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So, I've been reading "Alone Against Tomorrow", which is a collection of
short stories by Harlan Ellison (the short story collection is a genre
that I'm becoming increasingly fond of these days). I went on a rant
about his genius to David yesterday, and I'll include a bit of it here for
you: "He's a clean writer. He captures emotion with such...deftness...that you don't see it building until it pours over your head. His voice is unique in that it changes with every story (the tension and fear in "I have no mouth and I must scream" compared to the delighted outrage of "'Repent, Harlequin!'Said the Ticktockman"... 'Jelly Beans!' Oh, brilliant, the way he goes on... the way he'll address his audience.... Oh, god. I'm in love. I was disgusted by him in "I have no mouth...", sobbing for him in "Blind Lightning" and delighted by him in "Repent, Harlequin!" I can't believe his versatility! Ok, I'm done now." I almost didn't keep reading after "I have no mouth..." because I was so depressed and disgusted after reading that story. But, I was disgusted and afraid in a good way - I mean, I had total empathy for the characters to the point that I didn't even want to share their experience through reading about it! "Blind Lightning" I had to put down several times, and I finally had only less than a page to go. It had been hours since I'd read last, and I was with Corn when I picked up the book to read that last bit...and I burst into tears. Even though I thought I would have lost my momentum by putting the book down, Ellison sucked me back in and managed to whack me over the head with his last poignant phrase...sigh. Really, though, what other writer changes their voice so completely with each story that it could easily be mistaken for another author's? LeGuin does some of this, but there's that underlying reserve in all her books - a dignity she holds intact, no matter what her subject matter - a distance. Ellison can use that distance, but he's also not afraid to throw all propriety out the window and get down and roll around in the more grimy bits of life. His use of words is different in each piece, as well. Ticktockman has a lot to do with how words sound - "and everyone was summarily dumped thisawayandthataway in a jackstraw tumble, still laughing and popping little jelly bean eggs of childish color into their mouths. It was a holiday, and a jollity, and absolute insanity, a giggle. But... The shift was delayed seven minutes." I'm afraid I'm out of time for my Ellison rant. Let's just say that, although I respond to some of his work with a reaction that could *almost* be called sexual, his darker side would make me think twice. | ||
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