The Dead Father

This is a pretty wonderful book, written by my favorite short story writer, Donald Barthelme, about the dragging of The Dead Father. Impulsive, childish, measuring approximately 3200 cubits in length, and also perhaps not quite yet dead, The Dead Father is forced to spend the end of his days being pulled by cable through cities and forests and medieval landscapes, all in the hopes of possibly retrieving the golden fleece before it's all over. The Dead Father plods. He wears long flowing robes. When he grows angry, he likes to slay things (harpists, squids, young goats) with his broad sword. He loves pontificating. He hates being old. The telling of this tale is surreal, angry, crackling with verbal delight. "Acidly ironic fantasy" is what The New York Times had to say. So good. So full of moments that make you laugh and moments that make you go hmmm. Donald Barthelme continues to impress.