My sister said to read this, so I bought it at the book fair last month. Ray Bradbury can write some disturbing stories, I tell you what. He writes beautifully – such good imagery and dialogue. I like the frame mechanism, of the man with illustrations on his body that begin to move, to tell the stories. I’d read two of these stories before, the one with the nursery and the one with the falling star – hated the star, loved the nursery. Which is about how I feel about them generally. I like the ones that start out sort of pleasant and domestic, and then you gradually come to realize they aren’t pleasant and domestic at all but in fact really creepy.
I feel pleased with Ray Bradbury. Maybe I will read Fahrenheit 451 again. It’s been years. I didn’t care for it much when I was in middle school but I am much older and more cynical these days.