The Halloween Tree (1972 / 2015)

Author: Ray Bradbury  |  Illustrator: Gris Grimly  |  Page Count: 144

'The wind played a flute in a chimney somewhere; an old song about time and dark and far places. The tall man shut up his smile like a bright pocketknife.'

A new HB edition of Bradbury's 1972 children's book that has black and white and colour illustrations by Gris Grimly in place of the classic Joe Mugnaini art. Joe's art is much more dramatically menacing, but Grimly's 'darkly whimsical' style is also well-suited to the text, a story of eight friends who go on a journey one magical Halloween night. They're trying to solve a mystery and save a friend who may or may not be feeling quite himself. As they search for one thing they uncover answers to many things, deepening the allure of the season.

It begins in an unnamed mid-west American state with Tom Skelton, aged thirteen, going out to trick or treat with his friends, each one dressed in a different but traditional fright-night costume. But why are they traditional? What do witches have to do with an autumnal festival? Why are bandaged mummies paraded just once a year? As the boys uncover the mysteries of Halloween in an inimitable Bradbury way the reader learns their origin, too. Well, one interpretation of such.

Grimly's inky illustrations are highly stylised, sometimes half a page, sometimes full page. They're well-placed for the most part, but there's one colour plate in particular set before the appearance of the text it relates to. I dislike when that happens. It's almost like having sound and picture not properly synced in a film.

The colour pages are glossy and attractive, so why is the paper stock used for the text such cheap quality? It's not at all what you'd expect to see in a HB edition of an author so well-loved by so many. The publisher probably paid a lot of money for the privilege of republishing, and I realise they likely had to offset costs somehow, but compromising on paper quality is not the best solution. That's an adult concern for what's essentially a children's book, but I stand by it. It matters because if this particular edition is your child's introduction to the story, or even to Bradbury, then they may want to keep and treasure it for years to come.

3 candle constellations out of 5

The Martian Chronicles: The Authorized Adaptation (2011)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Illustrators: Dennis Calero / Joe St. Pierre / Josh Adams / James Smith | Page Count: 160

"All the things which had uses. All the mountains which had names. We'll give them new names, but the old names are there, somewhere in time..."

A comic book adaptation of one of Bradbury's most famous works. I'm not going to give a synopsis of story or outline specific themes. I'll leave that for when I revisit the novel. This is about the comic version only, and it'll be brief because I wouldn't recommend a reading to anyone who isn't a huge Bradbury fan.

For those that haven't read the source text, an introduction from the author details the genesis of the original novel, which is vital information if you're to understand the passage of time and the contradictions in some of the stories.

What it neglects to mention, however, is that the adaptation is incomplete. It wouldn't have been possible to fit every story into the limited page count, but some of the exclusions are essential and defining parts of the overall work and their removal weakens it. For those that care, the omissions are: The Taxpayer / The Locusts / The Shore / The Fire Balloons / The Wilderness / Way up in the Middle of the Air / The Naming of Names / Usher II / The Old Ones / The Luggage Store / The Silent Towns / The Long Years / There Will Come Soft Rains

Note: Red text denotes stories that are either absent from some editions of the original novel or have been replaced by one of the others for various reasons.

The artwork pendulums from merely adequate to mildly awful. The limited colours, the deep Martian reds and browns, were expected but the lifelessness of the characters, the lack of singular identity in many of the protagonists was definitely not. Pilots, explorers, settlers and home-makers should be starkly different in their approach to the new World, but, with a few well-rounded exceptions, those qualities were lost somewhere along the way.

The highlight of the book is the final chapter/story. It retains some of the weight, the poignancy and the poetic tragedy that’s missing from all the others.

Fans of the novel, beware - it's a pale imitation. It's a shadow cast on a hollow wall. Its intentions are good but it delivers bitter disappointment. Although, thankfully, it uses the original timeline, not the ridiculous revised '97 version.

2 Hammer Horror stars out of 5

This wasn't the only attempt at adapting TMC. A TV Miniseries surfaced in 1980, with similar results. You can read about it HERE on one of our sister sites, Nut Box.

Something Wicked This Way Comes: The Authorized Adaptation (2011)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Illustrator: Ron Wimberly | Page Count: 144

'She was blind, yes, but special blind. Just as they felt that balloon sift down like an autumn rain, so she could feel their souls. Each soul, a vast warm fingerprint.'

I've covered the original novel HERE, so instead I'll focus solely on whether or not I feel the adaptation is successful. The short answer is yes, it mostly is. It retains a lot more descriptive language than is normal for a graphic novel, but that's a good thing because that's where the magic really happens in Bradbury's prose. His worldbuilding is often more beautifully realised than his dialogue.

The narrative accentuates the differences in the two boys more than the novel did, but that was necessary so that the second half of the story could do its job properly in a shorter space of time.

It was crucial that Cooger and Dark's Pandemonium Shadow Show was given the kind of attention it deserved, from the shape of the tents at three in the morning to the ominous flyers that herald its arrival. It is; there's only one thing I'd have did differently, but it's likely a publisher would have heart-failure at the idea.

I suspect the most divisive thing about the book will be the art style. It's wholly B+W (grayscale). There'll be people who see the wobbly lines and exaggerated perspectives and decide that Ron Wimberly simply can't draw. But he can. There are numerous tells throughout suggesting that his style is purposeful. Why then do his characters look freakish, and his lines not always meet? Will and Jim are adolescents; they're still growing; they can climb trees and trellises with ease, but they'll still trip over themselves on occasion because their limbs are in a constant state of growth. I believe Wimberly was hired because he was the correct man for the job, able to express visually the nuances of the world that Bradbury described — the world as seen through the eyes of the two such youths.

The ill-defined people on the street aren't lazy constructs, they're shadowy and flat for a reason: they're aged and don't feature in Will and Jim's life as anything other than background. It's a hugely subjective style but it's one that echoes my own feelings about the original text in many respects. A lot of people will feel the polar opposite, but hating something is equally as valid as loving it, because if we all wanted the same thing, we'd still be painting on cave walls.

3½ pricked thumbs out of 5

Bradbury Speaks: Too Soon from the Cave, Too Far from the Stars (2006)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Page Count: 256

"Run, leaving your footprints to be blown away with the firewind as the last rocket targets the great Cosmic wall."

Let's talk in unfair generalities. Fiction authors are different from other folks. They make a living telling lies much like actors, but that's where the similarities end. An actor is a tool. An author is a craftsman. Actors want to take your love. Authors want to excite your imagination. Within a fiction writer's falsehoods is buried a universal or deeply personal truth, waiting to be exhumed by a reader.

Authors shut themselves indoors and confess their innermost thoughts to a non-judgemental keyboard. They use their work to help them understand the world, not to make the cover of Hello! or OK! magazine. So why should we care what an author has to say about anything other than his or her work? Strictly speaking, we shouldn't. And there it ends.

And yet, while I'd much rather have a Bradbury novel or short story collection to take me journeying, I'll read anything and everything he wrote because his world view was informed 100% by his role as storyteller. When he looked at a tree he didn't just see a tree - he saw a place where children climbed and friendships were born; a shelter from the biting rain where two lovers first kissed; a place that blossoms once a year, under which a lonely mother cried. He saw the stories that might have been and both consciously and unconsciously catalogued the details he needed for the ones that would write themselves through him.

The thirty-seven essays in the featured book are of interest to me only because they were written by Ray. Some are two pages in length and some are ten. Some are thought-provoking and informative and some aren't, but in each instance his poetic mind was the hearth in which the insights were forged.

3½ backwards walks out of 5

Dandelion Wine (1957)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Page Count: 281

'He stood at the open window in the dark, took a deep breath and exhaled.

The street lights, like candles on a black cake, went out.

He exhaled again and again and the stars began to vanish.'

Like much of Bradbury's output, the book is about childhood, the magical time, but it's also about the fading of that time, making it a bitter-sweet experience. It captures the essence of what we all know and fear, that nostalgia for childhood can help you appreciate it more fully but can only be birthed posthumously.

It takes place over one summer in 1928, in the fictional Green Town, Illinois, a place Bradbury returns to in later books. In that year, in that summer, Douglas Spaulding and his younger brother Tom live life to the fullest. For Doug, the summer is his time. Every day will bring something new. Every day he'll fill to the brim with experiences; he'll collect them and they'll become a part of him.

He begins by helping pick the dandelions that are the primary ingredient of the titular wine. The dandelion, with its ability to be considered weed or flower, to exist as a thing of contrasts, is at the heart of the novel; beyond that it's a metaphor that I won't spoil. The book is bursting with such metaphors, some of them overly-sentimental but they never overshadow the narrative.

It's a novel but it's made up of short stories that were written over a number of years. They're arranged in such a way that they become Doug's story, the story of the people he knows, and of the people they know.

They're also records of the people Bradbury knows, or knew. It's one of his most autobiographical works. Douglas is his actual middle name. The character in the novel is an amalgamation of his own boyhood memories, and his fanciful and fertile imagination. Spaulding is his father's middle name. Green Town is a pseudonym for his childhood home of Waukegan. Knowing how personal it is enriches the work; it becomes two stories in one, with a little bit of magic in both.

5 bottles filled with sunshine out of 5

Something Wicked This Way Comes (1962)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Page Count: 272

'He knew what the wind was doing to them, where it was taking them, to all the secret places that were never so secret again in life.'

Green Town, Illinois, a quiet Midwestern town, is home to best friends William Halloway and Jim Nightshade, both aged thirteen; one was born as the day ended, the other born as the day begins. They've much in common but also reflect each other, thriving on the mirror image differences. You'll recognise them. They're you and me. They're everyone that ever lived or ever will. Tapping into the archetypal and imbuing it with magic is one of Bradbury's many talents. His currency is emotion and he spends it without reservation.

SWtWC is a timeless study of childhood and loss of innocence, wrapped up in a dark fantasy that will excite or terrify depending on the age of the reader.

In truth, the story is a vehicle for the subtext to cling to. Characters are invaded and appear to paradoxically invite the things that terrify them the most. If you're young you'll identify with the boys and share their sense of adventure. If you're an adult, if you understand the duality of change and the pangs of nostalgia, you'll discover a truer, more poignant aspect. The further removed you are from the boys' age the more poignant that subtext will feel and its affect on you will become intimately personal because optimism is a fragile thing.

It's Bradbury at max level. It's much darker than his other works and he doesn't try to hide it. The wonderfully named Mr. Dark is painted in shadow colours for a reason. His prose style, that word association game he plays, is evocative of so many things all at once that it left me dizzy with joy. There's a lengthy scene in a library that had me literally wide-eyed with awe.

The ending is a little cheesy but doesn't diminish the journey, the pace of which is your own heartbeat. Novels are rarely this close to perfection.

5 spins on the creepy carousel out of 5

Fahrenheit 451: The Authorized Adaptation (2009)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Illustrator: Tim Hamilton | Page Count: 149

"Books, so the damned snobbish critics said, were dishwater.

No wonder books stopped selling. The public, knowing what it wanted, let the comic books survive."

A comic adaptation of Bradbury's classic novel; I've already reviewed the novel HERE so I won't go over the plot again. This transition from novel to comic is fully authorised by Bradbury, so you would expect a faithful retelling. (He doesn't let just anyone have his works, he recently told his publisher to "go to hell" when they wanted to release 451 as an e-book. Sadly, he was forced to give in, once more proving that the publishing world has caught up with the film world in not giving a damn about the author’s intentions.)

It uses Bradbury's own dialogue but the majority of the descriptive language is lost, and it's that part of writing that Bradbury excels in. His character dialogue is often simplistic and minimal. Also, there are some parts of the story absent. I was expecting that, but mercifully it's not enough to dilute the story too much. It's heavily abridged but it's not overly dismissive; it's made some changes that are acceptable to facilitate a different medium, and some which aren't. It retains the same concerns and sense of urgency in action, but the loss of that descriptive language is a severe handicap, especially the ending which is hurried and lifeless.

The artwork is excellent. The frame in never cluttered, it shows only what's important and does it from some interesting angles. On the down side, it's that lazy digital colouring technique that I really don't like; it's turning comics into a standardised art form that keeps everything the same (ironically similar to one of the themes of the novel). It uses a muted palette of earthy browns and cold blues, contrasted with the fiery orange and yellow of the flames when the firemen do their thing. The best part of the colouring is the wonderful use of shadows and blacks; they're deep and symbolic, casting faces in gloom and insinuating secrets and character failings. It reminds me somewhat of Tim Sale's work on Batman, or the colouring in Mignola's Hellboy comics.

There's too much missing from the story to recommend this as an alternative to the novel, but enough included to perhaps inspire someone to move from the pictures to the prose. In that respect, it's partially successful.

2½ shadows in the bedroom out of 5

Fahrenheit 451 (1953)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Page Count: 172

"Go home and think of your first husband divorced and your second husband killed in a jet and your third husband blowing his brains out, go home and think of the dozen abortions you’ve had, go home and think of that and your damn Caesarian sections, too, and your children who hate your guts! Go home and think how it all happened and what did you ever do to stop it?"

Fahrenheit 451 tells of a time when the written word is anathema, books are burned for their heretic meanings and too much knowledge is forbidden. If one man is smarter than another it makes the other man feel shame and inadequacy. The state doesn't want that; they want everyone to be happy; everyone to be the same; no one to question the equilibrium or to protest.

Television is the dominant information medium, delivering sound and fury but saying nothing and meaning even less.

Life slithers along under a coloured blanket; the colour is grey and occasionally the colour of flame, but only if you try to think for yourself.

If you dare to own a book the firemen will come and burn it (and your home) because that’s what firemen do. It’s what they've always did, isn't it? Montag asks that question and the consequences of such an independent, suffering thought turn his life into an inferno of frightened indecision and instinctual abrupt actions.

It's a dystopian novel but that doesn't mean it’s depressing. Bradbury doesn't do depressing. He does heartfelt and cordial emotion, tinged with a beautiful sadness that touches your heart in a very special way. You can read an entire page effortlessly because his prose flows like water over glass, but stop and take the time to examine the words and you’ll be amazed at their strength and subtle power. I'm in awe of the great man’s ability to mould such a crude language into something so beautifully understated. It's a short book but has enduring ideas that have the potential to remain with the reader forever.

If I was to be burned for owning a book it would be for owning F451.

5 families in the TV out of 5

A Pleasure to Burn: Fahrenheit 451 Stories (2010)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Page Count: 389

This is a companion piece to Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 (1953).  It really should come with a warning on the cover but it doesn’t.  I’ll give it:  DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU'VE ALREADY READ FAHRENHEIT 451.  It'll spoil that novel for you completely if you do.  It has 14 shorts and 2 novellas.  They all echo or inform the 451 novel in some way, some are tenuously linked and others could almost be a part of it.
Editors Donn Albright and Jon Eller should be ashamed for the lack of information they give about the works.  Were they written before 451?  After?  Do they pave the way, or reflect upon it?
I’m a long time fan so know that all but two of the shorts (‘Bonfire’ and ‘The Library’) have been printed before in previous collections.  The novellas, both also previously published are ‘Long After Midnight’ and ‘The Fireman’.  Both are early versions of 451; they’re well written but the plot is almost identical to the novel, and the two stories are almost identical to each other.  With no explanation from the editors the casual reader will be confused.

If you’re thinking of buying the book for the two new pieces I mentioned, you may be disappointed.  They feel like they were abandoned midway.  The ideas were later integrated into other works.
Every writer has these kinds of things lying around in an ideas drawer; they're extended notes, disembodied scenes, ideas given form but crude and severely underdeveloped.  I don’t believe they were intended to be stand-alone works.  Bradbury isn't that shoddy, ever.  The cynic in me says they're simply used to sell more books.  I wonder what the author would think of their inclusion?

I love Bradbury.  I believe he's the finest living American author and I will shed real tears when he leaves us.  I mean no disrespect to his name but I don’t feel this book is of the usual high standard that we've come to expect.  It’s repackaged reprint by editors that aren't fit to wipe the old man’s ass; reprint that offers little in the way of variety for the reader.  Its only real merit is Bradbury’s poetic voice and his words that settle into the mind like treacle.  My score reflects that aspect of it not the collection which is insulting to the long time fan, and ruinous for the newcomer.  Seek out the original.

2½ kerosene canisters and controlled freedoms out of 5

The Homecoming (2006)

Author: Ray Bradbury | Illustrator: Dave McKean | Page Count: 56

'And to roars of laughter the chilly hand and the cold moon face lurched away in the roundabout dance.'

Part of the WISP series (Wonderfully Illustrated Short Pieces), Homecoming is a meeting of two exceptionally creative minds: American author Ray Bradbury and British illustrator Dave McKean. The former is my favourite American author; I can connect many of the significant moments in my life to a particular Bradbury novel I was reading at the time. McKean is perhaps best known for—and partly responsible for—the  enduring success of The Sandman comic book series. Both are giants in their respective field.

The text, featuring a ten-year-old boy named Timothy, was originally included in The October Country (1955), a collection of macabre-themed shorts. Timothy is a normal kid with normal thoughts. That's the problem. The rest of his family are vampires, ghouls, and things that bump in the night.

During All Hallows' Eve the family gather for an old fashioned get-together, but Timothy's being normal means he feels different, unable to fit in. It's a reversal of the usual 'weird kid that doesn't fit into society' tale and Bradbury finds the heart of the story effortlessly without sacrificing the innocence and beauty of childhood. Thematically, it's about family, identity, love, and the magic of youth.

It's not McKean's best work but it fits the aesthetic of the story for which it was designed, with scribble lines and dark shadows prevalent. In truth, even without the illustrations, it would be a top scoring tale.

5 smiles for Uncle Einar out of 5