There’s nothing wicked about this morning’s Haydn selection. It’s somewhat bland. But it’s hardly evil.

No. My title refers to a book, one of my very favorite books. Every year, around this time, I read Ray Bradbury’s superlative Something Wicked This Way Comes.

If you’ve never read it, I encourage you to do so. It’s truly scary. And written with such precision and verve that each word crackles with life. Some of Bradbury’s sentences are so well written that I often re-read them, in awe, savoring every syllable, before moving on to the next one.

Oh? You don’t believe me? Try this, the opening paragraphs, on for size:

THE SELLER of lightning rods arrived just ahead of the storm. He came along the street of Green Town, Illinois, in the late cloudy October day, sneaking glances over his shoulder. Somewhere not so far back, vast lightnings stomped the earth. Somewhere, a storm like a great beast with terrible teeth could not be denied.

So the salesman jangled and clanged his huge leather kit in which oversized puzzles of ironmongery lay unseen but which his tongue conjured from door to door until he came at last to a lawn which was cut all wrong.

Bradbury, Ray (2013-04-23). Something Wicked This Way Comes (Greentown) (Kindle Locations 101-105). HarperCollins. Kindle Edition.

Not good enough? Hmm. Tough crowd. Okay. How about Continue reading →