Dark Carnival
Language: English
Pages: 276
ISBN: 1887368507
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Over 50 years out of print the October release of DARK CARNIVAL by RAY BRADBURY will be the literary event of the year for Bradbury fans. After many years Ray Bradbury has agreed to allow this classic to be published in a LIMITED edition, with bonus material, edited by his long-time bibliographer Donn Albright. With the space allowed here we can't provide details of ALL the bonus material, but for complete details check out the Gauntlet Press website. The cover art is a Bradbury oil painting from Albright’s personal collection, painted by Bradbury around the time of the original publication of DARK CARNIVAL. We will be reproducing the book as it originally appeared AND then add a host of bonus material, from Albright’s personal archives. We will be including five additional short stories for this definitive edition of the DARK CARNIVAL. These are stories that did not appear in the original, with most all but impossible to get a hol! d of. All were originally published in Weird Tales and were at one time considered for publication in the original version of DARK CARNIVAL. Four stories will appear in the book itself: “The Watchers” Bradbury’s first anthology sale in Rue Morgue which he sold at the age of 25. There is also “The Poems” “Bang, You’re Dead” and “The Seashells.” Other bonus material include Bradbury’s original proposal for DARK CARNIVAL, a detailed proposal for a ballet with handwritten notes Bradbury made to himself, the original U.S. and U.K. versions of the cover, story notes in Bradbury’s own words from a taped session with Donn Albright and far more. Only 700 numbered copies of this classic will be sold. After we’re sold out Bradbury’s representatives say the book goes back in the vault (NO further editions, no paperback). Since the book will not be out until November (but will in all probability be sold out) it's wise to order a copy now. With so few available their value will skyrocket, just like the original.
Note: This book will not be signed by the author, as previously noted. -- Gauntlet Press, 10/23/2001.
would install modern air-compression brakes, those kind they have on library doors that hiss gently as their levers seal. He passed through the dining-room. The figures had not moved from their tableau. Their hands remained affixed in familiar positions, and their indifference to him was not impoliteness. He climbed the hall stairs to change his clothing, preparatory to the task of moving the family. Taking the links from his fine cuffs he swung his head to one side. Music. First, he paid it
digging!' 'He'll stop; won't you, Torry?' The dog barked. You could hear the dog yipping far down the street and away, going to fetch visitors. Martin was feverish and his eyes stood out in his head as he sat, propped up, listening, sending his mind rushing along with the dog, faster, faster. Yesterday Torry had brought Mrs. Holloway from Elm Avenue, with a story book for a present; the day before Torry had sat up, begged at Mr. Jacobs, the jeweller. Mr. Jacobs had bent and near-sightedly
strangely fast, to form a circle, to peer down, to probe, to gawk, to question, to point, to disturb, to spoil the privacy of a man's agony by their frank curiosity. The ambulance drove off. He sank back and their faces still stared into his face, even with his eyes shut. The car wheels spun in his mind for days. One wheel, four wheels, spinning, spinning, and whirring, around and around. He knew it was wrong. Something wrong with the wheels and the whole accident and the running of feet and
cousins caroused at the crystal punch bowl. Their shiny olive-pit eyes, their conical, devilish faces and curly bronze hair hovered over the drinking-table, their hard-soft, half-girl, half-boy bodies wrestling against each other as they got unpleasantly sullenly drunk. Laura and Ellen, over and above the wine-sated tumult, produced a parlour drama with Uncle Fry. They represented innocent maidens strolling, when the Vampire (Uncle Fry) stepped from behind a tree (Cousin Anna). The Vampire
the bright bright print of the brightest, loudest skirt she could find to put on especially for tonight, in which she had whirled and cavorted feverishly before the coffin-sized mirror, beneath the rayon skirt the body was all wire and tendon and excitation. Her teeth chattered and fused and chattered. Her lipstick smeared, one lip crushing another. Joseph knocked on the door. They got ready for bed. He had returned with the news that something had been done to the car and it would take time,