Quentin S. Crisp

‘’Experience taught me that society is nothing but a sort of party. Those who find anything worthwhile leave early. Only those who are desperate to be in on the event that the party represents stay on until the end, and find themselves abandoned and alone.’’

This is possibly the hardest review I’ve written recently. I don’t think I have the ability to express my deep love (I find it impossible to use any other phrase) for a collection and a writer, unlike anything I’ve ever show more experienced. How can you contain admiration within mere words and coherent sentences when all you want to say is ‘stop everything you are doing, put aside the book(s) you are reading, and let yourself into a journey of light and darkness, of lost innocence and sadness.’ A literary Odyssey into the human soul where hope and love meet despair, where myths dance with eroticism, where violence and death watch behind trees, reside in lakes, and inside the human heart…

This is a world constructed in meticulous detail by the most unique writer I have ever encountered in my life. This is the world of Quentin S.Crisp.

‘’I haunted the beach, following the tides.’’

The Mermaid: In this outstanding story, a man who tries to live his life through a hypnotic marriage between the Magic and the Erotic, develops an obsession with the myth of the Siren. But the myth becomes a very tangible reality when he meets and falls in love with an actual mermaid. A vivacious, witty, beautiful creature full of life and questions, gifted with the wisdom of an old soul who has witnessed centuries passing by. How can he not fall in love with her? But does she love him back? Is she ready to sacrifice her life for his sake?

This is not Hans Christian Andersen’s universe, dear readers, as romantic as it may sound. True love desires darkness. You will find it aplenty in this danse macabre of a Siren and the man who thought he had tamed her…

‘’Short was the light, and long the dark, so that it is better to talk of the passing nights than of days, though they did not seem to pass. They were the same night swallowing one brief day after another. The night did not pass, and for the boy, it seemed, time no longer flowed. It was a well of darkness.’’

Far - Off Things: A young boy falls in love with a girl whose tears become sacred to him. There is an almost unbearable kind of tenderness in this story of young love and collective prejudice.

‘’For a child in the middle of summer holidays, one eternity is piled upon another.’’

Cousin X: Prejudice permeates this story as well. A girl is constantly dissuaded from being close to her cousin, a brilliant, inquisitive young boy who tries to understand how everything works. Perhaps a bit too…literally.

This is a tale of innocence and love, and the way adults often treat children as if they were beings without feelings and thoughts. Extremely moving, this story took me back to those summer days when innocence was still very much present in our hearts, even though we could see the dark clouds of adulthood gathering in the distance, trying to ignore the faint sound of a thunderstorm beyond our control…

‘’He saw the faint cobalt of the stars on the carcasses of fish. For a weird instant, he felt that the odour of the fish was rising up like a haze to be one with the dizziness of the sky.’’

The Lake: Sublime story. Sublime! Quentin S. Crisp’s Japanese influence is evident in a story that Akutagawa would be more than proud to have written. A lake is linked to a series of suicides and disappearances, to rumours of a weird sect and the spirit of a dark-haired woman.

Dark and mysterious, certain extracts reach the recesses of the soul, communicating a murky reflection you are more than unwilling to face. Incredible ending, absolute masterpiece!

‘’Anyway, you know that kind of stillness you sometimes have on a summer’s day in the country, on a little path like that. It was so still you could suddenly hear your heart beating, sort of half-peaceful, half-thrilled.’’

The Two-Timer: Oh, dear Lord…what starts as a tale of an introverted child that nobody bothered to understand or even listen to, becomes a whirlwind of revenge when the ability to literally make time stand still gives a boy the chance to force a monster to his knees. A tale in which the beautiful imagery of golden afternoon sunlight playing through the fauna gives way to the rot of the worst deeds conceived by men.

The Tattooist: Another moving, tragic story of a boy who seems almost (allow me the phrase here ) Christ-like in his kindness, sincerity and innocence, and has to face the cruel, horrible way in which society and racists treat the ones who don’t fit their vile notion of ‘normality’.

‘’The wind began to play with her long, dark hair, making spikes float about individually, as if to highlight her position at the edge of a sudden drop. ‘’You’re not regretting the game, are you?’, she asked. ‘We don’t have to finish it. We don’t have to do anything.’’

Ageless: A man and a woman are playing chess on a terrace, drenched in the soft rays of the summer sun that is about to set. They are in love and have unwittingly been looking for each other all their lives. What can be sweeter than that? Or more peaceful?

*Allow me a personal remark here. I accidentally stumbled upon a review that claimed this story had no place in the collection. Firstly, who are we to dictate to a writer what they should or shouldn’t include in their work? Secondly, if someone bothered to put their mind to work and do some basic linguistic exercises, they would realise that the word ‘morbid’ carries more than one connotation and meaning. And finally, searching for the love of your life - not even searching, just happening upon - and finding it in a moment that may be considered ‘wrong’ is one of the darkest, most morbid burdens a human being can carry. Speaking from experience, so do shut up! *

‘’Well, I am better, but I still find it very difficult to trust people. Sometimes, it only has to be a small thing. Someone does something that I didn’t expect of them, or they betray my confidence in some small way, and I just feel as if I’ve been hit. I think, how can they do that? It’s terrifying.’’

Autumn Leaves: A story of young love, the nature of trust and entrusting your heart in the wrong hands, a chronicle of feelings that are as beautiful and fickle as autumn leaves…

So, I could say that reading this collection is a mystical experience. A haunting journey into the unique beauty of a true master of the art of Literature, a painter of themes and imagery. But it wouldn’t be enough. For me, reading this collection is like falling in love. Each page is an arrow piercing your heart, each culmination is a surprise bringing you closer to your innermost feelings, feelings you might never have known were growing in you. There is a tenderness and an uncertainty and a darkness that I can only relate to the strongest and strangest and most bittersweet of emotions. Love.

Please, let yourselves fall in love with Quentin S. Crisp’s world. There is no chance on God’s Earth you will regret it. Open the door and step in. And be prepared to leave a part of your soul behind…

‘It was the sadness of the bleak air around a neon sign pale in the twilight of a dirty street, the sadness of things unnoticed. A vague daydream is always more exquisite than something clearly defined.’’

My reviews can also be found on https://theopinionatedreaderblog.wordpress.com/ show less

Another book that is impossible to review or paraphrase as a whole. Every single story and poem, and there are a bundle here, will entertain, boggle, and challenge you at the same time. Best taken in small bites, one story at a time, since the breadth of form and content is so great. Savor this. Reread individual stories after you've sat on them for awhile. If you open your mind you will never be bored even by the longer entries. A pure delight. Probably the best book I've read in 2015. show more Enough superlatives, go find out for yourself!

This is another example of why I've been saying since I first discovered them in their infancy that Chomu Press is the most important and exciting publisher of contemporary fiction. Buy their books! Make sure they survive! show less

Like Crisp I have been entranced by the unique children's books by the equally interesting [a:Dare Wright|92547|Dare Wright|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1196257748p2/92547.jpg]. They are a curious blend of the uncanny and charming and Crisp distills this yin and yang perfectly in this little chapbook from Zagava about Wright's lesser known but perhaps more perfect masterpiece.

it was sort of refreshing reading a book like this. despite the fact that it was haunting and showcased a kind of nihilistic inhumanity, it was written in a way that you don't see very often lately. not only the immaculate word choice and phrase crafting, but the style as internally cerebral was unlike any other book in the last maybe twenty years.
when i was in elementary school, the principal was fond of giving this one particular speech about his own childhood. he was in the locker room show more with a bunch of rowdy boys who were rough-housing, twisting towels and whipping them at other boys when suddenly a high-pitched howl stopped the fun. one of the boys (we all privately assumed it was our principal) had been hit in genitals, ripping off a testicle.
what was the point of my principal telling us this story? what is Quentin Crisp's point? i won't conjecture to guess here, but let me just say both stories will haunt me for a long time. show less