Let’s call this one a case of divine intervention. I accepted an invitation from Tom Roche to do a story for an anthology about gargoyles that he was co-editing with Nancy Kilpatrick. When I’d said to count me in, this was with no greater insight into what I might do than the phrase “the Michelangelo of the gargoyles,” which had popped into my head. Then no more. Then I had a birthday, most of which in those days were spent in St. Louis. Doli and I passed that early October afternoon at a Scottish festival held in the wilds west of the city, on the grounds of what had once been a monastery. Under the dealers tent (really more of a big tarp), we found a ceramic Green Man pendant shaped a bit like a blunt arrowhead with a leafy, sleepy-eyed face. I had to have it. Had to. There were other Green Men, but there was just something about this particular one. [I’ve since learned that it’s a copy of a relief known as the Florentine Man, carved by … wait for it … Michelangelo.] So Doli bought it, and wore it all day, then that evening at my precise birth-minute, as we stood beside a lake, she took it off and draped it over my head as a gift, where it remains to this day. After which we laid siege to food and ale at a favorite Welsh pub, Llewellyn & Gruffydd’s. Soon after, the story really took off, and found itself finished on the evening of Samhain. So I credit the Green Man for this one. Although he didn't spare me the trouble of needing eight or ten nonfiction books to get all the facts straight. The gods are funny that way.
As Above, So Below. The Rilke quote came first, tapping me on the shoulder and telling me that it embodied an interesting dilemma. Then the title, an ancient Hermetic axiom capsulizing the principle that the here and the hereafter are mirror images of one another. And then they sat there in my head and in my notes for the longest damned time, offering no help at all about what to do with them next. But then the characters started showing up, and took over some of the work. Truth be told? Part of this was written during one of the worst periods of my life, on days when I didn’t much care if I saw the next day. Then again, part of it was written at a time that began to presage a considerable amount of change and transition. That much may be obvious on all but the most casual read-through, I don’t know. But more than anything else I’ve written, this novella stayed true to itself while at the same time serving as an in-progress, if metaphorical, reflection of … well, a hell of a lot. Carl Jung, I’m sure, would have a field day. And let’s just leave it at that.
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Thanks are due the editors/publishers who saw merit in the previously published stories and gave them their first life: John Pelan, Marty Greenberg, Stan Tal, Poppy Z. Brite, Dom Salemi, and Nancy Kilpatrick and Thomas Roche. Further thanks all over again to John and Kathy Pelan for their faith and belief in the power of stories. And to James Powell for the cover art this time around.
Thanks to Beth, Clark, D.J., Jasmine, Kurt and Amy, Monique, and Wildy (and the Bluesman) for all the conversations, real or virtual, that fed me somehow. And to Grandfather, and the Watchers. Blessed be.
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“Be mad … Be mad and tell us of the mysteries behind the veil of ‘reason.’ Life’s purpose is to bring us nearer to those mysteries; and madness is the surest and quickest steed. Be mad, and remain…”
— Kahlil Gibran, letter to a friend
About The Author
Called “a spectacularly unflinching writer” by Peter Straub, Brian Hodge is the author of ten novels, close to 100 short stories, and four collections of short fiction. Recent books include his second crime novel, Mad Dogs, and his latest collection, Picking The Bones.
He lives in Colorado, where he’s at work on a gigantic new novel that doesn’t seem to want to end, and distracts himself with music and sound design, photography, Krav Maga and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and organic gardening.
Connect with him online through his web site (www.brianhodge.net), his blog (www.warriorpoetblog.com), or on Facebook (www.facebook.com/brianhodgewriter).