In the Night Room. Peter Straub

In the Night Room - Peter  Straub


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      In the Night Room

      Peter Straub

      

       For Gary K. Wolfe

      I wanted to write, and just tell you that me and my spirit were fighting this morning. It is’nt known generally, and you must’nt tell anybody.

      – EMILY DICKINSON,

      letter to Emily Fowler, 1850

      

       The consolation of imaginary things is not imaginary consolation.

      – ROGER SCRUTON

      Table of Contents

       Cover Page

       Title Page

       Dedication

       Epigraph

       Part Two TWO VOICES FROM A CLOUD

       14

       15

       Part Three THE ROLE OF TOM HARTLAND

       16

       17

       18

       19

       20

       Part Four TIM UNDERHILL SAILS TO BYZANTIUM/SO DOES WILLY

       21

       22

       23

       24

       25

       26

       27

       Part Five THE WOMAN GLIMPSED AT THE WINDOW

       28

       29

       30

       31

       32

       33

       34

       35

       Acknowledgments

       About the Author

       By Peter Straub

       Copyright

       About the Publisher

Part One WILLY’S LOSING HER MIND AGAIN/SO IS TIM

       1

      About 9:45 on a Wednesday morning early in a rain-drenched September, a novelist named Timothy Underhill gave up, in more distress than he cared to acknowledge, on his ruined breakfast and the New York Times crossword puzzle and returned, far behind schedule, to his third-floor loft at 55 Grand Street. Closing his door behind him did nothing to calm his troubled heart. He clanked his streaming umbrella into an upright metal stand, transported a fresh cup of decaffeinated coffee to his desk, parked himself in a flexible mesh chair bristling with controls, double-clicked on Outlook Express’s arrow-swathed envelope, and, with the sense of finally putting most of his problem behind him, called to the surface of his screen the day’s first catch of e-mails, ten in all. Two of them were completely inexplicable. Because the messages seemed to come from strangers (with names unattached to specific domains, he would notice later), bore empty subject lines, and consisted of no more than a couple of disconnected words


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