walk_ins | afternoon tea

afternoon tea

Janet's apartment is a studio, but it takes the casual visitor a moment to realize that; she's set up almost-ceiling-high bookshelves to create the semblance of internal walls, partitioning off a closet-sized "bedroom" from the only slightly larger "living room" next to the kitchen. They've had full meetings here before, but not often; the abridged space can seat twelve people, but not comfortably.

When Greg arrives, stamping snow off his boots in the hallway, Tara's already ensconced on the couch with her hands wrapped around a mug of tea. "Todd can't make it," Janet says apologetically as she stands aside to let Greg in. "He called about a half-hour ago."

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"Well, we'll at least be able to get the beginning of it on scans_daily -- no, crap, no we won't." Tara lets out an aggrieved sigh. "Thanks for that too, Peter David."

"I know you guys don't like the DT comics much," he says. "And they're not... yeah, they're not the best thing I read. But come on--the only other female gunslinger? That's got to be important."

Tara rolls her eyes. "Come, on. She's Cort's niece, being trained in secret, and she's betrothed to Roland but took a vow to never marry. She's a flaming Mary Sue, Greg."

"...maybe a little," he says, helplessly. "But--I think there's valuable stuff in the Tower comics. That's why I still buy 'em every month. But the more of them he puts out, the more I feel like maybe Marvel just found themselves another cash cow to drive into the ground. And that's the Number One Fan talking."

"They must have very strange cows where you grew up, Greg." Tara's teasing him, but gently. "Dead rats. Straws. What else can I say?"

"Black House," Janet says suddenly, setting down her mug abruptly enough to make the contents slosh; it would spill if it weren't half empty. "I knew that was reminding me of something. Either of you ever run across a book called House of Leaves? I got a rec last week."

They share a glance, and shake their heads. "It doesn't ring a bell," Greg says.

"Apparently it's psychological horror involving a house with something in its walls," Janet says, "and it's done in this bizarre nested style -- it's a set of notes surrounding an academic paper about a documentary film about the house and what happened there."

Jack Frost, who has been sulking under the coffee table, comes out while she's talking and takes up a position on the beanbag chair, tucking himself into loaf-shape.

"And apparently there's this whole section near the end where various famous people, authors and architects and filmmakers and so on, all comment on the documentary. And King's one of them."

"Epistolary again," Tara murmurs.

"Diary of Ellen Rimbauer," Greg says, his eyes going distant. "Also not by King, but it ties into Rose Red. Black House. 1408--which is orange. Huh, that's a new association, any colors for your house, Jan?"

"Marsden House and Neibolt Street, Greg?" Tara says. "But they don't--"

"They don't grow on you," Greg nods. "Also--"

Tara nods. "Pink. It Grows On You is associated with the color pink."

"I haven't read it yet, but -- apparently there's this weird color typesetting quirk, where every time the word 'house' appears it's in blue." She frowns. "I know Michael had a theory about the color of 1408 and the Bends O' the Rainbow, didn't he?"

"Yeah," Greg says. "I never made the connections with Rose Red and It Grows On You, though. Just clean missed it."

"It's a good connection, too," Tara says. "Especially tying in It Grows On You. That's all about female sexual voracity. Just like the pink Bend of the Rainbow in Wizard and Glass."

"Rose Red is female appetite, too. At least with the added details in Ellen Rimbauer."

"Rimbauer is so problematic. Lesbians who kill all the men and recruit all the women? A literal magical negress? A Chinese fortune teller."

"Well, it's a Victorian pastiche... " Wince count: 5. "...yeah," Greg admits. "At least King didn't write it."

"Epistolary, though."

"So what about the house on Maple Street, the one that turns out to have a spaceship in the walls?" Janet pours more hot water into her mug, and gingerly picks up the still-damp teabag from its saucer on the table. "It's creepy and dangerous, but in a completely different way."

"Yeah, it's not getting bigger. It's changing. Taking off. Metaphor for puberty, I always thought--those kids taking on the evil stepdad." Greg nods.

"Which might tie it back to the Marsden and Neibolt houses," Tara says. "There's that Jerusalem's Lot story, with the rats in the walls. A menace growing out of sight... something woven through everything, like It, or the spreading vampire infection."

"I can buy that," Greg says. "But is it a different trope? It seems different."

"Kind of. But--spreading sickness, versus out of control growth. Either way, we're talking cancer, right?"

"When people forget how to be healthy," Janet agrees. "Though I always thought that line described AIDS better than cancer."

"I don't know," says Tara, consideringly. "With AIDS it's forgetting how to fight off disease. Is that the same thing as forgetting how to be healthy?"

"Point of order," Greg says. "Puberty isn't a disease. Scary, but not a disease. I think we have to put the rockethouse in the category of white magic."

Tara stifles a laugh and murmurs "Oh lord, bless this rocket house and all who dwell within the rocket house --"

"Well, yeah, obviously," Janet says, speaking over her. "It's removing an evil influence, right? I mean, it's not just two wrongs making a right, like feeding the speaking demon to the gatekeeper. It shows up right when it's needed and it takes care of their problem."

"Actually a very positive story, for Steve-O," Tara agrees. "Didn't he say it came out of a set of psychology illustrations or something?"

Greg nods. "Yeah. Make up a story about this image."

"Interesting where he took it, then," Tara says. "You know, I question the puberty thing. Only two of the kids are adolescent. There's four of them. Almost makes me think of Narnia."

He nods. "You know, we should save this for the next meet-up. I feel like there's a lot of perspectives we're missing. I'm no expert on coming of age narratives, I'll admit that. And the sheer imagery--I'd love to hear what Zee has to say about that."

"We're meeting next on what, the twentieth?" Janet peers at the calendar precariously tacked to the side of one of the bookshelves.

"Think so," says Tara. "And yeah, let's add it to the list. Did you want to add that other house book too, Janet?"

She nods. "We haven't got a lot on the agenda right now, I don't think. Aside from phase two of the Minnesota lakes project."

"And the perennial," Tara adds with a sigh.

"And our new career as pirates," he says. Six.

"Oh, hey, in probably-not-related-but-really-freaky news," he adds. "Did you guys see in the paper that they found that Mafia guy who missed his courtdate?"

"Maggio? Yeah?"

"Yeah," Greg says. A Vincent Price beat. "Well. Most of him."

Janet looks slightly nauseated.

"...If I ask very nicely, can you not tell me which bits were missing?"

"Way ahead of you," Greg says. Tara smacks him on the arm, although she looks like she's sitting on a line of her own. "Oh, and the It movie," he adds, as if it jogged his memory.

Janet nods. "The new one, yeah. I read where they're setting the adult sequence today, instead of in the eighties?"

"How is that even going to work?" Tara sounds dubious.

"Well, they'll have to move the rest of it forward, too, right?" He shrugs. "Maybe there'll be more information by then."

"Hope so." Janet puts down her mug and absently gathers the cat into her lap, scratching behind his ears. "Maybe it's significant, the time change."

"Something to do with Insomnia," Greg agrees. "And Patrick Danville, and the time cycle and everything. And what was it--Dreamcatcher?--had that Pennywise Lives."

He sighs. "I know it's thematic and all, but sometimes it seems like--"

"What?" Tara says.

"Number one superfan talking again, remember," he says, gripping his mug. (Seven is a nice round number.) "It seems like everything is either a rehash of the old days or... not quite real. Not quite as solid. Anybody else getting that?"

"You talking about the books?" Tara says. "Or... everything?"

"What do you think?" he says glumly.

Nobody needs to answer that.

"So I've got an interview with this temp agency next week," Janet says, apparently to the cat in her lap.

"Oh, hey, great," Greg says. "I, um. I haven't gotten any nibbles yet." He hasn't been trying as hard as he should, he knows.

"Yeah, I'm still temping off the books in my mom's office," says Tara with a smile and a shrug, in a voice that's meant to sound easy and almost makes it. "It'll keep me in groceries till I find something better."

Rent is another story, but not one she's about to get into.

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walk_ins - 2009-03-15 21:43 (UTC) - Expand

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