near-future commuters (of 1999) are trapped in a three-month long traffic jam. These stories contain elements of magic realism, are written in a simple, distant and objective tone, and are more like Kafkaesque moral allegories than run-of-the-mill suspense or fantasy stories.

In "The Tree," an old and isolated community is forced to decide the fate of its most personal emblem: the elm tree that for generations has been used to nail death notices onto. The tree is dying, and after much debate, agricultural experts brought in from the outside insist that the tree is dying as a result not of natural disease, but of all the nails lodged into it. The town is therefore faced with a difficult choice: to remove the death notices and try to save the tree, or to continue nailing the notices until the tree finally dies. The townsfolk are split on this: the elders wish to keep the tree as it is, since they have waited all their lives for their names to be nailed onto it, and the notion of outliving the tree is looked upon as tragic. The younger generation is leaning toward removing the nails and the notices, to perhaps try another method of recording deaths, or of abandoning the practice altogether; some extremists believe the tree should simply be put out of its misery. Heated debate resolves nothing, and filled with anxiety the elders begin to die off at an incredible rate in order that their names be nailed to the tree while the issue remains unresolved and the tree is still alive.

I will not give anything more away as far as plot is concerned, but will discuss some thematic considerations, and herein some inadvertent spoilers might rest. What is most interesting is that the basis of the tradition has changed over time, and that the townsfolk appear to be clinging onto something that exists in a form different than that which their ancestors had intended. The tree was originally used for general notices, but later was taken up with solely death notices, names and dates of townsfolk etched onto "two-by-four-inch metal strips" and nailed to the elm. Moreover, many people expressed the uselessness of the tree, citing that in the town cemetery the names are all clear, whereas on the tree some notices are so weather-worn they are illegible, while others, with so little space remaining on the tree, were nailed near the top, invisible to those standing on the ground. Clinging onto this tradition clearly serves only a sentimental purpose, and somehow gives the town elders a kind of purpose in their meagre lives, as having their names on the tree is more important than making of their years something beneficial to others, to their town or even to themselves.

There is little left in this town for old and young. It has been dying for years, we are told; the once common construction has halted and most of the young have moved away, so that the town elders make up the majority of the population. Since the elders are the majority and since they are the ones clinging tightly to tradition, there is little sense that the town will survive this crisis and rebuild itself.

While the initial purpose of nailing notices onto the tree has been lost, elders now claim that the purpose of nailing death notices is for departed townsfolk to be united on something living. The tree is a perfect repository as it grows in the town's centre. Yet as the town dies so does the tree, and so do the notices, as the dates are rusting off the metal strips "the notices were dying too." (p. 87) In essence, it is the memory of this place that is dying. For years the townspeople have resented the encroachment of outsiders, did not approve of the young moving out, and have even talked of building a wall around the town to prevent outsiders coming in to look at their tree. While some were willing to prosper from their tradition, to invite the tourists and build a hotel and souvenir shop, the elders resented the encroachment and blocked the idea. Plans for change have long been suppressed.

In truth, though dying the village has long been dead. Its newspaper has long ago folded while "the twice-a-day train roared right through town, as if the place didn't even exist." (87) What has changed for the community is their awareness of the town's death and of their own inconsequential existence. The perverted notion of tradition that they are grappling with and the constant emphasis on death is only helping to kill the community, and it is only natural that the elm is dying since, as we are told, it was the symbol of the village's life.

Allegorically speaking the story has much in common with some of Kafka's shorter pieces, mostly in that the allegory can point to many different things. The town was overwhelmed with pride, its attitude toward the outside world and toward those wishing to leave forever prevented it from becoming a part of the world as a whole. The community was a victim of hubris. Yet not only pride, tradition can be linked to other abstract concepts, any form of ideology from religion to communism, taken to an extreme level that isolates itself from a world filled with different forms of ideology.

Whatever direction the allegory points it is clear that the story's protagonist, the tree, is a victim here. The village cannot be the victim since it is made up of its people, and the tree was usurped by the people into this perverted symbol for life that gave the townsfolk the tragic hope for an unattainable immortality. There was only so much that the tree could support, and after many generations it could do nothing but die.

The end of the story is obvious, indicating that man in his stubbornness, pride and lack of wisdom will not change, and that in order to preserve ourselves we continue to make victims of our environment. With "The Tree" Keefauver has given us an excellent short story, and it is truly unfortunate that the story, like his other stories, is not more widely read.

Tales of Tomorrow (Season 2, partial)

Tales of Tomorrow is an anthology series that ran for two seasons, from August 1951 to June 1953, and produced eighty-five episodes (forty-five during the first season and forty in the second). It is widely considered that the show was the first science fiction series produced for television. Like most series at the time it was filmed live, so episodes are filled with a variety of obvious errors: actors screw up lines, shadows of equipment appear on-screen, background noise like coughing get captured in the microphone, and so forth. Among my favourites is a camera pan that accidentally nabs a clear shot of the second camera.

Early television was a combination of stage play and radio drama, yet Tales of Tomorrow proved at times to be quite innovative. Overly dramatic like most early television, the overacting, lofty music scores and over-written scripts can test the patience of contemporary audiences. Yet often the melodramatic elements were so well fused that even by today's standards certain episodes stand out with their superior quality and high innovation. As for the science, well, in season one Leslie Nielsen and Brian Keith breathe easily on Mars, and any unexplained phenomena is the result of nuclear testing. Socially, aliens are essentially Russians in disguise and the thwarting of extraterrestrial forces is really just an allegory for common Americans (often with British accents) succeeding in thwarting some evil Soviet threat. While it is noble that scientists who create technological or medicinal wonders merely for profit are punished, some characters end up in truly tragic circumstances that today's sponsors would never allow contemporary television to resort to. Everything must end happily so that sponsors can endorse their products to a smiling audience rather than one that is depressed and unwilling to fall for clever marketing, something Alfred Hitchcock often had to battle with while working on his own television program.

And there were sponsors for Tales of Tomorrow, though some episodes were oddly without that I wonder how they were financed; was the show that popular? The main sponsor in season two was Kreisler watchbands. I am impressed with Kreisler for seemingly allowing the producers and writers to create original fare, and the must-watch episode "The Window" is the result of allowing the creative forces to produce something incredibly unique that is so rare in television. The Kreisler ad was was built into the unusual episode, and had Kreisler been the only sponsor perhaps there might have been some more variety among the individual plot points, and the show would likely have been titled Kreisler Presents Tales of Tomorrow.

Tales of Tomorrow is improperly titled. These are not, as implied, stories about the future (though one announcer does make that claim during a unique half-time intermission), but stories about average contemporary people; though many of the characters are brilliant scientists, their common desires ground them rather than elevate them, for despite their genius they live simple lives and are driven by everyday goals, usually financial stability, but occasionally fame or world peace. The episodes place character at the forefront, and deal with relationships amid the greedy pursuit of financial gain or the noble pursuit for world peace (usually thwarted by a competitor's greedy pursuit of financial gain). The science is at times incidental, and sometimes there is no science but fantasy, as in "The Ghost Writer." Most episodes hold some element of scientific discovery that, in the bulk of episodes, enables people to pursue their wants, good or evil. Other episodes feature aliens or machines that threaten the lives of a varied group, but even these often include some scientific discovery, such as "Many Happy Returns."

The show is also a great record of the on-screen beginnings of a good many actors. Rod Steiger, Everett Sloane, the already legendary Boris Karloff and even James Dean all get to play scientists. Joanne Woodward, Mercedes McCambridge, Virginia Vincent and other female leads get to play wives and daughters. And Leslie Nielsen kept playing spineless downtrodden writers and thieves; a very good dramatic actor in his youth.

The episodes discussed here are from the DVD Tales of Tomorrow, Collection 3.

All episodes are directed by Don Medford and produced by Mort Abrahams. Many can be watched at the Internet Archive.

"Youth on Tap" (episode 4). Written by Lorna Kenney; starring Robert Alda. (The ad for Kreisler watchbands is directed to those who own one of those popular new round wrist watches. It is entertaining, especially in its odd opening segue from the presenter's flatly-pressed suit to his round arm: "Speaking about round objects...") A scientist (Harry Townes) offers an out-of-work truck driver (Alda) a thousand dollars for a pint of his blood. The audience learns quickly (though trucker Alda is slow on the uptake) that the generous doctor is actually stealing his youth. Like most Tales of Tomorrow, this one offers no surprises, but the building is quite tight. Unfortunately it falls apart when Alda tries to defend the scientist from a previous victim who is suddenly deemed the "mad" character for wanting vengeance on the man who stole his youth, and essentially his life. The performances are fine but there is something stiff about Alda, and his delivery is also odd, a little over-righteous and a lot over-dramatic. 5/10

"The Horn" (episode 6). Written by Alan Nelson; starring Franchot Tone. Kreisler proves its watchbands are water proof by submerging one in a fish tank. The episode itself is very short, so short that the ads are extended and Alan Edwards appears at the end for C.H. Masland & Sons for yet another ad. This is followed by over two minutes of propaganda for the American Armed Forces. As for the episode: a man builds a new musical instrument that transmits ultrasonic vibrations to the listener's nervous system and makes him feel exactly what the player is feeling. It features a humanitarian scientist, a love interest and an evil competitor. Nothing of note, except for one line: when the evil competitor steps outside onto the balcony and threatens to drop what is essentially a brass horn, he warns "It'll smash like a ripe cantaloupe." Another episode that proves that horrible men meet an early demise and that the world is not yet prepared for the benevolence of scientific progress. 5/10

"Many Happy Returns" (episode 8; also known as "Invaders at Ground Zero"). Story by Raymond Z. Gallum, adapted by David Karp and written by sci-fi great Frederik Pohl; starring Gene Raymond. I quite liked this silly bit of nonsense. The drama is high and the kid looks a little... off, but it all adds to the silliness. The set itself is great, with a home quite elaborately detailed for a live staging. We get to see all sorts of shadows, especially during the later basement scenes, as equipment and people step between light and action. A boy has built an instrument having followed instructions from the moon and his father is convinced that the moon being is bent on harming the earth. [Here comes a spoiler:] The father sends some dynamite to the moon creature and local astrologers studying the moon witness an explosion. Now, there is never any proof offered that the creature means to harm, and while he does at one point prevent the boy from speaking it is of course possible that he has other motives for not letting humans know what he is up to. For instance, as learned in "The Horn," perhaps humans are not prepared to learn what this alien has to offer. And we'll never know, since daddy quickly blew the poor creature to smithereens. 7/10

"The Window" (episode 10; 7 November 1952). Story by Enid Maud Dinnis, teleplay by Frank de Felitta; starring Rod Steiger, Virginia Vincent as well as the production team, from producer Mort Abrahams and director Don Medford, to chief engineer Merle Worster and a fine performance by floor manager Jim Walsh. "The Window" is a unique episode and an example of the possibilities of television and, more importantly, of the benefits of breaking from a tightly defined mold. The episode begins in the usual Tales of Tomorrow manner, with a Kreisler ad followed by opening titles (this time for an episode titled "The Lost Planet") and after a minute or less of dialogue the picture breaks and takes us to a realistic scene of a domestic squabble through an open window. The episode then follows the crew of Tales as they first try to figure out how to salvage the time slot, interview their chief engineer to understand what might be happening, until they finally realize that a murder is about to be committed and decide to intervene. What is truly tremendous is that for a live presentation this episode was superbly executed, with the stage hands doing a great job being themselves (I particularly liked Jim Walsh, especially when he refuses to do an on-air apology when things first break down). Even the half-time Kreisler ad is thrown in amid the havoc, and audiences get to see the backdrop of the studio filming, with people walking in front of the camera as staff try to improvise an episode. Director Don Medford appears only off-camera (which is too bad) but does a decent job at calling out camera directions and helping with the telephone. Performances in the tight window space are also strong, with Rod Steiger looming large as the murderous lover. The end of the lengthy credits has the narrator state: "We hope you have found it an exciting and different television experience." Yes, even by today's standards the episode is truly exciting. I am pleased that sponsor Kreisler agreed (or at least did not prevent) this from being produced. 10/10

"The Fatal Flower" (episode 15). Written by Frank De Felitta; starring Victor Jory and Don Hanmer (credited as Hamner). Oh boy! Where do I begin with this one other than to say it is among the most retarded things I have ever witnessed on TV. It deals with two American botanists conducting experiments in a Brazilian facility. The acting is over-the-top, complete with crazed laughter and unintentionally comical glances (maybe it was supposed to be funny & I just missed the point), the idea is silly and the script ridiculous. Perhaps it's the combination of these elements that make this such an enjoyable episode. The episode seems to have a number of unrelated items which is kind of neat: a hybrid carnivorous plant, two conflicting scientific personalities and a mysterious letter. Of course these elements are all tossed in simply to bring the episode to its evident conclusion. One neat effect is the fact that I could not predict which of the characters at the end of the episode would get eaten by the plant (I am not revealing anything; that someone will be consumed is obvious as soon as the man-eating plant is mentioned). I also liked the original concept of the letter. The young, apprentice botanist is so bored that he purchases an unread letter from the other for the exorbitant fee of $10 (this is 1952), and then toys with the original owner about its content. The episode is book-ended by two ludicrous facets: the beginning is difficult to watch because of Hanmer's annoying performance, and the end is difficult to stomach because of one line: "While man fiddles around with his petty problems, the vegetables are on the move." Once again: "Oh boy!" 6/10

"The Bitter Storm" (episode 17). Written by Armand Aulicino; starring some unknown actors along with Joanne Woodward in one of her first filmed roles. This one presumes that the New Testament is history, and then has people preaching during the onslaught of a massive storm rather than fleeing the island. This is the Christmas episode and I suppose miracles should happen, however idiotic they may be. The science involves a machine that captures every sound that has ever been made on this earth, and evidently only plays back those of historical relevance, ignoring the other billions of sounds that have been made since the planet's creation. 2/10

"Another Chance" (episode 24). Written by Frank De Felitta; starring Leslie Nielsen and Virginia Vincent (who we saw in "The Window"). It was nice to watch an episode without the requisite Kreisler ad, though we were urged to wake our children the following morning for hours of TV entertainment. At the end of his rope, all around loser Harold Mason desperately seeks the help from a newspaper ad that reads simply: "I AM SURE I CAN HELP YOU!" The help consists of sending Mason back in time seven years, removing bits of his memory and allowing him to start afresh. Finely acted with an over-dramatic seriousness, Leslie Nielsen is almost unrecognizable here. (Incidentally, with at least six episodes to his credit, Nielsen appeared more often in Tales of Tomorrow than any other actor.) The music is also overdone, but the exaggerations suit the drama well, and though we have an idea as to how this will end, it still holds one final surprise. Notice that Nielsen wears a wedding band, and when he is sent back seven years to before he was married the band is still on his finger. 8/10

"The Great Silence" (episode 25). Written by Frank De Felitta, story by Jeffery Farnol; starring Burgess Meredith and Lilia Skala. A strange mist causes people to lose the power of speech. Though the US government (fairly simple-minded here) believes it is the result of recent H-bomb experiments, and that the haze will soon dissipate. A simple and illiterate "mountain man" discovers, however, that the mist is being fed into the atmosphere by a strange, mouthless alien near his home. The episode is more comedic than paranoid, though the cold war is heavily apparent in its influence. The comedy is flat, even for 1953 standards, as there is much filler gesticulating, as Meredith tries to describe to one person after another what has happened. The alien, though obviously a man in costume, is well conceived and quite creepy as Meredith first spies him through the porthole of his ship. I think it's those "gloves" that make his arms look stunted. 5/10

"The Fury of the Cocoon" (episode 32). Written by Frank De Felitta; and starring some unknowns, such as Cameron Prud'Homme who has appeared in at least four episodes, and a finely exaggerated performance by German character actor Peter Capell. Incredible nonsense, and not just the title. Some scientists investigate a meteorite crash site deep in some generic jungle and, while sweating profusely and glaring feverishly at one another, discover that the meteorite brought with it giant invisible insects. Almost an oxymoron, as these insects are about two feet tall, yet we can more clearly see a mosquito in the distance as they are, indeed, invisible. Moreover, these over-sized invisible insects appear to have a liking for human blood. After some insanities (and I mean the overtly dramatic acting and idiotic plotting) the hero of our story inadvertently stumbles on the one thing that can kill these insects... you guessed it: insecticide. The cabin they are hiding in just happens to have a crateful. What is truly odd about this episode is the introduction and half-time pitch. There is no sponsor here, just some guy telling us about the show. "Some persons contend that the drama of every day life remains constant, and will remain so forever. I wonder... Perhaps together we can find a clue to the answer on tonight's Tale of Tomorrow." A clue to the answer of the dramas of every day life? I'm not sure what he means, but if every day life involves giant invisible insects from outer space, then there is an answer, and it is insecticide. (Perhaps they were fishing for a new sponsor.) I have decided to carry a canister with me from this day forward. 3/10

"Read to Me, Herr Doktor" (episode 28). Written by Alvin Sapinsley; starring Mercedes McCambridge and Everett Sloane. A retired professor enjoys his time being read to by an android, while his daughter worries that he has grown too close to the machine. Suddenly the android awakens, believing itself to be a man, and demands that the professor not rest until he completes him/it. Predictable and dated, it is also quite cheesy, though nonetheless somewhat enjoyable. This episode is populated by a known cast, Academy Award winner McCambridge (for the 1949 film All the King's Men) and Sloane, whose first roles were in the masterpieces Citizen Kane, Journey into Fear and The Lady from Shanghai. Beside them is an odd-looking machine, a tall man with what appears to be a paper bag on his head. Yes, the 1953 live television department did one helluva job here, and perhaps the most enjoyable aspect of this episode is watching the suited actor move around, his mouth at times clearly visible through the cellophane window covering it. While Sloane is fine portraying a man much older than the actor, McCambridge's sharp voice and sharper delivery is at times grating, and the studio camera is not terribly flattering, with some shots strangely making her appear older than she is. 6/10

"Ghost Writer" (episode 29). Written by Mann Rubin; starring Leslie Nielsen (again), Gaby Rogers and Murray Matheson. In this very well acted and finely directed episode, Nielsen is aspiring writer Bert, wrought with guilt as his wife earns the bread while he struggles to get published. He responds to an ad against his faithful and incredibly devoted wife's wishes, and visits famous writer Lee Morton who is looking for someone to finish some stories. At five hundred dollars a story (imagine, in 1953), Bert readily agrees. When he discovers that the story plots are greater than just fiction, Bert must choose between setting his pride aside and doing right, or ignoring his wife's wishes in order to earn some easy cash. This is as far as I will go, though I am tempted to discuss the end and that neat little final line. Morton is played particularly well with a suave, almost playful gleam by long-time character actor Murray Matheson (he was The Clown in the innovating and shocking Twilight Zone episode "Five Characters in Search of an Exit" as well as appearing in many other popular shows, and along with other TZ alumnae in Twilight Zone: The Movie). Nielsen has another great turn as a hapless and luckless weak-willed man. It is too bad his career has been relegated to the embarrassingly unfunny series of spoof movies. A superior episode. 9/10

"The Evil Within" (episode 35). Written by Manya Starr; starring Margaret Phillips, Rod Steiger (again) and James Dean. A scientist discovers a serum that brings out the evil in people. When the fridge at the lab breaks down he brings the vials home, and (surprise) his neglected wife accidentally consumes some. We learn in this episode that what evil people like is jazz music and pretty shiny earrings. The scientist then stares at his wife until she snaps out of it, which is fine because that hard stare from Rod Steiger would get me to snap out of anything. Silly episode highlighted by fine acting: James Dean does a good job at being good looking and serious in a pair of dark glasses as the assistant Ralph, while Steiger is always a pleasure to watch, but it is Margaret Phillips who steals the show, rolling her Rs and giggling as evil humans are want to do. On this set Steiger lumbers around as though he was the only one on-stage; I don't mean he steals the show but that he just doesn't seem to always notice that anyone is around him. Of course this impression might just be coming from that immense size and voice, that hulking presence, though it is more evident here than in his film roles. The sad thing about this episode is the opportunity for self-centered Dr. Peter to change his ways and fess up to his selfishness is lost as he merely stares at poor wife Anne. Early television did not at all favour women. 6/10

Casual Shorts 3: Alfred Noyes, Midnight Express (1935)

Publication History

• Noyes, Alfred. "The Midnight Express." This Week, 3 November 1935.
• ______. Sleep No More: Twenty Masterpieces of Horror for the Connoisseur. Ed. August Derleth. London: Farrar & Rinehart, 1944. 319 (not included in the shortened Panther edition of 1965).
• ______. Alfred Hitckcock Presents: Bar the Doors. Ed. Alfred Hitchcock. New York: Dell Books, 1946. 92
• ______. Wake Up Screaming. Ed. Lee Wright & Richard G. Sheehan, New York: Bantam Books, 1967
• ______. Hauntings: Tales of the Supernatural. Ed. Henry Mazzeo, illustrated by Edward Gorey. Garden City: Doubleday, 1968. 311
• ______. The 8th Fontana Book of Great Ghost Stories. Ed. Robert Aikman. London: Fontana, 1972. 37
• ______. An Alfred Hitchcock Mystery Sampler. Ed. anonymous. Reader's Digest, 1974. 32-36 (A booklet of four stories issued out to Reader's Digest subscribers.)
• ______. Deadly Nightshade: Strange Tales of the Dark. Ed. Peter Haining. London: Gollancz, 1977. 174-179
• ______. Midnight Specials. Ed. Bill Pronzini. New York: Bobbs-Merrill, 1977. 70
• ______. 65 Great Tales of the Supernatural. Ed. Mary Danby. London: Sundial, 1979.
• ______. Macabre Railway Stories. Ed. Ronald Holmes. London: W.H. Allen, 1982. Reprint: London: Star, 1986. 119-126
• ______. Lost Souls: A Collection of English Ghost Stories. Ed. Jack Sullivan. Athens, OH: Ohio University Press, 1983.
• ______. The Ghost Now Standing on Platform One. Ed. Richard Peyton (Peter Haining). London: Souvenir Press, 1990. 87-91
• ______. The Little Big Book of Chills and Thrills. Eds. Lena Tabori and Natasha Tabori Fried. Welcome Books, 2001. 18

Read it at hypnogoria.com

"It was a battered old book bound in red buckram."

"Midnight Express" is a semi-known classic dark tale about a twelve year-old boy who, against all rules, removes a book from his father's shelf and sneaks it, along with a tapered candle, up to his room late at night. There is a single illustration on page 50, a dark print of a man standing on an empty railway platform "lit by a single dreary lamp," and this illustration scares the boy so intensely that he must pin the pages together in order to avoid it. He tries to read the book night after night but keeps falling asleep, and the following day can never remember any of its details. Eventually he forgets about the book, but recalls it suddenly thirty-eight years later when he finds himself one night in a dark railway platform facing a shadowy figure standing beneath the single lamp post.

I first came across "Midnight Express" in that impressionable era of pre-teenhood and discovering the world of Alfred Hitchcock anthologies. I was slowly making my way through the excellent Alfred Hitchcock Presents: Bar the Doors, and while I was enthralled by nearly all the stories in this collection, there was something about this particular story that gripped me. First of all it was particularly dark; the entire piece played out amid shadows and candlelight or beneath dreary railway lamps, with figures hooded or half hidden. The protagonist himself is shaded, and we learn so little about him that we might ourselves be that lonely twelve year-old boy or that fifty year-old adult. The story is quite surreal, open to different interpretations, whether as allegory or ghost story. Oddly, though the story affected me then, I could remember little about it outside its startling premise, a neat affect that ties in well with the closeness the reader has with the character. Re-reading it as an adult I can attach significance to the minor details and piece it together as not only a strong supernatural tale, but as an effective allegory.

(Spoilers ahead: read it at hypnogoria.com before reading this paragraph). The twelve year-old boy is unable to read beyond a few pages and certainly not up to the dreaded page fifty that contains that frightening illustration. Thirty-eight years later he finds himself in that illustration. Twelve and thirty-eight make fifty, so that a page of this book equals a year in the boy's life. Logically his twelve year-old self is then only able to read until page twelve prior to falling asleep. The railway platform is a "junction," a kind of crossroads in the man's life, and the dark figure he sees turns out to be himself. He flees and ends up in a small cottage where a hooded figure leads him to a room where he once again comes across the old book, and as he reads it he goes in circles and circles until he makes a discovery: the hooded figure who owns that house is also he, and in a panic he strangles his "tormentor" and in turn is strangled himself. The sound of the grandfather's clock intermingles with the "ah" of the sea "on a distant coast, thirty eight years ago," so that he is brought back in time, and though it appears that he has escaped from the pattern of the book, or of his life, he is only forced to begin it once more, or to relive it for eternity. Perhaps he is a ghost forever haunting himself in that wayward cottage, or perhaps he cannot escape his destiny, and must settle in playing out the patterns of his life.

We can argue as to why he is destined to be so tormented. Perhaps it is for the crime of taking the book from his father's shelf in the first place, since we are told it was not allowed, or maybe it is a warning to everyone that our destinies are set and we cannot break from the predetermined life which we must pursue. Either way what is remarkable about this story, other than the tight and economical writing, is its multi-layered themes and the many possible interpretations it evokes.

Alfred Noyes (16 September 1880 - 28 June 1958) was primarily a poet, but also an essayist and lecturer, and has written at least two novels. He has not published many short stories, and has another ghost story that has perennially appeared in different anthologies, titled "The Lusitania Waits" (New York Tribune, 31 December 1916). His birthday is in two days. It is clear he is capable of handling different genres, and there are some truly great lines in this one. What reveals his skill is the impenetrable darkness this story displays, and I can remember as a young boy being disturbed by the darkness as much as by the story's creepy events. The story never fell into obscurity, but it did seem to receive some revival in the late 1960s, and has appeared steadily in anthologies since then. Being a suspense story set partly in a railway station, it naturally fell onto the contents pages of three anthologies focused on trains and their stations.

I am sure I will continue re-visiting this story every few years, and perhaps I too will continue to forget its details despite being gripped each time I pick it up.

Though little known to contemporary audiences, the story is well respected as evidenced by the fact that it has been included in anthologies edited by a number of well established editors. Here are covers for some of the books "Midnight Express" has appeared in:

The Black Book of Horror, edited by Charles Black (2007)

Black, Charles, editor. The Black Book of Horror. Mortbury Press, 2007. 298 pp.

The Black Book of Horror at Goodreads
The Black Book of Horror at ISFdb
Mortbury Press website


Appropriately dedicated to Herbert van Thal (1904-1983), the legendary British editor of the Pan Book of Horror Stories series as well as numerous other original and reprint anthologies of the 196os, 70s and early 80s, The Black Book of Horror features some great, inspired writing.

I had not heard of many of the authors collected here and was really excited to start this one. Some good reviews, a brilliant cover and a newly awoken desire to read horror fiction sent me to the Book Depository to order a copy. (Living in Canada many of these British publications are quite pricey when considering shipping and currency exchange. The Book Depository has allowed me to broaden my reading scope with their great selection of British fiction.) When the book arrived I nearly jumped for joy (one of the great joys in life is receiving books in the mail), though about a month passed before I could start reading.

The book itself is very handsome. The cover art by Paul Mudie is gorgeous (I encourage you to visit his website); the facial expression combined with the smooth backdrop and warm colours is enticing. The pages of the book he is holding are exquisitely and minutely detailed, and there is a glow on the figure and his chair as though he were facing a fireplace. He is looking directly at us, and I get the impression that I am facing this man, the fireplace between us, to my left, and I can feel the warm blaze as I look into the deathly gaze of this near skeletal host. I don't dare move, so remain tight in my own seat, somewhat on edge should I need suddenly to bolt, and listen to the tales he is about to share with me.

And for the most part these tales are very good; in fact, this is the strongest anthology I have read in any genre so far this year. There are no true duds in here though there are a couple of weaker stories, and only one that I did not like. There is a little inconsistency that I will put down to editing (though this is an assumption): while some of the stories are incredibly tight, a few others, including some good ones, feel unfinished, whether because it is filled with typos ("The Sound of Muzak") or reads well but could have been even better with some tighter sequences ("Subtle Invasion," "Lock-In"). This is a minor point, but I would be interested to know what caused this, and hopefully editor Charles Black will some day publish an overview of his experiences and the processes of putting this series together. Incidentally, there are no female authors in this volume, and the first volume that includes a woman in its contents is #3 (unless there are some in disguise). This is merely an observation.

Now for the stories. While I might be critical of specific elements in certain stories, it does not necessarily diminish the strength of those particular works, nor of the anthology as a whole.

"The Crows" by Frank Nicholas. Real estate professional Ronson returns to his Aunt Jess's house where he lived for a short time as a child; he has now returned to claim the property following his aunt's death. Though the story spans perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes in time, it is a patient process of rediscovery, with Ronson moving toward and through the old house while flashes of confused memory piece together a dark and terrifying history. The writing is well controlled, the bits of memory potently revealed and Nicholas manages to give us some great lines, including "These were memories that brushed his skin and pecked at his eyes until they smarted with tears," a line more revelatory than Ronson could imagine. "The Crows" is a difficult story to write and Nicholas has managed to keep it consistent and interesting throughout. It is a great lead-in story. 8/10

"Regina vs. Zoskia" by Mark Samuels. The story of a minor law firm employee who gets mixed up with the unusual, lucrative and seemingly endless case involving the inhabitants of a mental asylum who cling to an unusual idea as proof of their sanity. Well written, the characters are all well delineated and Dr. Zoskia in particular is described with great visual sense. I liked the surreal ending and how it questions the actuality of everything else that occurrs in the story. The final line, however, is needless and seems to have been added in order to explain the ending, or at least remove its ambiguity. Without that last line the story would have been a good deal more effective. One of three previously published stories in the collection, as "Regina vs. Sycorax" in the now defunct website The Art of Grimscribe, November 2004. I wonder how that version differed from the one printed here. 7/10

"The Older Man" by Gary Fry. While on a scaffold painting the outside of a newly purchased house, a thirty-nine year-old man experiencing a mid-life crisis witnesses an unusual sight through one of the upper windows. By day a general labourer and by night a rock and pop cover artist, Jack Preen is faced with his weakening body as he discusses basic sociology with a new, much younger co-worker. Another story with a strong character emphasis, the horror element is almost incidental and I found myself interested more in Preen's own reflective state than in whether or not he saw a ghost. The potential ghostly element is nicely linked to Jack's musings and the end is revelatory in both plot and theme. A very nice story. 7/10

"Power" by Steve Goodwin. This one needs a re-read simply because I'm fairly certain I missed many points. An Englishman is in Poland where he is drawn to an abandoned Jewish cemetery and soon reluctantly befriends a local skinhead by the name of Marek. The young skinhead has taken a liking to the narrator while aggressively pursuing the notion of living life fully while forgetting the dead and refusing to fear the inevitability of death. Very well written, I was drawn into the story and Marek's character but was left wondering about certain plot points that seem to drop out unexpectedly, like Magda, the woman who accompanies the narrator through the cemetery at the beginning of the story. I will re-visit this one soon, not just for clarity but to better understand what I like about this story--the kind of story I am normally not drawn into. 7/10

"Cords" by Roger B. Pile. The first weaker story of the group, "Cords" is interesting in concept and presented in a straightforward method. Unlike the first four stories, it is interested more in its integral idea than in the characters or the method of its telling. While the concept is original and quite neat, as a story it ends up a little weak and predictable. 6/10

"The Sound of Muzak" by Sean Parker. An alien creature searching for a host finds itself mixed into a muzak recording, and inadvertently reeks havoc on shoppers. This is the only story in the collection I consider forgettable. Though long, it reads like a summary of events. Characters are merely standbys and the events themselves are dull. Moreover, the tone is non-committal, bordering on comic but oddly restrained. The oddest thing is that among the selections in this cleanly-edited anthology, this one is filled with typos. I would be curious to know the back-story if there is one; was this piece a last minute inclusion rushed through the editing process? 4/10

"Shaped Like a Snake" by D. F. Lewis. First published in Ghosts and Scholars #17, "Shaped Like a Snake" is a somewhat amusing short piece about Oxford Historian Dr. Tom Magri at a vacation hotel near a golf course. Magri learns of an odd and convoluted local wives' tale from Myrtle, one of the hotel helpers. This story works well because it gives little away directly, using a combination of details about Magri and Myrtle's comical monologue to tell its tale. 7/10

"Only in Your Dreams" by David A. Sutton. Late at night a little girl is awake, insisting that the jelly man is coming. Her overworked father has no patience for the interruption but her mom tries to reassure her that the jelly man exists only in dreams. This short piece was truly tense and the nature of the jelly man, though clearly linked with daddy's work, is never directly revealed, nor are the events leading to the finale. The writing is controlled and the concrete reality of a house at night and two sleeping children functions well amid the more abstract moments. Excellent build-up and a great finish, this was one of the better stories in the collection. 8/10

"The Wolf at Jessie's Door" by Paul Finch. I've been wanting to read something by Finch since I came across The Extremist and Other Tales of Conflict; a great cover and a strong review made me curious about the book and about Finch. This introduction to his work was not disappointing, and in fact, "The Wolf at Jessie's Door" is an example of great horror writing. A novelette, the story tells of an ex-cop/current failed writer Adam Verricker who awakens from a drunken stupor in the middle of the night and sees an immense sheep dog staring at him from outside his window. As luck would have it, his old flame from his police academy days has been relocated to his general area, including Adam's low rent and crime infested sub-area of Trapp Hill. Though slightly curious about the dog, Adam is more interested in rekindling his relationship with Jessie and pursues her a little maddeningly on the pretense that it is her duty to investigate. The story is well written, the characters very real, with a strong and unrelenting Jessie fighting off a somewhat lovable though very pathetic Adam. The mystery/horror element takes a back seat to Adam's obsession and desire, but as with every powerful story of its genre it all culminates well at the end. Nothing predictable here, the end has a slight element of ambiguity that works very well. My overall favourite from the anthology. 9/10

"Size Matters" by John Llewellyn Probert. This is an amusing story of a troubled man who uses the inheritance from his mother to buy the one thing he believes will help lead to a better life: a seven-and-a-half inch penis. Amusing with a neat little punchline. 5/10

"Spare Rib: A Romance" by John Kenneth Dunham. I quite liked this one. It begins as a light anecdote-like tale of a loser waking in his own vomit, only to reveal itself in the course of the short narrative as something a little more serious with some interesting thematic overtones. Somewhat (though loosely) reminiscent of the W.W. Jacobs classic "The Monkey's Paw." 7/10

"Subtle Invasion" by David Conyers. A man searches his vast property in the outskirts of Melbourne, Australia, for a wasp's nest after his daughter is stung. He finds the nest, and along with it something rather... unusual. And quite disturbing. This was a good story that could have been great. There are bits of weak writing scattered about, such as the unintentionally comic moment when the narrator's wife says "No one knows," and the narrator responds internally, "No one on television knew either." These awkward bits tripped me up and broke the story's momentum. Also, the scenario with the bikers is a scenario in which we always meet bikers (I'm being vague in order not to reveal anything integral), and finally the last line really dragged it down for me; an over-used idea and a sentence that could have been more effectively constructed. 6/10

"A Pie with Thick Gravy" by D.F. Lewis. A slice of flash fiction about a malevolent meat pie (yes, my "slice" was intentional). Short, quick, amusing, nothing more. 5/10

"Lock-in" by David A. Riley. Originally published in Hallows Eve, 2006. A group of older men are at the local pub in Edgebottom one night when the darkness outside begins to consume anyone who attempts to enter it. This story had the potential to be truly exquisite, but some problems with writing and/or editing mar it a little. The main problem is that the characters are often indistinguishable from one another; they are like a pack rather than individuals, with the exception of the first two victims who are nicely singled out. The foursome of elderly drinkers would have been each a little more unique had they not been members of such a single group, and had the narrator not dwelt on them so early as a group. Moreover, the dialogue is at times weak, and the author has the unfortunate habit of explaining the motives behind his characters' motions or words. For instance, someone makes a joke, obviously to make light of a tense situation, so obviously, in fact, that the author does not need to state, "...he said, trying to make light of a difficult situation." Nor does he need to explain that the characters are opening the door carefully "as no one wanted to risk suffering any of the mutilations that struck those who had already tried to get out that way." (p. 128) (I've discussed this odd technique when reviewing Joe Hill's Heart-Shaped Box). Finally, the explanation of the darkness is a bit of a cop-out; I don't even need an explanation since I was so caught up in the situation. It is possible, however, that the explanation was an attempt to tie the story in with those classic demonic British stories of the Van Thal era. A lack of explanation can make such a situation even more sinister; we awaken and the world is suddenly a different place. Aside from these criticisms I enjoyed the story very much: the suspense was strong and consistent, my interest never waned, and the ending was something truly unprecedented. 7/10 (easily could have been an 8)

"Last Christmas (I Gave You My Life)" by Franklin Marsh. On the verge of starting a new life, a woman on the road stops at the quaint Bide-A-Wee Guest House where the odd owners insist she join them for their little Christmas party. Marsh's story is part of a tradition of stories dealing with unusual road-side inns and their owners, often ghosts and often harbouring strange secrets, or secret knowledge of their unsuspecting guests. I quite enjoyed this one. Understated and adequately under-written, it is short and makes its point well. The eccentric owners are a pleasure to read. The ending is predictable; I saw it coming as soon as... but that would be spoiling it. Also, I would not have finished it the way Marsh did. I don't mean the resolution but the final image and that uninteresting final line. 7/10

"'Shalt Though Know My Name?'" by Daniel McGachey. McGachey's story employs the trope popular in the early modern short story: it is told by a narrator who tells of a friend who hears it first hand from an acquaintance it happened to. This technique was used in the late nineteenth century to create the illusion of authenticity without having to bring the author to bear, as he was never actually part of the events himself, and even his good friend only heard tell of it. The fantastical tale we are told is of an all-too serious scholar who was researching some old papers in a small isolated town museum, when a past competitor and possible plagiarizer suddenly appears. The serious scholar then proceeds to uncharacteristically play a practical joke on his competitor, and as to be expected the joke turns into a horrible tragedy. The technique is well handled and the prose is strong, the characters interesting and the overall effect is solidly creepy. Nothing surprising plot-wise, but a nice little ending and some great description to cap off a good, solid story. 8/10

"To Summon a Flesh Eating Demon" by Charles Black. Professor Greydin insists that The Book of Setopholes does indeed exist, despite his colleague's open ridicule and his pupil's non-committal interest. There is some good humour and I liked the interaction between the three different men, though admittedly the point of view shifts could have been smoother. Very closely related to the stories collected by Van Thal, it is a pleasure when the editor of an anthology includes a story of his own and it turns out to be one of its most enjoyable entries. And a great decision to end it here, with a story that is at times classic, at times comic but consistently suspenseful. 8/10

One Step Beyond - Season One (1959)

• Alcoa Presents: One Step Beyond
• Three seasons: January 1959 - July 1961
• Episodes: 97 (according to the IMDb, but other sources differ)
• Created by Merwin Gerard
• Director/host: John Newland

One Step Beyond was an anthology series that ran from January 1959 to July 1961. I had never heard of it before finding a copy of the first season DVD at my library, and since I like anthology series I immediately snatched it up.

Anthology series were popular throughout the 1950s, and One Step Beyond was one of a number that tried to blend a fantastical element with its dramatic story-telling. The show was not a copy of popular The Twilight Zone; in fact its first episode aired seven months before the latter's seminal, groundbreaking pilot "Where Is Everybody?" Instead of science fiction, horror or mystery, it utilized "factual" paranormal events to present its drama. It was quite successful, running for three seasons, quite a feat when most shows of its kind did not survive even one. The show lacked the originality and breadth of The Twilight Zone, featuring fairly traditional ideas and presenting them in a straightforward, conventional manner. What rescued many of its episodes was the show's often character-based drama, almost as though it were modelled after The Naked City (without its consistently excellent cast). Unfortunately, One Step Beyond was often predictable and uninteresting, though it did feature a small number of strong dramatic episodes. Of the first season's twenty-one episodes, I liked nine, but thought only five were well above average: "Emergency Only" (episode #3), "The Dead Part of the House" (#9), "The Devil's Laughter" (#11), "The Navigator" (13) and "Echo" (#20).


As with The Twilight Zone and the legendary Alfred Hitchcock Presents, each episode of One Step Beyond was bookended with an audience directed introduction & epilogue. Its host was the show's director, a serious though likable John Newland. Though a little too serious at first, the opening season experienced a noticeable change as the introductions became increasingly lighter in tone. Though Newland did not openly commit to believing in any of the paranormal elements presented in the show, he was so knowingly suggestive with his slight shrugs and active eyebrows that he might as well have claimed the events happened to him. After a handful of episodes he became a little playful, smiling at the audience and even having some fun, as in the Charles Beaumont scripted "The Captain's Guests" (episode #18) where he walked up the steps of the haunted house amid creepy sounds, looking quite worried at what might lie around the bend or behind the next door. Unlike the distant and often intense Rod Serling, Newland appeared friendly and neighbourly, the kind of guy you might trust as a guide into the unknown. Though unlike Alfred Hitchcock's humourous parodies and nonsensical monologues, Newland's introductions were (often overly) serious presentations of the episode's specific paranormal event. Moreover, unlike both Serling and Hitchcock, Newland was unfortunately faced with some poor writing, and forced to actually utter the nonsensical line, "Explain it we can't, but it has been reported as true by those to whom it happened." Talk about empirical evidence. Whether or not Newland was selected as the show's host for his affability or simply to cut costs (he was the show's prime director) I do not know; an interview with Newland I recently read did not address this point, mentioning only that he was the producers' choice prior to selling the idea.

The episodes themselves were a little all over the place. Those that succeeded were the ones with a good cast and script, that managed to mold the paranormal with the character-based drama. Many of the episodes dealt with serious human situations, such as "Epilogue" which dealt with a recovering alcoholic (Charles Aidman) trying to regain his family, and "The Dead Part of the House," featuring a man (Philip Abbott) and his daughter moving in with his sister (Joanne Linville) following the sudden death of his wife. These episodes were interesting and dramatic independent of their paranormal element, and the supernatural was well interwoven. While "Epilogue" was predictable and its fantastical element a little silly, the possible ghosts in "The Dead Part of the House" were integral to the family dynamics and the episode concluded very nicely, even warmly. Another favourite is "The Navigator" (episode #13) which was set on a ship and featured a heated relationship between a forgetful aging sea captain and his youthful first mate who was sent from the company specifically to write a report on the captain's mental health. The men discover that someone had written incorrect co-ordinates that sent the ship off-course into dangerous icy territory, which sets off a tense investigation almost reminiscent of The Caine Mutiny. The character dynamics made for a strong dramatic presentation though the supernatural element became predictable in the last five minutes. Unfortunately the actor playing the first mate, Don Dubbis (who actually had an uncredited role in The Caine Mutiny), looked the part very well but was a little lopsided in his performance.

Among sillier episodes are "The Dream," "The Return of Mitchell Campion," "The Aerialist" (which features some horrible Italian accents) and "The Front Runner." Not only were these chapters predictable, but were stuffed with filler to bide time until we reached that ending. "The Devil's Laughter" (episode #11) on the other hand, had an uninteresting twist but was so well scripted and fantastically acted by little known New York character actor Alfred Ryder that it is worth a re-watch. The surprisingly good and well acted episode (though you can tell the actor playing the bartender never poured a drink in his life) "Echo," is marred when the protagonist (Ross Martin) witnesses the ghostly image of a gunman in his hotel mirror. Though the gunman is supposed to be an illusion, the effect is so poorly filmed that the actor's shadow appears on the wall beside and beneath the mirror, and as he shoots the sparks and gunsmoke are clearly visible in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen. This completely breaks the illusion of a tense moment that while a frightened Ross Martin sat bathed in sweat, I was actually bathing in laughter.

It is clear why this show did not become as recognizable to later audiences as The Twilight Zone or Alfred Hitchcock Presents: it lacked the creativity, originality and consistent strong cast. Production values were quite strong ($30,000 to $50,000 an episode), though the incredibly vivid images on the CBS/Paramount DVD are no doubt far superior than those broadcast through a 1959 TV screen. Like its two more popular rivals, One Step Beyond also had a revival series. It was titled The Next Step Beyond and continued to feature host Newland, but it did not catch on and could not survive its maiden 1978-79 season. Newland himself had a long and successful television career as actor, producer and mainly director, including episodes of Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Thriller, Route 66, Wonder Woman and the Star Trek episode "Errand of Mercy" which introduced us to the Klingons, as well as the successful and acclaimed 1973 TV movie Don't Be Afraid of the Dark. Despite these successes he is barely remembered today, and known primarily as host of this very average television drama.

Aside from a very few episodes I would not recommend this show to the general public, though it is unfortunate that those few strong and well written episodes are forgotten since the rest of the show was quite mediocre. There is a Best of... DVD available, and in the case of One Step Beyond I think it is quite appropriate.

Robin Maugham, The Servant

Maugham, Robin. The Servant. London: Falcon Press, 1948
______. The Servant. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1949 (my edition, below right)
______. The Servant. London: Prion, 2000 (bottom left)

The Servant at Goodreads
The Servant at IBList

Rating:     7/10

"Something is rotten in the state of London."

Robin Maugham's 1948 novel The Servant is best remembered by Harold Pinter's 1963 film adaptation, also titled The Servant, directed by Joseph Losey and starring Dirk Bogarde. The film is quite different in content and approach, mainly because it was produced during a very different era. Maugham's novel is a grim depiction of post-war London; a squalid city where both the privileged and unprivileged must struggle to carve a place for themselves in society. Rules have changed, however, as the world has turned upside down.

As with F. Scott Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, the story of Tony and his relationship with his manservant Hugo Barrett is told through the point of view of an observer, an old army buddy of Tony's. It is through Richard's eyes that we witness Tony's steady decline. Unlike The Great Gatsby's Nick Carraway, however, Richard understands Tony's background and is aware of his current dilemma, and tries actively to intervene and change the course of Tony's descent.

The novel opens with newly retired yet still young World War II army officer Richard Merton beginning a new job at a publishing firm. Not particularly a literary man, the job is an attempt at remaining productive and a functioning member of modern society. The war is over and the officer's previous role has become obsolete.

These three male characters are mirrored by three female characters: Tony's initial love interest, Sally Grant, Hugo's sickly niece Vera, and Richard's housekeeper Mrs. Toms. The pairings are made interesting because they defy logic: the serious Richard should be paired with the intelligent Sally, the two servants should be paired out of rank, and the careless Tony should be linked with Vera. Of course appearances deceive and as we learn more about the character relationships we also discover the darker sides of some of these individuals and their ugliest desires.

The Servant is well conceived and well written. It is a short book with a plot so simple that there appears to be no plot at all. The progression of character decline is believable and Richard is a straight character with some subtly revealed flaws. What Maugham is expressing about post-war London is that society has transformed so intensely that the world seems to have turned upside down. Servants act like masters and masters lose control over their desires, becoming themselves enslaved. There is a powerful scene when Tony, defending his overly generous attitude toward his manservant, accuses Richard of hypocrisy when the latter explains that the flaw in military reunions is that the officers are separated from the average soldier. Richard argues that there is equality among men rather than among those of rank, though he refuses to believe that one's manservant can be on equal footing with the homeowner.

There are some problems with the novel. First of all, Chapter II is unnecessary; it is needless for Richard to explain that his life did not revolve around Tony but that he is condensing the years as he is focusing on Tony's story. Then there are some odd non-sequiturs when the narrator jumps from one moment in time or simply hops over to a fairly unrelated idea. It does not happen often but when it does the effect is glaring. I understand that the idea of space breaks was not common at the time, but the need for a stronger relationship between sentences and ideas seems to have been neglected.

Aside from these truly minor points, Maugham's novel is quite strong and unfortunately barely known; most people who have watched the movie adaptation are likely unaware that it was based on a novel. Both versions are strong and as they are both different, products of very different decades, the one can be watched and the other read without damaging the experience of the other.

A note on my copy (Harcourt, Brace and Company, 1949). I found this book in a box outside a library just last week. The volunteers collecting donations for the upcoming book fair often leave unwanted or unusable books in front of the side entrance for passersby to take. This was one of many excellent finds I have made over the last few years. It is the first American edition, a handsome hardcover with its original dust jacket nicely bound in hard plastic. The spine has a tear and the pages are brown (though not too brown for a 1949 edition) but otherwise it's in great condition. The cover is a great depiction of the novel, with its drawing of a man seated with a drink being looked over by an attentive young woman and, a little further back, a manservant with a tray, his head bowed and eyes closed. The woman can be either Sally or Vera, though I suspect it is Sally competing with Hugo for Tony's attention. The cover is dark, mostly black and grey but touched up with some browns and reds. The inside flap states: "Jacket design by G. N. Fish" but does not specify jacket art, though that might be what it's implying.

Glimmer Train Stories 70 (Spring 2009)

Glimmer Train Stories 70, Spring 2009


Glimmer Train webite.

Not just a publisher of literary works, Glimmer Train Press, the flagship that is responsible for the elegant quarterly Glimmer Train Stories, is an industry. Based in Portland, Oregon, the journal was launched in 1990 by sisters Linda B. Swanson-Davies and Susan Burmeister-Brown, a duo that made enough of a fortune in the software industry to leave work and begin their literary venture. With the success of Glimmer Train Stories they began a second quarterly, a journal on writing titled Writer's Ask. The venture has been a great success though the journal itself garners mixed reviews: while it pays its writers generously, frequently publishes first-time or developing authors and is a very high quality and physically attractive publication, it regularly promotes generic, bland writing. Glimmer Train Stories prefers internal philosophizing with a backdrop of some medical tragedy or alarming event. Narrators must make some kind of realization, and life goes on.

The journal's structure and operation is incredibly consistent and well organized. They solicit work not only from the general public, but they also offer different contests at predetermined times of the year, from a general Fiction Open contest to one for new writers, a "Very Short Fiction Award" and something called Family Matters, which seek stories dealing with family. Each of these contests requires a reading fee of $15, or $20 for the Fiction Open. Seeing as contest entries number in the hundreds, these proceeds likely help the editors/publishers in offering such high cash prizes to the contest winners and two runners-up. The Fiction Open award is valued at $2,000, plus publication and twenty copies of the issue their story will be featured in. Rather generous and appealing for established and new writers. I am personally not opposed to reading fees for contests since it is a lot of work and external readers are often hired to help with the submission load (though according to their site the two editors read everything themselves--all 40,000 submissions), and twenty bucks is a good investment toward a literary journal.

Among Glimmer Train's best feature is its website. An attractive, user-friendly site that is as well organized as the rest of the publication. So well designed that it is not difficult to believe that the two ladies behind Glimmer Train worked in the software industry.

I am unaware of the journal's early format, or even if they have gone through many changes (though I've searched for back issues in different second hand shops I know), but the current format seems not to have changed much over the last number of years. The journal features stories of varying length (they are open to publishing those awkwardly longer pieces that often have difficulty finding a home), an author interview, brief article and photographs of the editors and their contributors: childhood photos face each story's opening page, while other family-oriented photos grace the last few pages, a section under the heading "The Last Pages." Each of these photos contains a caption, and some of these cations by the authors themselves are more entertaining than their actual stories.

I subscribe regularly to different journals mostly in order to help them out; it is unfortunate that many of these periodicals, some quite excellent, are not more widely read. In 2009 I decided to subscribe for a year to see what Glimmer Train was all about, and with high expectations plunged myself into the first gorgeous glossy issue I received, Glimmer Train 70 (Spring 2009).

This particular issue features eight short stories, an author interview and a brief essay, and I was immediately impressed with the first story, Stephanie Dickinson's "A Hole in the Soup." The story deals with a young woman trapped in a hospital in New Orleans immediately following the flood. Not only does the story have a spectacular title, but the prose is solid and the situation more than gripping. Not just the strongest piece in the issue, Dickinson also provides the best entry among "The Last Pages," with a great photo of her dad and a genuinely touching caption. "A Hole in the Soup" proved to be by far the strongest piece in the issue, and really only one of two worth reading. The second is the following piece, Lauren Groff's "Delicate Edible Birds." It is a good story but drags a little at times and the protagonist can be somewhat uninteresting; it nonetheless has some strong moments and is well written.

The rest of the stories are forgettable.

There is a first-time published writer here, Joshua Canipe, whose "Preacher Stories" is dry, the prose generic and the characters uninvolved. Canipe's caption for his photo is the best in the collection among childhood photos; unfortunately someone screwed up and the photo that was supposed to appear with his caption in "The Last Pages" was omitted. Ed Allen's "Krakenhaus" is familiar and too self-involved. Mirian Novogrodsky's "Just Enough Food to Remember" is one of the two weakest of the bunch, as it tries to structure itself around a series of oddly-titled vignettes, a trope that is more irritating than neat, and does little more than distract from (yet another) self-involved piece. Scott Nadelson's "Aftermath" is the longest story though among the quickest to read. It is written in a clear style and is not a bad story. It deals with a married couple agreeing to a "trial separation," told through the point of view of the man. While it has some nice moments and interesting character relationships, it is too long and the protagonist is a little whiny to be sympathetic. This is followed by "Blind Spots" by Erica Johnson Debeljak, a story with some interesting ideas strung together with some dull writing. This is unfortunate because the concept here is interesting, about a boy who can only see peripherally, told through the point of view of his mother. The point of view weakens the story as it becomes about the mother and her own struggles and grief, victimizing her, rather than being about the boy himself. David Allan Cates's "The Rubber Boy" is the other weaker piece. It is a catalog of a man's life, asking why do I endure, which is followed a single event that gives him reason to endure. The last story, "Toward a Theory of Blindness" by Beth Aria Sloss, is uneven yet interesting at certain points.

This issue of Glimmer Train contains little variety. Most stories are in first person and most with unenlightened characters trying to philosophize about their place in the universe. Whether concerned about a sick child or a sick country, the bulk of the stories centre on a narrator attempting to come to grips with their place in the world or with what the universe has provided them, and each of them through some form of deus ex machina end up accepting that lot. In essence, notions of free will and independence are inherently dispelled, as characters learn to accept rather than make better, or different, the state of their selves or their immediate world. There is nothing challenging in the interpretations of the universe, nor of the self.

This issue features both an author interview and a short article. The interview in this issue is with author Will Allison, conducted by Andrew Scott. It is a fairly generic author interview, but a better read than many of the stories, and though I have never heard of Allison before reading the interview, I am curious about his novel and took note of it. One thing that bothered me about the interview is that, when quoting Allison on authors he read in college, the text reads "Nathaniel West," when his name is actually spelled Nathanael West. We are not told how the interview was conducted, oral or email, so I won't speculate as to who erred, but the editors really should have caught this blunder.

The essay is an all-too-brief account of Iranian author Yaghoub Yadali who was being persecuted for a novel he wrote about a couple involved in an extra-marital affair. The article is well written though wholly introductory.

I am uncertain as to the fate of my three remaining issues of Glimmer Train. They are still in their original plastic packaging so perhaps they will one day be worth more than the cover price. I was speculating on reading the first two stories of each issue, the photo captions and even the author interview, which I do like. The lack of free will in the Glimmer Train universe prevents me from over-speculating, because what I end up doing is likely predetermined. In the meantime each issue will look handsome on the bottom shelf of the little brown bookshelf beside my desk.