R. von Pnaklendorf
Chymist
I just finished reading the short story I Have a Special Plan for This World, included in my copy of My Work Is Not Yet Done. I didn't fully understand it, but it conveyed something that made me empathize with Thomas Ligotti—not only with the reason he wrote it, but also with the way he chose to write it.
I've carried things in my own mind that have weighed on me, and, almost as if by magic, I turn them into stories. I give those stories a place to exist, as though that somehow absolves me—or, perhaps instead, as though they become either scars or badges of honor.
I couldn't help but feel that Thomas Ligotti was trying to unburden himself here, whatever the nature of it may have been. It could even have been something purely dissociative, tied to rumination or intrusive thoughts that perhaps even he didn't fully understand at the time.
As for the story itself, it struck me as a piece of poetic prose, though I could very well be mistaken.
I've carried things in my own mind that have weighed on me, and, almost as if by magic, I turn them into stories. I give those stories a place to exist, as though that somehow absolves me—or, perhaps instead, as though they become either scars or badges of honor.
I couldn't help but feel that Thomas Ligotti was trying to unburden himself here, whatever the nature of it may have been. It could even have been something purely dissociative, tied to rumination or intrusive thoughts that perhaps even he didn't fully understand at the time.
As for the story itself, it struck me as a piece of poetic prose, though I could very well be mistaken.