We Never Talk About My BrotherBook - 2009
The extraordinary stories in this new contemporary fantasy collection show a mature, darker side of the author of The Last Unicorn in modern parables of love, death, and transformation shadowed lightly with melancholy.
The Angel of Death enjoys newfound celebrity while moonlighting as an anchorman on the network news; King Pelles the Sure, the shortsighted ruler of a gentle realm, betrays himself in dreaming of a "manageable war"; an American librarian discovers that, much to his surprise and sadness, he is also the last living Frenchman; and rivals in a supernatural battle forgo pistols at dawn, choosing instead to duel with dramatic recitations of terrible poetry.
Featuring previously unpublished stories alongside recently published classics, this is a lovely, haunting, and wholly satisfying read.
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"I am only eleven thousand, seven hundred and twenty-two years old," the angel said, with a slight but distinct suggestion of resentment in her voice. "No one tells me a _thing_."
Tryon Avenue had a witch. Many streets did; it was almost a necessity to local tradition, back when a single block, a single apartment building, was an entire country for a child, complete with history, royalty, a peasant class, endless threats from outsiders, and a rich and varied folklore.
Envy nobody. It is the true secret of happiness, or at least the only one I know.
They are not shapeshifters, _chandail_, though it is easy to see why folk believe them so. Ugly, yes, marvelously horrific; yet if you look at them long enough, sometimes something happens to your sight, and you can actually see them becoming beautiful right before you, so beautiful that your eyes and mind hurt together, trying to take in such splendor.
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