Bram Stoker for Halloween

For tonight's countdown to Halloween reading suggestion, this book, a small collection of short stories by Bram Stoker. Not for The Burial of the Rats of the title, which is maybe not purely a horror story (although since I'm scared of rats, it's pretty much one for me), but for the other ones: The Squaw, The Judge's House, Dracula's Guest (well of course) and Gibbet Hill. The latter being the recently rediscovered ghost story and worth the purchase in itself. It's a genuinely scary ghost story, with creepy, cruel children and snakes, fittingly set in mid-October. I will blog more about it later in the month, but otherwise, the other stories, particularly The Judge's House and Dracula's Guest, are really great Halloween reads. You get the ghost of a hanging judge, more rats, a vengeful cat, weird cults, creepy children, an iron maiden and, well of course, vampires. My happy discovery this year, even though I read them all same one. And you can't go wrong with Stoker.

NIMH (a childhood classic)

 Oh the treasures you find in charity shops! This is what I found last time I went to one: the novel which inspired The Secret of NIMH, a chilchood classic which fascinated me when I was a kid. It was surprisingly dark for a children movie. I first watched it in English, when I could not understand a word of it, but the imagery and the aesthetic kept me interested. Then I saw it dubbed in French a couple of times. I haven't watched it in years. I understand the source material considerably differs from its adaptation. The name Brisby was switched to Frisby, for instance. I'm not certain to read it with Wolfie, as I fear it might be a tad dark for his taste. But I'm looking forward to it all the same.

Le Docte Rat

J'ai blogué le mois dernier sur sa version jeunesse, voici maintenant la version... moins jeune(?) de ce jeu de société que mes frères et moi aimions beaucoup. Je parle bien entendu du Docte Rat, jeu d'érudition fait au Québec. Nous n'y avons joué qu'une fois si je me rappelle, j'ai gagné, parce que je suis dur à battre dans les jeux d'érudition. Je rejouerais encore si on peut retrouver leDocte Rat quelque part. Ayant maintenant un doctorat, un vrai de vrai, j'imagine que je suis un docte rat.

L'Apprenti Docte Rat

Quelqu'un parmi vous se rappelle du Docte Rat? C'était un jeu de société qui testait nos connaissances. Je n'y ai joué qu'une fois (j'ai d'ailleurs gagné). Cela dit,je veux vous parler de sa version pour enfants, qui s'appelait L'Apprenti Docte Rat. Nous l'avions reçu à Noël, mes frères et moi, et nous adorions. je gagnais la plupart du temps. C'était un jeu d'érudition amusant, mais aux questions devenues vite beaucoup trop faciles. Cela dit, on ne se lassait pas de l'humour bon enfant plein de calembours pas toujours atroces. Je me rappelle que le gagnant pouvait porter un macaron. Je ne sais pas si mes parents l'ont encore. Je suis trop vieux pour y jouer, mais ce serait amusant d'y jeter un coup d'oeil.

RIP Magawa, le rat détecteur de mines

J'ai lu une nouvelle insolite et assez intéressante, de même qu'un peu tristeet touchante: Magawa, le rat détecteur de mines du Cabodge, est mort récemment. J'ajouterais: de sa belle mort,pastué par une mine. Il aura aidé au nettoyage de 225 000 mètres carrés de terre, soit l'équivalent de 42 terrains de football. On peut dire qu'il aura fait oeuvre utile. Je déteste les rats, ayant une peur phobique de l'animal. Mais celui-là, j'ai décidé que je l'aimais bien. Si tousles rats étaient comme lui, j'aimerais l'espèce au grand complet.

Rivière aux Rats

Photo prise par mon frère Andrew. C'est la rivière aux Rats, un nom horrible pour un petit cours d'eau sommes toutes plutôt joli qui se trouve à Chicoutimi. Je n'y ai par ailleurs jamais vu de rats, enfin pas dans mes souvenirs.

Of mice and cats

I took this picture in the Natural History Museum and I am uploading it here as it suits my topic. It was a display representingsomething like the relation between animals and men in the food chain. A stuffed cat and stuffed rats, in what was meant to be a basement or an attic, full of bags of grain. The rats eat the grain gathered by men, the cat eats the rats, thus serving men, etc. I blogged about it here. This weekend, Domino created quite a commotion by bringing a mouse home. It was not the first time he did such a thing, but this time the mouse was alive. Our cat had decided to have a play with it in the living room. Long story short, I managed to move Domi away and save the mouse. But it really freaked me out, as I hate rodents. So whatever I said then about how great cats are for getting rid of vermin, I don't have this opinion anymore, unless they have the courtesy to kill their prey.

Domino le chasseur

Domino a décidé de chasser son déjeuner ce matin. Il s'est pointé devant la chatière vers 11 heures avec un rongeur dans la gueule. C'était une souris, peut-être un petit rat. J'ai pu barrer la chatière juste à temps. Il a donc pris son déjeuner dehors, en bon chat sophistiqué qu'il est. Non, mais c'est drôle de le raconter comme ça, mais notre chat est un chasseur méthodique et sans merci, diablement efficace, alors je me méfie toujours lorsque je le vois. Ce n'est pas la première fois qu'il tente de faire rentrer les rongeurs qu'il tue (quand ce ne sont pas des oiseaux) et il l'ai fait avec succès à quelques reprises déjà. Cette fois-ci au moins, je n'ai eu qu'à nettoyer les viscères du jardin. C'était dégueulasse, mais moins pire que de ramasser un cadavre de souris dans la maison, avec un chat qui te regarde comme si tu gaspilles de la nourriture.

Pierre tombale

Mon père a pris ça l'année dernière à Québec, une décoration pour l'Halloween qui a le sens de l'humour. Je sais, je sais, sa carrière risque de rebondir, me suis-je laissé dire. Qu'à cela ne tienne: ça vaut la peine de la partager. Vous noterez les rats au pied de la pierre tombale. C'est ce qui me fait le plus peur.

Rat d'hôtel (mot du jour)

Ça fait un moment que je n'ai pas présenté un mot du jour sur Vraie Fiction. Celui-ci vient de mes vieilles lectures d'histoires policières et est fort joli, même s'il parle d'une profession regrettable: rat d'hôtel. C'est un cambrioleur dont la spécialité est de s'introduire dans les hôtels pour dévaliser les voyageurs.

Loutres affamées

Je regardais mes photos du Devon hier, surtout celles du sanctuaire de loutres et un détail m'a rappelé l'une des raisons pour lesquelles j'aime les loutres: leur alimentation. Beaucoup sont friandes de poisson, tout comme moi. Celle sur la photo de droite se nourrissait je crois de truite. C'est une loutre qui a des goûts sophistiqués.

Et puis même les goûts plus douteux de certaines ne gâchent pas mon amour pour elles: celle-ci, par exemple, mangeait une boulette de viande faite de rats et autres petits
rongeurs. Je déteste les rats, les mulots et les autres petits rongeurs. Cela dit, ça veut dire que la loutre, prédatrice, permet de contrôler les populations desdits rongeurs. À défaut de partager son repas, je l'encouragerai à se goinfrer.

Of cats and trains

Recently, the Facebook page of the National Railway Museum (maybe my favourite museum in the world) brought my attention on two articles, one about the resident cat at the Hudderfield Station who "works" as pest controller and one about the cat of St Alban station who found his rightful owner after three years of squatting there. I had heard of station dogs, but not station cats. Cats and trains, what's not to love in these news? One observation: both cats are tuxedo cats, just like my Domino (pictured left). I observed cats dwelling in train stations myself, in fact I can see them daily, but none are sociable, not nearly as much as they two are anyway. And I love the fact that the Huddersfield cat Felix is used as pest control. Not only is he useful, but he must make the days pleasant for both travelers and staff.

Penultimate Springwatch tonight

I don't know if it will feature otters, but it is the penultimate Springwatch episode of 2015 tonight in a few minutes on BBC2. I did not follow it as much this year, what with life taking a lot of my time and keeping me away from the TV screen. I hope I can find time to catch up on BBC iPlayer. Anyway, to my British readers: watch it. Get the reminder on now. Turn the TV on. And enjoy British wildlife. So anyway, to illustrate this post, I decided to use this picture from the otter sanctuary in Buckfastleigh. From last year's holidays in Devon. The otter was eating a rats burger. This is one thing I love about otters: they are also predators and they eat the rodents I hate. Think of me if otters are featured tonight.

Feline predatorism

I took this picture a few months ago during my last visit at the Natural History Museum. It is a display explaining predatorism and reports between species, showing in an attic full of grain a cat preying on rats, themselves eating the grain. There was also an owl on the display, which picture I have uploaded here. All animals were stuffed, still life models. There is nothing I find more sad than a dead cat, yet this one, for what it represented and for its educational use, I did not mind.

And I loved the display, as it showed an aspect of cats' nature I love: they are fierce predators. I have a silly, uncontrollable fear of little rodents in general and rats in particular. That cats hunt the vermin is one of their use as a species I particularly love. So in sum, I am more scared of the hunted than I will ever get scared of the hunter. And this is why I love feline predatorism.

Kingston Calypso

I thought I would upload a song tonight, a summery song. I have actually uploaded it before, but the video disappeared from YouTube, beside this is the whole song. It is a song that obsess me from time to time, from the very first Bond movie. It is about three blinde mice, a pussycat and a rat, but in fact the three blind mice are three killers passing as blind men, the pussycat is James Bond and by proxy the British Empire, and the rat is of course the evil Dr. Julius No. Immortal Joseph Wiseman. But in the end, it is such a beautiful atmospheric song called Kingston Calypso. Which I hope you enjoy.

Le Chat et le Vieux Rat

"J'ai lu chez un conteur de Fables,
Qu'un second Rodilard, l'Alexandre des Chats,
L'Attila, le fléau des Rats,
Rendait ces derniers misérables :
J'ai lu, dis-je, en certain Auteur,
Que ce Chat exterminateur,
Vrai Cerbère, était craint une lieue à la ronde :
Il voulait de Souris dépeupler tout le monde. "

Le titre du billet et la citation viennent bien entendu de cette fable de La Fontaine. C'est la seconde fois que je cite La Fontaine. On retrouve le nom de Rodilard dans cette autre fable. Je redécouvre les Fables de La Fontaine depuis un certain temps, et je me rends compte que souvent ce que j'aime le plus, ce n'est pas tant la morale que le début, toujours brilliant d'évocation et d'efficacité. La morale de cette fable est le fameux "Prudence est mère de sûreté". Mais le début, avec son chat sanguinaire, est bien meilleur.

Musing on city, countryside, noise and silence

Yes, this is another cheap excuse to put a picture of Montreal (Outremont I believe). One of the last posts of Cynthia on Sur un Boeing Bleu de Mer made me think about my past life as a city dweller and my present one as an immigrant living in a British town. It made me wonder if I was more naturally a town mouse or a country mouse. I grew up in Chicoutimi, technically a city, as it has a cathedral, but so spread around that it is hardly a big city. I thought I would never like living in a big city, yet I fell in love with Montreal when I started living there. And then there was Liverpool, but I did not live in the city itself, I was a few minutes away by train. Of course I slept a few nights in my life in small villages and faraway places, including Sainte-Hedwidge, which is pretty much as remote as you can be.

This is one thing that I find fascinating when one spend time in a place is its relationship with noise, particularly at night. I grew up in Chicoutimi going to sleep (often very late) in a sleeping city. When I started living in Montreal, I could hear the traffic going down Christophe-Colomb non stop. At first I found it disturbing, then I found the noise strangely soothing, like it was a big cat constantly purring. Back in Chicoutimi for the holidays, I had difficulties sleeping as the steady sound of the night's traffic was not there. But Montreal, for a "big" city, is rather calm, in some places at least, at night. I am not sure I would have slept as soundly in London, a city I grew to dislike, partially because of the noise and the frantic beat that creates it. In Liverpool, I could live it, then go home and prepare classes, mark, read and sleep in quiet, peaceful suburbia. The Victorian house I was living in got me used to silence at night, real silence. There is nothing like reading a horror story in a quiet town or village at night. It is a deliciously frightening  experience. I would ideally read my crime fiction in a city where I can hear the noisy outside world.

The cat of Downing Street

This is the kind of news that give me a cheap excuse to put a picture of a cat (took it during our last trip in Brittany). I am a cat lover as my readership knows. I have also an irrational fear of rats. So when I learned that Downing Street had a new feline tenant to hunt down the rats (or so the rumour says), I was enthusiastic. It is not out of pure spite for rats, as I know I should not be so afraid of them (blame it on this movie). I think it is an eco-friendly way to tackle a real problem. Having a hunter doing what is in his nature to do is the best to deal with pest. And what hunters cats are! This is something I find amazing about them: how can such a beautiful creature, such cuddly one as well (when they want!), can be such a ruthless killer? People might find it cruel, but I think that it is better and more humane than poisoning the rodents. And you can stroke a cat before and after the kill, something you cannot do with cyanid. So I think we should all welcome Larry the cat. I like David Cameron a little bit better now. A little bit...

The Pied Piper of Hamelin

Care for a little bit of spooky fairytale for a grim November day? Assiduous readers here probably know about my fear of rats. Therefore, when there is a story involving them, I cannot help but to find it particularly scary, whether it is a horror story or simply a fairy tale (which are often just as horrific). So the story of the piper who first save the town of Hamelin from hords of rats, then takes his revenge on the greedy townspeople really fascinates me. Apart from the rats, there is a lot of interesting stuff in the tale: the hypnotic/mesmerising power of music, the morally ambiguous nature of the Piper, his mysterious background, etc. I am not sure when I first heard of The Pied Piper of Hamelin, but I remember watching as a young child the claymation adaptation of the poetic version of the tale by Robert Browning. This is the version that I am putting here. It is a haunting one. The characterisation is brilliant, the poem wonderfully told, the atmosphere is juuuuust scary enough to be watched by a child and there are the rats! Magnificently ugly, hairy, squeeky, bity, devilish rats. One can understand, can see, can feel what kind of pests they were, what danger they represented and what horror the townspeople of Hamelin were enduring.

Musophobia

I promised an entry about phobias, so here it is. As some of you know might know, I am slightly phobic about rats. I mean, I really hate those disgusting rodents. I don`t know why, just writing about them makes me shiver. I even got nervous watching Ratatouille!

Maybe I got phobic about rats when I first watched 1984 (the adaptation by Michael Radford, when I was 12, years before I read Orwell's novel). The the first memory I have of being utterly scared of rats was when Winston Smith got in Room 101. That scene haunts me still.

Here's the scene for you to "enjoy":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_oxelLtVhwk&feature=related