See there? What I did? I said 'short story.' But what Hawthorne does, and what irritates the fuck out of me, is draw out the narrative and then.
You throw in an organ grinder and some insolent chickens and you've got the making of a great short story. It's got murder, witchcraft, a creepy house, a curse, a spinster and her childlike convict brother, some mystery hottie and a fair maiden. I could definitely put it to better use.Īnd you know what? It's not such a bad story, really. Its judgmental gables peeking out at me while I'd sit by the lighthouse eating lunch. I'd never fully look it in the eye, feeling the shame wash over me. I'd be betraying my countryman.įor a few years, in my younger days, I worked down the street from the House of the Seven Gables and I'd always get this literary stab of guilt for not having read it. I mean how much more New Englandy can you get? I couldn't just- give up. Why the hell did I pick this up again? Life's too short, you say? You have 200+ other books on your 'to read' shelf and this was sucking your will to read? Give it up! You're right.
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