A Few of My Alternate Worlds.

You know that type of animal video on YouTube in which a faithful dog sits by the porch door every day come rain or shine or even perdition’s flame, waiting for its beloved human to come home from the war? I’m pretty much the same these days, only in my case the door is the computer and the porch is my email inbox. I must look at my inbox upwards of a hundred times a day, waiting for the email which will drop a spark into the tinder box. Sad, isn’t it?

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I tried to watch the film The Piano tonight. I seem to recall that the priestess recommended it many moons ago. I lasted twenty minutes before switching it off, in spite of the fact that its much vaunted quality was already well in evidence (especially in the performance of Holly Hunter.) I think that was where the problem lay; it was too realistic. The human condition is so full of darkness to my eyes now that I can no longer tolerate seeing a woman being mentally tortured without having my own spirits pulled deeper into the mire. And why would I want to do that?

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But the characters who are now beginning to populate The Thirteenth Tale are most compelling – some blunt, some sharp, and some exhibiting varying degrees of strangeness – and Ms Setterfield’s writing continues to enthral. This I can take by the bucketful.

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If I might be permitted to enter territory wholly unrelated to the above, I might mention that I had an odd dream a few nights ago. I was in Canada. Why Canada? I have no idea, but being in Canada was no cause for concern. What I was anxious about was the fact that to return home I would have to fly back in a small, single seat plane on my own. I knew that I was still a novice pilot and was particularly concerned that I might get the angle of ascent on take-off wrong. But it had to be done, and so it was, and the end of the dream saw me climbing skyward with just about the right angle of ascent. I’m sure this must indicate something at least moderately profound, but what? I’ve no idea.