In our last essay, we spent a lot of time talking about the character of Hannibal Lecter, but what about Will Graham? After all, he’s the man who catches Hannibal in the novels, and in the television series, he is the man who, unintentionally, catches Hannibal’s heart. This is not, by any stretch of the imagination, an uncommon trait of the Devil, who has, in most all forms of literature,
A friend of mine—whose last name is literally ‘Friend’, because sometimes the Universe feels the need to make things obvious for us—contacted me early one morning to say, “Reread the short stories in The Lottery by Shirley Jackson and watch out for James or Jim Harris,” and I, sufficiently intrigued, and not having read much Jackson since finishing We Have Always Lived In The Castle, opened the book and recalled,
Growing up, I wasn’t allowed to listen to David Bowie. Though my father listened to all manner of punk, goth and progressive rock, the Buddha of suburbia was too esoteric for his Catholic tastes. I distinctly recall once sitting at the coffee table when, prompted, I am certain, by some commercial or television show, my father announced in reference to the song ‘Oh! You Pretty Things’ something to the snide
