Edward Gorey (1925–2000)

How to describe a Gorey book to someone who has never read one? It’s like trying to describe a color no one has ever seen. In a sense, it is a very typical work. Cryptic. Enigmatic. Atmospheric. Surreal. Perversely funny. In another sense it is very atypical for Gorey. That is that it’s a new medium; a screenplay. The interview transcript that precedes the story is almost entirely about Gorey’s love for and expertise in silent film, something I have scant experience of. His opinion is show more that the worst thing to befall film is that the actors talk. A strange attitude to be sure, but one that works with his genius. Many of his books contain stories that while cohesive as a whole (if you let your imagination wander a bit), have words and dialogue that are wildly inappropriate, nearly meaningless (The Object-Lesson is perhaps the best example of this) or entirely absent. A silent film is perfect and I would love to see it performed.

The core of this story is a MacGuffin in the form of the Black Doll which contains a PRO (priceless ritual object) from a mysterious ancient city. All the characters in the play are either trying to get their gloved hands on this object or anxious to keep it. There are a lot of cryptic scenes fraught with import that we get via subliminal vibrations more than via overt means. It is very dramatic and suspenseful. I had my doubts that it would convey as much tension to me as it did. Very effective. I love the name of the local bar – The Shattered Clavicle. And the names of the characters are typically silly – Professor Bedsock indeed. And the use of capital letters to distinguish the real Black Doll from the decoy black dolls is brilliant. I can imagine how unsettling the multiple roles of a single actor would be. All in all it reads like a masterpiece of love and devotion to his craft and silent films.

One thing did puzzle me however. As it’s a screenplay there is a good deal of ‘business’ outlined – that is what the actors should be doing during a particular scene. The scenes and costumes themselves are well described also. But it’s the inner monologue or implied dialogue that stumps me. The only dialogue in the film itself is in the Title Cards which are shown to replace audible speaking. Many of the ideas expressed in the ‘business’ descriptions can only be conveyed in spoken dialogue or monologues. It is not expressed with the Title Cards. Strange. I tried reading it without going into the thoughts and ideas in those paragraphs, but as they are not segregated from the action that would be visible, it was hard to do. With only the Title Cards as a guide, I don’t know if this movie would hold together well. Maybe that’s the point. Gorey was never one to force his meaning onto his readers.

And what Gorey book would be complete without his art? Never has so much been conveyed by pen and ink scratchings. Detailed. Dark. Disturbing. The seemingly random and unconnected appearance of strange and enigmatic characters is peppered throughout the narrative. They are wonderful as only Gorey characters can be. Many faces are skulls atop normal and benign bodies (a little girl, a gentleman in a top hat, a man in gauntlets and greatcoat). Others are surreal as they float in and out of our imaginations (the lizard-man in high heels, the Sister with the blacked out face, the insects).

The interview text is interspersed with drawings from other books (my favorite one from The Object-Lesson is included). Each one is a joy to behold. A treasure-hunt of wonders to discover. I just love the disembodied foot in the one from The Gilded Bat. And the one on page 8 with a similarly positioned hand. Delicious. I will undoubtedly savor it again and again. show less

I would hesitant to call this little book a children’s book. Rather, I think it is better intended for adults who may wish to relive their own long past encounter with alphabet books but with a mature, if deadly, content. The poor children listed in this poem meet their ends in a startling variety of methods, each accompanied by a superb illustration. It’s not your toddler’s alphabet book!

It's Edward Gorey, so minimal text, lots of space in the illustrations, but where there is something, it's painstakingly cross hatched and detailed. Rhyming couplets of apparent nonsense, Edwardian effeteness, fur coats, silk smoking jackets and drives in an open-top jalopy, with the inevitable Goreyesque death and ambiguous ending to round it off.

On one level, a whimsical tale of the relationship between a bird and a man, but Gorey leaves that space for his readers to fill with their own show more meaning. On an initial read, I took an allegory of living with terminal illness, of the frustrations, anger and denial of coming to terms with mortality, and the sharpened appreciation of a life that has a clear sense of being finite and bounded. show less

It will take you less than five minutes to read this book, even if you dawdle over the pictures a little. This book is so short that the publisher doesn't number the pages, but it contains one of Gorey's best stories, with his classic line about Great Uncle Franz--although, for the first time in this reading, I did notice that Great Uncle Franz appears in a later illustration, so perhaps he got away from the snake after all. In any case, things still look pretty bleak as the book comes to an show more end. To enjoy Gorey requires both a high intellect and a real appreciation for very dry black humor. I think this book would probably be the perfect relationship test. So if you're thinking about popping the question soon, first pop this book into the hands of your intended. If they don't get it or find it "sick!", seek your soulmate elsewhere. show less