August 4, 2026 is coming up This is the date on which Ray…
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August 4, 2026 is coming up
This is the date on which Ray Bradbury's short story, "There Will Come Soft Rains" takes place, so I thought it was time to reread this short story. It's about a fully automated home system continuing to operate despite its inhabitants having been incinerated by a nuclear bomb.
It's a very short read, but I think particularly relevant in today's times. At one point the house reads its owner, whose last shadow is imprinted on the outer walls, this poem by Sara Teasdale.
>There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
I can't say I've read many short stories, and of the ones I've read I remember even fewer clearly. But a few stay with me, and this is one of them (along with, just off the top of my head, The Garden of Time, Bobok, Ward No. 6, and Dream of a Ridiculous Man). I think it captures the eerie-ness of being alone in a place where you ordinarily are never alone in, like your school or an airport, really well. 10/10 recommend!
\*Idk if short story review falls under book review. My apologies if this breaks the rules!
#entertainment
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This is the date on which Ray Bradbury's short story, "There Will Come Soft Rains" takes place, so I thought it was time to reread this short story. It's about a fully automated home system continuing to operate despite its inhabitants having been incinerated by a nuclear bomb.
It's a very short read, but I think particularly relevant in today's times. At one point the house reads its owner, whose last shadow is imprinted on the outer walls, this poem by Sara Teasdale.
>There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
I can't say I've read many short stories, and of the ones I've read I remember even fewer clearly. But a few stay with me, and this is one of them (along with, just off the top of my head, The Garden of Time, Bobok, Ward No. 6, and Dream of a Ridiculous Man). I think it captures the eerie-ness of being alone in a place where you ordinarily are never alone in, like your school or an airport, really well. 10/10 recommend!
\*Idk if short story review falls under book review. My apologies if this breaks the rules!
#entertainment
source
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