No matter how strange the world may seem, there's always something even weirder around the corner.
Picking up another Gogol tome again while moving around some books the other day, I started looking on other shelves and remembering.
Here's a book that's a quick read, one I can never put down even though it's unsettling, bizarre and, in some ways, pitiful. Why? Because like Gogol, it's absorbing.
Where in Gogol, a man might wake up and find his nose missing, in Erskine Caldwell's Tobacco Road (1932), Granny might be hiding behind a chinaberry tree, thinking about turnips.
Once you've got these kinds of word images in mind, they tend to plant themselves for good. And I ain't fall off no turnip truck, neither; nor was I borned yesterday. How's 'bout you?
Today's Rune: The Warrior.