Wirt Gerrare, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others
"How different this world to the one about which I used to read, and in which I used to live! This is one peopled by demons, phantoms, vampires, ghouls, boggarts, and nixies. Names of things of which I knew nothing are now so familiar that the creatures themselves appear to have real existence. The Arabian Nights are not more fantastic than our gospels; and Lempriere would have found ours a more marvelous world to catalog than the classical mythical to which he devoted his learning. Ours is a world of luprachaun and clurichaune, deev and cloolie, and through the maze of mystery I have to thread my painful way, now learning how to distinguish oufe from pooka, and nis from pixy; study long screeds upon the doings of effreets and dwergers, or decipher the dwaul of delirious monks who have made homunculi from refuse. Waking or sleeping, the image of some uncouth form is always present to me. What would I not give for a volume by the once despised 'A. L. O. E' or prosy Emma Worboise? Talk of the troubles of Winifred Bertram or Jane Eyre, what are they to mine? Talented authoresses do not seem to know that however terrible it may be to have as a neighbour a mad woman in a tower, it is much worse to have to live in a kitchen with a crocodile. This elementary fact has escaped the notice of writers of fiction; the re-statement of it has induced me to reconsider my decision as to the most longed-for book; my choice now is the Swiss Family Robinson. In it I have no doubt I should find how to make even the crocodile useful, or how to kill it, which would be still better.("Mysterious Maisie")"
1 Quotes
"How different this world to the one about which I used to read, and in which I used to live! This is one peopled by demons, phantoms, vampires, ghouls, boggarts, and nixies. Names of things of which I knew nothing are now so familiar that the creatures themselves appear to have real existence. The Arabian Nights are not more fantastic than our gospels; and Lempriere would have found ours a more marvelous world to catalog than the classical mythical to which he devoted his learning. Ours is a world of luprachaun and clurichaune, deev and cloolie, and through the maze of mystery I have to thread my painful way, now learning how to distinguish oufe from pooka, and nis from pixy; study long screeds upon the doings of effreets and dwergers, or decipher the dwaul of delirious monks who have made homunculi from refuse. Waking or sleeping, the image of some uncouth form is always present to me. What would I not give for a volume by the once despised 'A. L. O. E' or prosy Emma Worboise? Talk of the troubles of Winifred Bertram or Jane Eyre, what are they to mine? Talented authoresses do not seem to know that however terrible it may be to have as a neighbour a mad woman in a tower, it is much worse to have to live in a kitchen with a crocodile. This elementary fact has escaped the notice of writers of fiction; the re-statement of it has induced me to reconsider my decision as to the most longed-for book; my choice now is the Swiss Family Robinson. In it I have no doubt I should find how to make even the crocodile useful, or how to kill it, which would be still better.("Mysterious Maisie")"
"تَبايَنَ هذا العالمُ كلَّ التباينِ عن ذاك الذي اعتدتُ قراءتَه والعيشَ فيه! إنه عالمٌ تسكنُه الشياطينُ والأشباحُ ومصاصو الدماءِ والغيلانُ والعفاريتُ وحورياتُ الماءِ. أسماءُ أشياءَ لم أكنْ أعرفُ عنها شيئًا أصبحتْ الآنَ مألوفةً لدرجةِ أنَّ المخلوقاتِ نفسَها تبدو وكأنَّ لها وجودًا حقيقيًّا. ألفُ ليلةٍ وليلةٍ ليستْ أكثرَ خيالًا من أناجيلِنا؛ ولَوَجَدَ ليمبرييه عالمَنا أعجبَ وأروعَ ليفهرسَه من عالَمِ الأساطيرِ الكلاسيكيةِ الذي كرَّسَ له علمَه. عالمُنا عالمُ اللوبريكونِ والكلوريكاونِ، والديڤِ والكلولي، وعبرَ متاهةِ الغموضِ عليَّ أنْ أشُقَّ طريقي المؤلمَ، متعلِّمًا الآنَ كيفَ أميِّزُ الأوفَ من البوكا، والنيسَ من البيكسي؛ أدرسُ مخطوطاتٍ طويلةً عن أفعالِ العفاريتِ والأقزامِ، أو أفكُّ رموزَ هذيانِ الرهبانِ الهائمينَ الذين صنعوا كائناتٍ بشريةً مصغَّرةً من النفاياتِ. يقظةً أو منامًا، صورةُ شكلٍ غريبٍ لا تفارقُني أبدًا. ماذا لا أُعطي مقابلَ مجلدٍ لـ "أ. ل. و. إ." التي كانتْ تُحتقرُ يومًا، أو إيما ووربويزَ النثريةِ؟ حديثُ متاعبِ وينفريد بيرترام أو جين إير، ما هي بجانبِ متاعبي؟ لا يبدو أنَّ الكاتباتِ الموهوباتِ يدركنَ أنه مهما كانَ فظيعًا أنْ تكونَ جارتُكَ امرأةً مجنونةً في برجٍ، فإنه أسوأُ بكثيرٍ أنْ تضطرَّ للعيشِ في مطبخٍ مع تمساحٍ. هذه الحقيقةُ البدائيةُ قد غابتْ عن أنظارِ كتَّابِ الخيالِ؛ وإعادةُ ذكرِها قد دفعتْني لإعادةِ النظرِ في قراري بشأنِ الكتابِ الأكثرِ شوقًا؛ خياري الآنَ هو عائلةُ روبنسون السويسريةُ. لا شكَّ أنني سأجدُ فيه كيفَ أجعلُ التمساحَ مفيدًا، أو كيفَ أقتله، وهو ما سيكونُ أفضلَ."
Wirt Gerrare, Gaslit Nightmares: Stories by Robert W. Chambers, Charles Dickens, Richard Marsh, and Others
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