Status
Available
Call number
Collection
Publication
NYRB Classics (2015), 480 pages
Description
"In the 1930s, William Sloane wrote two brilliant novels that gave a whole new meaning to cosmic horror. In To Walk the Night, Bark X and his college buddy Jerry Lister, a science whiz, head back to the old alma mater to catch a football game and to visit a cherished professor of astronomy. In the midst of the game, a strange inimical presence seems to grip the entire stadium; after, the two young men discover the body of their professor, consumed by fire; and before long Jerry is married to the professor's uncannily beautiful, young widow, Selena, and settled in the Arizona desert, where there's an unobstructed view of the stars--and of the darkness of space. In Edge of Running Water, Julian Blair, a brilliant electrophysicist, has retired to remotest Maine after the death of his beautiful young wife. After living as a recluse for years, he issues an urgent summons to a former student, Richard Sayles, now a well-regarded professor of psychology. At Setauket Point, Sayles finds a house shunned by suspicious locals and under the guard of an unpleasant and uncooperative housekeeper, Mrs. Walters. There is also stunning Anne, Blair's sister-in-law. Meanwhile, Julian, dead to the world, stays locked in his study. The Rim of Morning: two novels about the inescapable link between knowledge and sacrifice, the other, unspeakable, unknowable, unendurable side of the world we think we know. About the silence out there"--… (more)
User reviews
LibraryThing member JGolomb
New York Review Books Classics has just packaged two novels by renowned author, editor and teacher William Sloane into a single offering, The Rim of the Morning: Two Tales of Cosmic Horror. Sloane is not an author I’d previously known, probably due to the fact that these stories are two of only
The first of these novels, To Walk the Night, is a Lovecraftian tale of the investigation into an apparent murder and suicide. This is the much stronger of these two stories. It’s a heavy, moody, genre-bending mystery that drips with molasses-dread and alone is worth the full price of the book. The second is The Edge of Running Water, also mystery-based — the tale of an obsessed professor determined to find a way to communicate with his recently departed wife. Each story is about 200 pages long. I’ve reviewed them separately below.
To Walk the Night
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
– From Endymion (A Thing of Beauty) by John Keats
The first story is a weighty and serious scifi/mystery, with Greek tragedy in its tone from the outset. Sloane borrows generously from the myth of Selene, goddess of the moon, who asks Zeus to keep her beautiful human lover, Prince Endymion, forever young. To Walk the Night is suggestive of this myth, though, and not too literal, but it’s fun to catch Sloane’s references to the ancient story sprinkled liberally throughout this novel.
The story opens as our primary narrator, Berkeley (called Bark), journeys to bring his best friend’s ashes home following his suicide. Jerry Lister’s death weighs heavily on Bark, and forms the narrative momentum for the initiation of the story. In many ways, this is a 1930s CSI, as Bark must work back through recent events, piece by piece, to uncover all the details and identify what’s pertinent and relevant to Jerry’s suicide.
Through Bark, Sloane dramatically builds the density and importance of the full backstory and makes clear the dread and imperative nature of the need to find the true reason why Jerry shot himself. Bark reflects on the complexity of events leading up to the suicide and remembers an “atmosphere of strangeness, even of terror, which was so much a part of my life while these events were in progress.”
To Walk the Night feels very gothic: there is a dark and deep polished walnut-tone vibe to Bark’s narration and exposition. The mythological themes are set early, though I only caught the first Selene clue in retrospect, upon reviewing my notes. Not all references are directly related to the story of Selena and Endymion, but the suggestion is always there… sometimes a little deeper under the surface than other times.
Bark dissects his recent trauma as part of a late-night discussion with his informally-adoptive father, Dr. Lister – also Jerry’s father. Bark ponders:
Nothing in life, I think, ordinarily happens in great, thunderous episodes of obvious and romantic force. Life is a series of small things, and most of them mean much or little depending on how the observer thinks of them.
It’s these small things, combined with some larger clues, that feed the narrative and drive the plot.
Bark tells of a visit that he and Jerry made to a former professor — a misunderstood, antisocial, introverted and clearly obsessed scientist (Sloane seems to have been enamored with this character-type). The young men found Professor LeNormand, who had been working late and alone at the campus observatory, on fire and apparently murdered. This is the core mystery around which the remaining narrative revolves.
And it’s at this point that we meet our goddess of the moon: Selena. Selena LeNormand is the professor’s widow and she’s just downright bizarre. In no way does she behave like a normal human, let alone someone who just lost the love of her life. She’s tall, lithe but strong, and thought by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Selena’s repeatedly thought of as more than statuesque, but statue-like. Her age is indeterminate, but she’s compared to the “Greek girls in the frieze of the Parthenon.”
Sloane’s writing weeps with loaded language. Language that’s very purposeful in its dramatic flair, while implying things beyond the range of normal human activity:
In the silences that lay between us I heard the bumbling of an insect against the glass of the lamp and the faint slither of water moving on the beach below us.
Instead of doors, he refers to ‘portals’.
There are suggestions of ghosts and that something horrible laying just out of sight. A shooting star “plummets down like a tear of light and vanished in the dark above the Sound.”
Tables are described as altars.
Likewise, the vocabulary reeks of symbolism and weighted meaning. The names, for example: Bark is the strength of the story, and like his namesake, his role is uber-protector of his friend and of that which is normal and sane. Jerry’s actual name is Jeremiah… and like his namesake, the prophet, his role is as a revealer, working to expose the truth of his former mentor. LeNormand was a French tarot reader famous during the reign of Napoleon, and like their namesake, both the professor and Selena are, in their own respects, seers beyond normal human perception.
This is a dark any enjoyable read, with enough literary and narrative weight to stick with the reader days after its completion.
The Edge of Running Water
Like To Walk the Night, the opening chapter of The Edge of Running Water sets the stage for some past dread and draws us into narration looking back across events. The story sends Professor Richard Sayles to a barren coast in Maine where he investigates the scientific shenanigans of his former mentor, Julian Blair. Blair sets the tone:
A year ago it would have seemed to me ridiculous to assume that there are some facts it is better not to know, and even today I do not believe in the bliss of ignorance or the folly of knowledge. But this one thing is best left untouched. It rips the fabric of human existence from throat to hem and leaves us naked to a wind as cold as the space between the stars.
The fringe of that cold touched me once. I know what I am talking about.
Professor Blair has gone off the grid, 1930s-style, to develop a mechanism for speaking with his deceased wife Helen (she of the world-class beauty). Helen, it turns out, was also the focus of Sayles’ own unrequited love. Joining Sayles are Blair’s young sister-in-law Anne, which creates some touching (and awkward) emotional moments, and his assistant/medium, Mrs. Wallace.
Sloane is persistent in the idea that these well-bred foreigners from fancy universities and “cities” are total outsiders in the close-knit society in rural Maine. Sloane is thematically suggestive of the ritual nature that develops throughout the story, as the obsessed professor is positioned as a reclusive high-priest working his voodoo magic with unseen celestial forces. This theme dovetails with Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein in its notions of Prometheus and her doctor’s approach to god-like status. The natives are both awed and horrified by the power and are ultimately driven to violence.
The story is foreshadowing-heavy and melodramatic, and drags at the moments when the narrative becomes a straight-up murder mystery, complete with detectives, and detailed discussion around whose shoe prints could be found in the muddy woods.
Like To Walk the Night, the names in The Edge of Running Water are drenched in meaning: Helen was the beauty and love that motivated men to apparent madness. The locally born housekeeper is Elora Marcy — Elora means ‘foreign’; and ‘Marcy’ is Latin for the Roman god of war, also known as Mars. Marcy’s death is the pivotal point that drives the townspeople from suspicion and fear to violence.
Midway through this story, I was convinced that the plot was leading nowhere, but it grew on me over time. And I wasn’t completely dissatisfied with the conclusion, despite its rather nebulous ending…
While both of these stories are mysteries at their core, neither can be defined as entirely science fiction or horror, but each contains elements of both. King points out that these two novels, apparently Sloane’s only full-length works, were uncommon during an era of pulp science fiction and horror, due to their depth, readability and relative literary prowess.
You’ll note that these stories were each originally published in the 1930s and reflect their era. I lost count of how many ‘highballs’ were ordered and imbibed in To Walk the Night (and, yes, I had to look up what a highball even was). And while women play formative and strong characters in each, there’s a subtle shade of misogyny in the suggestive role of women in society — perhaps not right, but also perhaps not out of place within the context of the time it was written. Also, a lot of people and things were unironically referred to as “swell” (though Sloane, I believe, was using it metaphorically at times as well).
I thoroughly enjoyed To Walk the Night and give that alone a 5-star rating. The Edge of Running Water is a bit meandering and the characters are prone to some stereotypical mystery-novel stupidity, but the tale has stuck with me and I’d give it 3.5 stars. Overall, I rate The Rim of the Morning 4.5 stars.
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three novels that he ever published. Stephen King contributes a short but impeccable introduction, providing a tight analysis of the stories and windows into Sloane’s background and style. Sloane wrote and edited primarily supernatural mystery/scifi, but is known in literary worlds as a writing teacher.The first of these novels, To Walk the Night, is a Lovecraftian tale of the investigation into an apparent murder and suicide. This is the much stronger of these two stories. It’s a heavy, moody, genre-bending mystery that drips with molasses-dread and alone is worth the full price of the book. The second is The Edge of Running Water, also mystery-based — the tale of an obsessed professor determined to find a way to communicate with his recently departed wife. Each story is about 200 pages long. I’ve reviewed them separately below.
To Walk the Night
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
– From Endymion (A Thing of Beauty) by John Keats
The first story is a weighty and serious scifi/mystery, with Greek tragedy in its tone from the outset. Sloane borrows generously from the myth of Selene, goddess of the moon, who asks Zeus to keep her beautiful human lover, Prince Endymion, forever young. To Walk the Night is suggestive of this myth, though, and not too literal, but it’s fun to catch Sloane’s references to the ancient story sprinkled liberally throughout this novel.
The story opens as our primary narrator, Berkeley (called Bark), journeys to bring his best friend’s ashes home following his suicide. Jerry Lister’s death weighs heavily on Bark, and forms the narrative momentum for the initiation of the story. In many ways, this is a 1930s CSI, as Bark must work back through recent events, piece by piece, to uncover all the details and identify what’s pertinent and relevant to Jerry’s suicide.
Through Bark, Sloane dramatically builds the density and importance of the full backstory and makes clear the dread and imperative nature of the need to find the true reason why Jerry shot himself. Bark reflects on the complexity of events leading up to the suicide and remembers an “atmosphere of strangeness, even of terror, which was so much a part of my life while these events were in progress.”
To Walk the Night feels very gothic: there is a dark and deep polished walnut-tone vibe to Bark’s narration and exposition. The mythological themes are set early, though I only caught the first Selene clue in retrospect, upon reviewing my notes. Not all references are directly related to the story of Selena and Endymion, but the suggestion is always there… sometimes a little deeper under the surface than other times.
Bark dissects his recent trauma as part of a late-night discussion with his informally-adoptive father, Dr. Lister – also Jerry’s father. Bark ponders:
Nothing in life, I think, ordinarily happens in great, thunderous episodes of obvious and romantic force. Life is a series of small things, and most of them mean much or little depending on how the observer thinks of them.
It’s these small things, combined with some larger clues, that feed the narrative and drive the plot.
Bark tells of a visit that he and Jerry made to a former professor — a misunderstood, antisocial, introverted and clearly obsessed scientist (Sloane seems to have been enamored with this character-type). The young men found Professor LeNormand, who had been working late and alone at the campus observatory, on fire and apparently murdered. This is the core mystery around which the remaining narrative revolves.
And it’s at this point that we meet our goddess of the moon: Selena. Selena LeNormand is the professor’s widow and she’s just downright bizarre. In no way does she behave like a normal human, let alone someone who just lost the love of her life. She’s tall, lithe but strong, and thought by many to be the most beautiful woman in the world. Selena’s repeatedly thought of as more than statuesque, but statue-like. Her age is indeterminate, but she’s compared to the “Greek girls in the frieze of the Parthenon.”
Sloane’s writing weeps with loaded language. Language that’s very purposeful in its dramatic flair, while implying things beyond the range of normal human activity:
In the silences that lay between us I heard the bumbling of an insect against the glass of the lamp and the faint slither of water moving on the beach below us.
Instead of doors, he refers to ‘portals’.
There are suggestions of ghosts and that something horrible laying just out of sight. A shooting star “plummets down like a tear of light and vanished in the dark above the Sound.”
Tables are described as altars.
Likewise, the vocabulary reeks of symbolism and weighted meaning. The names, for example: Bark is the strength of the story, and like his namesake, his role is uber-protector of his friend and of that which is normal and sane. Jerry’s actual name is Jeremiah… and like his namesake, the prophet, his role is as a revealer, working to expose the truth of his former mentor. LeNormand was a French tarot reader famous during the reign of Napoleon, and like their namesake, both the professor and Selena are, in their own respects, seers beyond normal human perception.
This is a dark any enjoyable read, with enough literary and narrative weight to stick with the reader days after its completion.
The Edge of Running Water
Like To Walk the Night, the opening chapter of The Edge of Running Water sets the stage for some past dread and draws us into narration looking back across events. The story sends Professor Richard Sayles to a barren coast in Maine where he investigates the scientific shenanigans of his former mentor, Julian Blair. Blair sets the tone:
A year ago it would have seemed to me ridiculous to assume that there are some facts it is better not to know, and even today I do not believe in the bliss of ignorance or the folly of knowledge. But this one thing is best left untouched. It rips the fabric of human existence from throat to hem and leaves us naked to a wind as cold as the space between the stars.
The fringe of that cold touched me once. I know what I am talking about.
Professor Blair has gone off the grid, 1930s-style, to develop a mechanism for speaking with his deceased wife Helen (she of the world-class beauty). Helen, it turns out, was also the focus of Sayles’ own unrequited love. Joining Sayles are Blair’s young sister-in-law Anne, which creates some touching (and awkward) emotional moments, and his assistant/medium, Mrs. Wallace.
Sloane is persistent in the idea that these well-bred foreigners from fancy universities and “cities” are total outsiders in the close-knit society in rural Maine. Sloane is thematically suggestive of the ritual nature that develops throughout the story, as the obsessed professor is positioned as a reclusive high-priest working his voodoo magic with unseen celestial forces. This theme dovetails with Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein in its notions of Prometheus and her doctor’s approach to god-like status. The natives are both awed and horrified by the power and are ultimately driven to violence.
The story is foreshadowing-heavy and melodramatic, and drags at the moments when the narrative becomes a straight-up murder mystery, complete with detectives, and detailed discussion around whose shoe prints could be found in the muddy woods.
Like To Walk the Night, the names in The Edge of Running Water are drenched in meaning: Helen was the beauty and love that motivated men to apparent madness. The locally born housekeeper is Elora Marcy — Elora means ‘foreign’; and ‘Marcy’ is Latin for the Roman god of war, also known as Mars. Marcy’s death is the pivotal point that drives the townspeople from suspicion and fear to violence.
Midway through this story, I was convinced that the plot was leading nowhere, but it grew on me over time. And I wasn’t completely dissatisfied with the conclusion, despite its rather nebulous ending…
While both of these stories are mysteries at their core, neither can be defined as entirely science fiction or horror, but each contains elements of both. King points out that these two novels, apparently Sloane’s only full-length works, were uncommon during an era of pulp science fiction and horror, due to their depth, readability and relative literary prowess.
You’ll note that these stories were each originally published in the 1930s and reflect their era. I lost count of how many ‘highballs’ were ordered and imbibed in To Walk the Night (and, yes, I had to look up what a highball even was). And while women play formative and strong characters in each, there’s a subtle shade of misogyny in the suggestive role of women in society — perhaps not right, but also perhaps not out of place within the context of the time it was written. Also, a lot of people and things were unironically referred to as “swell” (though Sloane, I believe, was using it metaphorically at times as well).
I thoroughly enjoyed To Walk the Night and give that alone a 5-star rating. The Edge of Running Water is a bit meandering and the characters are prone to some stereotypical mystery-novel stupidity, but the tale has stuck with me and I’d give it 3.5 stars. Overall, I rate The Rim of the Morning 4.5 stars.
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LibraryThing member sturlington
To Walk the Night: This is contained in an omnibus with another novella by Sloane, The Edge of Running Water. It is tagged as "weird," and I can see how it has a Lovecraftian flair, but perhaps it is a bit dated now, because it didn't seem so weird to me. The writing is very good, clean and modern
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with no overtly stylistic flourishes, but as I say, it is dated and displays a characteristic awe/dread/othering of the female that I have detected in a lot of older weird fiction and that I find off-putting. I am not in a hurry to read the second novella in the volume and will instead move on to other things. Show Less
LibraryThing member ToddSherman
𝘛𝘰 𝘞𝘢𝘭𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘕𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵:
“There are some experiences which are alien to everyday life; they are ‘doomed for a certain term to walk the night’ before the mind of man either recognizes them for what they are or dismisses their appearance as fantasy.”
It’s
To say I loved this book would be an understatement. It may be unparalleled in its genre—even besting works by Walter Tevis, Heinlein, and Jack Finney. By focusing on character, atmosphere, and subtle details carefully linked like de novo sequencing, the plot can promulgate organically and not be forced to drive the whole story. This latter obligation to blueprint every damn twist and turn in a story is my biggest pet peeve with most Sci-Fi, Fantasy, or Horror, and when I find a rare example that kicks that annoyance in the chops, I latch onto it with full force. The dialogue alone is enough to distinguish this from the glutted pack of novelty-crazed sensationalists. You know, like that warm glow of awareness after you first read Vonnegut’s 𝘊𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘦 or 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦-𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦. Wait . . . science fiction can do this? Can be literature? Doesn’t have to kowtow to a fanbase? No need to spoon-feed the puritanical toadies of fan fiction? Canonical fictional universes be damned! I don’t give a fuck how many elvish languages Tolkien created if he didn’t have the good sense to 𝘯𝘰𝘵 show the same damn mountain in the opposite direction when the protagonists turned around to needlessly elongate an already bloated saga. (Yes, I’ve read all the many appendices to TLOTR. Sigh.) Butt-eye-dye-gress . . .
A well-written tale is an achievement in and of itself. A story that hits you emotionally is worth its wait in discarded tissues. A book that makes you pause and contemplate the ramifications is a thing to be hunted. But a work that can sew together all these pieces without a hint of stitching? Sublime. Poetic as diamonds that turn out to be stars having been used by grander beings to drill into distant universes.
“With a single quick motion she stripped her finger of the two rings, the one with the great square emerald in it, and the narrow band of gold with which Jerry had married her, and put them on the table between us. They lay there, bright and beautiful, on the painted iron, and we looked at them. I did not see her go, but the sound of her feet died along the terrace and around the corner of the house.”
“There are some experiences which are alien to everyday life; they are ‘doomed for a certain term to walk the night’ before the mind of man either recognizes them for what they are or dismisses their appearance as fantasy.”
It’s
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hard to believe this book was written in 1937. It feels far more modern. It’s not hard to believe in the premise, as fantastic is it turns out to be. It is so much better than most modern horror. That’s probably because it’s barely horror, more properly terror, and skirts Sci-Fi and fantasy just enough for the passengers in the speeding car in the desert to catch an ambiguous glimpse of . . . what, exactly? An expression unpins the fabric. A misplaced question turns the light of the lamp in the speaker’s direction. An unusual gait hints at alienness or deliberate replication or a different way for all that soft biology to slip and slosh beneath loose skin.To say I loved this book would be an understatement. It may be unparalleled in its genre—even besting works by Walter Tevis, Heinlein, and Jack Finney. By focusing on character, atmosphere, and subtle details carefully linked like de novo sequencing, the plot can promulgate organically and not be forced to drive the whole story. This latter obligation to blueprint every damn twist and turn in a story is my biggest pet peeve with most Sci-Fi, Fantasy, or Horror, and when I find a rare example that kicks that annoyance in the chops, I latch onto it with full force. The dialogue alone is enough to distinguish this from the glutted pack of novelty-crazed sensationalists. You know, like that warm glow of awareness after you first read Vonnegut’s 𝘊𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘊𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘦 or 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦-𝘍𝘪𝘷𝘦. Wait . . . science fiction can do this? Can be literature? Doesn’t have to kowtow to a fanbase? No need to spoon-feed the puritanical toadies of fan fiction? Canonical fictional universes be damned! I don’t give a fuck how many elvish languages Tolkien created if he didn’t have the good sense to 𝘯𝘰𝘵 show the same damn mountain in the opposite direction when the protagonists turned around to needlessly elongate an already bloated saga. (Yes, I’ve read all the many appendices to TLOTR. Sigh.) Butt-eye-dye-gress . . .
A well-written tale is an achievement in and of itself. A story that hits you emotionally is worth its wait in discarded tissues. A book that makes you pause and contemplate the ramifications is a thing to be hunted. But a work that can sew together all these pieces without a hint of stitching? Sublime. Poetic as diamonds that turn out to be stars having been used by grander beings to drill into distant universes.
“With a single quick motion she stripped her finger of the two rings, the one with the great square emerald in it, and the narrow band of gold with which Jerry had married her, and put them on the table between us. They lay there, bright and beautiful, on the painted iron, and we looked at them. I did not see her go, but the sound of her feet died along the terrace and around the corner of the house.”
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LibraryThing member RobertOK
Subtitled "Two Tales of Cosmic Horror," this volume contains William Sloane's only published novels, "To Walk the Night" (1937) and "The Edge of Running Water" (1939). Both books are beautifully written combinations of science fiction, horror and mystery story, and both generate a palpable sense of
"To Walk the Night" deals with two lifelong friends and roommates who return to their college for a football game and later visit a favorite professor of astronomy in his observatory. But there's to be no reunion as they discover their professor engulfed in a mysterious fire that burns only him and nothing else. This leads them to an even stranger discovery: the professor, a socially backward bachelor completely devoted to his work, leaves behind a young and beautiful widow who seems to have no past before she met and married the professor. The mystery of the locked room death and especially the widow are the focus of the rest of the book.
"The Edge of Water" is a little more formal in style than the first book. Julian Blair, a brilliant college professor has isolated himself in an old house in Maine, causing suspicion among the conservative townsfolk to work on a strange electrical device. He is assisted by the mysterious woman imposing in both her strong will and size. Enter Richard Sayles, a younger professor and friend who may have some information crucial to Blair's efforts. Blair's lovely niece Anne, who is visiting for the summer, confides that Blair suffers greatly from the death of his wife five years previously and that she fears Blair's trying to build a device to communicate with the dead. When the housekeeper, a townie named Mrs. Marcy, dies mysteriously, the book takes off solving her death and discovering what Blair has created in his locked lab upstairs.
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dread and uneasiness. They each feel remarkably contemporary in and certainly not nearly 90 years old, even though they also provide a glimpse into a time when people relied on train travel and a woman wearing pants resulted in comments from her friends."To Walk the Night" deals with two lifelong friends and roommates who return to their college for a football game and later visit a favorite professor of astronomy in his observatory. But there's to be no reunion as they discover their professor engulfed in a mysterious fire that burns only him and nothing else. This leads them to an even stranger discovery: the professor, a socially backward bachelor completely devoted to his work, leaves behind a young and beautiful widow who seems to have no past before she met and married the professor. The mystery of the locked room death and especially the widow are the focus of the rest of the book.
"The Edge of Water" is a little more formal in style than the first book. Julian Blair, a brilliant college professor has isolated himself in an old house in Maine, causing suspicion among the conservative townsfolk to work on a strange electrical device. He is assisted by the mysterious woman imposing in both her strong will and size. Enter Richard Sayles, a younger professor and friend who may have some information crucial to Blair's efforts. Blair's lovely niece Anne, who is visiting for the summer, confides that Blair suffers greatly from the death of his wife five years previously and that she fears Blair's trying to build a device to communicate with the dead. When the housekeeper, a townie named Mrs. Marcy, dies mysteriously, the book takes off solving her death and discovering what Blair has created in his locked lab upstairs.
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Language
Original language
English
Original publication date
1964 (first publication together)
ISBN
1590179064 / 9781590179062