December Souls

December 2

Where, oh where, to begin?

Let's see. Friday evening Heather and I went to Cody's bookstore to see Clive Barker. He pretty much just chatted, answered questions, talked about stuff he'll be doing, told amusing stories. That Person was in the crowd-- the one who asks "Would you ever consider doing a collaboration with an unknown writer?", the one who doesn't hesitate to interrupt whatever the author is saying to make some insipid comment-- and Clive neatly sidestepped around her. He was pleasant and charming. Heather went downstairs a bit before he finished speaking to secure us a good place in the signing line; in fact, we were right in front. Very nice. I got a copy of Galilee signed, as a gift for someone, and my copy of Coldheart Canyon. I told him I worked at A Certain Magazine, and we chatted about that for a bit, him asking after various people. He gave me his card and asked me to fax him the reviews of Coldheart Canyon and Tortured Souls, since he hadn't read them when they first came out. So, I managed to make a bit more work for myself, but I also had a pleasant conversation and didn't make an idiot of myself. I remember picking up the first volume of The Books of Blood at my Aunt Bobby's house when I was, oh, twelve or thirteen, probably... that was my first exposure to Barker, and it really opened my eyes to the possibilities of horror. I re-read a few of those stories last week, and they still hold up. The man is an amazingly talented storyteller (and I love his art, too-- we have a small print of "Mad Boy in Beverly Hills" hanging on the living room wall here)... Weaveworld is brilliant, Imajica scarcely less so, and Galilee is delicious. The main gist of his talk was that his love for books is stronger now than it has ever been, that he's pretty much done with the movies (though he'll still produce, he's very unlikely to direct anything else), and looking forward to focusing on novels again. He also has a story collection coming out, including a novella about the death of the Cenobite engineer that the movies dubbed Pinhead...

Anyway. Clive Barker. Cool writer, cool guy.

And, since it segues nicely: Heather has started my birthday early! My birthday is December 12, and so Heather has instituted the 12 Days of Tim's Birthday. She doesn't have twelve gifts for me, but she does have enough to give me a gift every other day. I've gotten two of them so far (I got the first one on Nov. 30, because she couldn't wait). What have I gotten? Two of the Tortured Souls toys, designed by Clive Barker, created by MacFarlane Toys! I've got Lucidique and Agonistes so far. These toys are breathtaking. They're absolutely works of art. The detail is astonishing. Their chains are made of metal, and even the parts of their bodies covered by the quite realistic clothing are perfectly detailed (I know, I managed to pull Lucidique's skirt down a good ways-- this figure has an actual butt!). They're gorgeous and creepy and I love them and I'm happy.

Barker had photos he was giving away, too, other shots from the session where the cover of the US edition of Coldheart Canyon was taken, and Heather and I got a couple signed. Barker used this thick silvery ink that had to dry, so we couldn't stick the photos in our bags, and were thus walking down Telegraph Ave. with signed pictures of a smooth-looking Clive Barker. We were in another bookstore, riding the elevator, carrying said pictures. The other passenger in the elevator, a blond guy, noticed the photos, recognized Clive Barker, and widened his eyes. "Where is he?" he asked.

"He's signing at Cody's," we answered (well, one of us answered-- we didn't, like, answer in synch or anything). And the guy got off the elevator on the fourth floor and ran down the stairs in hopes of catching Barker before he left. We were, like, emissaries. Heralds. Cherubs.

Heather bought Starlight 3 (and as an aside-- how on Earth can Al Sarrantonio suggest that Redshift is the best original anthology of the past 25 years, when there have been 3, count 'em, 3, Starlight anthos in that time? Madness. Also hubris). Finally got a chance to read Greg van Eekhout's "Wolves Till the World Goes Down". Great story. I loved it. Very much the kind of tale that appeals to me, and it was written really damned stunningly well.

Gothic.net has gone to subscription only. Bummer. $15 a year. Ah, well. They gave good free content for, what, four years? They've got a right to try to make some money. I wish them well.

Hmm. Saturday was fun. I had lunch with the lovely Susan Marie at Barney's, home of the world's best burgers and fries. Good good time. Then we went to a café and worked, making occasional witty remarks. She graded papers and I read The Children of Cthulhu, which isn't bad-- one of the better Lovecraft-inspired-anthos I've read. I won't give more detailed responses to individual stories-- I'm gonna review it for the Magazine, after all.

Saturday night Heather and I went to Dona Tomas, a great restaurant. The mashed sweet potatoes were astonishingly good, and the fish was yummy, too. We'd planned to go see a movie afterward-- Monsters, Inc. or Sidewalks of New York-- but then we got on the far side of a couple of margaritas and decided we'd rather nest. So we rented Ten Things I Hate About You (which had its moments, but which I won't be rushing to watch again) and snuggled on the couch.

Today we went to Mama's for breakfast (I've been having avocado-bacon-cheddar omelets there, of late). The woman at the table next to us was reading Zod Wallop-- it's always nice to see people with good taste in books. Our waitress told me I had beautiful hair. Unfortunately, she told me this in the context of explaining why she mistakenly thought I was a woman, so the compliment was slightly marred. But still, I take such pleasures where I can. We walked back home in the rain, then went to buy office supplies-- paper, envelopes, etc. Then we returned home and worked on our Secret Project, which has nearly reached fruition. It took rather longer than we'd expected to work on said project, and said work ate up the whole afternoon and much of the evening. Heather ordered pizza from Zachary's, and we ventured forth to get that, then returned to sit on the couch and watch The Simpsons.

Of course, there was football on instead. Sigh.

So we ate, then went to the tea bar, where I read more of The Children (I'll prob'ly finish it tonight), and Heather worked. Which brings you, more or less, back to the present.

Tim Pratt
P.O. Box 13222
Berkeley, CA 94712-4222