“TARSHISHIM – boxed limited edition” by Ron Weighell

The Water of Speech Is Quenched
“It is as well that this space grows to accommodate what enters it,…”
Hence the Tardis-Box (Tarshishim-Box) that contains the book? How would a demon ebook manage an angel book like this one? The mind boggles. Perhaps more seriously, this ‘story’ is a substantive crowning of its heretofore context: a procession of resplendency and light as well as dark illuminacy and wisdom and those who represent such wisdom and legend and arcane lore, making this Cage, this Ark, this Book, this Box, the Contraption itself of which it narrates and accretes learning and weird fantasy of the highest order.  So weird, so fantastical, it simply must be true, otherwise how can the human mind encompass it without going mad? And I remain as sane as ever across the portal from one year to the next. An ambiguity, too, of intention (cf: my own long-term interest in Wimsatt’s Intentional Fallacy) and of outcome: the nature of there being no good without bad from which to measure it, and vice versa. We would never learn the full value of real books, for example, without the value of ebooks as a recent, Angel-given, Demon-given foil or comparative calibration.  Only a real book, especially one with humble deliberate glitches, can convey the essence of the “synaesthesia” summoned here.  And the Pact of which you shall read here in this section.  And the Caruso artwork on page 128 that I haven’t yet seen on-line is stunningly resonant with these thoughts of mine… (1 Jan 12)
Lampetia and Phaethusa Weep
“We sent the right cases. Who can say what happened to them? […] We can swear we despatched them.”
You need great learning to wring the full benefit from this book and/or good googling-fingers. I intend to re-read this book in the future with that sort of enrichment.  This fable is a case in point.  Concerning matters of the Third Reich.  It seems to be the book’s official Coda following its ‘crowning’ in the previous section. A guarded room (like the Tardis-Box?) with its own missing Boxes or Crates inside. [Cf: the (so far) ostensibly missing items from this very box I’m reviewing and some further comparative-calibration information HERE]. “I will make sure they keep their mouths shut as to their contents.” 
As I hope you can judge from my findings so far, with the Box’s book’s first reading completed, I am very affected by it in a very positive way, in all manner of dimensions.  I shall continue this review below by exploring the ‘Journal Notes’ which may shed more light on the ultimate gestalt. (1 Jan 12 – two hours later)
Summoning of Ancient Dust – Journal Notes
I have just un-ribboned the above. There are many double-sided quality yellow ‘portrait’-shaped sheets of text (probably more text in total than in the book itself) – yet to be read.  Plus five stunning artwork sheets, including one that is double-paged. As far as I can see there is nothing that could be described as a  ‘celestial map’, unless it is one of the artwork sheets showing a slightly misshaped mathematical prism radiating beams, curves etc.  The whole box definitely does not contain ‘a silk pouch of mandrake seeds’.  Not that I am overly worried by the latter’s omission. (1 Jan 12 – another six hours later)
Drebbel, Zander and Zervan (Extract)
“My passion for the accretions that attach themselves to old books…”
An absolutely delightful essay on post-publication marginalia (see the Weighell book for a fore-shadowing of this) as well as publisher’s contemporaneous adverts etc in old books – leading to an “Ockham’s Razor” tarramaddidle with a supposed bookshop via one of the old adverts and LSD money. If it did not have ‘extract’ in the title, I’d’ve said this was a perfect complete story with the most perfect ‘dying fall’ ending I’ve ever read. Seriously. And just while I’m thinking about it, I used the word ‘quality’ regarding the yellow sheets of these Journal Notes, so-called. That quality is high and shiveringly tangible. Ebooks, eat your hearts out, I say! [Wasn’t Drebbel in the Weighell book earlier?] (1 Jan 12 – another hour later)
Fragments, Kingdoms of Darkness [1970s.]
I – IX: “In the Pointilliste gloom of Peacock Close the bowed heads of the street lamps were shedding slow tears.”
So far, this is not a Fragment but a good old-fashioned Weird story of a man helped (by a so-called bag-lady) through a portal towards the Land of the Dead or towards the earlier book’s angelivalent Demons. [I used a neologism there, and I suspect there are a few neologisms in this work.]  Enthralling, visionary, sometimes slimy, and, if never published before, it should have been published before and included in the VanderMeers’ massive ‘The WEIRD’ book.  I have no idea of the current age of Mr Weighell, but if this is Juvenelia, it is high quality Juvenelia.  It reads like Juvenelia. But I make no aspersions about that. (1 Jan 12 – another 90 minutes later)
IX – XVIII: “…the pale host that presses against the French windows, coiling, shifting in cold intimacy with the panes. The day draws on, and you drift and dream, breathing the nostalgic dust of old regrets.”
This section continues more like the advertised Fragments than an organic story, but none the lesser for that.  The journey for a loved one to that Land of the Dead – imbued with books listed like Lovecraft once listed them including ‘Vergiliae Mortuorum’ – and literary considerations (poignant and heartfelt and youthfully passionate, I sense) – very much with the texture, explicitly, of “Edgar Allen Poe” (sic).  A bravely attempted symbiosis with Decadence where “hands are spread like spiders” on those erstwhile panes — with all of us who become implicated within these words wondering who is dream and who dream within dream. There is some intenesely succulent prose here for readers like me to die for. (2 Jan 12)

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