Thursday, July the 8th, 2004

back to: title, date or indexes

Kataplat

Ah, the man Kataplat. He had a terrible countenance. There is a line in a Barbara Comyns novel describing a phantom with “a dreadful look of reproach on its face”. That was Kataplat, the furrier. He was a man of great erudition, a classicist with a love of Venice. He had a cat called Doge & a dog called Cato. His fearsomeness must not detain us, for the most fascinating thing about him, which must be recorded here, was that he was an elf. Yes! A true elf, not some Tolkeinish figure of cloying fantasy, but a real elf. Like all true elves, he was fond of cake, and of glass-blowing. And he dealt in furs, which will revolt some readers, and rightly so, but if you are an elf, needs must, which would be quite clear to you were you an elf, which you are not, which you are not, which you are not.