Happy Hallowe'en, everyone! I hope the people back home are celebrating well, since everybody over here is pretty much missing out.

all hallow's read

It's the most wonderful day of the year! If you're me. October 31st is not only my favourite holiday, it's also the last night of freedom before the crazy rewarding masochism that is National Novel Writing Month.

And it looks like I'm going to have one more reason to love Hallowe'en in the coming years. Over on his blog, Neil Gaiman has made a Modest Proposal: he would like to start an Instant Tradition, of giving someone a scary book on Hallowe'en or the week leading up to it. It's called All Hallow's Read, and I would think it was a fantastic idea even if it wasn't dreamed up by my favourite author. Aside from the obvious correlation with Hallowe'en, the timing is perfect because it matches up beautifully with the RIP Challenge that is so popular in the book blogosphere.

Gaiman's reasoning behind the idea is pretty simple: we need more reasons to give books. (He's a huge supporter of literacy and all that goes along with it - I've lost the proof, but I'm certain he's called (especially children's) librarians the world's real superheroes - and is one of the heaviest-hitting proponents that free speech has got right now.)

He's right, of course. Most people don't think of books when they think of Hallowe'en entertainment. They think of monster movie marathons, trick-or-treating and costume parties, fireworks and bonfires, or the Rocky Horror Picture Show. And those things are all awesome, absolutely. Those are what Hallowe'en's about, and they're certainly why I love it. But why not add some literacy into the mix?

Personally, I think it fits right in. This time of year, when the sky gets dark quickly, the smell of woodfire and rotting leaves is in the air, and everybody's looking for ways to get cozy, is perfect for curling up with a good book. And the right scary, spooky, or Gothic novel will take you away from your cares in the real world like no other. Plus, something about the October/November air makes them that much more believable.

Unfortunately, I got this up too late to do much within my own social circle, but maybe you could do a belated All Hallow's Read book-giving? Personally, I bought myself a few spooky novels recently in lieu of having anyone to gift one to over here, and I spent a large part of the last week at work directing as many customers as possible towards some 'Hallowe'eny' reads.

For future reference (and because I'm a list-addict) here's some recommendations. Most of these are personal favourites:

*anything by the man who started it off, obviously. Neil Gaiman is a master of the spooky-if-not-quite-horror genre. His short story collections, and the children's books Coraline and The Graveyard Book are especially well-suited.

*It, The Shining, and pretty much anything else by Stephen King. Read one of them alone in a big house like I did and be unable to sleep for at least a week!

*something by the absolute king of the Hallowe'en-flavoured fiction, Ray Bradbury. Not his science fiction, but one of his short story collections, especially The October Country. Also perfect would be any of these novels: Something Wicked This Way Comes, A Graveyard For Lunatics, From the Dust Returned, and The Halloween Tree. The last is really the ultimate Hallowe'en novel, with a great story and lots of information on the origins of the holiday, and appropriate for all ages (it would actually make a great bedtime read, extended over a few days). It's even been made into an animated movie!

*not really horror, but every year around this time I find myself returning to the Sherlock Holmes stories and novels. Mysteries, gaslamps, and fog. Lindsay Faye's novel where Holmes meets the Ripper, Dust and Shadow, is as wonderful as the originals, which is not something one can say about most Holmes pastiches.

*speaking of Holmes and pastiches, the other ultimate Hallowe'en read, I would say, is Roger Zelazney's A Night In the Lonesome October. Even the title is perfect! A clever and darkly humorous story featuring a host of classic monsters from the horror genre and their familiars, there's a chapter for each night in October (plus an introduction) so you could give/receive this one early and read a chapter a night. Personally, even if I try to do this, I end up gulping it down in one sitting, because it's such a good, fun read.

*the classics themselves: Edgar Allen Poe, HP Lovecraft, Dracula, Frankenstein, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, Algernon Blackwood, MR James, William Hope Hodgson, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow, The Woman In Black, The Turn of the Screw, We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Wuthering Heights, The Haunting of Hill House, The Body Snatchers, The House of the Seven Gables, and so many more.

*Dark Matter by Michelle Paver. This only just came out. I read it in a few hours at a bookstore in the bright afternoon light, surrounded by shoppers, and was still scared absolutely witless.

*find out for yourself! Go ask your local bookstore clerk or (even better, really) librarian. They'll be happy to help you find something perfect.
Happy (& haunted) reading!

It's October 30th! That means two things: one, it's the day before my favourite day of the year! Two, and far more importantly, it's my Dad's birthday!

I've already phoned you, but happy birthday, Dad! Thanks for helping me with math, and looking up all the things I wanted to know in encyclopaedias with me when I was little, and exposing me to good music, and coaching my ball team, and buying me so very many books over the years (the kids' questions books! The Nancy Drew classic sets in shrink-wrap!). I miss you so much every day; I wouldn't be myself without you, and I certainly wouldn't believe in myself enough to embark on this crazy adventure.

(It's also my aunt's birthday! Happy birthday, Moe! Thanks for encouraging my quirkiness, making Hallowe'en costumes, and teaching me how to bake!)

a little wounded, but on fire

Song to Myself at Seventeen
- Gerard Wozek


I didn’t know how to save you then,
so forgive me. How you were able
to latch onto your spirit and go on
breathing, astonishes me even now.
Even though you knew who wrote
Faggot on your locker in indelible ink
your junior year, you never said a word.
And still somehow, you kept going.
In your mind, you sang to them
and your voice filled them with light.
You imagined they became your friends:
the ones who stole your gym bag,
smashed the headlights on your car,
or yelled Queer down the hall at you.
Still, you kept walking. And singing.
Quietly, almost silently, to yourself.
But then, how you found the courage
to take on the choir solo, I’ll never know.
Your lips trembled next to the mic.
At first, a tremor, catch in the throat.
Then the first notes, unsteady
and broken, but poised to soar.
Flaming Caruso. How you torched
the auditorium with your song.
Then afterwards, the handshakes
and back pats from the prom king,
captain of the varsity football team.
All docile. All dumbstruck. All yours.
Until you left alone that night.
I didn’t know then. If I could have
somehow stood next to you,
walked you to your car. Made sure
you got safely through the dark parking lot.
Now some twenty years later,
I still touch my throat. That thin line
of raised white scar tissue. But
I am not silent. I’m singing
to the you who once was me,
and to all the brave Carusos
who dream their voices into the world,
a little wounded, but on fire.

You must be somewhere in London,
You must be loving your life in the rain.
You must be somewhere in London,
Walking Abbey Lane.

I tend not to blog much when I'm stressed or upset. Which, unfortunately, is how I've been feeling lately. But I think I may have snapped myself out of it finally.

Here's the thing. I’m in London, now. This city is… it’s hard. And expensive, and disinterested, and overwhelming. And I’ve cried pretty every day lately. But at the same time it’s beautiful and intoxicating and I’m living my dream. I had a great job interview for a position that I desperately want today, and my stepmom's visiting in just under a month.

I’ve not yet visited Abbey Road, but I did spend a week in Liverpool this summer. I’m planning on moving there for at least six months of my two years in the UK, because I’ve never fallen in love with a city like that. It was friendly and clean and full of positive energy. I adored it. But for now, I’m in London - probably till January, then five months in a live-in in the mountains of Wales if I can make that happen.

And then. On my birthday… not only will my daddy be visiting, but. We have tickets to see Eric Clapton. At the Royal Albert Hall. On my birthday.

So I’m broke as fuck, living out of a hostel having trouble finding a job, all my friends here have decided to move out of London, and I’m missing the people back home like crazy, but even with all that… I wouldn’t trade this for anything.

I went for a walk today. There’s nothing quite like an autumn-evening stroll along the Thames.

Put an ocean and a river between everybody else,
Between everything, yourself, and home
Put an ocean and a river
Between everything, yourself, and home