“The Max Ernst Of Silly”

I have just discovered this rave review of Hooting Yard by Madeleine Swann – what an excellent surname! – who is a British “bizarro, horror, surreal, and weird fiction writer”. I do not know if she writes about swans, but I hope she does. Anyway, she has nothing but kind words to say about Mr Key and his prose, and she includes some links to stories featured on the Drabblecast. They include Norm Sherman;s matchless reading of “Far, Far Away”, which Ms Swann describes as “[not] so much science fiction as a bowl of madness”. If you have not heard Norm intone the words “magnetic mute blind love monkeys”, then do so right now. You will not regret it. And many thanks to Ms Swann.

Homework

Read and digest the piece Collapsed Puffin, below. Then reread it and redigest it. If necessary, rereread it and reredigest it. Now, using a sharpened pencil and a sheet of foolscap paper, write a variation of the piece from the point of view of the companion, Squiffy. You should aim to address the following matters:

1. Why do you think the narrator keeps nagging Squiffy regarding his goggles, ear-corks, nasal icicles, and furry boots?

2. Which of the pair do you think is the pilot of the chopper?

3. Does the collapsed puffin actually exist or is it an hallucination borne of cold, exhaustion, or even piblokto?

4. Do you think the narrator’s love of puffins, guillemots, auks, and bonxies is sincere and unreserved, or is it an affectation?

5. Can you recall any nursery rhymes in which bonxies appear?

When you have finished, turn over the piece of foolscap paper and, on the reverse, write an even more compelling variation from the point of view of the collapsed puffin.

Collapsed Puffin

Oh look, a puffin has collapsed on that floe.
Wipe the steam from your goggles and you will see it too.
We should airlift it to the puffin hospital yonder in our chopper.
Take those corks out of your ears so you can hear me speak.
Love is a mighty power, and I love puffins, as I love guillemots and auks and bonxies.
Snap those icicles dangling from your nose and you will breathe easier.
Here comes a blizzard. Oh, puffin, don’t die.
Stamp your feet in your furry boots, my companion.
Two men and a collapsed puffin in a white wasteland.
Allegory of something or other.
The chopper blades are frozen, and we are stranded, or marooned.
Come, Squiffy, plod with me towards the puffin, that we may give it succour.
Love conquers all, if you will wipe those damned goggles!