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The dog days, and "August Heat"

August 11, 2007 by Dave Knadler

It’s a slow day in the blogosphere, so let’s go to the mail bag. Wait a second … I don’t have a mail bag. I suppose that means it’s time to pull something out of the air. Or my ass.

Here in Wichita, we are in the middle of a string of 100-degree days, a string that seems likely to continue through next week. It’s a daunting thing to look at the five-day forecast and see a row of identical suns perched over identical sets of three-digit numbers. We have central air here at the ancestral manse, of course, but we can’t help but think of the time when people didn’t.

And if you’re me, you can’t help but think of the creepy little short story “August Heat,” by W.F. Harvey. I think I first read it in high school, as part of an English class. Like Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery,” it is a dark and subtle gem. It must be, or how else would I have remembered those last two lines more than 40 years later?

“But the heat is stifling.
It is enough to send a man mad.”

Excuse me now, while I adjust the thermostat.

More along these lines:

  • Those guys we call dad
  • This just in: The woman can writeThis just in: The woman can write
  • Back to the keyboard — but it’s a new oneBack to the keyboard — but it’s a new one
  • glen p. woodFarewell to the last of the cowboys
  • Sooner or later, it’ll be time to moveSooner or later, it’ll be time to move

Filed Under: horror fiction, Writing

About Dave Knadler

Obscure writer. Lazy photographer. Bashful guitarist. Perhaps too fond of wine. Tireless nemesis of New York Times crosswords.

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