Showing posts with label Satan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Satan. Show all posts

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Money can't buy you love but it can buy you this attractively illustrated Snark …


Melville House (the publishers behind MobyLives, a CBC inamorata) chose this drawing as the cover for their edition of my forthcoming BD version of Lewis Carroll's Hunting of the Snark, a drawing which can be hummed aloud to this jolly tune called "The Fifth and Final Mark of a Snark":

"The fifth is ambition. It next will be right
To describe each particular batch:
Distinguishing those that have feathers, and bite,
From those that have whiskers, and scratch.

Some of you might read the above verses (which cohabitate in the same panel as this drawing) and assume that we are seeing here a mis-toed Snark lounging around the house between Fits, pursuing his usual dampened reverie of the bathing-machine variety, taking afternoon tiffin whilst the rising morning tide goes about its daily business of lifting and moistening him in all those scratchy, hard-to-bite places, etc.

Some of you might prefer instead to just order a copy of my comixed Snark and find out for yourselves without all this pesky, messy business of me telling you what to think!

The book will appear this November and believe me, you won't be disappointed — in the book, that is, not in being able to think clearly for a change — considering that mine is the only graphic poem/sequential-art/comic book version of the Snark yet known to mankind and hence qualifies as a distinguishing feature in the better sort of police line-up.

NB. 42% of your purchase money will vaguely go towards the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Snarks, a theoretically charitable organization almost entirely dissimilar to the less ambitious RSPCA.

Elsewhere on The Hunting of the Snark …
• Truly, my Snark, thou art still the son of morn in weary night’s decline, the lost traveller’s dream under the hill

Wednesday, July 2, 2008

Fit Three, Pages 18 and 19 as a Spread … and by this Snark you may contemplate the variation of the 23 letters



Amidst the spread of these pages, we are lost in the gutter but shall look to the stars

We are drawing the pictures of the pictures of the drawing

We are reading the poem of violent death reduced to errant nonsense

We are tyrannized by the nostalgic gigantism of the nursery room

We are traveling steerage in a well-snark’d ship of fools

We are the intralapsarians buoyed by the avuncular patter in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral of the very model of a modern Major-General

In sum, we are hunting a snark … lest a snark hunt us.

_________________


NB. A propos of all things Snark, we must take note of the United States Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit, whose recent opinion regarding the judicial status and disposal of Guantanamo Bay detainees was a stern rebuke to the Clochetic Rule of Three. Whilst the chattering classes harrumph-harrumph and golly-gee-whiz over the audacity of this sudden effloresence of symbolic logic (and invariably describe the Bellman as a madman or worse), the more pensive amongst us will think how it must feel to have one's legal and corporeal fate rest upon the mercy of powerful, humorless men who have just been publicly ridiculed by a well-read, Carrolliphile jurist.

We hunt the Snark for sport lest the Boojum drive us mad in earnest …