So this week I’m reading The Golem and the Jinni, by Helene Wecker, which is not about Grundy and somebody who does not grant wishes, but rather, about a golem whose master dies almost immediately after she becomes animated and a jinni who is accidentally freed from an olive oil decanter while it is in for repairs.
Both of these rather lost supernatural creatures find themselves adrift in New York City at the very end of the 19th century. Hilarity, most likely, does not ensue.
“Once a golem develops a taste for destruction,” the old rabbi said, “little can stop it save the words that destroy it. Not all golems are as crude or stupid as this one, but all share the same essential nature.”
Well this can’t end well. We all know how things turn out after you start with an appetite for destruction …
Meanwhile, the final (probably) round of editing continues on Television Man. At this rate, it might even be ready for publication by the end of the year. Hmm, where have we heard that before … ?
The second time Robin regained consciousness, it was because someone was shaking her. She grunted and pushed whoever it was away, but he came right back, hand on her shoulder, shake shake shake.
“Go away, Kyle,” she said. “I’m sleeping.”
Evidently dissuaded, the hands went away.
But wait a minute. She wasn’t in bed; she was on a mountain. And she had recently fallen out of a tree and been dragged through the woods. And whoever was bothering her had stopped when she said to. All of those factors, taken together, made it unlikely that the person who’d been trying to wake her up was Kyle, didn’t it? She opened her eyes and discovered that she was most definitely not asleep at home, and that her husband was not around. He could be obnoxious and stubborn and sometimes controlling, sure, but he had never literally locked her up in a cage.
Ah, women in cages. The fun never ends in the Adirondacks!