Skip to main content

The Mammoth Book of Fantasy (Cont.): The Platypus Reads Part CXXI

Pixel Pixies by Charles de Lint

I have to confess that I've been interested in reading a little Charles de Lint ever since I saw John Howe's impressive covers in "Myth and Magic."  Of course, seeing a John Howe cover can make me want to pick up just about any book.  I made that mistake a while back with David Gemmel's "Legend."  Now I remember not to judge a book by its cover.  That said, I am pleased to report that in the case of Charles de Lint the picture matched the writing.  I haven't gotten as much delight out of any of the other stories in the collection as I have out of "Pixel Pixies."

Enough gushing, let me summarize.  "Pixel Pixies" tells the story of Bookstore owner Holly Rue and her resident Hobgoblin Dick.  Holly doesn't know Dick exists, but he helps keep her shop in order every night so long as he has free range of the books.  This nice little relationship is threatened when a gaggle of pixies begin running a muck on the store computer.  Their mischief is initially checked by the quick thinking of an artsy customer, but at night the pixies break out of the computer and begin wrecking havoc all over town.  Dick is able to save his mistress from being enchanted by the pixies, but is powerless to keep them from wrecking the shop.  Seeing the devastation, Holly gives her mysterious customer a call.  She arrives and promptly calls forth Dick, much to Holly's surprise.  Dick in turn reveals that the customer is a high born member of a faerie court.  Together, the three unlikely protagonists contrive a way to lure the pixies back to the store and then trap them in the computer.  Having been discovered, Dick contemplates relocating, but in the end decides to stay.      

"Pixel Pixies" is the sort of piece that makes you want to rush off to the computer and start writing yourself.  That, or grab a group of friends and start a "Scions" campaign.  It delights in subcreation, that filling in of the spandrels that God has purposely left in the universe so that his creatures can imitate their creator.  Seeing that de Lint may (I don't know for sure) bat from the neo-pagan side of things maybe he'd begrudge me that remark but I hope he'd allow it, if only for Tolkien's sake.  I mean it when I say "filling in the spandrels," because that is what de Lint has done: imagine a complete faerie world that fits nicely into the empty space of our own.  As nice as a hob in his hole.

Well, there's only one review today as "The Moon Pearl," by A. Merritt has turned out to be rather long.  As soon as it's finished, you can expect a review here.  Best wishes all!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Platypus Reads Part XXVII

Thoughts after reading the "Iliad" to prepare a Greece unit for my students: -Hector is a jerk until he's dead. He even advocates the exposure of Achaean corpses and then has the cheek to turn around and ask Achilles to spare his. He rudely ignores Polydamas' prophecies and fights outside the gate to save his pride knowing full well what it will cost his family and city. After he's dead, he becomes a martyr for the cause. -Agamemnon has several moments of true leadership to balance out his pettiness. In this way, he's a haunting foil to Achilles: the two men are more alike than they want to acknowledge. -We see that Achilles is the better man at the funeral games of Patroclos. His lordliness, tact, and generosity there give us a window into Achilles before his fight with Agamemnon and the death of Patroclos consumed him. -Nestor is a boring, rambling, old man who's better days are far behind him, and yet every Achaean treats him with the upmo...

California's Gods: Strange Platypus(es)

We've noticed lately a strange Californian dialectical twist: there, freeways take the definite article.  In other parts of the country one speaks of I 91 or 45 North.  In California, there's The 5, The 405, The 10.  Each of these freeways has its own quirks, a personality of sorts.  They aren't just stretches of pavement but presences, creatures that necessitate the definite article by their very individuality and uniqueness.  They are the angry gods to be worked, placated, feared, for without them life in California as we know it would cease.  Perhaps that's fitting for a land whose cities are named for saints and angels.  Mary may preside over the new pueblo of our lady of the angels, but the freeways slither like gigantic serpents through the waste places, malevolent spirits not yet trampled under foot.

Seeing Beowulf Through Tolkien: The Platypus Reads Part CXCIX

After spending a few weeks wrestling with Tolkien's interpretation of Beowulf , I found myself sitting down and reading Seamus Heaney's translation of the text during a spare moment.  I came to the place where Beowulf presents Hrothgar with the hilt of the ancient sword that slew Grendel's mother.  Hrothgar looks down at the hilt with its ancient runes and carvings depicting the war between the giants and God and meditates on the fortunes of men.  In a flash of insight, I thought: this is the whole poem! Let me explain.  Tolkien believed that the genuine contribution of the Northern peoples to European culture was the theory of courage.  The Northern heroes, at their best, were men who fought for order against chaos -a battle they knew they were doomed to lose.  If they were true heroes, their souls would join the gods and aid them in the final battle against darkness and its monsters and again go down fighting, spitting in the face of the meaninglessness...