{"id":104277,"date":"2016-10-28T18:37:40","date_gmt":"2016-10-28T22:37:40","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=104277"},"modified":"2017-06-23T14:32:33","modified_gmt":"2017-06-23T18:32:33","slug":"spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/","title":{"rendered":"Spooky Staff Picks: Smelly Ghosts and Sex-crazed Catholics"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"51nc27yvsxl\"<\/a>

From the cover of The Crown Derby Plate<\/em>.<\/p><\/div>\n

Almost a year ago, old friends gave me a big fat Portugese novel I\u2019d never heard of, which promptly burrowed its way under a stack of old New Yorker<\/em>s and stayed hidden until a month ago. It was a buried treasure. To get an idea of The Crime of Father Amaro<\/a><\/em>, by E\u00e7a de Queir\u00f3s, imagine a\u00a0Trollope novel\u2014early 1870s, cathedral town, church politics, Tories v. Whigs\u2014except that everyone\u2019s super Catholic, and sex crazed, and with the added difference that the author can\u2019t ever quite decide whether he\u2019s writing a bawdy comedy or a satirical tragedy, and so ends up writing both. This wavering tone must have been hard to translate, but Margaret Jull Costa\u2019s 2002 translation makes it look easy. The Crime of Father Amaro\u00a0<\/em>is the best novel I\u2019ve read this year. \u2014Lorin Stein<\/strong><\/p>\n

Biblioasis is reviving an apparent tradition of reading ghost stories at Christmastime through a quintet of booklet-size publications, each containing a spooky story and designed and illustrated by the cartoonist Seth<\/a>. It\u2019s a lovely little set, with tales by Dickens, Wharton, A. M. Burrage, Marjorie Bowen, and M. R. James, but I haven\u2019t saved them for Christmas (no one tells me what to do). I\u2019ve already torn through the Burrage and Bowen, and while they aren\u2019t bloodcurdling, they\u2019re lots of fun. Burrage\u2019s One Who Saw<\/em>\u00a0relates the tale of a man lured by the specter of a desolate woman in an ominous hotel garden. He describes his irresistible attraction to her as being akin to \u201cstarting on a voyage, feeling no motion from the ship, and then being suddenly aware of a spreading space of water between the vessel and the quay.\u201d Bowen\u2019s tale, The Crown Derby Plate<\/em>, involves a dumpy, smelly spirit who won\u2019t relinquish his beloved china collection. It\u2019s not exactly a nail-biter, but Bowen manages an eerie description of wasted wintry marshes\u2014\u201colive-brown broken reeds were harsh as scars on saffron-tinted bogs\u201d\u2014that bears the uncanniness of a Charles Burchfield landscape. \u2014Nicole Rudick\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Though it\u2019s been more than eight years since\u00a0Harper\u2019s\u00a0<\/em>published it, Joyce Carol Oates\u2019s story \u201cSuicide by Fitness Center<\/a>\u201d springs to mind whenever I pass a certain hip, chicly lit, vaguely exhibitionistic gym in Soho. The premise, as you may have guessed, involves an aging woman who decides to off herself at the Halcyon Mills Fitness Center, \u201ca large windowless slab of cream-colored stucco in a pseudo-semi-rural setting on a formerly \u2018country\u2019 road that intersects with busy state highway 31.\u201d The narrator makes a valiant effort to exercise to such excess that her heart bursts. It\u2019s a mordant examination of gym-rat culture, but there\u2019s a touch of grade A despair running through it that\u2019s never left me.\u00a0These many years later, the thought of it\u2014of dying alone and on purpose, at some faceless Planet Fitness in some godforsaken suburb\u2014still makes my blood run cold. Someone should open a haunted house that\u2019s just a gym full of zombies. \u2014Dan Piepenbring<\/strong><\/p>\n

Whenever I recommend Kelly Link\u2019s 2016 book of stories,\u00a0Get in Trouble<\/a><\/em>, I typically regale whoever will listen with the time I first read \u201cI Can See Right Through You,\u201d my favorite from the collection. It\u2019s about two actors\/former lovers, Will and Meggie, who both debuted as vampires in a 1991 teen flick, and whose careers, some\u00a0twenty years later, are still defined by a Tobey Maguire\u2013Kirsten Dunst\u2013esque make-out scene in that first film. Present action: Will\u2019s career has been gored by a leaked sex tape in which a clitoral piercing shreds his foreskin; naturally, he seeks the old comfort of Meggie\u2019s embrace, and thus disappears to the set of the ghost-hunting program she hosts. Without ruining anything, what follows is a ghost story masquerading as a gothic tale of Hollywood disgrace. Link employs the filmic technique of the Lewton Bus on the page better than anyone I\u2019ve yet encountered: hers is an excruciating, story-long slow burn that\u2019s so subtle you don\u2019t even know it\u2019s happening\u2014until you really, totally do. \u2014Daniel Johnson<\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019d like to thank whatever unhinged mind is responsible for Dinald Trimp<\/a>, a carbuncular miracle of Internet art. It\u2019s no secret that 2016, thanks in no small part to one man, is a burbling hell-broth of fear, hostility, and pure American id. But who will dare to show us the gaping, fleshy maw at the center of that id? Who will scald our eyeballs in that hell-broth, and then scald the scar tissue caused by the first scalding? I\u2019ll tell you who: Dinald Trimp. This is monster making as a public service. It will make you want to detach your retinas. \u2014D<\/strong>.P.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Almost a year ago, old friends gave me a big fat Portugese novel I\u2019d never heard of, which promptly burrowed its way under a stack of old New Yorkers and stayed hidden until a month ago. It was a buried treasure. To get an idea of The Crime of Father Amaro, by E\u00e7a de Queir\u00f3s, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[16455,1623,25449,18063,3634,25458,25448,25456,1146,136,25457,2015,17132,4256,2960,25451,25452,25455,25454,25447,25453,16909,25450],"class_list":["post-104277","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-a-m-burrage","tag-anthony-trollope","tag-biblioasis","tag-charles-burchfield","tag-dickens","tag-dinald-trimp","tag-eca-de-queiros","tag-get-in-trouble","tag-halloween","tag-harpers","tag-i-can-see-right-through-you","tag-joyce-carol-oates","tag-kelly-link","tag-m-r-james","tag-margaret-jull-costa","tag-marjorie-bowen","tag-one-who-saw","tag-planet-fitness","tag-suicide-by-fitness-center","tag-the-crime-of-father-amaro","tag-the-crown-derby-plate","tag-trollope","tag-wharton"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nSpooky Staff Picks: E\u00e7a de Queir\u00f3s, Marjorie Bowen, and Joyce Carol Oates<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"What the staff of \u201cThe Paris Review\u201d is reading this week.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Spooky Staff Picks: Smelly Ghosts and Sex-crazed Catholics by The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"October 28, 2016 \u2013 Almost a year ago, old friends gave me a big fat Portugese novel I\u2019d never heard of, which promptly burrowed its way under a stack of old New Yorkers and\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/parisreview\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2016-10-28T22:37:40+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2017-06-23T18:32:33+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/51nc27yvsxl-1.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"600\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"413\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:type\" content=\"image\/jpeg\" \/>\n<meta name=\"author\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary_large_image\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@parisreview\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"The Paris Review\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"4 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"The Paris Review\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#\/schema\/person\/4a14f739935c82f100675b84e220252e\"},\"headline\":\"Spooky Staff Picks: Smelly Ghosts and Sex-crazed Catholics\",\"datePublished\":\"2016-10-28T22:37:40+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2017-06-23T18:32:33+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/\"},\"wordCount\":827,\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2016\/10\/28\/spooky-staff-picks-smelly-ghosts-sex-crazed-catholics\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/51nc27yvsxl-1.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"A. 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