Tales, Issue 1
"Tales, " by Edgar Allan Poe, is a collection of 25 stories from the literary father of the mysterious and the macabre. These individual pieces, which include "The Fall of the House of Usher, " and "Silence: A Fable, " together make up the body of both "Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque" and "Tales of the Folio Club." Taken as a whole, Poe's writing has cast its dark and exquisite shadow over many genres of literature, from the mysteries of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle to the science fiction of Jules Verne, but in this collection the author's ability to explore the darker corners of the readers' psyche comes to the fore. Such is the power of his storytelling that his tales retain their eerie power to delight and terrify in equal measure more than a century and a half after his death.
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
appeared asked attempt attention believe boat body called cause character close committed continued corpse course dark death direction door doubt Dupin effect escaped evidence examined expression eyes fact feel feet fell felt followed give hair half hand head heard heart hold hour human idea imagine immediately individual Jupiter knew known L'Etoile least length less letter light look Madame manner Marie matter means merely mind minutes morning murder nature nearly never night object observed once opinion passed perhaps period person portion position possession possible Prefect present probability question reach reason regard replied result seemed seen speak sufficient suppose sure taken tell thing thought thousand thrown tion took trace true truth turned usual voice wall whole wild window
Page 71 - But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate; (Ah, let us mourn! — for never morrow Shall dawn upon him, desolate!) And round about his home the glory That blushed and bloomed Is but a dim-remembered story Of the old time entombed.
Page 62 - During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
Page 73 - ... were, as might be supposed, in strict keeping with this character of phantasm. We pored together over such works as the Ververt et Chartreuse of Cresset; the Belphegor of Machiavelli; the Heaven and Hell...
Page 173 - Faubourg St. Germain. For one hour at least we had maintained a profound silence ; while each, to any casual observer, might have seemed intently and exclusively occupied with the curling eddies of smoke that oppressed the atmosphere of the chamber. For myself, however...
Page 175 - Certainly; we opened every package and parcel; we not only opened every book, but we turned over every leaf in each volume, not contenting ourselves with a mere shake, according to the fashion of some of our police officers.
Page 80 - While I gazed, this fissure rapidly widened ; there came a fierce breath of the whirlwind ; the entire orb of the satellite burst at once upon my sight ; my brain reeled as I saw the mighty walls rushing asunder; there was a long tumultuous shouting sound like the voice of a thousand waters, and the deep and dark tarn at my feet closed sullenly and silently over the fragments of the
Page 75 - ... to arouse myself from the pitiable condition into which I had fallen, by pacing rapidly to and fro through the apartment. I had taken but few turns in this manner, when a light step on an adjoining staircase arrested my attention. I presently recognized it as that of Usher.
Page 15 - To be sure ! you are left-handed ; and your left eye is on the same side as your left hand. Now, I suppose, you can find the left eye of the skull, or the place where the left eye has been. Have you found it V Here was a long pause.