"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes..."
Such is the inspiration behind the title, and perhaps the novel itself; Ray Bradbury's seasonal spookytime classic, Something Wicked This Way Comes.
“Too late, I found you can't wait to become perfect, you got to go out and fall down and get up with everybody else.”
It's a favourite for this time of year, was my second read this season, and is the subject of this week's book review.
Cooger & Dark’s Pandemonium Shadow Show has come to Green Town, Illinois, beckoning to all, "come see, come see". At the centre of our story, we meet two boys: Jim Nightshade and William Halloway, stereotypical boys in October in every sense of the imagination. They climb out of windows, race along the streets, read adventure books, dare each other the dares twelve and thirteen-year-old boys dare. They are the imagination and curiosity and magic of this story. The moral and courageous heart is Charles Halloway, Will's father and the town library's janitor. He is struggling with no longer being a boy who climbs out of windows and races across October streets and dares other boys those dares.
In direct contrast is the carnival, a strange harbinger of cotton candy and sideshows and rides and, of course, evil. It shows up sometime after midnight, is the very definition of sinister, and really hits you over the head with the old adage to "be careful what you wish for".
Mr. Dark, the show's proprietor, lives off the life force of the visitors to the carnival. Or rather, specific visitors to the carnival. There is a malevolent carousel that "sucks the years" away from adults who wish for their youth.
You can see where this is going in terms of good ol' Charles, right? He believes he is too old to be Will's father, and here comes this carnival into town that promises a year or two - or a decade or two - off his life. The temptation must exist.
“Death doesn't exist. It never did, it never will. But we've drawn so many pictures of it, so many years, trying to pin it down, comprehend it, we've got to thinking of it as an entity, strangely alive and greedy. All it is, however, is a stopped watch, a loss, an end, a darkness. Nothing.”
But nothing is free, and those who make their wishes and ride the carousel find themselves trapped, enslaved to the carnival and Mr. Dark, both of which exist off their "life energy".
Will and Jim exist as character foils. Will naturally is obedient; Jim naturally wants to challenge rules and expectations. Both boys are drawn to the carnival, but it is Jim who wants to be older, so it is Jim where another temptation lies.
The entire novel is an allegory between good and evil, with characters clearly falling on either side of the dividing line between the two. Yet that temptation, seen most clearly in Charles' desire to be younger and in Jim's desire to be older, demonstrates that bits of evil may exist in good people; the temptation not being evil itself, but leading one to become entrapped in that world. Some of those at the carnival, for example - the skeleton, or Miss Foley - have given in to temptation. They are not evil, but they are lost to the world of evil. Jim is good always on the verge of temptation; Will is the voice of reason resisting temptation.
And, of course, good wins.
Good wins in the end, not with violence or anything like that, but through spirit and, in this case, laughter and smiling and hugging. With a bit of singing and dancing thrown in for good measure.
“Beware the autumn people”
Not everything is perfect in the end; the carnival has done damage. People have been lost, the boy's teacher most notably. And there is a question about the boys' ages now, as both briefly were on the carousel. But Bradbury is clear to point out that those questions will be addressed later; for that moment, in the end, the boys and Charles racing in the October night, they will only worry about being exactly who they are exactly when and where they are.
And that is kind of the whole point.
The novel isn't perfect. It gets "preachy" in places; Bradbury doesn't exactly stick to the whole "show don't tell" concept very well. Charles in particular waxes on about death and fear and moral responsibility in long monologues. Parts of the book have not aged well, particularly in the brief discussions about girls and women. And everything is incredibly idealized and stereotypical; but that suits the context of both the plot and the publication of it; in an allegorical story such as this, the characterization and superficial representations make sense.
"A stranger is shot in the street, you hardly move to help. But if, half an hour before, you spent just ten minutes with the fellow and knew a little about him and his family, you might just jump in front of his killer and try to stop it. Knowing is good. Not knowing, or refusing to know is bad, or amoral, at least. You can’t act if you don’t know.”
But the writing itself is lovely; it is rather poetic, and a common complaint is that some of the fear and anxiety can get lost in the descriptive prose. I disagree; the setting is almost as much of a character as the human characters themselves. The magic doesn't just go around the carousel; it goes around in the sentences and paragraphs. The autumnal setting is important to the characters themselves, the themes of aging, and the cozy quieting fear and suspense of the story. There are truly scary moments in the book, but the star here is the atmosphere.
The magic here is the atmosphere.
Have you read this classic? What are your thoughts? Any other "spooky season" reads you can recommend to me this year? Comment below, or via my contact list, here, and please subscribe to my (very occasional!) newsletter while you're there.