Goreypalooza

Maud here. I’m away for a week or two, and Andy is stepping in. I’ve pre-posted some items, including these quick links, to appear while I’m gone. Have a good weekend.
 

If The Unstrung Harp (or, Mr. Earbrass Writes a Novel) left you desperate for more Edward Gorey, don’t miss The Gashlycrumb Tinies, an alphabet book featuring renderings of twenty-six doomed children: “‘A’ is for Amy, who fell down the stairs. ‘B’ is for Basil, assaulted by bears…” Because I am the world’s worst adult, I gave my beloved 11-year-old stepdaughter a copy last December, thinking she’d get a kick out of it.

She read the first three or four panels; then she closed the book and looked at me sadly. “That’s horrible, Maud,” she said. “Why do you always like depressing things?” Good question. Poor kid.

There are too many other Gorey books to list, but The Curious Sofa: A Pornographic Work by Ogdred Weary was the first books I read. I blundered upon it in the University of Florida’s library stacks and carried it far from a table of frat boys to read it, just in case it really was pornographic. I didn’t want the smell of their aftershave — Drakkar, every last one of ’em — to kill the buzz.
 


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