Reading List

You have read Dracula, Frankenstein, and The Portrait of Dorian Gray.  You have exhausted H.P. Lovecraft. You have even read Wuthering Heights.  It is twenty-five years into the twenty-first century and you say, "Isn't there anything cool to read? Isn't there anything atmospheric?  Isn't there anything interesting? I want to know where my soul goes at night. Isn't there anything that will tell me that?"

Well, there is. But in some cases, the books are obscure and you might have to back to the 19th century.  As the days grow longer and hotter, get ready to pack your beach bag with one of these.  They will entertain you long into the night and maybe even put chills down your spine and help keep you cool.  

I am a bibliophile and you know I know books.  So here you go. In no particular order.

1.)  Zanoni by Bulwer Lytton (1842)

It is a sweeping, gothic romance steeped in the occult, secret societies, and the quest for immortality. The story follows Zanoni, an enigmatic Rosicrucian brother who has lived for centuries possessing timeless youth and supernatural powers. However, his immortal existence is challenged when he falls deeply in love with a mortal opera singer, forcing him to choose between eternal, detached wisdom and the passionate, fleeting joys of human love.

2.) Anything by or about Marie Corelli

Particularly The Sorrows of Satan (1895) and The Soul of Lilith (1892).

Corelli didn't just write simple romance or drawing-room dramas; she wrote grand, atmospheric epics steeped in the mystical and the supernatural. Her stories feel like dark, sweeping fairy tales for adults. She blends gothic elements, ancient mysteries, and psychological tension into stories that feel intensely cinematic and moody. If you love books that wrap you in a thick, mysterious atmosphere from page one, she delivers that beautifully.

3.) Anything by or about Dion Fortune

If Marie Corelli’s lush, dramatic, and gothic style hits the right notes for you, then Dion Fortune is the logical next step into a slightly deeper, darker, and more psychologically intense realm.

Dion Fortune (the pen name of Violet Firth) was writing a few decades after Corelli, primarily in the 1920s and 30s. But where Corelli wrote grand, romanticized mystical fantasies, Dion Fortune brought something entirely different to the table: she was a trained psychoanalyst and a genuine, practicing occultist.

When you read her fiction, you aren't just reading standard supernatural thrillers—you are reading stories written by someone who deeply understood both Sigmund Freud's theories of the unconscious mind and the ancient, hidden traditions of the esoteric world.

4.) Carmilla by Le Fanu (1872)

It is one of the absolute pillars of Gothic literature, famously published 25 years before Bram Stoker wrote Dracula. In fact, Stoker was heavily influenced by Le Fanu's work when creating his own famous vampire.

If you appreciate a certain depth, mood, and texture in your reading, Carmilla is a masterpiece that will completely captivate you. Here is exactly why it fits that specific literary palate:

Le Fanu was a master of what is called "the dread of the unseen." Carmilla is set in a lonely, isolated castle (a schloss) surrounded by dense, dark forests in Styria, Austria. The story is drenched in an unhurried, melancholic mood—think thick evening mists, forgotten ruins, moonlit corridors, and a quiet, creeping sense of unease. It doesn't rely on cheap, modern shock value; it builds a rich, palpable texture that wraps around you like a heavy velvet cloak.

5.) Anything by Algernon Blackwood

If you enjoy the slow-burning, psychological tension of Dion Fortune and the exquisite, heavy dread of Carmilla, Algernon Blackwood is an author you absolutely need to meet.

Writing in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, Blackwood is widely considered one of the greatest masters of supernatural fiction who ever lived. H.P. Lovecraft himself was a massive admirer, calling Blackwood’s work "supreme" and "unexcelled."

But Blackwood didn't write about typical ghosts rattling chains in old castles. Instead, he pioneered "The Cosmic Weird" and "Psychological Terror." Here is exactly why his writing will resonate so deeply with you:

Blackwood was an avid outdoorsman, a mystic, and a traveler who spent years living in the wilderness. Because of this, the "antagonist" in his stories is almost always Nature itself—but a version of nature that is alive, ancient, watchful, and intensely eerie. He excels at making you feel that a lonely forest, a quiet riverbank, or a windswept island has its own consciousness and secrets. If you love stories where a thick, mysterious atmosphere wraps around you until the setting itself becomes a character, Blackwood is the absolute gold standard.

6.) The Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe (1794)

If you are drawn to the rich, heavy atmosphere of Carmilla, the psychological depth of Oliver Onions, and the grand, mysterious world-building of Marie Corelli, this book is essentially the "Grandmother" of them all. Ann Radcliffe was the undisputed queen of the early Gothic novel, and Udolpho is her absolute masterpiece. It was a massive cultural phenomenon in its day.

Radcliffe didn't just write stories; she painted them with words. The book follows a young, soulful Frenchwoman named Emily St. Aubert who, after a series of family tragedies, finds herself trapped in the remote, menacing Castle Udolpho, high up in the rugged Apennine mountains of Italy.

The setting itself becomes a living character. Radcliffe fills the pages with:

• Vast, gloomy, moonlit corridors and winding subterranean vaults.

• The distant, melancholic howling of wolves in the black forests below.

• Eerie, unexplained sighs echoing behind the heavy tapestry of locked rooms.

If you love being completely enveloped by a thick, dark, and brooding mood, Udolpho is the gold standard of scenic texture.

A Note on the Journey: Because it was written in 1794, it is a long commitment (often running 600+ pages depending on the edition). But if you treat it like a grand, atmospheric estate you are moving into for a couple of weeks, the sheer depth of the mystery and the beauty of the prose make it an incredibly rewarding, classic escape.

My own summer reading list includes:

The Complete Ghost Stories of Oliver Onions (1935) and The King of Elfland's Daughter (1924) by Lord Dunsany.

Where to Buy the Dolls

 As many of you know, it is not easy to find the dolls.  If you are new to the dolls, or just looking to browse old favorites, I recommend that you go here:

BJD Collectasy

https://bjdcollectasy.com/companies-other-links/

You can also read news on new releases there.  You can spend countless hours down the rabbit hole there.

Think long and hard before you buy a doll. You should love it.  Do not settle for one that you are not in love with.

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly

Normal is an illusion. What is normal for a spider is chaos for a fly.

    [ The Web ] 
     /       \
(Spider)   (Fly)
 Order     Chaos

That is one of the most brilliant, razor-sharp pieces of writing because it completely shatters the idea that there is a single, "correct" blueprint for reality.
It is famously a line delivered by Morticia Addams, and beneath its dark, gothic wit lies a profound truth that philosophers, biologists, and teleologists have debated for centuries.
When you really break it down, it is the ultimate reminder that perspective dictates everything.
The Teleological Reality: Dual Purposes
If you look at that statement through a teleological lens (the philosophy of purpose and design), it highlights a fascinating paradox in nature.
A teleologist would say that the universe is a masterpiece of design, but it is a nested design.
For the Spider: The web is a masterpiece of geometry, architecture, and patience. Its ultimate purpose (telos) is survival, a home, and a quiet place to wait. To the spider, the web is absolute order.
For the Fly: That exact same web is a lethal, invisible snare. It represents the violent disruption of its flight, confinement, and the end of its life. To the fly, it is absolute chaos.

Both experiences are happening at the exact same moment, in the exact same coordinates of space. The web is functioning perfectly according to its design, but the "purpose" looks completely different depending on which side of the silk you are standing on.
The Atmospheric Illusion of "Normal"
Writers like Walter de la Mare, Algernon Blackwood, and Dion Fortune built their entire literary careers on this exact premise.
In a classic atmospheric ghost story, "normal" is just a thin, fragile crust. The characters are living their regular lives, pouring tea, and reading books (the fly's version of order). But just beneath the surface, or in the shadows of the room, an ancient, unseen force or a phantom presence is operating by a completely different set of cosmic laws.
What feels like terrifying supernatural chaos to the human character is actually just the "normal" behavior of the spiritual world bleeding through the wallpaper.
The Ultimate Takeaway
The statement reminds us that "normal" isn't a fixed, objective point in the universe. It is a subjective comfort zone.
Whenever we think the world is spinning out of control or making no sense, it usually just means we've accidentally flown into someone else's web, looking at a design that wasn't built for us to easily understand. It forces us to stretch our imagination and realize that the universe is wide enough to hold absolute order and absolute chaos in the exact same thread of silk.

Tea Pets

 I ordered one. I ordered a color changing one.

The Sugar Glider and the Flying Squirrel

 The parallel between the Sugar Glider and the Flying Squirrel is one of the most breathtaking arguments for a grand design in the natural world.

To understand why they are viewed as such compelling proof of an underlying intelligence—or what Marie Corelli would call the orderly signature of a Divine Creator—we have to look at the staggering contradiction between their inner biology and their outer design.

The Massive Evolutionary Chasm

If you were to place a North American Flying Squirrel and an Australian Sugar Glider side-by-side on a tree branch, you would swear they were identical twins. They have the same large, glassy nocturnal eyes, the same soft grey-brown fur, the same flat tracking tails, and, most distinctively, the exact same stretchy "cape" of skin (the patagium) spanning from their wrists to their ankles.

Yet, genetically, they are less related to each other than a human being is to a whale.

• The Flying Squirrel is a placental mammal. It develops its young inside a womb with a placenta, just like mice, dogs, and humans.

• The Sugar Glider is a marsupial. It belongs to an ancient branch of mammals that give birth to tiny, undeveloped embryos that must crawl into an external pouch to grow, making it a close cousin to the kangaroo and the koala.

These two lines of life split apart over 100 million years ago and evolved on completely separate continents, isolated by vast oceans.

Why This Points to God (The Teleological Argument)

If life were purely a series of random, chaotic accidents with no overarching plan, the probability of two entirely different biological systems arriving at the exact same intricate, highly specialized "hang-glider" blueprint is nearly mathematically impossible.

A philosopher or teleologist would look at these two creatures and offer three specific points of proof for God:

1. The Pre-Existing Archetype (The Master Blueprint)

The standard materialist argument is that the environment "forced" them into this shape because it’s the best way to survive in a forest. But a design-focused mind asks: Why should the best solution be identical down to the millimeter?

The existence of the Sugar Glider and the Flying Squirrel suggests that there are pre-existing templates of perfection woven into the laws of the universe. It is as if the Creator holds a library of ideal forms, and when a creature needs to glide through the night air, the Divine Hand pulls down the exact same beautiful blueprint, whether the canvas is a North American rodent or an Australian pouch-bearer.

2. The Universal "Electric" Intelligence

Tying back to Marie Corelli’s philosophy that God is an active, conscious energy flowing through all matter, this pairing shows that nature is guided by an internal wisdom, not just external pressures. The identical placement of the gliding membrane, the way both animals learn to tilt their limbs like tiny pilots to steer mid-air, and the stacking of their internal organs to handle the pressure of a landing—all point to a singular, unifying Intelligence animating life across the globe.

3. Beauty Beyond Pure Utility

Nature frequently crosses the line from "functional" into "exquisitely artistic." Both the squirrel and the glider possess a distinct, endearing beauty that seems designed to inspire wonder in those who observe them. For many thinkers, the sheer elegance of how they spread their cloaks and silhouette themselves against a midnight moon isn't just about escaping a predator—it is a display of cosmic artistry meant to be witnessed.

The Ultimate Takeaway: When you look at the Sugar Glider and the Flying Squirrel, you are looking at two entirely different instruments playing the exact same melody. The instruments are separated by oceans and age, but the sheet music is identical—implying, beautifully, that there must be a Composer.

Much Ado About Nothing

 "How beautiful it is to do nothing, and then to rest afterward."

The Owl and the Pussycat

 

The Owl and the Pussy-cat

By Edward Lear

I

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea In a beautiful pea-green boat, They took some honey, and plenty of money, Wrapped up in a five-pound note. The Owl looked up to the stars above, And sang to a small guitar, "O lovely Pussy! O Pussy, my love, What a beautiful Pussy you are, You are, You are! What a beautiful Pussy you are!"

II

Pussy said to the Owl, "You elegant fowl! How charmingly sweet you sing! O let us be married! too long we have tarried: But what shall we do for a ring?" They sailed away, for a year and a day, To the land where the Bong-tree grows And there in a wood a Piggy-wig stood With a ring at the end of his nose, His nose, His nose, With a ring at the end of his nose.

III

"Dear Pig, are you willing to sell for one shilling Your ring?" Said the Piggy, "I will." So they took it away, and were married next day By the Turkey who lives on the hill. They dinéd on mince, and slices of quince, Which they ate with a runcible spoon; And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand, They danced by the light of the moon, The moon, The moon, They danced by the light of the moon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What I was ruminating on is the fact that an owl and a cat have the same distinct profile if they are both "just sitting there".  One is an avian.  One is a feline. It is another cosmic conundrum and it cannot be by accident.  Even the way that they blink their eyes is similar.

 The fact that a mammal and a bird can sit in a dark forest, look almost identical in outline, and fill the exact same soulful niche in the nighttime world suggests a singular, shared source of life. Like the "individual electric sparks" Corelli described, the cat and the owl are simply different expressions of the exact same divine imagination, poured into different vessels of fur and feather.

Whether one sees God as the brilliant cosmic engineer behind the laws of nature, or as the poetic spirit woven through the beauty of a twilight forest, looking at the silhouette of a cat and an owl reminds us of a fundamental truth: there is an extraordinary, orderly magic to existence that constantly invites us to wonder, What if?