A journal of readings, in six entries, for the last week of October
Entry One — October 12
My search began with the shift into fall: The chill in the air, the yellowing, falling leaves, and dark mornings. I wanted a good scary story. I wanted to read, but I also wanted a good listen for these early morning walks. I went through a few choices—this was harder than it should, be I thought.
I steered to thrillers, but was disappointed either with the delivery or the premise—and most often the setting. This, I say to myself, has to harken to a time and place that has all the elements of spooky in it. New England, Connecticut, the dark city alleys of New York or Philadelphia.
So far, I’m narrowing down the list and I think I’ve settled on a novel I might have heard of long ago, but never given a chance: Peter Straub’s Ghost Story.
Entry Two — October 15
The first morning I knew I’d stumbled into something good and I did in my best tradition: Walk around until something interesting opens up before you. This could summarize the best walks in strange cities I’ve ever taken.
When I made my way through the park, that raspy, baritone reader just hit the spot. This story is starting out with a bang. It’s got me in its grasp. When I got back home I was glad I got up this early. Plenty of time to fix breakfast and get ready. I could sit with this book (no longer the audio) but the sound of my own mind’s narrator, taking me through this prologue that has got me on edge—in a good sense, the way that horror stories ought to do.
Entry Three — October 19
With the prologue behind me, I’m heading into the weeds with a few old guys who meet on the regular to tell each other ghost stories. It’s not where I expected this story to go—not after the high octane of the prologue. Now, I’m imagining myself as the editor to the novel, sitting across a young Peter Straub, we’re surrounded by books, it’s my office, the scent of hot coffee permeates everything. I’m being diplomatic:
“Look, Pete, it’s a great story,” I lean back, a bit for the drama. “I mean that beginning. Man!”
“Uh huh,” Straub shrugs.
I tug my collar. Why am I wearing a cardigan? It’s so hot in here! “Yeah, I’m thinking—well, let me put it another way: What do you think of leaning into it? You know, the start—make the story a horror a road novel?”
The bit in my mind evaporates and I reassure myself: Well, it’s not what I expected would follow that terrific cold open, but I’ll stick with it.
Entry Four — October 22
| About the author:
Robert Cavaliere is a novelist by trade, his work—rooted in the neon glow of gritty cities—charts character-driven journeys through the noise of modern life.
