Edgar Allan PooFace

Edgar Allan PooFace

I’m so negative at the moment but I’ve been on a bad book bender, it’s gotten me down. First Shirley Jackson and now I’m severely disappointed in Edgar Allan Poe. I tried to read a collect of his short stories. I started at the beginning and I didn’t get very far. The first was called ‘The Gold Bug’ is about a bug and threw around the word negro a lot. Someone drops a bug through the skull of a dead man, they then dig for treasure. I didn’t finish it. The second story was called ‘The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar’. A bloke dies. His friend watches. He needed eight pages to describe. I didn’t finish it. The third was called ‘MS Found in a Bottle’. I got lost. The boat was sinking, will sink or has sunk. I didn’t finish it. I lost patience.

I turned to the back of the book for the stories worth mentioning: ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’, ‘The Fall of the House of Usher’ and ‘The Premature Burial’. I didn’t finish any of these. I finished ONE, count them ONE of Edgar Allan Poe’s stories: ‘The Tell-Tale Heart’. This is probably one of his best known works, second only to ‘The Raven’. A man wants to kill another man because he’s got weird eyes. He does. He then cuts him up and buries him in the floor boards of his own home. Rookie mistake. He also manages to do it without getting a drop of blood anywhere. Police show up. He would have gotten away with it too if it hadn’t been for that meddling heart he heard still beating.

I lost my cool a couple of times with Poe, or Poo as he’s now known to me. His sentences are long and lofty; you lose yourself in them. He writes like a desperate tired student with a deadline and a word count to meet. “Organ of vision”, who says that? It’s called an eye! Organ of vision! Three words instead of three letters. I shan’t do a Poe and take up too much more of your time telling you why you shouldn’t read PooFace. Just, please don’t.