Ray Bradbury Challenge 84/2000
Who's counting? I am.
Hello and welcome to the latest installment of the Ray Bradbury Challenge. What follows is a review of the 4th week. Where did it take me? And am I cheating? Read on to find out!
But before I break down the stuff I’ve read, I want to thank every single one of you who shared their recommendations. I have everything written down and I’ll probably dedicate a whole week to reading everything you’ve suggested. If you have anything to recommend—a poignant poem, a witty short story or an eye-opening essay—you can drop it in the comments section or email me at tuxunefo@gmail.com.
BTW, to make life easier on the poetry front I’ve purchased A Book of Luminous Things - an international anthology of poetry compiled by Czeslaw Milosz. With some 300 poems by different authors, this will take me through one-third of the challenge.
October 17
Essay. Joanna Moorhead. Cutting his teeth: how Bram Stoker found his inner Dracula in Scotland. Bram Stoker might have been one of Europe’s first method actors, which meant he had freaked out a bunch of people LARPing as a vampire.
Story. Ambrose Bierce. Moxon’s Master. Horror has been one genre I’ve been avoiding for a long time. And for no good reason! Moxon’s Master is a masterfully crafted and chilling story dealing with the nature of consciousness way before the advent of AI. In the story, a Mechanical Turk-like automaton attacks its creator after losing a game of chess. However, more modern interpretations suggest that there was a person (a hurt male lover of Moxon, perhaps?) hiding in the machine all the time.
Poetry. D. H. Lawrence. Maximus. According to Czeslaw Milosz, the poem is the perfect embodiment of epiphany. Afterl all, in the poem, Maximus (a teacher to Julian the Apostate, who wanted to revert to paganism), meets a literal God.
God is older than the sun and moon and the eye cannot behold him nor voice describe him. But a naked man, a stranger, leaned on the gate with his cloak over his arm, waiting to be asked in. So I called him: Come in, if you will! – He came in slowly, and sat down by the hearth. I said to him: And what is your name? – He looked at me without answer, but such a loveliness entered me, I smiled to myself, saying: He is God! So he said: Hermes! God is older than the sun and moon and the eye cannot behold him nor the voice describe him: and still, this is the God Hermes, sitting by my hearth.
October 18
Essay. Luke Burgis. The Case for Silence. When I started Fictitious, the About section had a mini-manifesto against content. Starting a newsletter was a step towards writing something that could not be classified or interpreted as content. Finding more voices talking about the peril of a content-driven has been extremely refreshing. And I love how simply Luke put everything here:
The answer to the flood of content is, for many entrepreneurs and producers, to make more content. This is often done with the best of intentions. Because so much of existing content is low-quality or superficial, they reason, there is a need for something different, something better—and thus creating new content will be a positive contribution. But they are fighting fire with fire.
It’s tempting. There is a natural desire to make our voice heard in the cacophony. When confronted with loud voices, discord, and disagreement, the reflexive (and mimetic) response is simply to get louder. To say more, and to say it more forcefully. To do more, and to do it faster. To add rather than to subtract.
Story. Deborah Eisenberg. The Twilight of Superheroes. I don’t remember if any of you recommended Eisenberg or not, but I ended up buying her story collection. The first story takes place in New York around 9/11 and it’s very very good. One week after I read it, I don’t think I can retell the plot (was there a plot?) but the observations she makes are extremely spot on.
The book, however, has its haters as well. If you thought bad movie reviews were vitriolic and pretentious, wait until you read this (bonus points for calling LOTR “trashy”):
I’m actually writing an essay on bad reviews now, so there will be more of that reaching your pristine inboxes quite soon.
Poem. Kikaku. This is one of the two haikus listed under “Epiphany” in Milosz’s collection. Definitely better than my attempt:
Above the boat, bellies of wild geese.
October 19
Essay. Aya Francisco. AIZUCHI: DOES YOUR LISTENING MAKE JAPANESE PEOPLE UNCOMFORTABLE? Do you hate being interrupted? Or do you prefer the other person to nod and say “yes, yep, mhm” after your every utterance? I don’t think either approach is ingrained in, let’s say, Lithuanian culture, where tolerance to interjections/interruptions differs from person to person. I haven’t hung out with many Japanese people in my life, but I do remember the ones I did meet in social settings being rather vocal interlocutors. As it turns out, the practice of “aizuchi” (frequent interjections during a conversation that indicate the listener is paying attention and/or understanding the speaker) is associated with politeness. A cool read even if you’re not into Japanese culture.
Story. Craig Burgess. The Three Commenteers. In Craig’s own words, this is a “ short story about committing antagonistic word acts outside of your jurisdiction“. I don’t think you need to be an STSC member to get all the subtext (intertext? always get these mixed up), as this is a hilarious read even to the initiated.
Poetry. Isssa. Another haiku to enlighten your day.
From the bough floating down river, insect song.
October 20
Story. Kristen Arnett. Gator butchering for beginners. I don’t know why but stories that are too visceral and bodily make me a little uncomfortable. But this one was pretty good (even though I don’t think I’ll ever be able to write like that).
Essay. Amjad Jaimoukha. Circassian Customs & Traditions. Technically, this is a book and not an essay. A brief introduction to Adyghe Xabze - a moral code of the Circassian people. It’s fascinating how a nation (and a rather small nation, at that) managed to preserve relatively much of its old ways despite genocide, displacement and the many other cultures forced upon them. Reading the Nart saga is now on my list for sure. And as a bonus, here’s an amazing example of Circassian folk music (listen to the end where the singer turns into an almost rap performance, which would put any Soundcloud rapper to shame):
Poetry. Jean Follain (trans. Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass). Music of spheres. Don’t really have any comment on this one, except for how beautiful it is.
He was walking on a frozen road in his pocket iron keys were jingling and with his pointed shoe absent-mindedly he kicked the cylinder of an old can which for a few seconds rolled its cold emptiness wobbled for a while and stopped under a sky studded with stars.
October 21
Essay. Erik Hoel. Fiction in the Age of Screens. I remember reading Stephen King’s On Writing and realising that ALL of the writers of his and later generators grew up watching movies (and later - TV). Thus, novels have incorporated layers of cinematic language, tropes and structures. As a genre, novels morphed but still stayed with us. No one killed the novel. It just became different.
Recommended by Anne (thanks Anne!), this essay by Erik Hoel talks about how novels bring us closer to understanding others and getting someone else’s intrinsic perspective on the world. An important read for modern times.
Story. Hugh Behm-Steinberg. Taylor Swift. What if everyone could mail order a miniature Taylor Swift and have her… interact with other Taylor Swifts? That’s the kind of level of absurdity we’re operating with here. An amazingly good level of absurdity.
Poem. Drummond de Andrade (transl. Elizabeth Bishop). In the Middle of the Road. I really enjoy poems that are set in pretty mundane settings, like this one:
In the middle of the road there was a stone there was a stone in the middle of the road there was a stone in the middle of the road there was a stone. Never should I forget this event in the life of my fatigued retinas. Never should I forget that in the middle of the road there was a stone there was a stone in the middle of the road in the middle of the road there was a stone.
October 22
Essay. Hans V. Kaltenborn. An interview with Adolf Hitler. In a recent interview, Lex Fridman talked, in an extremely Fridman-ish way, how great it would have been to have long-form podcasting at the beginning of the XX century. You know, one could interview Hitler and really understand him. Maybe even change him? I was planning on embedding that clip, but “Lex Fridman + Adolf Hitler” returned too many results on YouTube…
Anyway, on Twitter, the journalist Helen Lewis linked an interview (well, more of a recollection of said interview) with Hitler, made in 1932. It’s a fascinating read and should probably be discussed in journalism courses. Apparently, the interview was quite exclusive, as Hitler (unlike Mussolini) didn’t really like interviews, and sitting down together with a journo would just break into speech.
Story. Ted Chiang. Omphalos. Written partially as an address to God, this story explores a world where Young Earth Creationism is true. As with other Chiang’s stories, this one sticks with you for a long time.
Poetry. David Wagoner. The Author of American Ornithology Sketches a Bird, Now Extinct. A story about letting a bird die to immortalize it in a book. Based on the story of Alexander Wilson, one of America’s most renowned ornithologists.
October 23
Essay. Vinnie Rotondaro. Which Italian American? Ethnic identity is a complicated topic, and it’s all too easy for nuance to get erased. This long read deals with the multi-layered nature of Italian American identity, the ever-changing notion of whiteness (a slightly alien concept to many of us whites in Eastern Europe), and more.
Story. Avram Davidson. The Ogre. I found this neat story in a 1959 IF Science Fiction issue. Fun premise (Neanderthals might not have gone extinct), cranky and hilarious dialogue (more of a monologue, as one of the characters is trying to avoid talking about this scientific theory), and a surprise murder. Recommend this one wholeheartedly.
Poem. David Wagoner. Loons Mating. Another bird poem by Wagoner dedicated to the following:
Want to support Fictitious?
Since I launched Fictitious in May, this space has become quite an important part of my day-to-day. I’ve met new people, reconnected with some old friends and acquaintances and ultimately forged an outlet for sharing not just my thoughts, but also my attempts at writing fiction.
I’m eternally grateful to everyone who reads my stuff, gives me pointers, and shares their own funny takes. Some people write because they have ideas. I write because I want to connect with others. It means the world to me.
You’re already helping me massively by being a reader and subscriber. Knowing that someone’s going to read my stuff gives me a sense of purpose. And if you want to help me grow in other ways, here’s how you can do it:
Recommend me something good to read. A large part of the stuff I read for the weekly Ray Bradbury Challenge comes from people recommending me stuff. Sharing things we read is another way of connecting!
Buy a Fictitious subscription! I’ve enabled paid subscriptions as an experiment (all of my content stays free for everyone though, not going to paywall anything). For just $6/month or $40/year you can help me dedicate a bit more time to writing fun texts. It will also make me less tight about buying more books than I can read. Push the button below to check out paid subscription plans.
Consider a one-time donation. You can also donate anywhere from $3, which I will then probably use to buy even more books.
Tell your friends. If you know someone who’d enjoy reading Fictitious, I’d really appreciate it if you shared the newsletter with them.
Recommend Fictitious to your readers. If you have a Substack newsletter yourself, you can use the Recommendations function to add my newsletter to your “blog roll”. That way, people that subscribe to you might get a prompt to check Fictitious out as well. Super grateful to the 9 authors that recommend my stuff, it’s a true honour!
So after he wrote “The Case for Silence” did Luke Burgess stop writing?