When Simon replies “nothing,” Big Simon states Little Simon should learn from experience and do something amusing tomorrow so as not to be bored. Once seated around the table, the conversation turns to what “Small Simon” has been doing all afternoon.

When Simon calls his father “Daddy,” his father insists Simon call him “Big Simon” and then goes on to pontificate how in times past little boys called their fathers “sir” or else they got a good spanking on the bottom. The father wastes no time in letting everyone know, especially Simon, that he is the person squarely in charge. Unexpectedly, Simon’s father, a dentist and man of science, bustles on the scene. Betty, a visitor, notices Simon’s face is almost a perfect triangle pointed at the chin and the child is as pale as pale can be. Beckoned by a bell to come along and join others for afternoon tea, Simon drifts in. The lad carries a stick, struts up and down, mouthing and gesticulating. We have six-year-old Simon who no longer plays with the other children but spends his days in or near a decaying little summer-house down at the end of the garden. Before I offer commentary on my two favorites that just so happen to be the weirdest of the bunch, there's one bit of British author bio worth noting - as a joke, Collier penned a review of his own novel, His Monkey Wife, wherein he characterized the book as a half-baked attempt 'to combine the qualities of the thriller with those of what might be called the decorative novel.' And as something of a grand finale, jokin' John C offered the following concluding remark regarding the novelist's abysmal lack of talent: 'From the classical standpoint his consciousness is too crammed for harmony, too neurasthenic for proportion, and his humor is too hysterical, too greedy, and too crude.' Thanks, John Collier! Anyway, with stories this good, it's on with the show:Ī tale with great depth. Reading these fictional poppers is a toot. 'John Collier saw the irony of human encounters and the fun in putting it down.' 'The stories here are not serious and thank God for that.' It is a world were anything can happen and always does.'

'There is no umbilical cord between the characters in Collier’s world and the world we live in. New York Review Books is to be commended on two counts: firstly, for making this overlooked John Collier classic collection of short stories available to a wider audience secondly, for including an introductory essay by Ray Bradbury where Ray proffers three memorable lines:

Fancies and Goodnights by John Collier