Certain there's more than searching

[ashlyme]

 

I read Ramsey Campbell's Fellstones a couple of nights ago. It's a fine blend of folk and cosmic horror - think Children of the Stones more than Lovecraft - with the usual Campbellian protagonist increasingly mazed in their own paranoia. There's a lot of references to classical music thrown into the mix; I probably missed a few nuances by not knowing more about that subject. I had the chance to meet Ramsey for a curry many years ago, and always regretted not going; too scared of being tongue-tied, or worse still, burbling the poor man to death.

 

A week back I walked round the old  walled gardens at Elmdon Manor, and in particular the little apple orchard. It was a greyish day; the trees bore a good crop of vivid moss, antlered lichen. I was in search of a story I thought might happen here; the phrase or title "The pewter apples of dusk" has been itching in my head for a week or two now. I could imagine an orchard-wassailing happening here, but not a modern one; a one-off ceremony in the years before the Great War, captured in the bronzy-grey tints of a postcard, a few scraps of lore floating about on local history websites. And some narrator meeting whatever force that lingers on in the garden. (This was never a cider county; local wassails are only a very recent thing. Perhaps the landowner tried to graft his own rites onto this country - but I don't want to bog this thing down with too exposition.) I could imagine the trees were dancing, too fast or slow for me to see, or that someone might slip between the trunks when I turned away - not a threatening feeling to me. Not sure how my character might feel. There was a litter of windfill, rotting-gold in the mud; but I did pick one apple off the branch - ochre, no bigger than a cherry, quite firm when I squeezed it. I thanked the trees - it couldn't hurt, and places like that call to my heathen streak, anyway - and brought the apple home. Still not sure how to write the story. I've been out of the game for five years - it's a little scary going back.

 

Bought a nice coat off Vinted and am waiting for warmer weather so I can actually wear it! Military style, knee-length, black wool with stripes of grey velvet and black frogging near the cuffs. An early birthday present to myself. I turn fifty in ten days' time and still don't know how that happened. I suppose a lot of us think that way. 

 

 

Comments

[sovay]

It's a fine blend of folk and cosmic horror - think Children of the Stones more than Lovecraft - with the usual Campbellian protagonist increasingly mazed in their own paranoia. There's a lot of references to classical music thrown into the mix; I probably missed a few nuances by not knowing more about that subject.

Many of them are the kind of deep cuts that credibly establish the protagonist as well-versed in his field, but they also feed the pattern of Fellstones, e.g. "It's Nielsen's Fourth, the Inextinguishable, in which the composer celebrates primal energies." I would be curious how much of a soundtrack to the novel they would make.

I had the chance to meet Ramsey for a curry many years ago, and always regretted not going; too scared of being tongue-tied, or worse still, burbling the poor man to death.

I suppose you could always call in the rain check.

the phrase or title "The pewter apples of dusk" has been itching in my head for a week or two now. I could imagine an orchard-wassailing happening here, but not a modern one; a one-off ceremony in the years before the Great War, captured in the bronzy-grey tints of a postcard, a few scraps of lore floating about on local history websites. And some narrator meeting whatever force that lingers on in the garden.

Prrrrrrt.

Still not sure how to write the story. I've been out of the game for five years - it's a little scary going back.

Your prose remains superb. It's just a matter of figuring out what to apply it to. I am glad you are going back into the game.

Military style, knee-length, black wool with stripes of grey velvet and black frogging near the cuffs.

I look forward to photographically meeting it!

I turn fifty in ten days' time and still don't know how that happened. I suppose a lot of us think that way.

I understand that milestone birthdays can sneak up on people, but I also have to say that time in the last few years has been seriously weird.

[ashlyme]

*I would be curious how much of a soundtrack to the novel they would make.*

I'll buy my own copy at some point. Perhaps work out a YouTube compilation to have on as I reread. (Do you ever read to music?) I really miss physical mixtapes, though.

*Your prose remains superb. It's just a matter of figuring out what to apply it to. I am glad you are going back into the game.*

Thank you so much! I was a bit wary of posting story-thoughts - sometimes a plot totally collapses on you and you wonder if you've jinxed it - but I do need to think aloud, and this is a better place than Facebook for that. It's been far too long.

*I look forward to photographically meeting it!*

I'll get a picture for you!

*time in the last few years has been seriously weird.*

I'd really like to send them back to the shop, but they didn't give me a receipt.

[sovay]

(Do you ever read to music?)

Very often, although not usually to music chosen for the purpose. I just often have music on.

but I do need to think aloud, and this is a better place than Facebook for that. It's been far too long.

By that token, here are the three songs that occurred to me, even though the apples in two cases are metaphorical more than actual:

Anna & Elizabeth, "Ripest of Apples"

When I'm asleep I'm dreaming about him
When I'm awake I take no rest

The Bothy Band, "Do You Love an Apple?"

Do you love an apple? Do you love a pear?
Do you love a laddie with curly brown hair?

The Watersons, "Apple Tree Wassail"

How well it may bloom, how well it may bear
So we may have apples and cider next year

There's always Sappho's apple-pickers, too, though to my knowledge no one has set that fragment to music (in the last couple thousand years).

I'll get a picture for you!

Yay!

I'd really like to send them back to the shop, but they didn't give me a receipt.

We all got sent home with remaindered time.

[ashlyme]

Thank you so much for the apple songs! The irony is, a couple of friends might be off to a Warwickshire wassail tonight, which I can't make. I've asked for pictures.

[sovay]

The irony is, a couple of friends might be off to a Warwickshire wassail tonight, which I can't make. I've asked for pictures.

Make them take recordings!