Discussion Group -March 20th- "Time and Again" by Breece DJ Pancake
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Congrats! Is this the one you're not that fond of? I hope it has turned around since the birth of Bryson and all things will be well.
I think the boy saw what his father was doing and ran off. Maybe saw his mother with the hogs. There is a line "I told him not to go and look, that the hogs just squeal because I never kill them."
And no, I didn't see him as mentally challenge. Psychotic? Maybe. If I choose to believe that he killed his wife and son.
I agree I think the son saw, that's why I thought maybe he killed him too. But very easily could have run off and really, the story is more in that camp.
That was an awesome story Doc. I'm going to have to track down this collection. I really like the dark minimal style.
I thought you guys in Alabama were Waffle people not Pancake people.
I thought you guys in Alabama were Waffle people not Pancake people.
That was an awesome story Doc. I'm going to have to track down this collection. I really like the dark minimal style.
I thought you guys in Alabama were Waffle people not Pancake people.
Well, we still buy our meth at the Waffle House; does that count? LOL
I do hope you read this collection. They all are exquisitely painful stories, not unlike Pet Sematary, but they are too insightful and powerful to forget. He has influenced many writers, it turns out, one of whom is Joyce Carol Oates.
That's an excellent point. I guess that's about as isolated as you can get.
The snowplow job might be the loneliest occupation there is.
....she has grown on me a bit....hopefully it’s not just human mildew.....
Thank you Doc Creed for this story and new to me writer. Though I think I have read Trilobites somewhere before.
I totally didn't get the father as the killer vibe. Not until you all mentioned it! I'm oblivious to the obvious. I see it now. I kept worrying about the old man - his wife dead, his son gone. I was sad, I could feel such longing in that story. I was thinking that maybe his son fell into the hog pen and got eaten and the dad couldn't bear the thought. I'm going to read it again with a new perspective and see where that gets me. In any case - the writing was exquisitely simple. Mr. Pancake has something to say for sure. I haven't seen your thread in the Territories, Doc, about Breece Pancake. But I was so intrigued by the story that I googled some information on him and read about his life and young suicide. I'm going to find myself a copy of that collection. I definitely want more.
After reading your comments, I googled the story and got this:
"Time and Again" is a short story by American writer Breece D'J Pancake, first published in 1977. This American Gothic tale tells the story of an aging murderer, a farmer who feeds the bodies of his victims to his hogs. The short story appears in Pancake's only book, The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake. Wikipedia
I'm embarrassed that I missed the point. Just call me Pollyanna!
Congratulations to Seth & Bride and baby Bryson!
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I like how I say that his writing is exquisitely simple, but then I missed the whole thing.
I totally didn't get the father as the killer vibe. Not until you all mentioned it! I'm oblivious to the obvious. I see it now. I kept worrying about the old man - his wife dead, his son gone. I was sad, I could feel such longing in that story. I was thinking that maybe his son fell into the hog pen and got eaten and the dad couldn't bear the thought. I'm going to read it again with a new perspective and see where that gets me. In any case - the writing was exquisitely simple. Mr. Pancake has something to say for sure. I haven't seen your thread in the Territories, Doc, about Breece Pancake. But I was so intrigued by the story that I googled some information on him and read about his life and young suicide. I'm going to find myself a copy of that collection. I definitely want more.
After reading your comments, I googled the story and got this:
"Time and Again" is a short story by American writer Breece D'J Pancake, first published in 1977. This American Gothic tale tells the story of an aging murderer, a farmer who feeds the bodies of his victims to his hogs. The short story appears in Pancake's only book, The Stories of Breece D'J Pancake. Wikipedia
I'm embarrassed that I missed the point. Just call me Pollyanna!
Or Meteor $h+t !
Congratulations to Seth & Bride and baby Bryson!
edited to add:
I like how I say that his writing is exquisitely simple, but then I missed the whole thing.
It is a great collection of stories in 'Trilobites and other stories'.
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Volunteer for next week? Shout out with story title and link.
Seeing I was reading something with King talking in Bare Bones: Conversations in terror with Stephen King. King mentioned the short story 'Pigeons from Hell' by Robert E. Howard (I can't remember who he was talking too, and what he was talking, I think it was to do with some television program). Anyway, maybe this is a good story:
Pigeons from Hell
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Group read for March 27th. Group leader Blake
Pigeons from Hell by Robert E. Howard
Pigeons from Hell
Pigeons from Hell by Robert E. Howard
Pigeons from Hell
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....this is why I enjoy this exercise as much as I do.....meeting new "voices".....I see and appreciate the avenues others went down, judging our isolated protagonist-agree that he has been and may continue to be, a plow driving serial killer.....as far as motivation, I opine that he suffers from PTSD, related to his service as a paratrooper....after all, he had his first taste of government sanctioned murder here.....
“It snowed like this in France the winter of ‘forty-four,'” I say. “I was in the paratroops, and they dropped us where the Germans were thick. My platoon took a farmhouse without a shot.”
“Damn,” he says. “Did you knife them?”
“Snapped their necks,” I say, and I see my man tumble into the sty. People die so easy.
.....something from this time in service gave him a level of contempt for the "fools" of the human race....and he chose to act on this contempt by using Hitler-esque judgment for his victims, with the swine serving as porcine equivalents of furnaces/gas chambers.....it would not surprise me at all that he killed his wife and son, and the light in the kitchen is version of masking guilt...."maybe he'll be back".......
“It snowed like this in France the winter of ‘forty-four,'” I say. “I was in the paratroops, and they dropped us where the Germans were thick. My platoon took a farmhouse without a shot.”
“Damn,” he says. “Did you knife them?”
“Snapped their necks,” I say, and I see my man tumble into the sty. People die so easy.
.....something from this time in service gave him a level of contempt for the "fools" of the human race....and he chose to act on this contempt by using Hitler-esque judgment for his victims, with the swine serving as porcine equivalents of furnaces/gas chambers.....it would not surprise me at all that he killed his wife and son, and the light in the kitchen is version of masking guilt...."maybe he'll be back".......
Spidey, I fixed your link to the story. It was opening up on the third chapter instead of the opening of the story. All good now!
Sorry to be so late chiming in. What a creepy little story!
For sure, the man was the killer.
My argument for him being the killer...
Look under the seat for my flashlight, boy.”
He bends forward, grabbing under the seat, and his head is turned from me. But I am way too tired now, and I don’t want to clean the seat.
I don't want to clean the seats, which earlier he said were vinyl and cold but easy to clean.
And he absolutely fed the hitchhikers to the pigs. And, his son. I think so...
I ought to feed them better than that awful slop, but I can’t until I know my boy is safe. I told him not to go and look, that the hogs just squeal because I never kill them. They always squeal when they are happy, but he went and looked. Then he ran off someplace.
He either fed his son to the pigs because he found out what dear old dad was doing, or maybe he did run off. Either way, I think this means the son found out.
And then the last paragraph. I think he fed himself to the pigs.
I pull up beside my house. My hogs run from their shelter in the backyard and grunt at me. I stand by my plow and look at the first rims of light around Sewel Mountain through the snowy limbs of the trees. Cars hiss by on the clean road. The kitchen light still burns, and I know the house is empty. My hogs stare at me, snort beside their trough. They are waiting for me to feed them, and I walk to their pen.
Great story, Doc. Another new author for me.
Cat, great catch! All those quotes certainly help your argument. I can kick myself for missing or overlooking the flashlight quote.