The Creepiest Carnival Ever... And There Aren't Even Clowns

Something Wicked This Way Comes

by Ray Bradbury
p. 1962 

In honor of his passing some weeks ago, I decided to pay my respects to the paragon of science fiction and horror writers by picking up one of his novels. Prior to this undertaking, I’d only read short fiction by Bradbury, of which I am utterly enamored. The first one to catch my eye is the spooky, quite literal coming-of-age story centering on two young boys and the creepy carnival that comes to their quaint small town one blustery fall day and changes everything.

In reading Something Wicked..., I learned a few things I did not know before. For starters, the book is dedicated to Gene Kelly, with whom Bradbury shared a respectful acquaintanceship, and was originally intended to be a film collaboration with the actor/director. That never came to pass, but it’s interesting to note the connection, to see how one artist inspires another and vice versa. It’s also rather amusing to be told of a time when no one wanted to touch a script by Ray Bradbury (Oh, the fools!).

I also learned that Something Wicked is a sort of companion piece, or more on the nose, parallel, to Bradbury’s earlier collection of stories, Dandelion Wine, also about two young boys growing up in the same fictional small town, but where Dandelion Wine was more of a ‘summer’ story—youthful and positive in tone—Something Wicked is described as an ‘autumn’ tale, sketching some of the darker edges of growing older.

Perhaps most interesting to note is that—though it is what he is notorious for—Bradbury did not consider himself a science fiction writer primarily. And it’s sort of true; while Something Wicked does boast supernatural elements, that is not meant to be the focus. At the heart of things, this book is about the ascension into adulthood, the pain it can bring, and the fear of accepting it in its due time. It just so happens that a creepy carnival owner and a carousel that defies the laws of time brought this revelation about.

With short chapters and a timeline consisting of just a day or two, Something Wicked is a quick read, made all the more convenient by way of Bradbury’s rich, flowing prose. Reading this novel is like reading a 300-page poem, except I didn’t tire of it like I would with poetry. There were times near the start when I felt like Bradbury was being a little heavy-handed with his relentless imagery drawing the protagonists, Will Halloway and Jim Nightshade, out as polar opposites—Will the sunny-disposition, freckled light of youth, directly oppositional to Jim’s dark, mysterious melancholy—but it worked to the novel’s advantage, creating these two characters who were foils to each other, each helping shape the other in their transition. I do feel, though, that the novel was perhaps a bit too dismissive of Jim and his ways, when it appears that in reality, Jim and Will are just two opposite sides of the same coin.

The two young friends both find the carnival and its proprietors, Cooger and Dark, alluring and fascinating at first, the former far more than the latter. Their schism arrives when they discover the mystical carousel that—when ridden in the appropriate direction—will age you prematurely or turn back the clock, making a boy where once stood a man, each rotation of the carousel equaling one year not earned the natural way. Jim wants to be older, an adult; he already feels like one ahead of his time. Will, though slightly older, is more naive, childish, but unwittingly wise enough to want to stay right where he’s at. Will’s father, Charles, wishes to be young again, as he, more than anyone, feels the sadness and bittersweet reality of getting old. Meanwhile, the carnival’s tattooed man and co-owner, Mr. Dark (on whom the title of Bradbury’s short story collection, The Illustrated Man, is based), is after the boys for knowing too much of his dark secret, but knows he has piqued their interests. Bradbury’s prose is effective at drawing out the tension in the boys’ interaction with the carnival’s inhabitants, but that is really the only element qualifying this story as ‘horror.’ Apart from the terror of the unknown that Mr. Dark and the carousel implicate, this is really a rather innocuous story. I never found myself unsettled, just curious at how things would all turn out.

The reason I’ve enjoyed Bradbury thus far is that, no matter how removed from youth he is, he has never fully lost that connection to it, he can still remember what it was like and how painful it was to lose it. That is something every person who has made that transition can relate to. For younger readers, this story is probably exciting and eerie, but for those of us who’ve ‘ridden the carousel’ around a few more times, this story is more somber and pensive and a reminder that aging is more a state of mind than a resolute fact. You are, in fact, as young as you think you are.