Witch's Blood for Treat

This is my last post for Halloween 2012. One anecdote that happened tonight and sums up the spirit of Samhain. The town where I live, like many English town, does not celebrate Halloween all that much. Maybe it was the weather, rainy and miserable, or the day of the week. But there were only a few houses decorated, I could count the Jack O'Lanterns. Except one house, owned by an American family, who always decorate their home a lot and celebrate it the proper way. On my way back from work, I had to stop by and watch their display.

I entered into the tent leading to the main door, which was a sanctuary. There were witches, skeletons, various undeads on display, and of course a few Jack O'Lanterns. And a sort of tomb. I said I did not come trick or treating, only to admire what they did with the place. There were a couple of women there, a bit like a witch's covent. The lady of the house asked me to come in and asked "Would you like some witch's blood, from Northern Italy?" I could not refuse. So they poured me a (plastic) glass of red wine, which I drank mostly on the way home, trying to protect it from the dripping rain. I had the time to chit chat with them. There was a two-headed undead/witch thing hanging at the door, delicious sinister, I asked where they found it. She said somewhere in America, then: "It's my aunt and uncle." I replied: "Lovely people." Then shortly after I left, but she had time to tell me that while the tomb was empty now, the zombie that had been lying in it (husband? son?) would be back in about fifteen minutes. But I was tired and hungry, so I left.

There are at least a dozen of great unknown lines that have been said in the short conversation, I think the witch's blood from Northern Italy one deserves to be immortalised here. Witch's blood for red wine, I don't know why but I find it brilliant (and I didn't get the joke at first, being tired, it was only drinking it that it struck me). But more than the lines, it was the gesture and the way they were in the spirit of Halloween that I enjoyed. I loved the generosity, the hospitality, the fact that they had something ready for adults, even those without a costume. This is how trick or treat should be. It made my Halloween night.

Une ghoulash comme repas d'Halloween

J'ai déjà blogué en anglais sur cette soupe, une "ghoulash" à la citrouille. La citrouille comme repas, je l'aime surtout en soupe. C'est ce que j'ai mangé ce soir. Avec du pain à l'aïl pour accompagner. C'était délicieux et je suis sans doute protégé contre les vampires pour la nuit. Pendant des années, j'ai mangé de la pizza le soir de l'Halloween, depuis mon enfance jusqu'à ce que je vive à Montréal. C'est en tout cas le repas d'Halloween dont je me souviens le plus. Je me rappelle aussi avoir mangé de l'indien, d'un repas à la Binerie Mont-Royal (j'étais en plein lendemain de veille, mais la soupe aux pois et le ragoût de boulettes m'avaient ramené à la vie). L'Halloween on l'associe bien sûr d'abord aux friandises, mais il faut bien que l'on mange un vrai repas avant. Il faut que ce repas soit consistant et saisonnier. Enfant, il faut qu'il soit vite mangé pour qu'on ait la soirée devant nous pour aller quêter les bonbons et chocolats. J'imagine que je n'aurais pas aimé la soupe à l'époque.

Halloween, All Hallow's Eve

Well, first things first: Happy Hallowee everyone! I will try to blog more about it tonight, but obviously I want first to enjoy the night: keep on reading horror stories, watching (short) horror movies, etc. To kick start the evening, I thought I would upload this song by Loreena McKennitt. Because it is of course all about my favourite holiday and about my favourite season. Generally, I am not into Pagan or neo Pagan stuff all that much, but I love this song. Anecdote: it is the first song of McKennitt I heard. Enjoy.

Félix pour l'Halloween

Joyeuse Halloween tout le monde! Ici il fait un temps misérable, il pleut, on est en plein milieu de la semaine et c'est à peine s'il y avait des enfants aux portes quand je suis rentré du travail. Et je m'ennuie des Halloweens québécois, incidemment. Je sais que j'ai déjà téléchargé cette chanson de Félix il y a plus de deux ans, mais c'est l'Halloween une fois par année et elle s'y prête bien, alors je la retélécharge pour ce soir d'Halloween 2012. On ne boudera pas son plaisir, après tout.

A Meeting with Jack (part 2)

 This is the part 2 of this year's Halloween story. You can read part 1 here. It is a sort of sequel of the story of Jack O'Lantern which you can read here and here. I will try to turn it into a Halloween tradition of Vraie Fiction.

Pat Halloran wondered if he was not delirious because of the alcohol, yet it all felt so real, the fire, the pumpkin which he could smell as easily as he could see, and the voice of Jack, with that damned accent.

"One day, or one night rather, a Halloween night like this one, I managed to get the better of Old Nick and made a deal with him: he would not take my soul when I die. He kept his word. But I had sinned so much, had been such a wicked man in my lifetime that Saint Peter would let me in upstairs. So I was cursed. Cursed to wander around this world until Judgment Day. Cursed to see this world through the light of this lantern made with a coal from the hottest pit of Hell, without being able to feel. To be eternally thirsty, but eternally sober. You know what, Pat? I think eternal damnation would have been a better fate."

Pat thought the smile of Jack, even though fixed in the flesh of the pumpkin, had turned larger.

"But at least," the ghost carried on, "if I cannot drink or eat, I can at least act upon my wickedness. I am cursed, I also bring curse wherever I go. Those who see me close are either in mortal danger, or some great tragedy is going to fall upon them. But don't worry Pat, in your case, it is only in mortal danger."

Jack O'Lantern chuckled. Pat Halloran felt a sharp pain in his left arm, then a huge weight crushing his heart.

"Time to pay for your own wickedness, old man. If it is any consolation, I envy you," said Jack as the drunkard was shrieking on the ground, giving his last breath. "After all, you know where you are going."

Allumage de citrouille

Ceci est un petit billet de veille de l'Halloween. Quinze minutes. Quinze longues minutes, quinze minutes de pure frustration. C'est le temps que ça m'a pris pour allumer la chandelle de ce Jack O'Lantern. Une chandelle neuve en plus. J'ai pris une citrouille, j'en ai fait un lampion, comme dit le poème et c'est une vraie pénitence que de l'allumer parfois. Je croyais être plutôt calé en allumage de citrouilles. Celle-ci était plutôt rétive. Quand j'étais plongeur, j'avais appris un truc pour tenir l'allumette entre les doigts et allumer les petits lampions comme ceux dans la citrouille de l'Halloween. Je crois avoir désappris, ou alors je suis rouillé. J'ai eu droit à une épilation par le feu de mon pouce droit. Au moins je suis encore vivant.

Hobgoblin, the beer of Halloween

To all the beer lovers who are also Halloween aficionados, the holiday would not be completed without at least one pint of Hobgoblin (or Scarecrow if you can find any) by Wychwood Brewery. I plugged the beer last year, but I thought to do it again this year. 1)Because it is delicious. 2)Because both the drink and the label on the bottle are perfect for Halloween. 3)Because the label changes every year. This year it is quite a success, I think, with the Hobgoblin holding two Jack O'Lanterns. I drank two this month, which is not that many. As Halloween is on a weekday this year, and I avoid alcohol on weekdays (it disturbs my sleep), I will probably not drink more Hobgoblin. A shame. As an adult, I find drinking such spooky themed beer a proper way to celebrate Halloween, which is also, like many autumn celebrations, a celebration of harvest. And since beer is made of barley and wheat, it is maybe the alcohol of harvest. And this one is dark and has a hobgoblin on the label. So here it is. Drink it if you can.

Le retour de l'obscurité

Je télécharge cette photo un peu arbitrairement, parce que c'est l'Halloween et que les fantômes apparaissent surtout la nuit. Elle a été prise hier, en soirée, ce fantôme était dans la vitre d'un salon de coiffure (on dit barber shop ici pour les hommes). Quand je suis sorti, le soir tombait, il faisait presque nuit quand j'ai pris la photo. La raison est simple: nous avons eu droit au changement d'heure en fin de semaine. Alors dès 5 heures, il fait nuit. Ce soir, j'ai quitté le travail à la nuit noire. Le changement d'heure, peut-être autant que l'équinoxe, marque l'automne. Non pas son arrivée, mais son apogée. L'Halloween, c'est un peu l'apogée de l'automne aussi.

A Meeting with Jack (part 1)

Part 1 of my Halloween story.I hope you enjoy.

It was on Halloween night that Pat Halloran died. That night, like many others, he had drank plenty of Molson and Canadian whisky in a small bar in Magog, where he had been thrown out as he had picked up a fight, and was heading home, walking through a path crossing corn fields. He was a tall and large man, with a strong frame, black bushy hair and a round sanguine face that looked crimson because of the alcohol.

Pat was walking laboriously down the path, his eyes watching his feet so they wouldn't stumble on a rock or a hole in the ground, when he felt a presence ahead of him. It was first a smell of smoke and fire, mixed with something like ripe, moist fruit. He rose his head and saw a tall and lanky figure a few steps ahead of him. The man was tall, clad in an old fashioned Burgundy red coat. Then Pat noticed the stranger's head. It was covered by a pumpkin, a pumpkin carved to look like a face. The eyes were diamond shaped and it had a sharp teethed mouth, giving a grin that was both cruel and sad. It must have been the alcohol playing tricks on him, Pat thought, as there was a fiery red light shining from inside the pumpkin. He could feel the heat of the fire emanating from the pumpkin, but with it there was a freezing chill surrounding the stranger.

"Good evening, Pat!" said the lanky man, with an Irish accent..

"How do you know my name? Have you been around here?"

"A couple of times I have walked through the Eastern Townships, Pat. I travel a lot, never had the time to stop by much, but tonight we had to meet."

Pat Halloran did not like the familiar tone the stranger was taking and he was eager to be home and drink what was left of the bottle of gin he was keeping under the bed.

"Whatever you think you have to do, you get lost!" said Pat. "I go my way, you go yours and you get off the path."

"That is not possible Pat. You are not going any further tonight."

"Like Hell I won't!"Pat roared and he ran the stranger. The lanky man didn't move and didn't try to avoid the angry fist of the drunkard. When the fist reached its target the stranger did not flinched, did not move of an inch, but Pat felt a sudden chill spreading all over him, so overwhelming that he fell in his knees, unable to breath for a moment.

"I told you!" said the stranger in a mocking tone. "You cannot beat me, I don't feel pain anymore, and when I am in someone's way, I only leave when I want. Now, no more funny business. You don't have much longer."

"Who... who are you?"

"My name is Jack," said the stranger. "I was once like you: a crook, a drunkard, the worst of all Ireland in fact. Well, like you, I was not as big or as quick to anger. I was nasty in other ways. I was smarter too, if I may say so myself, even drunk. And I was often drunk."

"I don't want to know."

"Well, it's not like you have a choice, so you might as well. I don't have many occasions to tell my story, so I enjoy that one. I said I was often drunk. Ah I loved alcohol! The smell of it, the taste of course! Stouts, Irish whiskey, gin, poteen, wine from France and Italy sometimes... Oh how I miss getting drunk! And I even miss the hangovers. The taste of a good Irish breakfast afterwards. With eggs, mushrooms, bacon and white pudding and fried potatoes... I miss all this too. See, Pat, I am a ghost. I do not feel anymore, but I remember when I could."

"Yeah right! You are not a ghost, you are crazy!"

Jack suddenly leaped forward, grabbed Pat by the collar and pulled him by his face. Pat felt the freezing grip of Jack's long fingers, and the fire of his breath. He looked into the eyes of Jack and saw with terror that the pumpkin was hollow, save for a burning coal in the middle of it.

"Crazy, really? I sure don't have all my head anymore. I have to do with a lantern."

Jack released the drunkard from his grip. Pat Halloran fell heavily on the ground.

"I shall carry on now, and no more interruptions."

L'horreur au Québec (?)

Je pensais en faire une question existentielle, mais c'est peut-être un peu trop complexe comme question. Les questions existentielles doivent être simples, ou alors elles doivent être posées en une seule question. Enfin bref, c'est l'Halloween bientôt, je lis des histoires d'horreur et je me demandais ce qu'il en était de l'horreur au Québec, maintenant et historiquement. Il est plus développé maintenant, avec quelques films ici et là et j'ai cru comprendre un peu de littérature, mais il se fait en général peu de choses. On a un fond de tradition avec nos contes québécois, qui peuvent être parfois assez macabres, mais ils ne sont pas violents comme le sont les histoires de fantômes anglaises, par exemple. Souvent, les contes québécois sont des histoires moralistes un peu sombres, avec une morale bien catholique, mais ils sont loin de L'Exorciste. J'adore les contes québécois, comme j'adore les contes de toutes cultures, mais il faut bien le dire, ils ne sont pas toujours les plus terrifiants. Mais surtout, on n'a pas de tradition d'horreur, ou alors peu, dans notre littérature et notre filmographie. Peut-être est-ce que je trompe. Quelle est la tradition d'épouvante au Québec, s'il y en a une?

Jack O'Lantern

This is the second of the Jack O'Lantern I carved tonight. I decided to carve them earlier this year, as this is the last weekend before Halloween. I can enjoy the two lanterns for longer. You can see the first one here. I prefer the second one, as it is scarier. The first one looks like a younger, dumber brother. This Jack is pure malevolence.

So this is a quick catch up, countdown to Halloween post. I have more things coming up until the 31st. I was thinking about blogging a story set in Scholomance, but I struggled with it too much. I have something else in mind now, I think the ideas will flow smoothly. It is another story about Jack O'Lantern. I did my own take on the legend last year (you can read it here and here) and I have been wanting to write more about Jack. So I hope to give you my own spooky tale for Halloween. Until then, you have this picture.

Première de deux citrouilles

 Je m'y suis pris tôt cette année, enfin relativement tôt, mais selon ce que j'ai lu c'est le bon temps pour creuser les citrouilles en Jack O'Lanterns. J'ai donc décidé de creuser les citrouilles ce soir, comme ça j'ai toute la fin de semaine pour les apprécier et jusqu'à mercredi soir (inclusivement). Ceci est la première, de la citrouille plus petite. Je voulais un sourire fade comme dans le poème que j'avais appris en troisième année. Elle a peut-être l'air un brin trop bonasse et pas assez démoniaque. Je ne sais pas. Dites-moi ce que vous en pensez.

Pumpkin Ghoulash

This is a quick countdown to Halloween post and another that is about food. I am not the biggest fan of tinned soups, but some companies really make great soups just like the ones you would find at home. I love the ones made by Covent Garden Soup Co. They have a soup of the month, which every October is of course Halloween themed (I mentioned one back in 2008): it is a Pumpkin Ghoulash soup. Notice the voluntary mispelling of goulash. You can even find the recipe on the website. I am plugging it on Vraie Fiction today because it is absolutely delicious. It has just as much if not more carrots and other things as it has pumpkin. But it is a very much a seasonal, autumnal soup. It is hearty and filling and delicious. I love soup when it is hearty. When I have a cold like now, soups such as this goulash give me energy, sooth the pain in my throat and nose and overall bring me back to life. The Pumpkin Ghoulash also gives you two portions of fruits and vegs, which makes it almost too good for the gluttonous nature of Halloween. Still, it is perfect comfort food. And it is made of pumpkin. So it is my Halloween soup and I think I will eat it on Halloween night.

Premier acte de Faust

C'est l'Halloween très bientôt, je me demandais quoi télécharger ici comme musique et je me suis rappelé d'une semi-tradition que je n'ai pas observé à chaque année, mais assez régulièrement: télécharger un peu du Faust de Gounod. Je vais donc en faire une tradition d'Halloween sur ce blogue. Faust est ici interprété par Roberto Alagna et Méphistophélès par René Pape. C'est une très belle mise en scène.

Halloween donuts

I bought these a few days ago. They were a pound in Sainsbury's (they sell all Halloween desserts for a pound, so it's a bargain). I crave donuts from time to time and those are Halloween donuts, so I had to buy them. Maybe I am a sucker. After all, they are normal, glazed donuts, only with an orange glazing and some chocolate sprinkles.  Their association with Halloween is tenuous at best.

Then again, maybe I am not such a sucker. For one, those donuts are associated to the gluttonous aspect of Hallowen, of which trick or treating is a modern manifestation. Donuts are also associated in The Simpsons's episode Treehouse of Horror IV, where Homer sells his soul to Satan for a donut (you can see a few minutes of the episode here). In a way, he makes a Faustian pact. Now, I can also mention that Anthony Burgess,my favourite author, wrote in a dissertation on Marlowe's Dr Faustus that Faust secretly desires damnation because he wants to experience hell. So every time I eat a donut I think of this episode of The Simpsons, and then of the Faustian pact, and about the appeal of eternal damnation when one is tempted by Satan in folklore...

And I cannot believe that in one post I talked about Marlowe, Anthony Burgess, the legend of Faust, Halloween, The Simpsons in a post about trivial donuts.

Le Diable et moi

Cette illustration est tirée de ce bouquin, elle est je crois d'Erlé Ferronnière. Je l'ai téléchargée parce que c'est l'Halloween bientôt, parce que ce démon est sans doute le Diable en personne, que je parle du Diable ici et parce que ce que je vais écrire, je l'ai appris du livre. Dans le chapitre sur les démons, j'apprend donc que parmi les surnoms de Satan, il y a celui du "vieux Guillaume". Je sais que pour Lucifer, c'est un nom de guerre, mais quand même. J'ai l'un des noms du Diable.

Looking like a vampire

This is tonight's countdown to Halloween post. The picture was taken from this book. I don't look nearly as sinister or as grim as the count, I do not have his old fashioned elegance either, but I sure looks like a vampire. I have a cold see. When I have a cold, it usually starts in autumn and lasts until May. So I look pale, I cough, I sleep badly during weekdays, which means my eyes look very vampiric, bloodshot and all. I look like a Nosferatu all right, or a man who will soon turn into one.

And it might be the case. Vampires, just like werewolves,can become what they are not only by being bitten, but also through indirect means, say being a heathen, an heretic, and excommunicated or... being a werewolf in your lifetime. So I fit the bill. These days, I certainly have the right look.

Pourriture et consolation montréalaises

Ce n'est pas une nouvelle qui m'a fait sauter de joie, mais elle m'a consolé un peu du triste état de ma ville: Gérald Tremblay, cette chiffe molle sans leadership, ce petit minable créationniste qui a réussi à être maire de la métropole du Québec pour trois mandats, ne se représentera pas aux prochaines élections municipales. Il y a quatre ans, j'espérais que les électeurs lui montrent la porte. Ca aurait été la punition appropriée. On se console comme on peut...

One week until Halloween

I am writing here something obvious. But Halloween is an obsession of mine. The official countdown starts on the first of October, but for me it starts in early September, sometimes even before. This year I started reading horror stories from mid-August. It is something I do since I am a child, as thinking of Halloween helped me coping with the end of holidays and the grey days of school. It is a shame Halloween this year will happen on a Wednesday, in the middle of the week, when I am at my most tired and when I usually go to bed early. In many ways, I celebrate Halloween more in the days before than on the night of the 31st. I guess it comes from being an adult. I don't do trick or treat, but I do enjoy it differently, in a more mature way I guess. Anyway, this is a good reason as any to upload a Jack O'Lantern picture. This is the one I made in 2010.

Question existentielle (156)

Mon lectorat de longue date doit savoir que je suis fasciné par la légende de Faust, je pose donc cette question existentielle:

-Contre quoi vendriez-vous votre âme au diable?

Childhood nightmares

So this is tonight's countdown to Halloween post. The picture uploaded is of course taken from this book. A simple pictures, but so sinister. Jack O'Lantern, or someone with a Jack O'Lantern/carved pumpkin as a head (or a mask) offering a gift to a chubby child. But look at what is hiding in Jack's pocket. This picture triggers childhood fears.

I don't remember many childhood nightmares, but those I do are still vivid in my head. My earliest one was of an army of monsters, or at least a pack. There was a humanoid green scales monster, half lizard half ape, with sharp canins and red eyes, the leader of the band, and his wolf-like second in command (as big as a bull, black fur, really scary). They were looking for me in the house, I was trying to hide, sometimes they just turned their gaze towards me, and just kept it there, showing me they knew exactly where I was hiding. I also remember dreaming of a witch who morphed into a friendly creature (a fairy or a princess), so she could kiss children and turn them into toads. They had to receive the kiss willingly. I had a few other nightmares with witches. I also dreamt of running away from another army of living dead/monsters that had taken over a village. Older, I dreamt of Dracula after reading the novel. Another little anecdote which I mentioned before, very interesting: my brother PJ once dreamt of a bogeyman, but the nightmare was so good that we discussed it at lenght all day, he draw the monster, a mix of Count Orlock and a serpent man if my memory serves me well, and we hoped he would dream the sequel the next night. Sadly it didn't happen. And you, what are/were yours?

Halloween à l'école primaire (souvenir)

Photo de la citrouille creusée en Halloween en 2010. Il m'est venu en tête un souvenir scolaire un souvenir scolaire datant de ma deuxième année, un souvenir qui me hante: on avait trois citrouilles dans la classe, le gros luxe. Les citrouilles étaient la propriété de trois équipes, on leur avait inventé des curriculum vitaes et des noms. On avait voté pour les noms. Je ne me rappelle pas exactement, mais comme citrouille est un nom féminin en français et comme les filles étaient majoritaires, les citrouilles avaient été baptisées des trucs comme Fleurette, Jeannette, Charlotte, Poufiasse (heu, non, pas Poufiasse, ça c'est moi qui a l'esprit cruel et mal tourné). Enfin bref, des noms dégeulasses et mignons. Quand l'Halloween était toute proche on en avait fait... de la confiture. Pas des Jack O's, de la confiture. Je me rappelle avoir trouvé ça moyen comme goût, bien que maintenant j'en mangerais rien que par nostalgie. Pour la petite histoire, on avait coupé les citrouilles nous mêmes en petits morceaux, avec des couteaux. Ce qui avait entraîné bien des coupures et des doigts ensanglantés. On vivait dangereusement à l'époque.

A pumpkin

This is this Sunday's countdown to Halloween post. I was not sure what to blog about exactly. I have been struggling with a horror story that is not really coming up, to my great disappointment. I have been wanting to write something like my take on the Jack O'Lantern legend (see here and here), but you might have to wait next year. I decided to go the easy way and simply upload the picture of a pumpkin, one that would make a perfect Jack O'Lantern. This is a pumpkin from one of uncle's garden (on my dad's side). It was taken by my cousin. I mentioned her in a French post yesterday, where I uploaded on Vraie Fiction another of her pictures. She had shown them on Facebook in an autumn album. My cousin is lime me, I think, very much into autumn. And this picture is so beautifully autumnal I had to upload it here. I also wanted to show how talented she is.

La gentrification de Chicoutimi

À titre de préambule, on n'a pas encore répondu à ma question existentielle numéro 155. Je plogue la question pour une autre raison: je pensais à Chicoutimi quand je l'ai posée. J'ai cessé d'y vivre depuis 1999, et encore j'y vivais alors durant les vacances, puis j'y suis retourné pour des périodes sporadiques (sans compter les vacances, s'entend) entre 2001 et 2003. Depuis, j'y retourne en expatrié Et une chose me frappe: la ville s'est gentrifiée. Bien sûr, on peut encore manger gras et Chez Georges est encore populaire (ce ne serait plus Chicoutimi sans LE steak house), mais on y retrouve en plus des endroits urbains et branchés comme Café Cambio, lequel pourrait très bien se situer sur le Plateau Mont-Royal, disons. Lorsque je retourne à Chicoutimi, ça m'étonne toujours un peu, la présence de boutiques bio, de sushi bars, etc. Bon, il y a encore cette horreur de Pacini et d'autres endroits d'un quétaine absolu. Et un maire préhistorique, il va sans dire. Mais la ville s'est gentrifiée. Suis-je le seul à l'avoir remarqué? Ce n'est pas un mal, cela dit ça fait de l'expatrié que je suis un peu un étranger aussi.

A Jack O'Lantern tale

This is my second countdown to Halloween post today. The first one you can read here. This picture I took from this book and drawn by this great artist. Jack looks like Sisyphus on this image, which I think is fitting. The Jack before he gained the latern, I always picture him like this old man, with the lantern chained to him, as punishment. I was looking for another retelling of the legend to post/upload here in Vraie Fiction. I have written my own take on the tale, which you can read here (for part 1) and here (for part 2). I am proud of these posts, of this story I wrote. I am trying to write a Halloween story this year, but I find it quite difficult this time. I hope I can produce something readable until Halloween. Anyway, until Halloween, and as the night is getting closer and closer, I thought I would upload another story of Jack O'Lantern, which I found on YouTube. It was taken from Spooky Maryland. I did not read it and I am not even sure the video is the complete story. But I love the atmosphere. And we need more Jack O'Lantern stories: the soul has been roaming this earth for centuries, after all. In any case, here it is. Tell me if you enjoy it or not.

Une feuille d'automne

L'une de mes cousines (du côté de mon père, la fille d'un de ses frères) est une mordue de la photographie. Photographe amatrice, peut-être même un peu professionnelle. Je dis ça parce qu'elle fait des trucs vraiment impressionnants. Elle est en tout cas très talentueuse. Je ne dis pas ça simplement par fierté familiale. Elle télécharge souvent des photos sur Facebook. Récemment, elle a fait un album automnal qui m'a coupé le souffle (rien de moins). J'ai donc décidé, avec sa permission bien entendu, d'en publier certaines sur Vraie Fiction. C'est un peu pour ploguer le talent familiar, mais c'est surtout pour les partager avec mon lectorat. Je commence par celle-ci, peut-être ma préférée. Une simple feuille en automne.

Evil in the fog

Here is a quick post for my countdown to Halloween, unfortunately I do not have a picture to accompany it. I woke up this morning and it was foggy outside, or at least misty. It disappeared quickly, so I did not have time to take a picture, or I did not take the time. I was too busy awing at the fog.

People know what is the link here with Halloween: the fog is the elements in which many monsters and evil creatures dwell, and is an important part of many horror stories. Ghost appear in the fog, they are themselves etheral and fog like, will-o'-the-wisps lead travellers to their doom in foggy swamps, vampires can become mists themselves. The movie The Fog makes it even a malevolent creature in itself. I enjoyed that one, by the way. It is not nearly as good as Halloween (the plot often gets messy), but I thought it mixed fairly well elements of a classic ghost story with slashers. And it had lots of fog and the atmosphere that comes with it. So today I was looking at the fog and thinking about all the evil that could dwell in it.

Question existentielle (155)

C'est une question existentielle d'une importance capitale, quand on y pense:

-La gentrification d'une ville, d'un village ou d'un quartier est-elle une bonne ou une mauvaise chose?

Musing on ghosts

I bought this decoration at the local sweet shop, which is not closed yet as it was supposed to. It is, however, on sale. They current owners advertised it as "a profitable business", so it might survive. This is the foreword, my post is not about the sweet shop. It is of course part of the countdown to Halloween and this ghost is perfect to accompany the post. I love his crooked teethed smile and the spiders covering his shroud (or his ectoplasm?).

I thought about ghosts recently and their place in the horror folklore and literature. I am in no way expert, but I do have some knowledge and years of studies of literature did give me some analytical skills. So about ghosts... The ghost above might not be as friendly as Casper, he still does not look very scary. At best he looks mischievous. Ghosts are not always hostile to mankind, but most are terrifying, or at least try to be. They predate the horror genre in folklore and mythology, even in tragedy they are plot devices and deus ex machina. In a time of rationalism, when even horror movies often picture psychopaths and monsters from space more often than they do supernatural beings, they still survive: alien abduction might be the modern superstition, but there are still people who believe in ghosts and even think they saw one. I don't believe in ghosts (or in alien abductions), but I do understand the appeal of ghosts: if they existed, they may not prove that souls (or God) do, but they would sure give some kind of credentials to a hypothetical life after death. I think even in the scariest, nastiest ghost story, there is an element of wish-fulfilment.

Horror stories were originally called "ghost stories", whether they had ghosts in them or not. As antagonists, ghosts pose a problem to the writer (and the reader who wants to be scared): in essence, they are exactly this, essence, they are a presence, but are immaterial, thus they do not in theory present a physical threat. They can be repulsively ugly, terrifying, they can scream, have sepulchral voices, skulls instead of heads, they still do not represent a physical threat, for all their malevolence. Of course, this is not quite true: their mere presence can lead one to madness, even suicide. Often they can hypnotise or subjugate human beings and push them to their death. And they can be, at least partially, material. Poltergeists obviously can influence their physical surroundings. Someone like me who read plenty of ghost stories know that many ghosts can take material guises, inhabit statues, the bodies they had in their human life, can take the form of an animal, haunt a tree and so on and so forth. In a way, they are maybe the most inspiring monsters of the horror genre, because they come in all shapes and forms. And I will finish this post with a quote from Robert Aickmam, which I found in The Oxford Book of English Ghost Stories: "The ghost (...) reminds us that death is the one thing certain and the thing most uncertain; the bourn from which no traveller returns, except this one."

Blogues et inspiration(s)

Je me demandais sur quoi bloguer ce soir pour mon billet en français. Et puis j'ai vu que Cynthia de Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer avait blogué aujourd'hui un billet partiellement inspiré de mon obsession sur l'Halloween. Je suis heureux de voir qu'à défaut d'avoir beaucoup d'inspiration parfois, je peux inspirer certains blogueurs, du moins indirectement. Et je vous signale par ailleurs que mon appel à tous à propos de l'oeuvre du diable n'a jusqu'ici qu'été entendu par Loulou. Sinon, mon obsession sur l'Halloween fait des merveilles à Vraie Fiction: j'ai de plus en plus de lecteurs (mes suivants sont maintenant au nombre de 47), de plus en plus de commentaires et j'ai à peine le temps d'y répondre.

Fiendish Fancies (Halloween treats)

This is another quick countdown to Halloween post. It is a trivial one too, I suppose, although it might say something about me and about us, Halloween aficionados. I discovered French Fancy cakes in England, back in my first year here. When I was doing my Master degree, we often had tea before a specialist came to a seminar and there was always biscuits and French Fancies. I have never been a big fan, of this or indeed any of My Kipling's products, but I enjoyed them all right. I have no idea why it is called a French Fancy.

Anyway, during Halloween, they are rechristened Fiendish Fancies, which is a bit silly, but there you go. If you don't know it yet, I have a sweet tooth. I mean I get ravenous for sugar sometimes. My love for Halloween is based on many things, one of them being the scary nature of it, another being the gluttonous aspect of it, in our modern age expressed by the trick or treat ritual. As an adult, I don't go trick or treating, but instead I buy desserts and sweets that are Halloween related. So, while I never buy French Fancies usually, I shamelessly bought Fiendish Fancies on a whim, the moment I saw them in a shop. I think I am a sucker. I took a picture of the box, which is quite cool, and worth a purchase in itself. You cannot see the cakes well, but you can see the sugar content on the bottom left. As I mentioned, I have a sweet tooth.

Les Catacombes du Cégep de Chicoutimi

Je me demandais sur quoi bloguer ce soir, alors j'ai relu des vieux billets. Je suis tombé sur celui-ci. Un commentaire de PJ m'a rappelé le restaurant (en fait une petite cafétéria) des "catacombes" du Cégep de Chicoutimi, où nous allions manger après/entre nos cours de musique. Enfant, je mangeais une "salade du chef", donc une salade faite de laitue iceberg avec une tomate, que j'accompagnais d'une Orangina, ne me demandez pas pourquoi. Parfois je me tapais autre chose, genre un pâté à la viande accompagné de frites et de coleslaw. Une décennie plus tard, quand j'y retournais (parfois) alors que j'étudiais au même cégep, j'y mangeais aussi. Ils avaient encore les mêmes employés.

Je me demande bien comment les catacombes ont reçu leur nom de catacombes. Je crois que ça date de l'ancien Séminaire, qui est devenu l'Aile F. Avec un nom comme ça, il faut que ça ait été baptisé par des prêtres en manque de décorum. Dans le fond, ce n'était qu'un sous-sol. Pas très grand, pas vraiment un sous-sol non plus: il était au niveau du sol. Je les trouvais bien sympathiques, les catacombes, sombres et un brin sinistres justement. Outre les traverser pour me rendre à mon casier, à un cours ou au restaurant, j'y ai joué dans deux tournages, l'un dans un projet dans nos cours de cinéma (une parodie de documentaire où j'ai improvisé mes lignes), l'autre dans un projet indépendant de cégépiens trop ambitieux, un film de science-fiction/supernaturel où les catacombes étaient supposées être les quartiers généraux d'une secte de sorciers. Le film na jamais été terminé... Je me demande pourquoi.

A Halloween memory

This is a quick countdown to Halloween post. I need no picture this time, I am sharing a memory, please feel free to share yours on the comments, or on your own blog(s). So yes, I was re-reading old posts of mine, including one where I asked my francophone readers what are her most vivid memories of Halloween. My brother PJ mentioned a snowy Halloween night when he fell on his back, his second snowy Halloween. "I don't remember my first, but I remember this one was not my first." I think this line is good enough to be homologued as a great unknown line. I do not remember the fall, but I do remember the snow. I was 11 at that time, it had been a cold October and it ended up looking more like winter than autumn. We did trick or treat in a few inches of snow. White Halloween nights are rare, but they are striking. This one was the coldest, snowiest I remember. I do prefer it without snow, but I still love my Halloween cold, therefore I prefer it a snowy Halloween to one that is too mild. So what are your Halloween memories?

Bienvenue chez moi (photo du mois)

Nous y revoilà, c'est encore une fois le moment de la photo du mois. Pour une fois, elle a été facile à trouver. Je n'ai pas choisi une photo de l'appart, parce qu'il est un peu bordélique et que, bien que charmant, il n'a rien de particulièrement extraordinaire pour une photo (enfin, rien qui n'ait été déjà montré sur Vraie Fiction). Alors il m'est venu à l'idée de photographier l'entrée du pub près de la gare. le pub, cette entrée en particulier, fait face au bout du monde (la photo du mois de novembre 2011). Ceci pour vous donner une idée de la géographie. Je publie cette photo pour quelques raisons très importantes: 1)il n'y a rien de plus accueillant qu'on pub anglais accueillant. Rien de plus accueillant qu'une pinte de bière anglaise. C'est le premier endroit à visiter dans une ville, c'est la première chose à boire. 2)Ce pub, c'est la première chose que j'aie vu de la ville, lorsque j'y suis arrivé pour la première fois afin de suivre une entrevue. C'est là également que j'ai eu mon premier repas lorsque je suis arrivé ici un dimanche soir, la veille de mon premier jour au travail. J'ai passé presqu'un mois dans des bed & breakfasts, un vrai calvaire. Mais au moins il y avait de pub pour remonter le moral. J'ai souvent eu besoin de pintes pour passer au travers. Et finalement 3)c'est en général là que les visiteurs ont leur premier verre.

Vous pouvez voir l'hospitalité des autres participants aux liens suivants:

100driiine, A&G, Agrippine, Akaieric, Alban, Alexanne, Alexinparis, Alice Wonderland, André(eric)Fernandes, Anita, Anne, Anne Laure T, AnneSoPhotos, Annick, Arwen, Ava, Batilou, Berliniquais, Bestofava, Blogoth67, Cara, Carnets d'images, Caro, Cathy, Cekoline, Céliano, Céline in Paris, Cessna, oui !, Champagne, Cherrybee, Chris et Nanou, Christeav, Clara, Coco, Cocosophie, Cricriyom from Paris, Cynthia, Dame Skarlette, David et Mélanie, DelphineF, Djoul, Dorydee, Dr CaSo, Dreamteam, E, El Padawan, Emma, Escapade en Tunisie, Fanfan Raccoon, Filamots, Flo, François le Niçois, Frédéric, Galinette, Gilsoub, Gizeh, Guillaume, Happy Us, Hibiscus, Isabelle et Gilles,Isaquarel, J'adore j'adhère, Jean Wilmotte, Karrijini, Kob, Krn, Kyoko, La Fille de l'Air, La Flaneuse, La Messine, La Nantaise, La Papote, La Parigina, LaFamilleD , LaGodiche, Laure, Laurent Nicolas, Lauriane, Lavandine, Le Mag à lire, Les petits supplices !, Les voyages de Lucy, Les voyages de Seth et Lise, Les zinzins, Leviacarmina, Lhise, Lisa adore, Lo, Louiki, Lucile et Rod, Lyonelk, M, magda627, Maïder, Mamysoren, Manola, Marion ENLEVER L’ESPACE AVANT LE ORG MERCI , Marmotte, Melting Pot, Mgie les bons tuyaux, N, Narayan, Nataru, Nathalie, Nicky, Nora, Olivier, Ori, Pat Québec, Petite Marie, Pilisi, Renepaulhenry, Sébastien, Sephiraph, Sinuaisons, Skipi, Solveig, Sophie Rififi, Stephane08, Tambour Major, Testinaute, The Mouse, The Parisienne, Titem, Un jour une rencontre, Une niçoise, Vanilla, Vickie in the sky, Violette, Viviane, Xavier Mohr, Xoliv'.

Vous désirez participer à La Photo du Mois ? Rien de plus simple : connectez-vous sur Facebook et rejoignez-nous. Une question ? Contactez Olivier. 

Scholomance

Here is another Countdown to Halloween post, which I hope vampire and Dracula aficionados will enjoy. This picture was taken from Dracula's Castle. It represents the gate of, well, Dracula's castle. I uploaded it because: 1)I am going to talk about a part of the count's past that is little dwell upon and 2)it could be the gate of another sinister building, say Scholomance.

Scholomance is a mythical place in Romanian folklore where the Devil himself was supposed to teach pupils witchcraft. It is also, in the novel Dracula, a school the eponymous count attended. This is what Van Helsing says about it: "The Draculas were, says Arminius, a great and noble race, though now and again were scions who were held by their coevals to have had dealings with the Evil One. They learned his secrets in the Scholomance, amongst the mountains over Lake Hermanstadt, where the devil claims the tenth scholar as his due." It is implied here, I think (you can tell me if you disagree and why), that Dracula was transformed into a vampire there, not by the usual way (being bitten by one), but through the action of Satan, and of his own free will. Which makes him even more sinister.

Since I first read the novel, I have been fascinated by Scholomance. I often wondered how it must have been for Dracula, what and how he studied, and what exactly went on his transformation from an evil man to a nosferatu. Bram Stoker knew probably just as little about the folklore surrounding Scholomance as he knew about the historical Dracula (read more about this here). So this aspect could be developed by writers of fiction. I wonder why so many followers wrote sequels (so often poor ones) of the original novel, instead of making prequels, telling the story of Dracula before Jonathan Harker met him. I think I might give it a try here, on Vraie Fiction, a bit like I did for the story of Jack O'Lantern (Read it here: part 1 and part 2). That could be quite fun.

Une observation sur les pommes

Petit billet trivial du dimanche soir, la photo est celle d'une récolte du pommier familial. J'aime bien les pommes, mais comme dessert, la tarte aux pommes me laisse froid. Même si c'est LE fruit automnal, même si la tarte aux pommes est censé être LE dessert du petit bonheur simple, celui que la mère et la grand-mère fait si bien, etc. Ben pour moi, non, c'est toujours mon dernier choix. J'aime bien d'autres desserts aux pommes (les croustades aux pommes, ici appelés apple crumbles, les strudels aux pommes, les whatever aux pommes), mais la tarte aux pommes que les Américains considèrent comme une valeur patriotique, elle me laisse tiède. Cela dit, j'ai récemment mangé de la tarte aux pommes et aux mûres de Mark & Spencer. Et comme ça, c'est non seulement mangeable, mais c'est délicieux.

The Ash Tree (by M.R. James)

Fancy a chill before going to bed? I promised that I would upload a horror film for the Halloween countdown. Here it is. My readers know that I admire the work of M.R. James. I found on YouTube the BBC adaptation of The Ash Tree. Not as good as the original (which you can read here), but still. It is the story of the ghost of a witch, grosso modo. be warned: it is a very slow, subtle, subdued, "corner of the eyes" type of horror. I still find it very effective. Tell me what you think of it anyway.

Question existentielle (154)

C'est une question que je me pose parfois, avec une certaine angoisse, à laquelle je n'ai pas de réponse pour le moment, et j'aimerais bien en avoir une. Au Saguenay, nous avons un certain maire, catholique fondamentaliste, bigot, ingnare, dangereusement stupide, pourtant élu et réélu avec des majorités soviétiques. Les gens l'appuient dans ses croisades ridicules pour la prière à l'hôtel de ville. Je me pose donc cette question:

-Est-ce que le Saguenay-Lac-Saint-Jean n'est pas une Bible Belt du nord?

The Arsenal against the Forces of Darkness

This is a new post for my Halloween countdown. I recently asked to my francophone readers what arsenal they would have in a horror movie/story, or if they were living in a world with monsters and supernatural, to fight them (and win). I gave it a good thought and I have decided to write my own list, based on years of reading and watching horror stories and my knowledge of folklore. Here it is:

-The usual weapons against vampires: crucifix, holy water (albeit we do not see holy water in the classic written fiction I read), holy wafers, wild roses, garlic (plenty of it, including garlic flowers AND in the diet), stakes (well of course) and so on. A lot of the holy objects might be useful against other creatures than vampires. And human servants, especially servants of vampires obviously, might be repelled by the garlic breath. The weaponry against vampires is really versatile, come to think of it.

-Silver weapons against werewolves. As I have never used firearms I would not have a gun with silver bullets, that could kill innocent people by accident, beside the bullets get lost. So I would get myself a sharp object, like a knife in silver, and a blunt instrument with silver, like that silver headed cane in The Wolf Man. My take on the cane: a knobkerrie-type stick with a pointy silver tip and a silver head.

-PJ thinks one would need a sword sharp enough to decapitate. It is a a good idea, and it can work against many types of monsters. I would probably go for a large knife though, somewhat easier to conceal and to handle than a sword. Easier to find too.

-Salt. It is supposed to be good against witches, against zombies too.

-My own idea: a rowan tree branch and/or product made from rowan tree (a puree from the fruits and leafs?). Rowan trees are supposed to be good protection against witches, among other things.

-A flask of whiskey or other strong alcohol. In moderation, it is good against the nerves. It can also be used as an inflammable substance.

So that's it really. What would be your arsenal?

L'oeuvre du diable

Vous vous rappelez sans doute qu'au tout début du mois, afin de souligner l'Halloween qui s'en vient, j'invitais mes les lecteurs à publier des photos ou des images représentant "l'oeuvre du diable", selon l'expression de Villiers de l'Isle-Adam. Des images ou des photos, donc, capables d'instiller la terreur, ou du moins la peur. Je comptais bien prêcher par l'exemple. Cette photo a été prise l'année dernière dans un bois pas très loin d'ici. Enfin, je dis "pas très loin", mais il faut quand même s'y rendre en voiture. Voyez-vous le cheval au loin? C'est en fait un poney ou un cheval de ferme, pas très grand en tout cas, mais trapu, et noir. Dans la pénombre de ce crépuscule d'automne, en plein mois d'octobre, avec les feuilles mortes et les arbres dont les corps spectraux se fondent avec les aux ombres, le tableau a quelque chose de terrifiant. C'est bien je crois l'oeuvre du diable.

Witching hour

I gave this title to my post, yet it is not technically about the witching hour I am blogging about. I just liked to use the title. I was not sure what to blog about for my Halloween countdown tonight. I was considering uploading a horror movie from YouTube, but YouTube has been quite temperamental tonight. So instead I decided to upload another picture taken from this book. A simple but very chilling image, showing three witches taking something from a hangman. I will not say what., but if you read about the folklore surrounding them you will find out.

Of all the supernatural creatures, I blog very little about witches. I wanted to write one post about it, about a specific horror story about witches (you'll see which one soon). This evening, I was waiting for the train, it was cold, the sun was setting, there was a strange smell of smoke and fire. It was so atmospheric. And it made me think about this picture, of the crooked tree and the ravens/crows, the hangman, the three witches doing some evil business. I hope it gives you a pleasant chill.

Conseil superstitieux de la fin de semaine

Un billet léger pour la fin de semaine qui s'en vient et pour se mettre dans l'esprit de l'Halloween. C'est une superstition que j'ai apprise dans Halloween: Sorcières, lutins, fantômes et autres croquemitaines.Il est très simple: ne passez pas le balai après la tombée du jour, cela a l'habitude d'énerver les fantômes qui vivent près de chez vous, ce qui les met en colère, ce qui par ricochet les poussera à vous tourmenter. J'imagine que cela compte pour passer l'aspirateur. En fait, ça doit être pire avec l'aspirateur, c'est mille fois plus bruyant et ça déplace encore plus la poussière. Et ça doit mettre le fantôme encore plus en rogne s'il est pris dedans façon Ghostbuster. Alors voilà, comme le soir tombe vite en automne, profitez de la fin de semaine pour ne pas passer l'aspirateur. En fait, laissez votre demeure à l'abandon, surtout si elle a de l'âge.

The Detective Tales cover for October

Like I do every month, I upload tonight a cover from Detective Tales magazine and comment on the pulp cover. But this October marks a difference in this blog's tradition: it is the very first time that I upload one on Vraie Fiction in October. As this month is all about Halloween, my mind is mainly on horror stories, not on crime fiction. So I wanted, like I did this September, to have a cover that could also belong to a horror story and which I could include in my Halloween countdown. I rarely mix genres, but I think this time it is required. So decided to upload the cover from October 1948, showing a blonde damsel in distress answering the door to some sinister fellow, taking off his mask and revealing himself as a sort of Monster of Frankenstein lookalike. I don't think it is merely a hoodlum, he must be a living dead of some sort, with a face grey like this. I wouldn't be surprised if the story has elements of supernatural. I don't envy the blonde. This seems to be one nasty tenant.

Question existentielle (153)

Une qui m'est venue en commentant mon propre billet. La voici et avouez qu'elle est profonde:

-Peut-on cueillir une citrouille?

The Erlking

My brother PJ (it's his birthday today, by the way) made me discover years ago Der Erlkönig, a poem by Goethe based on the Erlking legend/character. Which was adapted into a Lied by Schubert. It is a terrifying poem, which story is actually a perfect supernatural story, with unheimlich, where you do not know whether the supernatural evil exists or if it can be rationalised. PJ recently showed me an animated version  of the poem/Lied made by Ben Zelkowicz. I have decided to upload this short movie on Vraie Fiction for this year's Halloween countdown. There will be more songs and videos in the upcoming month. You can find a translation here, but you do not need to know German to appreciate the music or the story, especially with such nightmarish images.I wish I knew enough German and was a skilled enough baritone to sing this.

Bonne fête PJ

C'est la fête de mon petit frère aujourd'hui. Je ne sais pas trop comment le souligner proprement, j'ai déjà téléchargé une chanson de Brassens par le passé, j'ai aussi téléchargé un peu de Pérusse. Alors voilà, je ne sais pas trop. Si vous trouvez que je me répète, c'est parce que je me répète: lire mon billet de l'année dernière. Je me demandais si je ne fêterais pas avec lui cette année. Ce n'est évidemment pas le cas. Ce qui est dommage quand on grandit, c'est qu'on fête moins les anniversaires en famille, on est tous éparpillés aux quatre vents. Pour moi, c'est littéral.

A Halloween book

I am plugging another book, this time a book I read, over and over again. It is a French book which I am not certain if it has been translated in English, so it might seem silly that I am plugging it in one of my English posts. But it is a book that every Halloween aficionado should have, if only because of the lush, beautiful images of Jean-Baptiste Monge . Patrick Jézéquel is the author. The full name of the book is Halloween: Sorcières, Lutins, Fantômes et autres Croquemitaines. Translate, it is Halloween: witches, imps, ghosts and other bogeymen. It is mainly about Halloween, its traditions, its creatures and of course its Celtic origins. You find the story of Jack O'Lantern (and Jack is on many pages, in various forms), a lot of Celtic folklore, many, many legends and tales of Brittany, but also from other places. It also talks about other holidays, including Christmas, showing its darker side.

And there are the images. Gorgeous, rich, unapologetically violent and sinister: ogres holding butcher's knifes, Jack running after a chubby child wielding a hatchet, an old witch handing a suspicious apple to two children, a lake monster holding close a crying toddler, about to submerge him in the water, imps surrounding a blond , playing various instruments and keeping her awake, while she clutches her teddy rabbit... Evil can be merely mischievous, more scary than dangerous, a nuisance, it can also be murderous. I love this book because the images illustrate our childhood fears, it gives them true colours and shapes, it makes them beautiful.

Octobre s'enflamme

J'utilise un titre poétique pour un billet qui n'est en fait qu'un autre billet saisonnier et une excuse un peu gratuite pour publier une autre photo automnale, prise encore une fois (je crois) à l'Anse-Saint-Jean. Alors voilà: les couleurs sont vraiment présentes ici, l'automne est bien entamé. Ce ne sont pas seulement les couleurs de l'automne qui donne à octobre 2012 cette année une allure si typiquement automnale, d'autres aspects sont là également: l'odeur froide et humide (certains disent qu'il va neiger dans quelques jours), et l'odeur de fumée aussi.  L'odeur de fumée ne manque jamais de m'intriguer. Pourquoi est-ce que je sens toujours de la fumée ici durant la journée? Qui allume des feux dehors et pourquoi? Ou est-ce une illusion olfactive?

I cracked this code

This may not seem like a countdown to Halloween post, but it actually is. For the record, I also purchased the pumpkin, as I mentioned on my previous French post. But this post is about something else.

As my readers know, I possess an antique gamebook, Dracula's Castle. Which I read and re-read. For more information about the book, please read this post. For more info about my personal story with the book, you can also read this post. Anyway, it would not be a gamebook without secret passages (it has plenty) and riddles to solve. This one took me about five minutes. It was great fun, and quite easy to crack once you figure out how it works. Have a go at it. And just to help you: in this part where you see this coded message, you play the Count Dracula.

J'ai la citrouille

Court billet, je l'annonce brièvement: j'ai la citrouille! Je l'ai achetée hier. J'ai passé de longues minutes sous le regard amusé d'une employée de Sainsbury's à soupeser et inspecter les citrouilles. J'ai déjà publié une photo sur Facebook qui a fait sensation. Cela dit, je crois qu'elle est un peu trop petite. Si j'en trouve une plus imposante d'ici à l'Halloween, je l'achète. Parce qu'il y a pas à dire, mais en Angleterre, ils ne vendent pas des citrouilles aussi impressionnantes qu'au Québec. Et je termine ce billet sur cette note chauvine.

The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories

I am plugging another anthology of horror stories which I have not completely read: The Penguin Book of Ghost Stories. I had mentioned it before, two years ago to be precise, when I had borrowed it from the library. So far my favourite anthology of ghost stories is The Oxford Book of Ghost Stories, but this might change when I read this one back to back. I found the stories I read interesting and scary enough to purchase it. And there is already a Penguin anthology of horror stories which I absolutely love. Of course buying anthologies like this means that I find in them stories I found in others (Oh Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad, for instance), but I find enough unread text to make it worth a purchase. And knowing I already read some stories means I am getting closer to maybe not a specialist, but a connoisseur. In any case, I know from reading it that there are enough good stories in there, so I can safely recommend it. Be warned however that some Victorian stories have a very Christmas feel (as ghost stories were written for Christmas). And one last thing: look at the cover! I mean look at it. One cannot judge a book by its cover, of course, but this is a great cover all the same.