The Thief of Always (Clive Barker)

Posted: November 15, 2015 in fiction
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I am a sucker for a good title. I know, in my current straitened circumstances I oughtn’t to be buying more books, but I was investigating a used store in the new area and couldn’t resist this one. To prevent myself succumbing to temptation again, I’ve marshalled all the books I own but haven’t read yet out in the open, on a temporary parade ground, so that I don’t forget them. I had forgotten how many of them there are; I’m not yet brave enough to count. The crowd includes everything from The Decameron to The Madwoman in the Attic, so I should be busy for quite some time.


This is a story about temptation. Harvey is ten years old and bored in the greyness of February; then someone comes along who offers to deliver him from it.

The great gray beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive. Here he was, buried in the belly of that smothering month, wondering if he would ever find his way out through the cold coils that lay between here and Easter.

He didn’t think much of his chances. More than likely he’d become so bored as the hours crawled by that one day he’d simply forget to breathe. Then maybe people would get to wondering why such a fine young lad had perished in his prime. It would become a celebrated mystery, which wouldn’t be solved until some great detective decided to re-create a day in Harvey’s life.

Then, and only then, would the grim truth be discovered. The detective would first follow Harvey’s route to school every morning, trekking through the dismal streets. Then he’d sit at Harvey’s desk, and listen to the pitiful drone of the history teacher and the science teacher, and wonder how the heroic boy had managed to keep his eyes open. And finally, as the wasted day dwindled to dusk, he’d trace the homeward trek, and as he set foot on the step from which he had departed that morning, and people asked him – as they would – why such a sweet soul as Harvey had died, he would shake his head and say, “It’s very simple.”

“Oh?” the curious crowd would say. “Do tell.”

And, brushing away a tear, the detective would reply: “Harvey Swick was eaten by the great gray beast February.”

Frankly, I’m kind of glad Barker didn’t use November here. Writers often have such horrible things to say about November, but it’s the month I was born in, so I’ve always thought it was special and nice. I also like rain and heatless humidity and days that are sort of warm without being sunny, which is the best we can hope for in November.

Harvey is taken to a magical house where all your wishes come true and all the seasons happen in the course of a day. Every morning is springtime, every afternoon is summer, and every evening there’s Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, one right after the other. Of course, it’s all tricks and illusion, but most of the kids don’t worry about that. Harvey is a little less easily fooled, or maybe he just has a stronger need for things to be real. And in some ways, they’re more real than he thinks.

“Yes, but it’s a game,” Harvey said.

“A game?” said Jive. “No, no, boy. It’s more than that. It’s an education.”

Indeed, Harvey learns about the importance of truth when we’re tempted by pleasant illusions, but there’s more than that. Harvey sees within himself the potential to become like the magician who keeps the house going and consumes the souls of the children he traps there, and then he chooses to be something else: a hero. Harvey learns that evil consumes itself, and that death is nothing to be feared.

This novel is Barker writing a kid’s story, so it lacks the sexual content of his other books and is dramatically shorter, but it’s just as effective. There’s also his turning-point trope, that moment halfway through when things could end, but the universe hasn’t really been set right yet, so the characters have to return to the conflict in order to defeat the evil. Barker also illustrates; I mean, on top of the writing and the moviemaking, he does this too? I think he’s my new literary crush.



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