The Autumn People

For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles -- breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.

Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

Proof that horror fantasy can also be poetic.

The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury

The Halloween Tree by Ray Bradbury

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It was a small town by a small river and a small lake in a small northern part of a Midwest state. There wasn't so much wilderness around you couldn't see the town. But on the other hand there wasn't so much town you couldn't see and feel and touch and smell the wilderness. The town was full of trees. And dry grass and dead flowers now that autumn was here. And full of fences to walk on and sidewalks to skate on and a large ravine to tumble in and yell across. And the town was full of...

Boys.
And it was the afternoon of Halloween.
And all the houses shut against a cool wind.
And the town was full of cold sunlight.
But suddenly, the day was gone.
Night came out from under each tree and spread.

Scott (from A Good Story is Hard to Find podcast) loves this book and never fails to bring it up around Halloween. I happened to have an Audible credit coming up and figured it is always good to come up to Halloween with Ray Bradbury. Bronson Pinchot's narration is simply wonderful.

The story, which is highly reminiscent of A Christmas Carol, is an enchanting tour of Halloween history and how it is represented in the way we celebrate the holiday ... done Bradbury style with lovely prose as a gang of neighborhood boys strike out into adventure to help an ailing friend.

It is written for younger readers but is equally enchanting for those of us who are merely young at heart.

This is going on my Best of 2013 list.

Eternal Rest Grant Unto Ray Bradbury, O Lord

The father hesitated only a moment. He felt the vague pain in his chest. If I run, he thought, what will happen? Is Death important? No. Everything that happens before Death is what counts. And we've done fine tonight. Even Death can't spoil it.

Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes

He seemed timeless somehow, that grand old man of science fiction. But of course no one is timeless and Ray Bradbury died today at age 91.

Somehow it seems appropriate that he died when summer is just beginning to bloom. One of the memories that showed up repeatedly in his stories and novels was that of Midwest neighborhoods with Victorian houses, green lawns, and lemonade sipped by genteel gentlefolk. Reading that you'd never know that his forte was a blend of science fiction and fantasy, often mixed with horror, written in almost lyrical style.

So many of his stories are part of my mental reading landscape. The Veldt, Usher II, The Halloween Tree, The Martian Chronicles, Fahrenheit 451, and Something Wicked This Way Comes.

Recently I was finishing off a gift certificate and splurged by adding my own money to pick up The Stories of Ray Bradbury. I thought that I'd recognize many of the 100 stories in this anthology. As I have leisurely dipped in, here and there, I've been surprised that I do not recognize them and that many show a depth that resonates far beyond science fiction. Which, as I think of it, should not surprise me at all.

Bradbury was not only prolific but he is one of those gifted souls who raised his chosen genre far above the ordinary level. Not only did he entertain, but he taught us lessons for the heart. I also loved his optimistic spirit and his no nonsense grounding. He understood what was real, what was not, and what mattered.

We cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. As in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over.

Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451

I am thankful that his stories, imagination, and humanity have enriched my life so well.

Eternal rest grant unto Ray Bradbury, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.