Forrest > Recent Status Updates

Yeah, I added two books to my TBR pile after I swore I wouldn't. So kill me. I blame half of this addition on Sherdstube. Dangit Sam!

Spent most of tonight working on a short story I've been gearing up to write (taking notes, pondering, researching) for a few weeks now. I'm off to the races! This one is admittedly indulgent, but if I'm not writing for myself, am I really writing what I love? Was able to slip in a sidelong reference to what is becoming one of my favorite books of all time: Malpertuis. It's just an aside, but it makes me giddy

The last section was decent. Lots of ups and downs with this book.

Yeah, I buckled. Found a copy of the Heritage Press 1947 edition of Moby Dick for dirt cheap and just ordered it. I'm guessing the condition isn't going to be stellar, but hey, Melville himself isn't in good condition by now.

If anyone can bum me $27,500 for this edition, I'll pay you back after I'm dead: https://www.abebooks.com/first-editio...

"The Salamander Angel" is a journey of several pilgrims into and out of regions beyond the veil of this world. There's a kind of Hegelian dialectic of the divine and the blasphemous, a looping together of heaven and hell through the travels, intentional and accidental, of oneironauts, occultists, and tricksters. The (anti?)heroes charge and stumble their way through "above" and "below" in their epic quests. Powerful.

Back at it, very slowly.

Reading about stabbing and actually stabbing-stabbing are not the same thing. Still, I'm glad for the pedagogical framework, which teaches me theory that I don't have time to learn in the midst of melee.

I'm sticking with a book a month for my reading challenge in 2026. I have some real doozies on my shelf (Joyce) and on my reread list (Melville). So, yeah, being realistic.

When I read a thorough critical introduction like the one Robert M. Price has here, I wonder "what the heck did you do all day?" I wish I had enough time (and residual income?) to pontificate and document, at length, the many threads that may or may not (Price is clear that all is inconclusive) make up the mythology of Shub-Niggurath.

Must be nice.

I read the Shub Niggurath Cycle back in the 90s. Found a (very gently) used copy for $2 at a local antiquities store, and had to get it again to see how it aged for me. I'm curious. Really liked it when I read it in my 20s.

An ever-changing labyrinth of a hotel, spurred in its metamorphoses by seekers of gnosis, is both setting and character in "Permutations of the Citadel". It's a lavish tale full of mystery and misdirection, a lair for tricksters, initiates, and those seeking the other side of the mirror. Add a little playful devilishness and you have what Wes Anderson might be if he was to ever take his subject matter seriously.

Is this book good, or just nice? I toggle back and forth between opinions on this one. I can't decide if it's "big" or "small," and I frankly only have an ill-conceived hint of a notion about what I even mean by that. It has its moments, but, then again, it has its moments, whatever that means in my intellectually lazy assessment. Maybe this book isn't for me, or I'm not for it?

Trespass becomes initiation into an imaginary city hidden in the bones of the physical world in "The Scourge and the Sanctuary". Christopher Wren collides with Huysman's, but Murphy's work is all and none of these. The key is in the story itself: The fictions we partake of, as with the fictions we create, bear consequences for each of us that lie beyond the understanding and control even of their authors.

My reread in 2026 list (subject to change and in no particular order):

Moby Dick
Godel, Escher, Bach
Angry Candy
Angels & Insects
Hamlet's Mill

That's plenty given the other physical books I need to read. And I will need to buy copies of Moby Dick and Godel, Escher, Bach. Oh darn.

For the first time in maybe decades, I did not receive a book for Christmas, nor did I buy myself one (I did buy books for others, though). I know, I know: blasphemy. But I just bought a couple of books very recently. Still, I want to read through what I've got and do a few rereads this year, as well. So, *next* Christmas, there might be a few books on my wishlist. Or more than a few.

I might hate myself for this, but I think I'm going to re-read Godel, Escher, Bach again this year. Thing is, I must have donated my old copy to the library. I'll have to get another one. Money well spent.

I might hate myself for this, but I think I'm going to re-read Godel, Escher, Bach again this year. Thing is, I must have donated my old copy to the library. I'll have to get another one. Money well spent.

I might hate myself for this, but I think I'm going to re-read Godel, Escher, Bach again this year. Thing is, I must have donated my old copy to the library. I'll have to get another one. Money well spent.

I might hate myself for this, but I think I'm going to re-read Godel, Escher, Bach again this year. Thing is, I must have donated my old copy to the library. I'll have to get another one. Money well spent.

I liked "I Loved You at Your Darkest," but didn't love it. Pardon the horrid attempt at a pun. Yes, the story twisted in an unexpected way, but resolved too quickly, in my mind, with the narrator able to make logical leaps using clues that shouldn't have evoked his conclusions. Another good, but not great tale, straining my belief a touch too much, which was the kiss of death (another horrible pun, given the plot).

"On Sirius" is, by far the best section of the book. It's a gentle, smoothly flowing prose poem, not entirely lacking disjuncture, but not as chaotic as some earlier sections of the book. It is a piece that is of a piece, well-put-together, but not stodgy. I can (and have) wrap(ped) myself up in it. It is comfortable, but not so cosy as to be uninteresting. I wish the whole book was like this section.

Here the narrative gets wobbly, teetering on the edge of coherence, threatening to fall into Dada at any moment. It's sometimes difficult to discern between playful intellectual brilliance and an utter collapse of reason. It's almost as if Kalischer weaves in and out of each, with no warning about what direction she is turning; blind curves ahead.

"The Island of Destiny, or Encounter with the Caliph" is the first truly coherent narrative of this work. I hope there are more like it.

Hmm. What seemed to start out as a staccato poesis has descended into pure Dada. I understand that makes the work "of its time," but that doesn't excuse near-incoherence. The introduction was so promising . . . Now . . . ???