As a kid I read Something Wicked This Way Comes because it was scary. A creepy carnival. Mr. Dark, the Illustrated Man. The Dust Witch - blind with eyes "sewn shut with laced black-widow web." Back then I skimmed through descriptions and the story of Will's father who wants to recapture his youth - blah blah, who cares? I only wanted the creepy bits. And if you haven't read the book, no more spoilers. But trust me. There are plenty of creepy bits. Not something to read right before bedtime.
Reading Something Wicked This Way Comes when I was young, the poetry of Ray Bradbury's writing sailed over my head. This time around I'm savoring every sentence. How he describes the town, the carnival. The friendship between the two boys. And Will's father, the story I thought was boring. When I read the book the first time, I was Jim or Will, a kid who likes to sneak out at night, impatient to grow up. Now I'm middle-aged. So I realize - I'm not Will. I'm his father.