Previously in this series.
As a child, you found yourself in a near constant state of existential threat, often caused by your parents’ party guests or abnormal creatures you met on bicycle rides.
One day, when you are sitting down to tea, you are surprised to read in the paper that a once-thought-to-be-dead great aunt has caused a scandal in the capital city of a small European country you can’t quite place on the map.
Your fondest family memories involve the moors, and the faintest sense of dread.
As a teenager, your sister showed great promise as a ballerina. She went off to study under the greats, and you never heard from her again. You occasionally see posters for her performances, which appear to be growing darker and darker each season.
The most prominent pieces of furniture in your home are a fainting couch and a large vase of half dead ferns.
Your personal style can best be described as “librarian up to no good.”
As an infant, you were very nearly whisked away down a gutter while sitting in an umbrella during a rainstorm. You were saved at the last moment by a passing dog. No one seemed in the least concerned or surprised by any of this.
When you were a little girl, you named your most beloved doll Hortense. You took her everywhere with you, and concocted a richly detailed history that included a steamer chartered in the dead of night, a kind and generous Maharaja, and a briefly assumed alternate identity.
You wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without black eyeliner on both your top and bottom lids. The thicker the better.
As you understand it, the ideal place for a large statue or urn is the most precarious ledge in your home.
Although your family lived in an impeccable house in the country, you greatly enjoyed spending time in the city with your aunt, who was of dubious morality and took you to the opera.
Until you were in college you didn’t realize there were causes of death that couldn’t be described as “suspicious” or “likely foul play.”
You prefer cats.
Learning the alphabet gave you night terrors, and even now you have a deep seated fear of being mauled by a bear.
All your sneakers are high-tops. All your coats are fur.
Oh, did the Edwardian era end? You hadn’t even noticed.
The sight of gigantic bugs stealing children barely turns your head these days.
Your hobbies include staring into the middle-distance over the top of a book, feeling woe of indeterminate origin, and being inconvenienced by crimes that inexplicably occur near you.
You’ve always had a weakness for mustachioed motorists in large coats. They remind you of your father, who vanished during a particularly chaotic weekend in the country. A search was conducted on the grounds, but no one took the matter to the police. He was never spoken of again.
The aesthetic of your home can be described as “menacing chic”.
A creature with very few defining characteristics beyond its scarf, sneakers, and horrible manners showed up at your home a few days ago. It shows now signs of leaving, and you aren’t quite sure what to do. You choose to simply ignore it.
You come from great wealth, but it doesn’t help the ennui.
You would have come from great wealth, had your maternal grandfather not lost his fortune in a sudden and entirely unexpected fall from grace. The only remnant of your family’s former status was a silver hat brooch, which was stolen by a thug high on opium several winters ago.
You grew up in a workhouse, but at a young age you insinuated yourself with a criminal element that has allowed you to improve your station.
Your idea of a vacation involves either a lengthy journey via steamer ship or a multi-day spontaneous trip via handcar for which you have done exactly no preparation.
You’ve seen a ghost once or twice, but neither time were you particularly impressed.
Shadows make you anxious, and you avoid them just in case they are concealing someone who means you ill.
You have been to the great opera houses in multiple countries. You have never been to a shopping mall.
Those around you often seem to be speaking in gibberish parables that make little sense. You don’t question this or attempt to understand.
You and your siblings enjoyed games that included just the slightest hint of cruelty. None of you listened when large birds warned you against such behavior.
You were raised to believe anything was possible, but in a threatening sort of way that meant seemingly inanimate objects could pose very real danger.
You’re not sure where the plain, armless black doll came from. It’s just always been there. You suspect it always will be.
Tags: books, bridey heing, edward gorey, how to tell what novel you’re in
Your personal style can best be described as “librarian up to no good.”
Sounds about right.
That’s also listed under “How to Tell If You’re a Toastie.”
This is my life goal afterall.
That’s why we’re all here, after all.
This whole thing reads like Toast fan service. 10/10, would read again.
#Aspirational
I aspire to menacing chic. How can you not listen to this dude though?
I mean it’s not very specific?
Doesn’t need to be, when anything and everything is really out to get you.
I never listen to the warnings of large birds due to certain specific moral principles.
I require more details from my menacing birds. No one likes a vague omen.
Vague omens are the best. It’s the specific ones that people always interpret the wrong way.
But see, I want that loophole in omen interpretation. If the omen just says ‘beware pink’ I have no excuse when I’m swallowed up by a pink sofa or run over by a pink Cadillac or accidentally crushed at a P!nk concert. I just have to be prepared for any and all interpretations. But if it says something like ‘never wear pink on Wednesdays’ then I get a bit of a slide when I accidentally wind up wearing a pink dress onboard a boat named Wednesday’s even though it is a Friday. Vague omens are the worst. Working around the specific ones takes effort and imagination and I appreciate both.
^this is a short story I need to read. 🙂 (if you have any recommendations of stories in which specific omens happen in this way again too, would be great.)
The only thing I can think of right now is The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and Stavro Mueller Beta?
truuuueee. On 42nd St, right? As an avid Hitchiker’s fan, I remember that with mixed feelings, as he couldn’t have ended it any differently, and yet. AND YET. I can’t be happy about it.
You are just a little bit splay-toed – you don’t know why this keeps you from a career in dance.
THIS IS EXCELLENT. I thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it.
I identify so strongly with this list. Everything in my life is slowly starting to make sense and come together as a well-illustrated pen and ink whole, from the unimpressive ghosts to the menacing childhood games.
But mostly I’m just glad I now have a name for my interior decorating style. The aesthetic of your home can be described as “menacing chic”. Perfection.
I’m trying to describe that photo of Gorey. The fur coat, the multiple rings, the gaze over the spectacles. The words that come to mind are “dastardly” and “resplendent.”
Perhaps he is a resplendent dastard?
A dastardly resplendence.
I am in a Gorey book! (Amy is my real name and falling down the stairs is a big part of my clumsy-can’t-see-well life)
Also “librarian up to no good” describes me perfectly & completely
My mom had me memorize and recite the Gashlycrumb Tinies for visitors and relatives when I was four or so. I am fairly certain this was to troll my rather conservative and preppy grandparents, now that I think about it.
My husband burst into a spontaneous recitation of the Gashlycrumb Tinies on our first date (there was context at the time, I’m almost certain). I was smitten.
that’s a keeper right there!!!
Heyo from another klutzy, surreptitious, bookish Amy 😀
“Your hobbies include staring into the middle-distance over the top of a book, feeling woe of indeterminate origin, and being inconvenienced by crimes that inexplicable occur near you.”
I am really good at staring into the middle distance over the top of a book.
also, I used to have the Gashlycrumb Tinies memorized (I can still do most of it, probably), and I love this. Obviously.
AH I was just about to post that part! I never had the Tinies memorized, but am also quite gifted at the middle-distance over-book gaze – and the woe, well, that’s been baffling my therapist for years.
In college, I hung a Gashlycrumb Tinies poster in the bathroom of my apartment. First-time visitors generally fell into two buckets: those who emerged from a call of nature with a wary look and those who came out saying, “Where did you get that? It is awesome.”
I saw an exhibit of his work at the Boston Athenaeum a few years back. The original works are AMAZING.
Lastly, I AM a librarian up to no good.
I have the impression that the originals are the same size as the prints, because he used a teeny-tiny discontinued nib to do his inking. Is that right? Wait, I’m not sure I want to know, in case that’s not so.
If they’re not the same size, they’re darn close.
And he also would fix mistakes by painstakingly gluing a new piece of paper over an area he wanted to re-do and draw over that. Those edits are almost invisible. It’s crazy.
He would draw little scenes on everyday postal envelopes. I so want one of those envelopes.
The Athanaeum exhibit was so good. Such a cool space, if anyone is in Boston and gets a chance to go.
I saw that exhibit! His house museum on the Cape is also really great. They have some stuffed dolls of the Tinies strewn about according to their deaths (i.e. an Amy doll falling down the stairs, a George doll half-buried under the rug… )
I want to get to that, but I don’t live nearby. I kickstarted a documentary on him that is sloooowly making its way to production.
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/chrisseufert…
I AM WORKING ON THE CAPE THIS SUMMER AND THIS HAS MADE MY WEEK!!!!
Sometimes everything your life is a vague euphemism for either distressingly bizarre sex or no sex at all.
You are a small child, and probably doomed. If you are not doomed, your parents are doomed. Your spend your adolescence in a Lemony Snicket book, moving to a Shirley Jackson novella during early adulthood.
I read in an interview some years ago (a minimum of 15, I guess) that Gorey enjoyed watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer and it was the most amazing apprehension of converging worlds I ever had, it was wonderful. it was the opposite of that awful feeling when you find out one of your favorite things hates another of your favorite things.
I heard that in a radio interview,too. Also he liked the animated Batman that was popular at the time. Interesting guy.
He liked the Golden Girls too.
This makes me extremely happy.
…. or just bewilderment, like when I found out that Sir Patrick Stewart was a massive fan of Beavis and Butthead .
He also liked Star Trek.
Okay, THIS fills my heart with joy <3
I really miss the old Edward Gorey Masterpiece Theater intro. They’ve kept a few of the frames, like the woman lying tragically on top of a parapet, but I miss the whole thing.
Amen. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rAmGsM4Dids
I loved the old Masterpiece intro when I was a wee tot. I feel like it came on right around my bedtime and if I was lucky I got to stay up and watch it. But I couldn’t understand why the animated sequence wasn’t the entire show — it seemed like a terrible bait and switch to me.
Also, the Gorey illustration for the John Bellairs books are the best.
This quote is now the entire text of my online dating profile, “Your hobbies include staring into the middle-distance over the top of a book, feeling woe of indeterminate origin, and being inconvenienced by crimes that inexplicable occur near you.” Also, I met a bear while camping this past weekend and immediately gave thanks that my name isn’t Basil. Then I gasped a bit and the bear ran off. I digress, this is a lovely and delightful list that has certainly delivered on the title’s promise. Thank you, now I’m off to shop for high-tops and fur coats.
I would far rather read a Gorey book than live in one.
This explains so much.
“You were raised to believe anything was possible, but in a threatening sort of way that meant seemingly inanimate objects could pose very real danger.” That is going on my all time favorite quotes list, and is the epithet my children will remember their childhood by. Damn you quantum physics.
“Damn you quantum physics” = basically the thesis of 50% of my poetry
This basically describes the appeal of the Harry Potter franchise for me.
yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes and YES. Edward Gorey forever.
“Menacing chic” I love this!!
A few years ago there was this very cool Gorey exhibit in Chicago , they had thisin a case with the title “Self portrait with floating cats.” All self portraits should have at least this many floating cats.
Too true. I mean, five floating cats would just look weird and unbalanced.
It looks like a tarot card, doesn’t it? The Six of Cats.
“Your personal style can best be described as “librarian up to no good.””
(Looks at closet full of sweater vests) oh no
“Oh, did the Edwardian era end? You hadn’t even noticed.”
(looks at silver breakfasting tray and dressing gown) oh nooo
“The aesthetic of your home can be described as “menacing chic”. ”
(looks at vase full of bleached feathers and a jar full of raptor eggs on piano) oh noooooooo
(I was Gorey for Halloween once! Big fake fur coat, massive strings of costume jewellery and doorknocker rings. I looked amazing. No one got it.)
lmao your life sounds amazing. A sliver breakfasting tray AND dressing gown?!
Several of these work for “how to tell if you’re in a Wes Anderson movie” as well.
Wes Anderson wishes he could be as cool as Edward Gorey
Not only am I a librarian up to no good, I’m one who would happily never visit a shopping mall again but couldn’t live without opera houses nearby. Also, I prefer cats.
…uh-oh. *looks around warily for menacing armless doll*
In case anyone is looking for help with getting the menacing chic down: http://www.rookiemag.com/2011/10/secret-style-ico…
I once had a friend who gave me a Gorey book every year for my birthday, but he died young…
You are not the slightest bit inconvenienced by losing your virginity:
http://www.amazon.com/The-Recently-Deflowered-Gir…
that's a keeper right there!!!
I now show signs of having read this.
Right? I didn’t realize until this post that The Royal Tenenbaums is just updated Edward Gorey. Maybe I would like it better if I rewatched it knowing that, but probably not.
this is what i get for not checking the Toast on vacation. a confluence of my favorite things, and I wasn’t even here
I’m not sure the disreputable opera-loving aunt is sufficiently determinative. You might be in a Kate Atkinson book, or a Sarah Waters.
in any case, she is not actually your aunt, as you will later realise.