Sunday, October 11, 2015

A Day in the Lonesome October-fest, October 10

The continuing account of reading A Night in the Lonesome October with an nine-year-old, out loud and during the day.

First off, I would like a record of the fact that I poured myself a bowl of delicious Frankenberry cereal, and, while I was talking myself hoarse to read this to my child, she ate all the marshmallows out of it. Bad child! Bad!

Lily dug this chapter, even if she wasn't overwhelmed by the look of the Thing in the Circle, which, she said, looked like a cross between a turd and a turnip.

It's hard to dispute that.

     "Hey!" cried the Thing.  "Cut that out!  This was meant to be!"     "So was this!" I snapped, and I turned over and rolled in the puddle itself, soaking myself as I tossed and wriggled, absorbing a great deal.     I moved off to a far, dry corner then and turned over several times on the floor there, spreading the moisture about in a place where it would evaporate harmlessly.     "Damn dog!" it snarled.  "Another few minutes and I'd've made it!"
I suggested that the Thing would have gotten away with it if not for that meddling dog, and she agreed.

I've always liked this part, because it showcases something I really like about Zelazny's writing. He  was always very good about grounding his fantasy within the larger mundane world.

 I'm never sure how much she's following, because, like me, she keeps her cards close to her chest. When I asked her if she understood what happened when the large bat went behind the tree, and the cloaked man emerged, she replied "Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

She has warmed to the Count, whose words I read in a Bela Lugosi accent, simply because he was nice to Snuff.

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