From: Tim Mayberry [HELIOS511@prodigy.net]
Sent: Friday, April 21, 2000 12:30 AM
To: goodbye@goreyography.com
Subject: Tribute

Hello again. This is my tribute to Edward Gorey. I hope you find it worthy to go on your goodbye page. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to e-mail.

Thanks, and take care.

When I heard that Edward Gorey died, I could do nothing but sit in my chair, feeling numb and empty. It didn’t seem possible. I went outside and sat on the front stoop, and tried to cry. I wanted to, but the tears wouldn’t come. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, I realize that Edward would have thought the idea of a complete stranger crying over his death as ludicrous. That makes me feel a bit better.

I’ve never met anyone that loved his work as I did. I don’t think I ever met anyone (besides over the Internet) that even knew who Edward Gorey was. My co-workers would walk by my desk and give curious looks to the pictures on my wall. Embley and Yewbert whacking each other with croquet mallets, Jasper standing in the rain to by 3rd gallery ticket, and the immortal Doubtful Guest, scarf flying mightily in the wind.

I’ve tried to share his work with other people, but I’ve never met anyone that saw the work for what it is: sheer and utter beauty. I showed The Inanimate Tragedy to a friend. Her only reply was "weird." I gave up on trying to turn other people on to Gorey. I guess only a small number of people can really respect and understand Gorey’s work. The Object-Lesson is a classic, changing the "rules" of the narrative. The Epiplectic Bicycle is a wonderful journey into the surreal. My favorite book, however, has to be The Blue Aspic. It’s such a beautifully sad story. On the surface, it seems like a rather bland tale of two disparate people. But much deeper, one finds a story of passion and obsession. The wonderful juxtaposition of the lives of Jasper and Caviglia becomes almost haunting. 

Thus was the beauty of Edward Gorey: strange creatures speaking a series of nonsensical words; the eerie Black Doll showing up in the oddest of places; tall men with top hats, great coats, and long beards, contemplating the ill fortunes of children; a horrid bloated baby; a great alligator rising from an even greater puddle; the nimble Figbash; stories that seem to go nowhere, but actually delve deep into the mind’s subconscious; and of course, without fail, the seemingly clandestine and mysteriously blank (?) card left almost haphazardly on the ground...

Edward Gorey has left this mortal coil. I bet he would think that all the fuss we make over him was rather funny, and maybe it is, and that’s okay. It’s a cliché I know, but his work has made him immortal. I think a small part of me died, but that’s okay too. Life’s like that sometimes.

So, to Edward Gorey, we say good-bye. I can think of two epitaphs that I think he would have enjoyed. The first are the final words of The Unstrung Harp, "Although he is a person to whom things do not happen, perhaps they may when he is on the other side." The other, and perhaps more fitting, comes from the last page of The Object Lesson. A threesome of two women and a man stand silently against the horizon of the setting sun -- the man, assuredly a not-so-vague self-portrait: Tall, bearded, and sporting a full length fur. A single word is neatly laid at the bottom, in the most characteristic and unique lettering style we shall ever know.

Farewell.