Source of book: I own this
I have two main qualifications for books I bring with me when backpacking. First, it must be small and light - I’m not carrying a five pound hardback with me. Second, it must be cheap and disposable, so if something happens to it (such as getting wet in a rainstorm), it is no big loss.
What this means is that typically I carry a small trade paperback that I can replace easily.
I took two backpacking trips this month, one with my brother and a bunch of kids; the second with some friends. Over the course of the two trips, I read this book.
The Toynbee Convector is a collection of short stories, published as a collection in 1988. Several of the stories are unique to this book, while others were first published in magazines. The title story, for example, was first published in Playboy. (Proof, I guess, that maybe you should read it for the articles?)
There isn’t really any theme tying the stories together. They are in a wide range of genres, from science fiction to horror to realist. If anything, I would say that the passage of time and aging are threads that run through most of the stories. Since this collection dates rather later in life, this would be expected.
Bradbury wrote a LOT of short stories - something over 400 in his lifetime. My own first experience of Bradbury was through a double collection, Twice 22, which combined The Golden Apples of the Sun and A Medicine for Melancholy. (The former includes “A Sound of Thunder,” perhaps the most memorable use of the Butterfly Effect ever.)
This collection contains 23 stories. I won’t go through all of them, but just mention the ones that stood out to me, for better and occasionally worse.
I have mentioned before that Bradbury struggled to write female characters, and his casual sexism can get annoying. The good news about this collection is that he handles female characters better in some of the stories, even letting them be protagonists. That said, there is one story (“A Touch of Petulance”) that is pretty much the “I hate my wife” joke but with time travel.
Because of the nature of short stories, I can’t really mention specifics without some spoilers. So be warned. If you want all the surprises, read the book first, then come back.
The title story is an interesting science fiction thought experiment. The central character, 100 years before the present, claimed to have visited the future. He showed videos and photos of incredible progress. Amazing technology that benefited everyone. Progress against disease and poverty. World peace.
Fast forward the 100 years, and guess what? All that happened. But the reclusive man who saw it grants a last interview in which he admits it was all a hoax. He used miniatures to create his fantasy world.
What he did do, though, is inspire the progress that he hoped would happen. I have been struck by this in our own time. It is easy to imagine hellscapes - and indeed to make them come true. But human progress has always come as the result of imagination. Those who have the ability to foresee a better possible future and inspire others to help make it happen.
I believe these people exist today among us - many of them are women, contrary to Bradbury’s story - and in fact they often have been women in the past. We can imagine a better future, and bring it to life.
“Trapdoor” is a straight up horror story. Bradbury is actually one of my favorite horror writers, and this little gem is delicious.
“On the Orient, North” may be my very favorite of the collection. I ended up reading it to my hiking companions on our first trip. (My brother brings short stories to read in the evenings, which is a favorite tradition for our trips.)
That story is a ghost story. An ancient man travels on the famed railroad, and is recognized by a retired nurse as a ghost. He is trying to relocate to England - some superstitious backwater where he will be appreciated. But traveling through western Europe, with all its atheism and rationality, is literally “killing” him. Yes, he’s already dead, but he would cease to exist without belief. She maintains his life by reading him literature with ghosts: Hamlet, A Christmas Carol, and so on.
It’s a sweet story, and quite imaginative.
There are several realistic stories involving love affairs of various sorts. “The Laurel and Hardy Love Affair” is about a sweet but doomed romance - a disagreement about their mutual future separates them. “Promises, Promises” is an ethical dilemma that arises after a man’s daughter has a near-fatal accident, and in a bargain with God, he promises to give up his mistress. The story is about the final meeting between the two.
There are also several stories about age and memory. In “Layfayette, Farewell,” an old veteran comes to terms with his memories and his guilt about killing. “Bless Me Father, For I Have Sinned” is about an old priest who hears a confession - his own - to a childhood betrayal, and is able to finally forgive himself. “Junior” is a rather dirty story about an old man’s last erection.
There are two others I want to mention, that I thought were particularly interesting.
“Come, and Bring Constance” is truly bizarre and even a bit inexplicable. The husband in the story receives an invitation from his psychologist to an event, with the post-script “Come, and bring Constance.”
The problem? Nobody knows who Constance is. The wife thinks she must be a mistress, and is jealous. But the husband has never known anyone by that name. When he calls his psychologist, things get even weirder. Constance shows up at the house, bold, big, and brassy, and complains that the husband can’t even appreciate her, because he is always talking about his wife. In the end, it isn’t entirely clear who this woman is, and the psychologist denies everything. It’s wonderfully daffy.
Finally, the other contender for my favorite story in the book, “One for his Lordship, and One for the Road.” The old Irish lord has died, and left behind a huge and expensive wine collection, and no close heirs.
Being an asshole, he directs in his will that he take his wine with him to the grave. His attorney starts pouring the wine into the grave, to the horror of the villagers. However, the local tavern keeper has a flash of brilliance, and the constable enforces the law. Since the will does not direct how the wine is to get into the grave, it is fine for the villagers to drink the wine, and, um, return it to the grave at a later time.
I definitely enjoyed this collection, and it worked well for those quiet times on a trip after hiking but before sleep.
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Other posts about Ray Bradbury:
Something Wicked This Way Comes
Zero Hour (Radio drama)
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