"Mervyn Peake - Danse Macabre" - читать интересную книгу автора (Peake Mervyn) DANSE MACABRE
Mervyn Peake There are critics who claim that Mervyn Peake's Gormenghast trilogy about a crumbling, far-future world is an even greater work of fantasy than Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Certainly, the adventures of Titus, 77th Earl of Gormenghast and heir to the House of Groan, told with a mixture of wit and dazzling imagination, rate among the great works of the genre, and thoroughly deserve John Clute's accolade in The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction (1995) when he calls Gormenghast "one of the most richly realised alternate worlds in all the literature of fantasy or sf." Fans of the trilogy include the musicians Nigel Kennedy, Sting and Phil Collins; chef Keith Floyd, who claims to have found some kitchens in Spain which instantly reminded him of the ancestral kitchens in the book; and the writers Michael Moorcock and Anthony Burgess, who once referred to the work as '"a rich wine of fancy chilled by the intellect to just the right temperature. '' A stage version of Gormenghast has already been produced, and Walt Disney studios own the film rights. Mervyn Laurence Peake (1911-1968) was born in Ruling in southern China, where his father was a medical missionary, and the memories of those '"rich, alien years'' shaped much of his later career when he returned to England and began working as an artist and writer. His love of fantasy was demonstrated in his first book, Captain Slaughterboard Drops Anchor, published in 1939; and during the subsequent war years while he was serving in the Royal Engineers he started work on what would ultimately become the Gormenghast trilogy. At the end of the hostilities, affecting experience. Shortly after completing the three comic masterpieces about Titus Groan, he was found to be suffering from a form of Parkinson's disease which tragically shortened his life. '"Danse Macabre," originally published in Science Fantasy in 1963, is one of Mervyn Peake's few short stories, and a tale as curious as anything he wrote. It is also about the ability to flyтАФnot human beings, though, but people's clothes . . . Whether it was the full moon that woke me, I do not know. It may have been. Or it may be that the melancholy which had settled on my spirit and which coloured my dreams, had become too strong for me to bear and had broken through my sleep and left me, of a sudden, aware and trembling. It is no part of my story to tell you of the unhappy circumstances which had driven my dear wife away from me. I cannot tell you of that dreadful separation. It is sufficient to say that in spite of, or it may be because of our ill omen'd love, we were driven apart, although, as you shall hear, this desperate act brought nothing but horror in the end. I had drawn wide the curtains when I had gone to bed, for the night was close, and now, with my eyes wide open, I found that my bedroom was filled with the light of the moon. Facing me, as I lay upon my side was my wardrobe, a tall piece of furniture, and my gaze wandered across the panels until they came to rest upon one of the metal door knobs. Uneasy as I was, I had as yet no concrete cause for alarm; and would have closed my eyes had it not been that all at once my heart stopped beating. For the metal knob on which my gaze was fixed had begun, very slowly, very surely, to |
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