{"id":10266,"date":"2017-07-21T00:42:25","date_gmt":"2017-07-21T04:42:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/?p=10266"},"modified":"2017-07-21T00:42:25","modified_gmt":"2017-07-21T04:42:25","slug":"save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\/","title":{"rendered":"&#8220;Save the Last Dance for Me&#8221; and &#8220;Slippin&#8217; Into Darkness&#8221;"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"8891\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/the-double-and-the-inconsolable\/exhumed_webbanner\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?fit=830%2C120&amp;ssl=1\" data-orig-size=\"830,120\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;0&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"exhumed_webbanner\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?fit=830%2C120&amp;ssl=1\" class=\"aligncenter size-full wp-image-8891\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?resize=830%2C120&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" width=\"830\" height=\"120\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?w=830&amp;ssl=1 830w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?resize=350%2C51&amp;ssl=1 350w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg?resize=768%2C111&amp;ssl=1 768w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 709px) 85vw, (max-width: 909px) 67vw, (max-width: 984px) 61vw, (max-width: 1362px) 45vw, 600px\" \/><\/p>\n<p>In its illustrious 29*-year print run,\u00a0<i>Cemetery Dance m<\/i>agazine\u00a0has published no less than 560 short stories and novel excerpts in 73** individual issues. As the super fan that I am,\u00a0<i>Exhumed<\/i>\u00a0is my humble attempt to read and review them all in monthly double reviews.\u00a0<span id=\"more-10069\"><\/span><\/p>\n<p><i>*and counting!<\/i><\/p>\n<p><i>**there were also two \u2018double issues (#17\/18 in 1993 and #74\/75 in 2016), each of which squeezed twice as much content into a single magazine.<\/i><\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/hounds-hell-pay-martyr-pesty\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Last time<\/span><\/a><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> I reviewed:<\/span><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">David A. Lindschmidt&#8217;s \u201cThe Hounds of Hell to Pay\u201d from <em>Cemetery Dance<\/em> #1 (1988), and<\/span><\/li>\n<li>Jonathan Lethem&#8217;s \u201cMartyr and Pesty\u201d from <em>Cemetery Dance<\/em> #36 (2001).<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">There <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">was also an<em> Exhumed<\/em>-first BONUS review of the overall issue of <em>Cemetery Dance<\/em> #1. If for no other reason you should go check the article out for\u00a0<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">that<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This month is the ninth installment of <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Exhumed<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> and, as promised, I present to you two Norman Partridge stories. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Let\u2019s get to it\u2026<\/span><!--more--><\/p>\n<h3 style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><b>THE OLD: \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me\u201d<\/b><\/span><\/h3>\n<p><b><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"10269\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\/cd2\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD2.jpg?fit=300%2C395&amp;ssl=1\" data-orig-size=\"300,395\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;1&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"CD2\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD2.jpg?fit=300%2C395&amp;ssl=1\" class=\"alignright size-medium wp-image-10269\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD2.jpg?resize=266%2C350&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" width=\"266\" height=\"350\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD2.jpg?resize=266%2C350&amp;ssl=1 266w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD2.jpg?w=300&amp;ssl=1 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 266px) 85vw, 266px\" \/>AUTHOR:<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> Norman Partridge<\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>APPEARANCE:<\/b> <i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">#2: June, 1989<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. (Story #1 of 11). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>PLOT (with spoilers!):<\/b><\/p>\n<p><b><i>REVIEWER\u2019S NOTE<br \/>\n<\/i><\/b><b><i>This one\u2019s&#8230; a bit long.\u00a0<\/i><\/b><b><i><\/i><\/b><b><i>But the story itself is so complex there\u2019s no other way to review it, s<\/i><\/b><b><i>o please bear with me.\u00a0<\/i><\/b><b><i>I\u2019ll do my best to make it worth your while.<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The biggest thing Carl Hart ever did was shoot some people down at the KTCB radio station. That\u2019s what Jack thinks, anyway. They buried Carl last week, right next to his old flame Mary Lyn McCarthy. But the radio station won\u2019t play \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me\u201d anymore, no matter how many times Jack calls and requests it. Probably that\u2019s because just yesterday they switched their nighttime programming from <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to pre-recorded tapes of Reverend Tim. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl had escaped from minimum security just ten days before he died. That was Mary Lyn\u2019s birthday. He died when he drove his iron-blue \u201857 Chevy into the Fiddler 7-11 and was crushed by cinder blocks. At his funeral, Mr. McCarthy even commented that a few of those blocks must have gotten under his rib cage because of how heavy his coffin was. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Reverend Tim didn\u2019t have much to say at Carl\u2019s funeral. Neither did Mary Lyn\u2019s father. Mary Lyn\u2019s niece, Sherry, broke down in tears, though, which had made Jack nearly drop the coffin when he\u2019d seen it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">If there was one good thing about Carl\u2019s death, it was that the 7-11 looked like it was never going to be reopened after the accident. And that was just fine with the people of Fiddler. They never liked big chain stores. Even the 7-11 people had been looking for an excuse to let that particular store die out. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The accident was so bad, just about the only thing was <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">wasn\u2019t <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">smashed up was the rear licence plate. Jack kept that because the car was supposed to be his anyway, and also because it said &#8220;MARYLYN.&#8221; After it was hauled away to the junk yard, Jack searched the median and found broken glass for miles. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The night the accident happened, Jack and Carl were watching the Mike Tyson fight with a bunch of other guys from the tire factory. When Iron Mike ended the bout in the second round, Jack and Carl left and headed home. Along the way, Jack turned on the radio to KTCB. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As they had both been expecting, The Dark Mistress was on and proselytizing her sultry self over the airwaves. Carl comments on how Reverend Tim had a petition against her show. Jack points out that probably half the guys in town who signed that petition were home and \u201cjackin\u2019 off\u201d to the show even then. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Just as Carl is berating Jack for his choice of language in his beloved car, The Dark Mistress spoke to one of her biggest fans: <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cHow\u2019s my crying boy tonight? Are you lonely, like I am? I haven\u2019t seen you in such a long time. You used to come to me every week. With roses, remember? You\u2019d come to the cemetery and sing our song.\u201d <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In the next second, \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me\u201d starts up, and that\u2019s when Carl lost it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt right there in the middle of the road. Beer from Jack\u2019s open bottle splashed the windshield. A semi\u2019s blaring horn from behind drowned out his screams. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As the semi screamed past, Carl\u2019s foot slipped from the clutch and the Chevy\u2019s engine died. Finally able to articulate his fear, Jack yelled, \u201cCarl, you crazy bastard, you want to die?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cYes,\u201d he said. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl then explained that \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me\u201d was he and Mary Lyn\u2019s song. He explained how he used to go to the cemetery late at night and sing it to her grave. He explained how he used to bring her roses stolen from Mrs. Castro\u2019s garden. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack was dumbfounded, and he wondered aloud how The Dark Mistress could have known a thing that Carl hadn\u2019t ever shared with anyone. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Instead of answering, Carl chugged one of Jack\u2019s beers, hit the gas, and said \u201cI got to see Mary Lyn.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Everyone in town remembered her funeral years before. It had practically been a gala event with the silvery-pink metal casket, the horse-drawn hearse, her blonde hair curling just the way she\u2019d always liked, and the vast overflow of flowers. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack had never told Carl this, but he used to follow them to the drive-in and park behind them just to catch her eyes sparkling in the dark as her head rested on Carl\u2019s shoulder. Jack thought that maybe they should have left her eyes open at the funeral. He remembers staring down at her in the coffin and thinking the pink ribbon tied around her neck wasn\u2019t quite wide enough even though most folks said you couldn\u2019t see the rope burns at all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl stole more roses from Mrs. Casto\u2019s garden and bloodied his hands because he\u2019d not been prepared with shears. At the cemetery, Carl asked Jack if he wants to come. But Jack doesn\u2019t want to see it, so Carl slammed the door, grabbed something from the trunk, slammed that too, and left Jack in the car. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack remembers how Carl always listened to him in the past. He lowers the window and hears Carl wailing \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me.\u201d Jack wishes he was at home drinking cold beer and watching a Dark Mistress video. Maybe the one where she wears the tight, black leather full of holes and her blonde hair spilling around the leather mask she never took off. It took a moment for Jack to recognize the <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">chunk!-<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">ing sound in the distance was a shovel biting into the cemetery lawn. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack was the one who found Mary Lyn hanging from the rope in her father\u2019s barn. They never found a suicide note, which is why Mr. McCarthy still says it was murder. But the sheriff found a broken record in her bedroom&#8212;we all know which song it was&#8212;and figured that was her suicide note after all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack tackles Carl, knocking the wind out of him and knocking his head on Mary Lyn\u2019s tombstone. When Carl wakes several minutes later, he says he heard her on the radio&#8212;that they both did. Jack explains that it was just The Dark Mistress and that someone was just playing a sick joke on them, but that\u2019s all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl asks Mary Lyn why she left him. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl asks Jack to dig him a grave because he\u2019s been dead for years anyway. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl says he lost everything when Mary Lyn died: his future, his confidence, even his baseball scholarship, <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl says the town was sad but secretly happy because now Mary Lyn would never change, never leave, never get old or fat or wrinkled. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl says that they all hate him because whenever anyone looks at Carl they see Mary Lyn. He says they are trying to drive him away. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl says that tonight someone is going to learn it takes more than a crazy bitch on the radio to get rid of him. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack remembers the rest of that night in bits and pieces: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl driving and cursing on the highway\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The tall black radio transmitter buzzing like millions of fireflies\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl getting a shotgun from the trunk\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack following Carl through the unlocked doors and into the empty hallways\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl shooting a Mexican cleaning woman\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl shooting a fat technician\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn\u2019s voice coming from the speakers\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And Carl finding the cassette playing in a machine, pulling it out, and him laughing at the dead air.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack was in the barn loft looking at a <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hustler<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> mag when it first happened: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn came up the ladder&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn\u2019s blue eyes sparkled\u2026<br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><br \/>\n<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn told him she sees him sometimes when he watches her and Carl at the drive-in&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn hooked her thumb under the top button of her Levi cut-offs&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn picked up Jack\u2019s discarded <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hustler<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> and told him he\u2019s \u201ca bad boy\u201d&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn asked him, \u201cYou lonely? Is that why you like these magazines? That why you like to watch?\u201d&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack told her \u201cNo. I just like to dream about how things might be\u201d&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn dropped the magazine\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn unbuttoned her shirt&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack undid her cut-offs and kissed her blond curls&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn whispered \u201cShow me your dreams, Jack, and I\u2019ll show you mine\u201d&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And it would have been fine that way, except after a while Mary Lyn started talking about bringing Carl into it. Jack thinks how funny it ended because she laughed that day, thinking the rope was part of some new dream. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack has a uncle in Sacramento who is getting old and wants him to take over his auto body shop. Jack has been talking to his girl, Sherry, and they decide it\u2019s not a bad idea. And even though Sherry is only 18 and Jack has been out of high school for 15 years, he\u2019s not worried about what the town will think or even about Sherry herself. Soon they\u2019ll be in Sacramento and she doesn\u2019t have even one single dream rattling around in her head. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Of course, he won\u2019t be able to tell her things like how he used to tell things to Mary Lyn. He wouldn\u2019t, for instance, be able to tell her how he put cinder blocks in Carl\u2019s coffin or how he likes to do weird things with Carl\u2019s head. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">But neither Sherry nor the auto body shop are Jack\u2019s real reason for leaving Fiddler. It\u2019s not even because KTCB finally replaced <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> with tapes of Reverent Tim. No, the real reason is because of what happened most recently: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Two nights ago, Jack was followed home by an iron-blue \u201857 Chevy&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Then, just tonight, Jack heard a woman\u2019s voice on KTCB&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It was the voice of Mary Lyn\u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It was the voice of <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">She told Jack the name of a radio station in Sacramento.. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">She told him to avoid working on any \u201857 Chevys\u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">She played \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me\u201d&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And the song was requested by someone named Carl. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>MY GRADE: A+<\/b><\/p>\n<p><b>MY REVIEW:<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Boom. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Right out of the gate, Richard Chizmar has given <em>Cemetery Dance<\/em> #2 some serious bragging rights. He\u2019s done it by finding and publishing a Norman Patridge story with a seriously complex storyline. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">If you\u2019re a regular reader of <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Exhumed<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> you\u2019ll know by now that I respect complexity in any form. I find it adds another level to a story beyond sheer entertainment. And to be clear, Partridge\u2019s story <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">does<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> entertain. There\u2019s the mystery of Carl\u2019s death, the mystery of Mary Lyn\u2019s death, the mystery of The Dark Mistress, the mystery of the song, and the mystery of how our narrating protagonist, Jack, fits into all of it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">We get it all: Jack fell in love (er\u2026 ok\u2026<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">lust<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">) with his friend\u2019s girl. Then he murdered that girl and drove his friend to madness over the years until he cracked and in turn murders some innocent people at a radio station. As a bonus, at the end we question whether or not Jack is in his right mind or not\u2026 aka: The Dark Mistress and her song have returned, but is it in supernatural form (ie: is Jack a victim of a siren-like demon of some kind) or merely in Jack\u2019s deluded mind (ie: is Jack an insane killer)?<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And to be honest, if Partridge hadn\u2019t done This One Other Thing, I\u2019d probably spend the next few hundred words dissecting the various pieces of evidence that lean us one way or the other. (And they <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">are<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> there. Trust me.) <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And before I go a step further, I must also insist that despite what comes next in this review, absolutely NONE of it detracts from the overall quality of the tale itself. The dialogue holds true. The descriptions are spot-on. The characters are real. All of that stuff&#8212;the very stuff I have sometimes spent an entire review looking at&#8212;is solid. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And yet, there is This One Other Thing.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And I simply <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">have<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to\u2026 I simply MUST\u2026 I am literally <\/span><b><i>COMPELLED<\/i><\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to talk about This One Other Thing. And that thing is the story\u2019s timeline. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The chronology of events versus the chronology of the scenes presented to us IS. JUST. NUTS. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And also awesome. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">So here we go. Strap your thinking cap on. This one is going to mess with your head a little\u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Even on the surface we realize a third of the way through the story that we\u2019re reading multiple timelines, and not just 2 or possibly even 3 as we may be accustomed to, but FIVE. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Chronologically, the 5 timelines are: <\/span><\/p>\n<ol>\n<li style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The <\/span><strong><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\">CARL AND MARY DATING DAYS<\/span><\/strong><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline <\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(10+ ago)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The <\/span><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline <\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(5+ years ago)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The <\/span><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>NIGHT OF THE KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline <\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(1+ year ago)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The <\/span><strong><span style=\"color: #008000;\">CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/span><\/strong><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline <\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(last week)<\/span><\/li>\n<li style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The <\/span><strong><span style=\"color: #0000ff;\">JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/span><\/strong><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline <\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(now)<\/span><\/li>\n<\/ol>\n<p>But Partridge doesn\u2019t tell us the events in chronological order. Oh no.<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hell, he doesn\u2019t even tell it to us in alternating order (typically this would be: Day From The Past-1\/ Today-1\/ Day From the Past-2\/ Today-2\/etc.). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hell, he doesn\u2019t even tell it to us in reverse order (which would start at the end and work its way backward, eventually revealing the <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">why<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> of TODAY\u2019S actions). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">No. What Partridge presents to us is a kind of scattershot of everything. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And yet if we look at the actual structure of it, it is no less random than a spider\u2019s web. You see, at first glance it may <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">appear<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> random or chaotic, but upon closer inspection we realize every bit of it was consciously and intelligently designed to keep us guessing until the very last paragraph. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I\u2019ll break it all down in the following chart: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>Letters (A-S) = scenes of the story as readers experience them<\/b><\/p>\n<p><b>Numbers (1-18) = chronology of events [w\/ approximate time stamp]<\/b><\/p>\n<p><b>C<\/b><b>o<\/b><b>lo<\/b><b>r<\/b><b>s<\/b><b> = color-coded TIMELINES for clarifying purposes<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack remembers Carl\u2019s funeral<\/span>\u00a0|<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">18<\/span>\u00a0| <span style=\"color: #0000ff;\"><strong>JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">&#8212;part 3\/4<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[earlier today]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">KTCB changes its programming<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">17<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #0000ff;\"><strong>JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 2\/4 |\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[yesterday]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl escapes from prison<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">12 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 1\/4<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[10 days ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl\u2019s funeral |\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">14<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 3\/4<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[~7 days ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl\u2019s death scene<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">13<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 2\/4<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[10 days ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack finds broken glass<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">15 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 4\/4 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[~7 days ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">J &amp; C watch Tyson fight |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">7<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 1\/5 |\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[1+ year ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">J &amp; C listen to TDM on KTCB |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">8<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 2\/5 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[1+ year ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn\u2019s funeral- townsfolk<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">5<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 3\/4<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[5+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack at the drive-in<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">1 |\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>C&amp;M DATING DAYS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 1\/2 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[10+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Mary Lyn\u2019s funeral&#8212;Jack |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">6 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S <\/strong><strong><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\">DEATH<\/span><\/span><span style=\"color: #000000;\">&#8212;<\/span><\/strong><\/span>part 4\/4 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[5+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Carl steals roses\/shovels grave<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">9<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 3\/5 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[1+ year ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack discovers Mary\u2019s body<\/span>\u00a0|<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">4 |<\/span>\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 2\/4 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[5+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack tackles Carl |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">10 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 4\/5 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[1+ year ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The KTCB murders |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">11 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 5\/5 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[1+ year ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack &amp; Mary hook up<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">2 |<\/span>\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>C&amp;M DATING DAYS<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 2\/2 |<\/span>\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[10+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack kills Mary<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">3<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 1\/4<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[5+ years ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack\u2019s uncle<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">16 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #0000ff;\"><strong>JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 1\/4 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[two days ago]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Jack moves to Sacramento<\/span>\u00a0|\u00a0<span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">19 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"color: #0000ff;\"><strong>JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/strong><\/span>&#8212;part 4\/4 |<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">[right now]<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I\u2019ll discuss each timeline (and why Partridge\u2019s seemingly random structure is actually quite brilliantly organized) by going through them in chronologocal order. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">First, the\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><strong>CARL &amp; MARY LYN\u2019S DATING DAYS<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline&#8230; <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It\u2019s in two parts and doesn\u2019t start until halfway through the story. Until we reach that first part, we probably didn\u2019t realize (or, at best, we only have a vague suspicion of) the fact that Jack has a thing for Mary Lyn. Then it socks us in the gut in its second part when we learn Mary Lyn not only reciprocated, but wanted to take things\u00a0<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">much<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> further. This later portion of the story is also the one that confirms our growing suspicions that Mary Lyn is, in fact, KTCB\u2019s <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">If Partridge had shown us these very early character factoids, the shock of Jack and Mary Lyn\u2019s affair AND the shock of Mary\u2019s Lyn\u2019s true nature (so contrary to the girl-next-door we are led to believe she is) would be lost, and the story would lose a significant &#8220;wow factor.&#8221;<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Second, the\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"color: #ff6600;\"><strong>MARY LYN\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This one comes to us in four parts, yet again we don\u2019t get the start of it until halfway through the story. Yes, it was referenced way back in the opening paragraph that she\u2019s already dead (\u201cWe buried Carl next to Mary Lyn McCarthy last week&#8221;), but our focus just then was on Carl. Her name meant nothing to us at that point. We are given the fact Carl was buried next to some other dead person, probably someone important to him, but the import of her death doesn\u2019t become relevant until halfway through when she gets her own timeline. Hiding this critical (and captivating) part of the story until halfway through is another aspect of Partridge\u2019s story that vaults it to the next level. Until we meet this timeline, in fact, we think the story is really all about Carl and <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">his<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> death and possibly how Jack fits in. But then, <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">wham!<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">, we realize Mary Lyn\u2019s death is wrapped up in how and why Carl died, and we are instantly more engrossed than we were before. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Next is the <\/span><span style=\"color: #ffcc00;\"><strong>NIGHT OF THE KTCB MURDERS<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">At five sections, this is the biggest and most spread-out timeline of the story. It compromises the full middle of the story and is also the only one of all the timelines that is itself told in proper chronological order. In doing so, Partridge gives us a miniature story-within-a-story. It\u2019s the one timeline that we don\u2019t need to work at to understand because each time we pick it up, it follows logically from where we left off. This is how readers usually digest a story, of course, and it therefore establishes itself as the foundation of the overall tale. It is the <em>Big Event!<\/em> that everyone in town knows and talks about, it is the reason Carl was in prison, and it is what readers assume the story is really \u201call about.\u201d (We\u2019re wrong, of course.) What Partridge has done, then, is give us something easy to grab onto and digest while simultaneously entertaining and misleading us. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Fourth, the <\/span><span style=\"color: #008000;\"><strong>CARL\u2019S DEATH<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This one has four parts and is the only timeline which has all of its sections presented concurrently without any gaps or breaks. It is NOT told chronologically, of course, but because it is also told early in the story, it establishes the end result of Carl\u2019s character as the early focus of our reading experience. We are told in the opening paragraph that Carl is dead, then a page or so later we are shown the precise events of his death: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">1: He escaped prison 10 days ago.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">2: He died by driving his car into a 7-11.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">3: His funeral features people struggling to talk and pallbearers struggling to lift his casket.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">4: Carl\u2019s friend, Jack, goes back to view the broken-glass carnage that is all that remains of Carl\u2019s life.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In giving his readers a (supposedly) complete picture of the events of Carl\u2019s death while still witholding the actual WHY of his death, Partridge has once again deceived us early and poignantly into thinking the story is all about Carl. It\u2019s not. But that doesn\u2019t stop readers from looking forward to learning the whole truth. Was it an accident? If so, how did it happen? Was it suicide? If so, why\u2019d he do it? We are never actually told the full truth of Carl\u2019s death, however. Instead, only at the end do we realize that Carl\u2019s death was both happily observed (and possibly even <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">orchestrated<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">) by Jack, and also far less important than we originally believed. Accident? Suicide? Either one makes perfect sense. But the lack of knowing which one it is doesn\u2019t actually leave us feeling disappointed because by that time we are <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">so<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> much more interested in Jack\u2019s character than Carl\u2019s. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Finally, the\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"color: #0000ff;\"><strong>JACK\u2019S LIFE TODAY<\/strong><\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> timeline\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Just look at those bookends! This one has four parts split evenly into the opening pair and closing pair of scenes. We start the story seeing Jack in the here and now reminiscing about a fallen friend. We have no idea why (or even if) his story is an important one. In fact, as Partridge\u2019s tale goes on, we almost forget that Jack is a character at all, falling instead to hearing his voice as the Third Person Omniscient rather than the simple narrator that he truly is. By the time we get to the end, we have come to understand that Jack is directly involved in both Mary Lyn\u2019s AND Carl\u2019s deaths, that Jack is a bastard of a guy, and with a half-page of text still to go, we honestly wonder what further revelations we could possibly be getting. After all, once it\u2019s revealed in the immediately-preceding scene that Jack did, in fact, murder Mary Lyn, it seems like there\u2019s nothing left to read. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And then Partridge batters us with the utter horror that he\u2019s not only got away with murder, that he strangely, maliciously put cinderblocks in Carl\u2019s coffin, that he apparently has Carl\u2019s <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">head<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> and does\u2026 \u201cthings\u201d\u2026 to it, but that he\u2019s possibly gearing up to do it all again with his move to Sacramento. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Want more? Alright then. Don\u2019t forget that at the <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">very<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> end we get the additional layer of the return of <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. Real or imagined? The ghost of Mary Lyn or an impersonating demon? Readers decide while Partridge likely grins wickedly. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Want <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">even<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> more? Sure! (I hope you missed this one, because if you did it\u2019s going to totally mess with your head.) You know the girl Jack\u2019s got his eyes on these days? Sherry? Yeah&#8230; she\u2019s none other than Mary Lyn\u2019s young niece. Yep. She\u2019s the \u201ctoo young to see all that death\u201d kid that was mentioned in Carl\u2019s funeral way back in the fourth major scene of the story. We were led to think her only a child&#8212;perhaps 6 or 8&#8212;when we read that scene. At the end we know she\u2019s actually 18 while Jack is roughly 30. Creepy uncle vibe aside, let\u2019s not overlook the fact that Jack has grabbed himself another McCarthy girl. Whatever his sick reasons (Obsession over a Mary Lyn lookalike? A convenient next victim? A simple stooge to provide a semblance of love to his lonely, twisted mind?) there\u2019s no doubt this knowledge leaves us with a taste in our mouths even more bitter than before. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Overall, Norman Partridge has written a story that is layers deep and gets better with multiple readings. And to be clear, I\u2019ve tried this type of thing in my own stories. It\u2019s insanely hard working it out ahead of time without losing the heart of the story. In fact, it\u2019s not just <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">hard<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> but damned near <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">impossible<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to write a story with such a mixed-up chronology and not only pull it off but still entertain. In the case of \u201cSave the Last Dance for Me,\u201d Partridge has used the very nature of a complex chronology to his advantage where other authors would not only fail but get lost in the attempt. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>THREE BONUS OBSERVATIONS (a\/k\/a: Other stuff I saw but don\u2019t have the time to explore): <\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">1: Jack got the <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hustler <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">magazine from the hook-up scene from the very same 7-11 where Carl would die years later.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">2: Carl considers <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Dark Mistress<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to be \u201csick.\u201d He also disapproves of Jack\u2019s foul language in his car. This is a direct indication that Carl\u2019s character is far too tame for Mary Lyn\u2026 who actually <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">is <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">the Dark Mistress herself. It also means that when she proposed a three-way with Jack and Carl, Jack\u2019s decision to kill her instead was perhaps his way of protecting Carl\u2019s innocence. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">3: They live in a town called Fiddler. Possible symbolic meanings include: A) Carl and\/or the whole town are being played by Jack \u201clike a fiddle\u201d (a\/k\/a: under his direct control); B) To &#8220;fiddle&#8221; with something means to manipulate it; and C) To fiddle also means to trifle or waste time\u2026 just like the years all of our characters seem to have wasted living in this town. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><b>THE NEW: \u201cSlippin&#8217; Into Darkness\u201d (A Novel Excerpt)<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n<p><b><img data-recalc-dims=\"1\" loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" data-attachment-id=\"10272\" data-permalink=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\/cd1718\/\" data-orig-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD1718.jpg?fit=300%2C396&amp;ssl=1\" data-orig-size=\"300,396\" data-comments-opened=\"1\" data-image-meta=\"{&quot;aperture&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;credit&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;camera&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;caption&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;created_timestamp&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;copyright&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;focal_length&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;iso&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;shutter_speed&quot;:&quot;0&quot;,&quot;title&quot;:&quot;&quot;,&quot;orientation&quot;:&quot;1&quot;}\" data-image-title=\"CD1718\" data-image-description=\"\" data-image-caption=\"\" data-large-file=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD1718.jpg?fit=300%2C396&amp;ssl=1\" class=\"alignright size-medium wp-image-10272\" src=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD1718.jpg?resize=265%2C350&#038;ssl=1\" alt=\"\" width=\"265\" height=\"350\" srcset=\"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD1718.jpg?resize=265%2C350&amp;ssl=1 265w, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/wp-content\/uploads\/2017\/07\/CD1718.jpg?w=300&amp;ssl=1 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 265px) 85vw, 265px\" \/>AUTHOR:<\/b><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> Norman Partridge<\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>APPEARANCE:<\/b> <i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">#17\/18: Fall, 1993.<\/span><i> <\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(Story #5 of 7). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>PLOT (with spoilers!):<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">CHAPTER ONE: 12:03 A.M. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">An unnamed man stands on a mounded grave and throws a beer bottle sixty feet through the air and into the center of a granite cross. Glass explodes. He throws another and another. Each one a perfect strike. The name of the game is &#8220;Graveyard Baseball.&#8221;<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This man&#8212;the Pitcher&#8212;is alone, though, playing a version of solitaire. It has been 18 years since he\u2019s done this and he knows his arm will ache tomorrow. He\u2019s come here tonight because of April. The month is April&#8212;the start of the baseball season&#8212;and the girl in the ground under the cross is April. April Louise Destino. The Pitcher opens another beer, drains it down his throat, and crashes the bottle on the granite cross. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The Pitcher was one of April\u2019s boys. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He drains another beer. He imagines the dead insurance salesman several feet below him. He winds up. A flashlight beam blinds him and his pitch sails wide, the bottle skidding across grass rather than shattering on April\u2019s cross. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">A voice shouts, asks him what the hell he\u2019s doing. The voice is an umpire, The Pitcher thinks, trying to argue balls and strikes. The umpire bumps The Pitcher in the chest, so he winds up with a closed fist instead of a bottle or ball. It\u2019s a strike. The umpire falls down. The Pitcher picks up the thing he brought instead of a bat. He imagines fans, the musical voice of a cheerleader begging him to hit one over the fence. The Pitcher wants to hear the crack of the bat. It\u2019s opening day, after all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">CHAPTER TWO: 1:12 A.M.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis Hanks climbs the stairs of his basement with a tall pile of videotapes balanced atop his outstretched hands. He reaches the foyer upstairs and his footsteps are the only sound in the house. He has lived there all his 35 years of life, and he\u2019s owned the place ever since his parents died back in his college days. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">As he passes the living room, a sound&#8212;a subdued giggle&#8212;causes Marvis to stumble and sends the tapes to the floor in a crash. The giggle comes again, and Marvis turns to see someone lying on the pool table. She\u2019s half hidden in shadows but her blonde hair, long legs, and slim fingers are visible. Through the darkness of shadows Marvis can also see her lips, which spread wide into full-blown laughter. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis doesn\u2019t breathe as she sits up, still laughing. Her long hair tickles her hardening nipples, and though her face is still in shadows, Marvis already knows her. She isn\u2019t living, though. She is a ghost, and her face is still nothing more than a shadow. Marvis holds back a scream, even when she turns on the lights. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">She closes the drapes and tells him it\u2019s his own fault for leaving the front door unlocked. She laughs more and talks about the look on his face. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis is still scared even though she <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">isn\u2019t <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">a ghost. She\u2019s just Shelly Desmond, a 15-year-old girl standing naked in his living room, thinking she\u2019s funny. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis looks at the black videotapes on the floor. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis looks at the white pine floor they rest on. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis look at his faded black jeans and his whiteboy loafers. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis looks at his black hands. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Negro hands. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">African American hands. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He corrects himself, reminding himself he\u2019s not that dark. His skin is the sweet color of butterscotch. Shelly laughs some more, making reference to his eyes being as big as saucers. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cLike a spook butler in some old movie,\u201d Marvis says. \u201cIs that what you mean, Shelly?\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly crosses her arms over her breasts, instantly upset. She says that\u2019s not what she meant by it. She asks if she\u2019d be there if she did. Marvis counters with, \u201cThere\u2019s the money,\u201d and she pouts. It\u2019s like magnetism to Marvis. He goes to her, grasps her tiny wrists and moves her arms to her sides. He notes that she has the bravery to not look away. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He tightens his grip and challenges her bravado. \u201cYou like my color, don\u2019t you?\u201d he says. \u201cYou\u2019re the one who told me that I\u2019m the man with the sweet butterscotch skin.\u201d Shelly relaxes and giggles again. Marvis asks if she\u2019d feel the same if he had truly dark skin, if his eyes were as brown as dirt instead of green? Shelly\u2019s arms become a knot of tension, shaking the table she is now gripping with her hands. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis watches the 8\u00a0<\/span>ball teetering on the brink of a corner pocket. It is an ebony sphere on the brink of a bottomless pit.<\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Now Shelly looks away, blushing, and it\u2019s Marvis\u2019 turn to laugh. He releases her wrists, strokes her rosy cheeks, and calls her red. \u201cYou\u2019re a little Indian,\u201d he tells her. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cA little Native American,\u201d she corrects him, and they both laugh. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly asks if he wants to get the camera. Marvis says he\u2019d rather do things just for them. She asks if he means there, on the pool table. He says he\u2019s always wanted to, but Shelly balks. Her eyes are staring at something over Marvis\u2019 shoulder. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He wheels, expecting to find a cop or just about anyone else. Instead, he sees his parents\u2019 wedding photo. His father\u2019s skin is so black. His mother\u2019s is so white. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly comments that her father looks so angry. Marvis explains that off-duty cops <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">always <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">look angry. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly asks if Marvis\u2019 father knew how Marvis made his money. He explains that they died long ago when all they knew about his aspirations were that he wanted to open a camera shop. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly thinks his father would hate knowing someone like her was in their house. Marvis strokes Shelly\u2019s pale breasts and says that, no, his father would never hate her. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He turns the photo to the wall, but it does little to calm Shelly\u2019s discomfort. She suggests that maybe they could use something to take the edge off. Marvis agress, and she she slips from the table and heads to the hallway. Marvis stops her with a look. She says she knows where it is because of the very first time when they\u2019d done it in the bedroom. Marvis nevertheless says he\u2019ll get it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">His girls are waiting for him in his bedroom. He winks at them, still genuinely surprised even after all these years, like he was still the teenager everyone knew as &#8220;Shutterbug.&#8221;<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He stares at his girls, trying to see their perfections as he had back then. But he can\u2019t. Too many years and experiences has shown him all their imperfections: a nose just a little too large, teenage breasts that will never swell to desired dimensions, an eternally crooked smile. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Here they were, still locked away 18 years later in 8&#215;10 frames, sealed and protected behind glass. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis reflects on how girls were different back then. They were just a little more innocent. These girls, all white, all daddy\u2019s princesses, were unlike today\u2019s makeup-caked girls who came to him for senior portraits, and would have died of shame to have Shelly Desmond\u2019s skin. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He used his camera and his smooth-talking ways to get to them. They believed him when he said he would grow up to be a fashion photographer and that they were going to be models and actresses. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis marvels that his father&#8212;the very same man who had beaten the neighborhood street talk out of his half-black son&#8212;never realized that by calling himself &#8220;Shutterbug&#8221; instead of &#8220;Marvis&#8221; that he slipped right past the bigoted suspicions of the white mothers and fathers who answered the phone. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">He opens his bedroom closet, fishes out two shoe boxes from the back, razors two lines of coke for Shelly, then takes a couple of discreet toots for himself. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">When his eyes recollect themselves, he\u2019s looking at an old photo from a box of high school junk. Five cheerleaders in the foreground and&#8212;barely visible in the biology lab windows in the background&#8212;a young man\u2019s silhouette. Though faceless, anyone seeing it would instantly know voyeurism. The silhouette would never be noticed, though, because Marvis had been ordered to excise the face of one of the cheerleaders who had been kicked off the squad. The black hole replaced it instantly became the focus of the picture, just like the pocket of shadow the 8 ball had nearly fallen into a few minutes ago in the living room. Just like Marvis\u2019 gaze had been drawn to Shelly\u2019s shadowed face rather than the blonde hair that framed it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It was the face of a ghost. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">No, it was only Shelly Dismond. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The faceless ghost was gone. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Shelly was waiting for Marvis in the living room, and suddenly he wanted to be with her. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span> <span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">*<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis returns the living room, wearing only a black silk robe. Shelly has stacked all but one of the video tapes on a shelf. The other tape is playing on Marvis\u2019 VCR, and Shelly is laying on a throw rug in front of the television, watching it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It\u2019s a video of Shelly herself, and the two Shelly\u2019s are moaning in unison. In the shadows of the living room, Marvis hadn\u2019t at first noticed the live Shelly\u2019s busy fingers. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">She hasn\u2019t noticed him yet and continues her task. He places the lines of coke on the edge of the pool table and watches her. But Shelly\u2019s eyes and hair were wrong. Neither are like the girl in the video from all those years ago. The girl whose face had been excised from the cheerleader photo. The girl who had been the subject of Shutterbug\u2019s first erotica shoot. The girl who was now dead. The girl named April Destino. The girl who had either OD\u2019d or committed suicide&#8212;Marvis couldn\u2019t remember which. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">But tonight Marvis had seen her ghost in Shelly. He smiles, knowing he will take care of her on the pool table, then send her on her way so he could make some popcorn and enjoy a retrospective of those first shoots from his high school days. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis is picking out the right music to play for Shelly when a thump against the window and a laughing voice from outside stops he and Shelly both. He looks to the closed drapes then to Shelly. Her eyes&#8212;as big as saucers\u2013&#8211;are on him. She tells him she told no one, that she did exactly as he told her. She grabs her backpack and puts on shorts and a top while scrambling to the kitchen. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Another thump on the window. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Another laugh. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis turns off the TV and opens the drapes. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The door to the kitchen slams. Shelly is gone. Did she flee in fear? Did someone snatch her? Had she sold him out and simply escaped? Only time would tell. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Marvis looks out the window. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The front lawn is a sloping slab of blackness. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">His car\u2013&#8211;a Jaguar&#8212;is a sleek silhouette. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The light behind him is just enough to project a ghostly reflection of himself. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Then he sees it. Or, rather, <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">him<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Standing on the lawn is a man\u2019s silhouette. His eyes are invisible, but Marvis knows the man is watching him. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The figure moves while Marvis is rooted to the spot. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The figure passes through Marvis\u2019 reflection, and his reflection becomes a black hole as deep and empty as April Destino\u2019s missing face in that old photo. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">A ghost\u2019s face flies at Marvis from out of the blackness. It is coming fast, so very fast. But the face is not a shadow. It is dead white. The negative image of the black hole of April Destino\u2019s missing face. It is as white as the negative image of an 8 ball. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>MY GRADE: A-<\/b><\/p>\n<p><b>MY REVIEW:<\/b><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Before I get into this (much shorter) review, the first thing you need to know about the full <\/span><em><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Slippin\u2019 Into Darkness<\/span><\/em><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> novel is that it was Partridge\u2019s debut novel. It came out in 1994, just a few months after the above excerpt was published in <em>Cemetery Dance<\/em> #17\/18 (Fall of 1993). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The second thing you need to know is that it was also the first original novel published by <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. That hardcover title, by the way, is now out of print and\u00a0<\/span><a href=\"https:\/\/www.amazon.com\/Slippin-Into-Darkness-Norman-Partridge\/dp\/1881475077\/ref=tmm_hrd_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&amp;qid=&amp;sr=\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">copies on Amazon start at $174<\/span><\/a><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Unfortunately (embarassingly?), I have not read the entire novel. In fact, before finding the excerpt inside the hallowed pages of <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">&#8216;s<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> first double-sized issue, I\u2019d never heard of it, though I certainly knew of Mr. Partridge himself. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This means I can\u2019t comment on the entire story. I literally don\u2019t know it. This is, undoubtedly, a bad thing. On the other hand, you <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">could<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> choose to view this as a <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">good<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> thing because my review will therefore be based <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">only<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> on what was published in the magazine\u2026 and isn\u2019t that what <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Exhumed<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> is really all about, after all? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Together, you and I will get to see how successful <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> was in enticing their magazine readers into buying the full-length novel. Alright then, let\u2019s do this thing&#8230;<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">First off, let\u2019s talk <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">mood<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">, because yikes almighty is there a lot of it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">From the opening sequence in Chapter One, we feel the sadness, the suspense, and the tragedy of this story. The unnamed &#8220;Pitcher&#8221; is some guy (Marvis, probably\u2026 both are referenced as being 18 years out of high school\u2026 at some point later in the story\u2019s chronological timeline) who is drunk, is still drinking, and is angry and\/or in a very dark place. The idea of turning a graveyard into a makeshift baseball field is one messed up way of desecrating a sacred place. That the Pitcher is literally standing on the grave of some random insurance salesman is even worse. That he is breaking bottle after bottle on the stone cross of April Destino\u2019s headstone is the worst of all. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Then we move to Chapter Two and meet Marvis, a guy of the same general age as the Pitcher who is hauling tapes from his basement&#8212;an action we immediately associate with re-living the good-old days and, of course, adds to that mood of sadness and depression. Then, however, we are shocked with what is first presented as a ghost but quickly turns into just an immature porn girl surprising her favorite photographer with a midnight fling. Marvis\u2019 misinterpretation of who and what she is, coupled with the repeated inputs into how Marvis came to be in this position <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">and<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> the various factoids about his dead parents, all culminate to twist the daggers of awkward discomfort.<\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">What Marvis does is illegal (Shelly is just 15, remember). Then there\u2019s the added layer of race. Marvis is black but he sounds and acts white. Having gotten his start in the mid-70s, this had allowed him (in the mindset of &#8217;70s society) to desecrate the white, teenage princesses in the same way that the Pitcher is desecrating the graveyard today. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Finally, the turn of events at the end of Chapter Two, when Marvis loses his girl-of-the-night and is met by a man on his lawn who appears to rush at him with the speed and vision of a ghost. The excerpt ends there, and we are left wondering if the man through the window is a real man, a real ghost, or neither\u2026 just Marvis\u2019 overactive imagination, perhaps. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In these opening pages to his novel, Partridge has presented to us a number of questions&#8230;ones we feel the need to have answered. For any decent novel (and for any magazine excerpt, one can easily claim), that\u2019s the whole point. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">But on top of mood is something I find even more compelling: <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Symbolism<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Ah, yes. Partridge\u2019s early pages are just dripping with both quantity and quality of that age-old favorite symbol: BLACKS &amp; WHITES \/ SHADOWS &amp; BRIGHTNESS. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It\u2019s literally on every page. Hell, it\u2019s even in the damned <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">title<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">! <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Here are a few of my favorites: <\/span><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The darkness of the nighttime graveyard vs. the contrast of the granite cross.<\/span><\/li>\n<li>The flashlight beam in the Pitcher\u2019s eyes vs. the clothes of the person wielding it (the umpire\u2019s [implied] black uniform).<\/li>\n<li>The shadows falling over the pool table vs. the blonde hair of the woman laying on it.<\/li>\n<li>The woman\u2019s shadowed face vs. the perceived visage of her &#8220;true&#8221; ghostly form.<\/li>\n<li>The white pine flooring of the living room vs. the black plastic of the video tapes spilled all over it.<\/li>\n<li>Marvis\u2019 whiteboy loafers vs. Marvis\u2019 faded black jeans.<\/li>\n<li>Marvis\u2019 black skin vs. Shelly\u2019s pale skin.<\/li>\n<li>Marvis\u2019 black father vs. Marvis\u2019 white mother.<\/li>\n<li>The black color of the 8 ball vs. the white spot where the number 8 resides.<\/li>\n<li>The whites face of April and her fellow cheerleaders vs. the black hole where April\u2019s excised face used to be.<\/li>\n<li>The white, negative image vs. the black hole which the negative image came from.<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">There are also two of these which are never outwardly stated but are both implied: <\/span><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">T<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">he dark iris of a camera lens vs. the bright light that enters it when the shutter is opened. <\/span><\/li>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">T<\/span>he white lines of cocaine vs. the darkness of the closet where Marvis keeps it.<\/li>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Meanwhile there are so many items and adjectives that use these same dark and bright colorings individually without being connected to a contrasting opposite. Each of the following, directly-quoted examples stand alone as images of dark or black and bright or white that Partridge forces into our minds. One at a time, they do very little. Collectively, however, he paints for us a world completely made up of blacks and whites.<\/span><\/span><\/li>\n<li>&#8220;mounded grave\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;shards of moonlight\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;marble Christ\u201d (statue)<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;dirty uniforms\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;oversized dominoes\u201d<\/li>\n<li>(beams of) \u201cmoonlight washed the living room\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;skin as pale as a winter moon\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;a face that seemed nothing more than a shadow\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;she turned on the lights\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;as black as unsweetened chocolate\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;the edge of a pit of shadow\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;ebony sphere\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;pale breasts\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;caked-on vampire make-up\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;his tongue was more tin than silver\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;whitebread name\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;flat, white stomach\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;a young man\u2019s silhouette\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;a real ice princess\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;black mounting paper\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;the face of a ghost\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;black silk robe\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;popcorn\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;whitebread music\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;K. C. &amp; the Sunshine band\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;silver face of a disc\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;slab of blackness in the still night\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;Jaguar\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;sleek silhouette\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;the dark man\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;a black hole\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;ghost face\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;out of the blackness\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;not a black shadow. It was dead white.\u201d<\/li>\n<li>&#8220;negative image\u201d<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And all of that is in just the first 4,000 words of this novel. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">What do they all mean? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">What does any collection of Black &amp; White symbolism mean? <\/span><\/p>\n<ul>\n<li><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">-good vs. evil<\/span><\/li>\n<li>safety vs. danger<\/li>\n<li>purity vs. contamination<\/li>\n<li>cleanliness vs. filth<\/li>\n<li>salvation vs. damnation<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">The accuracy of any of these depends, of course, upon the rest of the story and how Partridge uses them. But it\u2019s abundantly clear from the start that he\u2019s doing it on purpose and has some kind of deeper meaning in mind. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">So after all this, why do I only give this story an A-? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Simple\u2026 it\u2019s not a complete story. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">To be fair, I think as an excerpt it probably deserves an A+. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">It did it\u2019s job, after all, which is to make me want to read (ie: <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">buy<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">) the full novel. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">And I do. Really. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I don\u2019t just sorta-kinda want to read it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">actually, truly <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">want to read it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">In fact, I have a suspicion that I\u2019ll want to read lots of Norman Partridge books. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(Hell, if his short stories are any indication of his talent, I think I probably want to read them ALL). <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">SIDE NOTE<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">: <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I\u2019ve already put <\/span><em><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Slippin\u2019 Into Darkness<\/span><\/em><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> on <\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">my To Read List<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">However in the spirit of full disclosure I must also\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">admit it\u2019ll be a loooooong time before I get to it. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This is because between grading papers\u00a0<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(I\u2019m a 7th Grade Language Arts teacher by day),\u00a0<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">and my own writings\u00a0<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">(blatant self-promotion time:\u00a0<\/span><\/i><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I write Horror, Thrillers, Fantasy, &amp; Sci-Fi.\u00a0<\/span><\/i><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Check me out: <\/span><\/i><a href=\"http:\/\/www.FritzFiction.com\"><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">www.FritzFiction.com<\/span><\/i><\/a><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">),\u00a0<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">the sad truth is that 90% of the books I actually read these days are audiobooks,\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">and NONE of Mr. Partridge\u2019s novels are available in that format. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Drat. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Nevertheless, without reading more, I have no way of knowing if Partridge satisfies my curiosities by maintaining his established mood throughout while telling a great tale, and I have no way of knowing if his symbolism peters out, falls flat, or or becomes even more complex as the tale reaches its crescendo. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Is it unfair of me to automatically dock a novel excerpt just <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">because<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> it\u2019s a novel excerpt? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Yes. Yes, it is. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">But to be perfectly blunt, it\u2019s also unfair of the publisher to tease me with only <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">part<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> of a really good story. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Still, as an advertising platform, I tip my hat. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">This is a job well done. <\/span><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><b>Final Thought<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Norman Partridge is a rock star. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Seriously. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Far too often I\u2019ve been teased with repeated ads for years on end or outright <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">told<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> to read a certain author, only to finally get something and be mildly-to-overwhelmingly disappointed. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Perhaps it\u2019s because I had heard the Norman Partridge name and knew he was respected, but had never heard any specific details about <\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">why<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> that kept my mind relatively open. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Nevertheless, I was happily surprised and excited at how good these two stories were. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I can\u2019t wait to read more&#8212;<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">lots <\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">more\u2013&#8211;of his stuff. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"color: #000000;\">\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">PS: Any and all narrators out there\u2026 can you get on the audiobook thing, please? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Love my interpretations &amp; observations? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Hate them? <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">I\u2019m open to all perspectives. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Tell me how I did. We\u2019ll chat via the interwebs and have more fun. <\/span><\/p>\n<p><b>-K. Edwin Fritz<\/b><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><span style=\"color: #ff0000;\"><b>Next Month<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n<p><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Next month I\u2019ll be reading\/ reviewing each of the following:\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">\u201cIn Loving Memory\u201d by Steve Vernon (<\/span><i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">Cemetery Dance<\/span><\/i><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\"> #2),\u00a0<\/span><span style=\"font-weight: 400;\">and\u00a0<\/span>\u201cA Wiggle of Maggot, a Curl of Bacon\u201c also by Steve Vernon (<i>Cemetery Dance<\/i> #59).<\/p>\n<p><strong><a href=\"http:\/\/www.fritzfiction.com\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><i>Keith Edwin Fritz<\/i><\/a><i>\u00a0entered this world on Halloween. The year, 1974, was the same as when Stephen Edwin King published his first novel. Keith prefers to think neither the date nor their middle names were a coincidence.<\/i><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><i>Today Keith teaches 7th Grade Language Arts and writes to his heart\u2019s content during his \u201cspare time.\u201d The best of these moments are nearly always by moonlight. The worst of them are also by moonlight.<\/i><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><i>In addition to his Cemetery Dance Online column, Keith writes\u00a0<\/i><a href=\"http:\/\/www.fictionvortex.com\/blog\/\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"noopener noreferrer\"><i>\u201cThe Bone Pile\u201d for FictionVortex<\/i><\/a><i>.<\/i><\/strong><\/p>\n<p><strong><i>Keith lives with his wife, Corina, in Lawrenceville, New Jersey.<\/i><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>In its illustrious 29*-year print run,\u00a0Cemetery Dance magazine\u00a0has published no less than 560 short stories and novel excerpts in 73** individual issues. As the super fan that I am,\u00a0Exhumed\u00a0is my humble attempt to read and review them all in monthly double reviews.\u00a0 *and counting! **there were also two \u2018double issues (#17\/18 in 1993 and #74\/75 &hellip; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\/\" class=\"more-link button bg-gold white\">Continue Reading!<span class=\"screen-reader-text\"> &#8220;&#8220;Save the Last Dance for Me&#8221; and &#8220;Slippin&#8217; Into Darkness&#8221;&#8221;<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[890],"tags":[1231,1230,961,889,1227,1229,1228],"class_list":["post-10266","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-exhumed","tag-cemetery-dance-1718","tag-cemetery-dance-2","tag-exhumed","tag-k-edwin-fritz","tag-norman-partridge","tag-save-the-last-dance-for-me","tag-slippin-into-darkness"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v27.6 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/product\/yoast-seo-wordpress\/ -->\n<title>&quot;Save the Last Dance for Me&quot; and &quot;Slippin&#039; Into Darkness&quot; - Cemetery Dance Online<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"K. Edwin Fritz examines two stories by Norman Partridge (from Cemetery Dance #2 and Cemetery Dance #17\/18) in his new Exhumed column.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.cemeterydance.com\/extras\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\/\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Written by\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"Cemetery Dance Online\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:label2\" content=\"Est. reading time\" \/>\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data2\" content=\"41 minutes\" \/>\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\\\/\\\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\\\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\\\/\"},\"author\":{\"name\":\"Cemetery Dance Online\",\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/#\\\/schema\\\/person\\\/30439c850dbb0e44ac4d2ddd09fb2d61\"},\"headline\":\"&#8220;Save the Last Dance for Me&#8221; and &#8220;Slippin&#8217; Into Darkness&#8221;\",\"datePublished\":\"2017-07-21T04:42:25+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\\\/\"},\"wordCount\":8171,\"commentCount\":2,\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/save-the-last-dance-for-me-and-slippin-into-darkness\\\/#primaryimage\"},\"thumbnailUrl\":\"https:\\\/\\\/www.cemeterydance.com\\\/extras\\\/wp-content\\\/uploads\\\/2016\\\/10\\\/Exhumed_WebBanner.jpg\",\"keywords\":[\"Cemetery Dance #17\\\/18\",\"Cemetery Dance #2\",\"Exhumed\",\"K. 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