This Donald Barthelme collection of surreal, highly imaginative zappers spin along the spectrum from loony to wacky to tender to over-the-top satirical. But no matter which way and how fast they spin, each of these stories makes for a lively, playful read. Thanks, Donald. I put on my oversized postmodern tortoiseshell glasses and had a ton of fun both on the lines and between the lines. To share a slice of Great Days pie, here’s my write-up of a dandy tale I’ll remember for the rest of my life, and perhaps beyond:

The Zombies
Goofy, Goofy: “In a high wind the leaves fall from the trees. The zombies are standing about talking. “Beautiful day!” “Certainly is!” The zombies have come to buy wives from the people of this village, the only village for miles around that will sell wives to zombies.” So begins this Barthelme literary snapper that on one level may be read as a philosophical exploration of a terrifying bit of Haitian folklore not made part of horror fiction but rather made part of something akin to an American cartoon with all the cartoon characters goofy in the extreme. My advice: Don’t go straight to your local library to read The Zombies, if you know what I mean.

Zombie Terror: The zombies are in terror lest the village folk find out they are trading not real cattle but zombie cattle for the village’s daughters. Zombies in terror? How about that. Usually zombies are the ones doing the terrorizing. Oh, well, in the animated world of cartoons, even a fence or rock or tomato can have the full range of human emotions, so why not zombies?

Man in the Know: “There are good zombies and bad zombies. Gris Grue said so.” Love that name and how our postmodern author doesn’t pass up an opportunity to play games. In this case, appropriate for a guy who knows his zombies, grue is short for gruesome. And with his first name taken from cubist painter, Juan Gris, that’s gruesomeness cubed. And if you really want to get fancy, grue also means a fit of shivering, as in: Reading about zombies gives me the grue.

Clear Cut Facts: You can always tell a good zombie because he will be painted white. Bad zombies aren’t painted and are in the habit of shedding tears. Meanwhile, the good zombies are chattering away down in the market square and all those village daughters can be seen up in the windows of the buildings. Did I say zombie chatter? That’s a switch; in horror movies, zombies don’t usually talk; zombies are mostly dead and follow orders, in silence. Such is our postmodern world, billions of words spoken every minute by billions of humans, so many words even our postmodern zombies are drowning in their own chatter.


Dangerous Facts: Want to become a zombie? Get a kiss from a dying animal like a dog or horse, that’s all there is to it. Ah, maybe that’s what happened to all the village sons who could have been husbands for those village daughters. And watch out for that one zombie crawling around with a rectal thermometer among the cattle. Also watch out since a car is speeding right for the village. Oh, no! Big trouble for the zombies - here comes the Bishop!


Wedding Photos: The villagers are beating upon huge drums. The Bishop hops out of his car and cries, “Forbidden, forbidden, forbidden!” Gris Grue to the rescue. Gris speeds into the village on his silver sled and places his hands over the Bishop’s eyes. At sunset the couples, two by two, are wed. Zombies for husbands? In so many words, the new wives tell their new zombie husbands ‘no problem’ since they will simply paste a photograph of a handsome man over his zombie face when it’s time to go to bed. Not a bad solution in the postmodern world of mass media where beautiful images are pasted over ugly reality all the time.

Author Prerogative: Since much colorful dialogue and events are not included in my brief review (after all, I really would like you to read this short story for yourself), I’ll let Donald Barthelme have the last word. Here are the closing lines: “The good zombies say, “You’re welcome! You’re very welcome! I think so! Undoubtedly!” The bad zombies place sheep ticks in the Bishop’s car. If a bad zombie gets you, he will scarify your hide with chisels and rakes. If a bad zombie gets you, he will make you walk past a beautiful breast without even noticing.”
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