Robert W. Chambers is now known mainly for his King in Yellow stories, but this prolific author wrote so much more, and not often in the supernatural Robert W. Chambers is now known mainly for his King in Yellow stories, but this prolific author wrote so much more, and not often in the supernatural vein. he is the least respected of the weird fiction authors, perhaps because of his strong interest in poetic romanticism, a perspective that comes across as rather airily aristocratic, and a ton of completely forgotten "popular novels" on his resume.
I imagine him like so: back from his summer abroad in France spent taking in the artists' quarters of Paris and the French countryside, falling in and out of love, he invites his weird writer friends over, much to the chagrin of his prim relatives. and so they join him: metaphysical naturalist Algernon Blackwood, malevolently acerbic journalist Ambrose Bierce, weird and morbid shut-in H.P. Lovecraft, the broodingly handsome William Hope Hodgson - as obsessed with the sea as ever, long-winded mystic Arthur Machen, and my personal favorite, the extremely mannered, eccentric, and always stylish Clark Ashton Smith. together they discuss the Arcane, and Other Dimensions, and the Horrors of the Modern World. it is a heady afternoon, the air thick with pipe smoke, the flights of imagination long and digressive. the servants come and go, agog. Robert steps out of the smoking room; a young lady's servant has dropped off her card and he must reply to her immediately. she's his most recent obsession and so he takes his time writing a flowery reply, begging the pleasure of her company and extolling her virtues. while he's busy with his affairs, his peers chuckle rather condescendingly at him. ah, Robert: a sensitive fellow and talented author, but perhaps not quite at their level - not a deep one, despite his efforts. takes himself a bit too seriously while his writing is not serious enough. perhaps a bit too eager to publish, one could say. but certainly very well-meaning! and charming as well.
the stories here that aren't repeats from The Hounds of Tindalos were... somewhat more enjoyable? I guess? 2.5 stars, rounded down. because although tthe stories here that aren't repeats from The Hounds of Tindalos were... somewhat more enjoyable? I guess? 2.5 stars, rounded down. because although the ideas were admirably bizarre, the writing is often eyerolling.
"The Ocean Leech" - a monstrosity from the sea devours various unlucky sailors, including our narrator. despite the poor quality of the prose, there's something very original about a story told by a ship's captain who is being devoured by a giant ocean leech. apparently due to various ocean leech excretions, being digested feels kinda great - color me surprised! although it does make our narrator rather forgetful of various details - interesting side effect.
"It Will Come to You" - similar to "The Ocean Leech" this story features a forgetful narrator. in this case, he's forgetful of who he is and why he's been given various jobs, including food-taster. this results in some deadly food poisoning for those whom he's supposed to be tasting food because BIG SPOILER NOW our narrator has forgotten that he's an undead ghoul, disguised as a human by Satan, and so what tastes "good" to him should be marked as inedible to humans. a surprising story, to say the least.
"Step Into My Garden" - a traveling salesman comes home to find his house & garden overtaken by cloying smells, invisible pests, some sort of disappearing gnome, and the maybe-undead criminal who was shot in his garden. this is one of the most bizarre stories I've ever read and that's saying something. even though I just gave sort of a synopsis, I still have no idea what this story was about, what happened and didn't happen, and that ending was very ?!?!?!
"The Flame Midget" - tiny evil gnome from space hangs out in a slide in a microscope and telepathically says Hello, My People Are About To Invade Earth And Kill You All. it also emits lethal needle-thin rays of burning heat and hides its spaceship in one character's kidneys. I don't even know what to say about this story other than it is certainly different.
"Death-Waters" - the narrator tells the tale of his dead friend, bitten to death by swarms of snakes summoned by an evil black fellow. this is one of those stories that could either be about racist characters or could itself be as racist as its characters. I tend to want to think the best of folks, even authors, but I'm going to have go with the latter in this case. check out this description, where apparently the very body of the black character inspires certain kinds of feelings:
"He sat hunched in the bow, with his back towards me, with his hands on his knees and his eyes turned towards the shore. He was naked to the waist and his dark, oily skin glistened with perspiration. There was something tremendously impressive about the rigidity of this animal-like body, and I didn't like the lethal growth of crisp black hair on his chest and arms. The upper portion of his body was hideously tattooed.
I wish I could make you perceive the deadly horror of the man. I couldn't look at him without an inevitable shudder, and I felt that I could never really know him, never break through his crust of reserve, never fathom the murky depths of his abominable soul. I knew that he had a soul, but every decent instinct in me revolted at the thought of coming into contact with it.
this character is literally just the native guide these two assholes have hired to row them to the center of a lake in Central America, where one of the pair forces him to drink what looks and smells like toxic lake water.
and then there's this line, which is just so funny yet dumb:
"There is no understanding the psychology of a black man in the centre of a black lake."
hard to understand the psychology of someone forced to drink "yellow, sulfurous" lake water and is now mad about it?? I mean, if I had the ability to curse someone to death by snakebite who had forced me to guzzle down foul, parasite-ridden lake water, that curse is 100% happening.
also "lethal" chest & arm hair... that's a new one for me!...more
ugh it's so boring having to write about an uninteresting book. Frank Belknap Long wrote hundreds of stories in many genres (and nearly as many essaysugh it's so boring having to write about an uninteresting book. Frank Belknap Long wrote hundreds of stories in many genres (and nearly as many essays), but is best known for following H.P. Lovecraft's path into the cosmic horror of Weird Fiction. indeed, Lovecraft himself features in perhaps the worst story in the collection "The Space-Eaters" - where he comes across as a hysterical, entirely self-absorbed dick. Long was perhaps not the most devoted of acolytes LOL. anyway, these stories were so blah and often maudlin, corny, eye-rolling. and numbingly tedious... I often felt like I was forgetting what I was reading as I read them. I suppose that is its own kind of cosmic horror, writ very small.
the sole exception, and the only reason this isn't 1 star, is the title story, a classic of the genre. "Hounds of Tindalos" does do a great job getting right to the heart of Lovecraftian ultra-dimensional horror, with its drug-taking central character mentally traveling beyond the barrier of time, only to find horrific, hungry non-beings that travel through the curves of space-time via angles. the scene where the protagonist and his acquaintance the astral traveler frenziedly attempt to use plaster of Paris to cover up the angles in the latter's room so that these hounds can't burst through was something else. if only the rest of the collection were anywhere near as entertaining as this tale. alas!
I'll give Long another shot, if only because I have one more collection of his. I shouldn't have listened to that person on Ebay who convinced me that the author was worth looking into. I'll not forget this, seller 184u - you led me astray!...more
I forgot how fun this was! a dry kind of fun. it's been many years since I first read it and I'm surprised at how much I still retained, certain imageI forgot how fun this was! a dry kind of fun. it's been many years since I first read it and I'm surprised at how much I still retained, certain images & ideas really stuck with me. I guess once Lovecraft gets his hooks into you, those hooks stay embedded, little bits of Cthulhu shrapnel that burrow slowly in the mind, never to be pulled out. LOL how's that for a metaphor for the author's mythos; I think Cthulhu would approve. the empurpled Lovecraft style is in full effect: journalistic and full of archaic words, while also being VERY VERY EXCITABLE. well, the end of the world is nigh, a person should be excitable when sharing those facts.
the story itself is not straightforward. a lot of telling and very little showing. it works. through our narrator's eye, we meet a pretentious sculptor whose nightmares are shared by many other artists, a New Orleans detective who finds a horrible cult in the depths of a swamp, and a Norwegian sailor who lands on the very tip-top of the ancient submerged city of R'lyeh and whose shipmates meet shocking ends at the hands of Cthulhu itself. I had forgotten that Cthulhu makes an actual appearance here, literally swimming after the Norwegian's ship and then recombining after our brave sailor decides to turn his ship around and sail right into the Great Old One, cleaving the monster into pieces (temporarily). what I had not forgotten was the central concept of the story, and it's an awesome one: the "call" of Cthulhu is the call of the ancient being's own dreams, diffusing out into the world and into the minds of various cultists, madmen, and sensitive artists.
some words must be said about Lovecraft's abominable depictions of "queer and evil-looking half-castes." now, as an evil-looking (but dapper) and very queer half-caste myself, I was quite taken aback. sure, he's not wrong: half-breeds like me do possess ancient secrets and are forever in service to ancient gods; our main goal in life is to disturb the dreams of sensitive artists, sardonic detectives, brave sailors, and white people in general. but gosh, Lovecraft was just so blatant about it in this story, no subtlety whatsoever. he's totally, shamelessly blowing our cover - and that's pretty unforgiveable. he's lucky that he's long dead because otherwise someone would be sent some pretty bad dreams tonight. and maybe some other things too.
3 perspectives: the son, the husband, the murdered wife. Bierce's irony and cruelty is in full effect. the mediocre and depressing "lives" of ghosts i3 perspectives: the son, the husband, the murdered wife. Bierce's irony and cruelty is in full effect. the mediocre and depressing "lives" of ghosts is discussed. in the end, love shall conquer death but shall bring death as well.
and who was that intruder on the stairs, the man in the night? surely not Nemesis; these fools have done nothing to deserve a nemesis. except to be born, to live, and then to die, as foolish humans.
synopsis: a little girl is haunted but is she really?
When is a haunted house story not a haunted house story? When it is a Weird Fiction™ haunted houssynopsis: a little girl is haunted but is she really?
When is a haunted house story not a haunted house story? When it is a Weird Fiction™ haunted house story, of course. The old Weird Fiction Masters blood runs through Walton's veins: some Arthur Machen, a little bit of Lord Dunsany, and a lot of Algernon Blackwood. That blood is not interested in classical ghost stories; it doesn't particularly want to scare you, except perhaps on an existential level. It is fascinated by the extradimensional spaces between and beyond, psychic residues and psychic attacks, the natural world's transcendent qualities, the Lessons of the Ancients, the right-hand path and the left.
This will be a difficult and probably very annoying book for some. Hard to recommend. It is eerie and disturbing but it is far from a traditional tale of horror. The poor reviewer Dan was appalled at the lengthy middle section, which is basically conversation and interrogation. I get it; for someone who doesn't love the in-depth yet strangely stylized, chapters-long conversations that dominate many of Algernon Blackwood's books, this will be a slog. But that and so much else delighted me. I love those sorts of things, the reading and often rereading of multi-level conversations, the thought put into each query and response, the respect for the reader who is expected to be just as interested in such contemplative sequences, one who takes their time and is not reading the book simply to turn pages rapidly.
I also love the characters. The four supporting characters (two brothers, a wife, and a child) are all well-characterized, portrayed in varying shades of villainy and victimization. Best of all, the protagonist and the mother who employs him. Dr. Carew comes from a long line of "psychic investigators" like John Silence (Blackwood again) and there is something so compelling about how these types of characters radiate both a calming ease with transcendental mysticism and an innate decency and quiet strength that I suppose can only be called "goodness" if that word didn't come across as so corny. Elizabeth Stone is just as interesting and admirable: an heiress who escaped from a controlling evil and who is forced to return to it, a student of the occult absorbed by the supernatural but never taken over by it, and in the end, a woman whose struggle is basically about not allowing her own will and independent thought to be taken over by any dominating force, whether by an evil aunt's will or a cousin who loves her. Elizabeth resists being subsumed; being her own individual is key to who she is. These are two very attractive characters.
Walton's prose shines. So many surprising phrases and sentences stuck in my mind; she's both a perfectionist and someone who wants to describe things in new and unusual ways. A complex and nuanced writer who trusts her audience. And much like Blackwood (yet again), she has no interest in viewing non-Western spiritual practices with anything approaching condescension. I really appreciated the depth and sympathy in which she portrayed the mystical traditions of other cultures and her ease in imagining some sort of afterlife. As well as how the present world is affected, sometimes infected, by the past.
[image]
looks like a ghost messed with that hair a bit
also there is a creepy apparition that takes the form of a hare and who doesn't love that?
Clark Ashton Smith, one of my favorite classic writers of ornate science fantasy, closes out his career with less of a bang and more of a... well, I'mClark Ashton Smith, one of my favorite classic writers of ornate science fantasy, closes out his career with less of a bang and more of a... well, I'm not going to say "whimper" because I'm not going to insult him. He closes out his career with a whisper. A whisper of his former skills, I suppose, rather than the more full-throated confidence and command of effects that he had in his heyday. There are certainly some of the worst stories I've ever read by him in here. Happily, there are plenty of perfectly fine stories, and handful of excellent ones that are just as wonderfully written and magically malevolent as his prior classics.
I loved his return to the Atlantean land of Poseidonis: "The Death of Malygris" features a cabal of understandably anxious second-level wizards who seek to plunder the fortunes of their apparently-dead superior. They should have known better.
CAS revisits his classic (and shared) setting of sword & sorcery, Hyperborea, in three treats. One about the robbery of a temple, another about an arrogant king bespelled by a grouchy enchanter to offer himself up to a range of underworld monstrosities, all who find the offering rather lacking (the delightful and macabre "The Seven Geases"), and a somewhat Lovecraftian story of an alien being intent on bringing death by ice to the world (the atypically somber "The Coming of the White Worm").
The Vancean far-future continent of Zothique is featured the most heavily in this collection. I was disappointed by a number of these stories, but there were some standouts. (All of my favorites are bolded below.) The best tales of Zothique, as with Poseidonis, are the ones suffused with a bleak melancholy. Just as Poseidonis is doomed to drown, Zothique exists at the end of days. "Morthylla" and "Necromancy in Naat" in particular exude the kind of luscious romanticism and literally necrophilic love affairs that are perfect for undead readers like myself.
It's sort of funny to describe these different worlds of Poseidonis and Zothique and Hyperborea, because they often feel like very similar places. Same goes for his setting in the provincial French countryside, Averoigne. All include dark wizardry, dying or dead civilizations, horribly ironic endings, and all portrayed with the deepest shades of purple prose.
A standout that felt quite different is the scabrous and unusually graphic "Schizo Creator" - starting with that fun title. The jumping points are Manichaeism and Gnosticism: the binary of a Good God of Order and the Dark God of Chaos, the right-hand path and the left. But what if, wonders a very modern psychoanalyst with some surprising sorcerous skills, there is only one being, and this God is schizophrenic. I mean seriously, LOL! And so our resourceful brain-panner manages to trap a high-level demon that he mistakes for Satan and then provides that very modern treatment, electroshock therapy. The results are pretty amusing, to the reader and to the high-level demon. And the whole experiment - dutifully reported back by that demon - is certainly of interest to the High Devil himself. Or should it be... Himself? No spoilers! Or blasphemy!
☥
INANE SYNOPSES
The Dark Age - post-apocalyptic caveboy learns that last living elitists still elitist The Chain of Aforgomon - fuck around with Father Time and find out The Primal City - cloud monsters don't like climbers Treader of the Dust - ashy book leads to ashy skin leads to ashy death The Great God Awto - hear them sing their paeans to this god Strange Shadows - drunk dude sees clearly Double Cosmos - druggie dude sees other self and other self is an asshole Nemesis of the Unfinished - writer needs to write more and drink less Symposium of the Gorgon - drunkard meets Gorgon, Pegasus, cannibals Schizoid Creator - psychiatrist needs to rethink his thesis Monsters in the Night - werewolf feeding time Phoenix - boyfriend not returning from trip to reignite sun The Dart of Rasafa - makes me sad that this was author's last story cause it sucked
Poseidonis
The Death of Malygris - oh he ain't that dead
Averoigne
Mother of Toads - nasty, horny sorceress + toads = bad news for handsome apprentice The Enchantress of Sylaire - who cares how she really looks, she fucks
Hyperborea
The Coming of the White Worm - disgusting slug sorcerer wants the world to just chill Seven Geases - hypnotized human sacrifice: "Eat me, I'm yours." 7 entities: "Sorry, just not into you." Theft of the Thirty-Nine Girdles - Ocean's 11 - 3 + fake ghosts
Zothique
The Tomb-Spawn - escape from cannibals leads to discovery of something pretty gross The Witchcraft of Ulua - entitled temptress mad she can't get it on with new cup-bearer Xeethra - Ozymandias called, wants kingdom and name back The Last Hieroglyph - astrologer gets on Fate's last nerve Necromancy in Naat - dead people make great servants but not great lovers The Black Abbot of Puthuum - racist travelers don't want to provide lonely, hungry monk with sustenance or sex The Death of Ilalotha - after the funeral orgies, it's jealous queen vs. living dead girl The Garden of Alompha - bored king not so bored anymore when being torn apart by vengeful veggies The Master of the Crabs - crabs make unreliable friends Morthylla - "After his death, he forgot that he had died..."...more
What a pleasure to return to one of my favorite authors, Algernon Blackwood. It has been a while since "A man of power is among us! A man of God!"
What a pleasure to return to one of my favorite authors, Algernon Blackwood. It has been a while since I've read more than one story by him in a row. I love his prose, formal but never stodgy, always serious, with the occasional stylized flourish when depicting hysteria. I love his rich imagery. His interests in spiritualism and naturalism are given free reign in these stories and novellas featuring the psychic investigator, Dr. John Silence. This thoughtful, pipe-smoking physician is not just an accomplished telepath, empath, clairvoyant, astral projector, animal-lover, gun-hater, and filled with touchy-feely kindness (John Silence is very much a hands-on, close-talking kind of fellow), he also apparently radiates a psychic field of manly wholesomeness that dominates everyone around him with the power of his overwhelming goodness. Quite a character!
As always, Blackwood is more interested in unveiling the strange dimensions that coexist beside humanity, rather than creating moments of horror (although those do appear, frequently). He's all about the 'awe' in awesome, the old definition of that word. These may be tales of ghosts, witches, Satanists, elementals, werewolves, and mummies, but they are far from monster stories. The author's focus is always on the higher planes of existence, and the dangers and wonders of those places.
"A Psychical Invasion" - 4 stars. A writer of comedies suddenly loses his sense of humor. Although perhaps not the most compelling of set-ups, what follows is a very absorbing and lengthy scene of psychic investigator versus evil spirits in a cottage. The story amused in its depiction of marijuana as a gateway drug for psychical experiences (although the strain used is indica; one would think sativa to be more effective for such activities). That said, what made this tale idiosyncratic, surprisingly high-stakes, and eventually very satisfying was Dr. Silence's deployment of two assistants: his cat and his dog! The scene of his loyal, evil-hating dog losing a battle with malevolent spirits was heartrending (*spoiler alert* the dog lives) while the image of his, let's say, more chaotic-neutrally inclined cat prancing about enjoying the company of these dead decadents was both eerie and, to a cat aficionado like myself, fully expected. Fortunately, cat comes to its senses and attempts to rescue best friend dog, and Dr. Silence eventually rescues both. Whew!
"Ancient Sorceries" - 5 stars. One of the more famous Blackwood stories, this one only slightly involving the good doctor investigating mysteries. Instead, the reader is immersed in the perspective of one Arthur Vezin, strangely compelled to stop and then stay on in a remote provincial French village. This story depicts the behaviors of cats and witches, first one then the other, almost like two layers beneath an idyllic surface. The first layer, cats, is wonderfully bizarre as Vezin describes being in an ostensibly pleasant town where all of its residents act like, well, cats. This cat-like behavior is even stranger than it sounds, with townsfolk busy pretending to do things while keeping careful track of his movements, suddenly disappearing and reappearing, looking idle and only vaguely interested while still giving the vague impression that they are just about to pounce and toy with their human plaything. The second layer, witches, goes in a surprisingly trippy direction, with a love story, reincarnations, shapeshifting, dreamscapes, and witchy revels in service of His Satanic Majesty all mixed in an almost psychedelic stew. I always knew the French were both cats and witches!
"The Nemesis of Fire - 4 stars. Although confined to a single place - an English manor and its surrounding property - this novella is almost a tour of haunted settings. First, the manor itself, dark and gloomy and unaccountably, uncomfortably warm. Then an equally haunted forest, too close-by, then a stone Roman "laundry" and finally a claustrophobic tunnel leading to a makeshift Egyptian tomb. Likewise, the threat itself changes shape as understanding dawns on Dr. Silence, his assistant Hubbard, and the old Colonel who has brought them to investigate certain disturbing occurrences involving fire and burning. From an eerie presence that announces itself with lightning streaks of energy, to a raging fire elemental, to an ancient sorcerer now mummified, to a mummy's curse claiming a sadly sympathetic victim. It all flowed seamlessly from one point to the next, dread escalating at each turn, reaching its most bizarre point with a séance and possession. The only cacophonous note in this smooth display of Blackwood's storytelling powers is the narrator, Hubbard. The guy just goes on and on about Dr. Silence! Drool much, Hubbard? The reader has certainly come to realize that John Silence is a spiritual hunk of the highest order, no need to remind us every other paragraph of how lost you get in those dazzling astral eyes of his. Back off Hubbard, he's mine.
"Secret Worship" - 5 stars. Dr. Silence to the rescue again! But not until we are fully acquainted with Harris the silk merchant and his particular problem: nostalgia. This man of silk takes a sentimental voyage to his old school, a monastery in the German hills; en route, the reader journeys with him into his past life as he fondly recalls his austere lifestyle with his fellow students, the stoic Brothers who ordered their lives, the lovely natural surroundings. Harris feels so fondly about his past life because his prosaic adult life of buying & selling lacks any vestige of spirituality, and way back when, spirituality was all his young soul was concerned with contemplating. Unlike Harris, the reader senses his sentiments are rather misplaced, as this past life does not come across as the most healthy of experiences. The full depth of the monastery's lack of health is eventually made apparent during his actual visit to his old stomping grounds - much to his dismay, much to his danger. I loved Blackwood's perspective on the blinding quality of nostalgia and the near-inchoate yearning for something higher. Blackwood understands while he cautions. The story also features a fascinating portrait of a very mournful but still very diabolical Asmodeus. Fortunately, ghosts of the past and even Asmodeus himself are no match for that gentle-eyed man of tweed and servant of God, Dr. John Silence!
"The Camp of the Dog" - 4 stars. Blackwood is at his most evocative when writing about his one true love: Nature. In this novella, a small party of campers travels to the islands of the Baltic Sea for a two-month summer retreat. The descriptions of this wilderness are so vivid and expressive, so immersive. The author's intense love for such settings is profound. It instantly made me want to go camping, of course. His descriptive powers are just as skillful when describing the changes that the campers go through when in touch with their non-city selves; in particular, one young man eventually connects with and lets loose his inner savage. This is a story about lycanthropy as a kind of astral projection made physical; the Double that embodies emotions becomes a hunter seeking its deepest connection. And so it is also a love story. The girl finds something deeply disturbing even 'creepy' about the boy that distances her from him, during the day. The boy grows strangely more attractive, more virile, the more his secret self frees itself to roam at night. Fascinating stuff! And it was nice to see Dr. Silence become a kind of spiritual matchmaker. And also interesting to read his perspective on the Scandinavian islands: they are soulless to him, outcroppings of rock from sea, devoid of humanity and so can only encourage the descent of interlopers into a more primal state. The only thing I could have done without were the ongoing references to "Red Indians" as noble savages; that said, Blackwood is always culturally sensitive, and those moments annoyed rather than offended.
"A Victim of Higher Space" - 4 stars. Slight but very engaging. The good doctor's patient is prone to traveling into the 4th dimension and beyond, quite against his will. The story includes a brief dive into tesseracts and the mathematical study of overlapping dimensions. We also spend time in the doctor's "green study" which comes complete with peephole to contemplate his patients unobserved, a chair nailed in place to reduce his patient's fidgeting, and several discreet buttons that allow the doctor to introduce a calming narcotic into the air. And we meet a new servant, whom Dr. Silence is training to only think positive, affectionate thoughts when welcoming his psychically fragile patients into his study. Like, say, a man winking in & out of existence. It was all so enjoyable. Especially when doctor and patient start finishing each other's sentences because to these two uplifted souls, linear time is meaningless and matter is but a trapping, a projection even, of our fuller selves. I'm so glad these two met - I can tell you from experience, it's often lonely being a trans-dimensional, psychically empathetic supernumerary!
4.5 stars for the collection, rounded up to a higher plane....more
Fecund fructuous luscious decadent dissolute immoral empurpled grandiose theatrical refined cultivated stylized mordant acidulous barbed sanguinary neFecund fructuous luscious decadent dissolute immoral empurpled grandiose theatrical refined cultivated stylized mordant acidulous barbed sanguinary necromantic, and to me at least, salubrious Clark Ashton Smith! He's a lot!
There is also a lot of fabulous Zothique, dire and sorcerous world of our future, in this dense collection. Cause for celebration. All of the Zothique stories are wonderful. I particularly appreciated the strange, sad adventure of a poor prince of a dead kingdom, stranded on "The Isle of the Torturers" (trigger warning: torture, lol) and the evil wit in "Voyage of King Euvoron" especially the King of Birds' collection of human taxidermy, and most of all the fantastic showdown between evil wizard and evil king - plus an evil concubine turned into a sacrifice, and also an evil god of hell just biding his time - of the enchanting "Dark Eidolon" - swoon! So much evil and they all get what's coming to them. Except for the evil god of hell of course, he always wins.
The very disdainful, very bored, and - wait for it - very evil sorcerer supreme Maal Dweb is featured in the two stories about a weird world called Xiccarph that exists in a weird solar system with a bunch of other weird planets and in which weird adventures are apparently occurring around the clock. After dispatching some dull, lovelorn interlopers on some kind of rescue mission who dare to intrude on his peace of mind in "The Maze of the Enchanter" (I totally sympathized with his irritation), he decides to have some adventures of his own in "The Flower-Women" and those adventures are very, very weird. Both stories delighted.
Two more standouts are the rousing and rather less decadent adventure stories set in the deep caverns of Mars. One was exceedingly creepy (as eyeless undead slug people who want you to be One Of Us are always fated to be, the poor things) and the other was just a lot of fast-paced fun, as it features two losers who have to match their rather dull wits against an ambitious, sweet-voiced, manipulative god of - wait for it - evil who wants to branch out and conquer another planet... our planet Earth, egads!! The latter story also includes a holographic PR rep who floats around dispensing a lot of inane bullshit, which felt like this story was set in 2021.
Also quite pleased that a teen favorite has remained a favorite: "Genius Loci" which is about, well, an evil meadow. I remember excitedly reading this one to my girlfriend at the time, on a road trip. I also remember her wondering if maybe she and I were really the right fit for each other. :(
I think this period of CAS's writing career may be his peak, but I do still have 1 more volume of his stories to go. I want I want I want to give this one 5 stars because he's a favorite author but I'm miserly and am just going to hold out until I finish them all. Not all of the stories gave that pure-pleasure feeling, but if you like his overripe & overheated & often overly-written style, each and every story here is a winner.
STUPID SYNOPSES AHEAD
A Star-Change - grass is always greener on the other planet Dimensions of Chance - Americans rescued by racist aliens 3rd Episode of Vathek - CAS finishes Beckford's ode to twincest Genius Loci - "the presiding spirit of a place" Secret of the Cairn - eating a pear from an alien Tree of Life
Averoigne The Mandrakes - bury the wife & dig up the mini-wives Beast of Averoigne - hark! the demon comet approaches! Disinterment of Venus - sexy statue inspires priapic monks
Hyperborea The White Sybil - like a moth to a white flame goes the poet The Ice-Demon - don't mess with a malevolent glacier
Zothique Isle of the Torturers - out of the frying pan and into... The Charnel God - only dead offerings allowed Dark Eidolon - evil, evil everywhere & so many souls to drink Voyage of King Euvoran - both fool & fowl shall the king become The Weaver in the Vaults - lil' floating globe seeks nourishment
Mars Dweller in the Gulf - "Out, vile jelly! Where is thy lustre now?" Vulthoom - the lovely Martian god of evil wants to visit Earth
Xiccarph Maze of the Enchanter - change or stasis await all who enter The Flower-Women - bored sorcerer befriends vampire veggies...more
the poor delicate soul, a lotus in the mud, reaching higher and always getting ground down, ever down, into the muck and grime of confined, earthly lithe poor delicate soul, a lotus in the mud, reaching higher and always getting ground down, ever down, into the muck and grime of confined, earthly living. the poor morbid soul, dreaming of the past and of escape, dreaming himself away and into strange places where he will be lord or victim, dreaming of bacchanalia and decadence, or of a more refined way of living, or of childhood and a place where he was comforted, given succour. the poor forlorn soul, his love has left him, that love that was his gateway to bliss and to dreaming, but no he doesn't care, he really doesn't, an outsider like himself doesn't need such earthly things as love, he is better on his own, he can focus on his dreams when he's alone, his dreams of death and madness, of places and times past, and of being alone, always alone.
(view spoiler)[I had to take a longish break from the book due to life/work and also, honestly, lack of interest. I've picked it back up tonight. I'm about two-thirds of the way through and hope to finish it soon.
Unlike most, I was completely enchanted by the first chapter. Reading the descriptions of nature on my back patio, looking at treetops and hearing birds around me, while mulling over the strange, almost hyper-real images described on the page... it was such a relaxing experience. I was quite ready to love this book the way I've loved similar pastoral/hallucinatory exercises written by Algernon Blackwood. I'm a big fan of the period voice of these writers.
But what followed was... not so great. The hallucinatory qualities certainly increased but in way that did not engage me, there was no bridge between reality and not-reality. Falling in love with Annie caused these strange flights, really? The descriptions of English country life could have been written by Dostoevsky or Bierce, they were so scabrous and full of too-pointed pitch-black humor and so incredibly one-sided to a degree that I was more annoyed than anything else. And the mortifications of the flesh by thorns - those images of him lying on his floor on a bed of brambles, reading by candlight - have to admit that I rolled my eyes when I should have been, what, aghast? I dunno. The strange mix of those elements should have sparked my interest, and as Dan mentioned, the writing is not bad. But it just didn't coalesce for me, it grated. And I really didn't need that self-indulgently long depiction of the puppy being tormented and murdered. Why exactly? To further prove that humans are gross barbarians? Sigh.
The move to London (and Lucian's surprising hand-wave aside at being deserted by Annie) sparked things a bit more for me. A bit. The descriptions of London were predictably morose but I found myself a bit interested in how much the book was turning into a treatise on style versus substance, or form over meaning. Or I guess form equaling meaning? I didn't expect such lengthy musings on the art of writing.
Anyway, I guess I'll see if the remaining third leaves me as unimpressed as most of the first two-thirds. (hide spoiler)]
One thing that did make me smile: letters from his nagging but well-intentioned cousin make Lucian imagine a happy, homey bourgeois existence with his relatives, which in turn becomes an inspiration to keep living his life his own miserable way, because he wants nothing to do with such bougie homeyness. LOL! Oh, Lucian.
☄ ☾ ☼
message 35: by mark May 29, 2021 12:23PM
(view spoiler)[Finished it last night. Not the most edifying way to spend a Friday night but at least I have the rest of the weekend.
There is a lot of brilliance in this book. So much going on! Machen is writing about being unstuck in life, an outsider along the lines of what Colin Wilson would write about decades later, dreaming of other places and other times. Those dreams and longings can be about fairly benign things, like natural landscapes or a well-used home... or more gothic, more dark and even violent things, like a sinister Roman fort or a decayed house or revels in the street... or things and ways of living that we can never have, because we weren't born hundreds or thousands of years ago and those things are probably more imagination than reality... or for things most people once had, like living in the happy memories of childhood when we perhaps felt most held and loved, except of course, as the saying goes, you can't go home again.
He writes all about that while also upbraiding both conventional life and the life of the outsider. He writes about all of that while also writing about writing itself, how to do it, how to make music with words, how to use words to sell your pieces, how to sell out, how to write things only for yourself. He writes about the loneliness of someone outside of the mainstream and the temptations and indulgences and hermetic self-flagellations that sort of person could fall victim to. He writes about love in the most exalted of ways and he writes about sensuality in the most decadent of ways.
There's just so much going on and it is all written in prose that was, for me at least, pretty amazing at times.
Unfortunately, all of those things that Machen writes on just ended up feeling like self-indulgent misery porn. There were a number of highlights but overall this was a pretty disagreeable experience for me. Tedious and pretentious and so navel-gazing it made me want to scream, many times.
Still, the prose was great, so much talent on display. And the ideas were absorbing. At least when I considered those ideas afterwards - not when actually reading them. (hide spoiler)]
All that said, I really enjoyed that one scene where a lesbionic orgy fails to get a reaction from an unimpressed young man. Totally been there....more
I liked this one rather more than the preceding collection and rather less than the first volume. here are the mid-career stories in which the weird mI liked this one rather more than the preceding collection and rather less than the first volume. here are the mid-career stories in which the weird master's idiosyncratic style has reached its peak. two more collections to go, so hopefully this peak will be a plateau. the occasional amateurishness that marred some prior stories is nowhere to be found in this book. same goes, mainly, for the love stories; he's just not that into them at this point. this is CAS at his most polished, although "polished" does little to describe his marvelous combination of disdainful irony and bleak humor, hysteria and grotesquerie, bizarre flights of fancy, dense walls of prose delivered in an extravagantly purple style, and of course the fulsome harvest of obscure words in each and every story. nobody does it better.
I had a bunch of favorites. the frequently anthologized Seed from the Sepulcher was wonderfully grim and disgusting and did body horror decades before anyone else. Plutonium Drug puts forth a nifty twist on seeing the future and also details a range of interesting new drugs and poisons imported from various planets. Empire of the Necromancers is the first in the Zothique story cycle - stories which feel like they were written by a death-mad Jack Vance from another dimension. Double Shadow is about the doom that befell two sorcerers and their pet mummy due to some poorly thought-out trips to the very distant past - to crib the spells of a long-vanished serpent race, of all things. also featuring astral trips to archaic times, Ubbo-Sathla is a mindbending take on reincarnation. mindbending to this reader and unfortunately for the protagonist(s) as well. always remember: you can't go home again, especially if that first home is an oozing primordial mother-mass that is probably from outer space. The Holiness of Azédarac, set in that always interesting (and made-up) French province of Averoigne, starts off the collection on a fun note and spryly pivots from being about the murderous mage of the title to a tale of a well-meaning monk and an equally well-meaning enchantress falling quickly in lust and love. And The Demon of the Flower is as gorgeous, strange, and vicious as its titular monster; that CAS purple prose is at its most opulent.
my favorite of faves was Colossus of Ylourgne. this fabulous adventure is CAS at his most ripe, full of ghoulishness and aiming to please with an exciting narrative. basically it is about a sorcerer who has constructed a giant out of corpses; he'll inhabit that giant and use it to lay bloody waste on the various villages, churches, and judgmental monks of unlucky Averoigne. nice. maybe clerical types should stop finger-pointing so much. fortunately for them, there is a helpful young novice wizard who'll try and save the day. this story was super fun from beginning to end.
and now for some ridiculous synopses:
Averoigne "Holiness of Azédarac" forget that wizard - a witch loves you! "The Maker of Gargoyles" resentment & desire come alive! "The Colossus of Ylourgne" attack on undead titan!
Poseidonis "A Vintage from Atlantis" pirates shouldn't drink so much! "Double Shadow" some serpent-spells shouldn't be cast!
Hyperborea "The Weird of Avoosl Wuthoqqquan" don't be a greedy pig! "Ubbo-Sathla" AKA Shub-Niggurath? maybe!
Zothique "Empire of the Necromancers" the dead make poor servants!
science fantasy "The Demon of the Flower" don't assassinate a plant-god!
science fiction sequel: "Beyond the Singing Flame" alas for the end of things! "Seedling of Mars" Martian vegetable wants to help you evolve! "The Eternal World" don't mess with the Gods of the Galaxy! "The Invisible City" don't go looking for things you can't see! "Immortals of Mercury" human protoplasm is required! "The Plutonian Drug" future is now - unless you're dead! "The God of the Asteroid" Mars is hell but asteroids are worse!
science fiction horror "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis" that black turban ain't no turban!
horror "The Nameless Offspring" nobody loves a step-ghoul! "Seed from the Sepulcher" that head's a flower-pot! "The Second Interment" uh oh, premature burial! "The Supernumerary Corpse" two bodies for the price of one!...more
synopsis: the fossilized gargoyles play games in their ancient castle above the Czech town of Moldau; the confused and angry peasants plot revolt fromsynopsis: the fossilized gargoyles play games in their ancient castle above the Czech town of Moldau; the confused and angry peasants plot revolt from below. young violinist Otakar dreams of his destiny to become Emperor; his aristocrat lover Polyxena dreams of a bloodthirsty ancestor finding new form within her young body. the old whore Lizzie is a protector and embraces the human kind; her old lover, Dr. Halberd, regains his own humanity as he descends into senility. the eerie, clownish village idiot Zrcadlo is a puppet for dark forces and shall channel nemesis; a drum shall beat, made of his skin. it is Walpurgis Night again, a time of bonfires and feasts, of burning witches and of orgiastic embrace: a time of change has come.
this surreal and scabrous death-farce laughs a dead hollow laugh - all the better to conceal its deep mourning for the human kind and all of their works. Walpurgisnacht scours everything in sight: no surface shall remain unabraded, no skin unflayed. change may be painful but the transformation is necessary. Meyrink names and then exorcises many demons: the backwards-looking aristocracy, mired in their memories, senescent; the forward-looking revolutionaries, savage and foolish and terminally myopic, lusting for power.
a compelling tale, fascinating in its implications. most interesting to me: the idea of old evils being projected into new bodies. Otakar: remade into a vessel for fascist supremacy, a tool for the Empire to be reborn. Polyxena: willingly possessed, a receptacle for the decadence of years past, an instrument for aristocracy's renewal of control. Horrifying Zrcadlo: undead jester, a channel and a mirror. Your worst fears and your darkest self and your barely-forgotten crimes shall be mimed by Zrcadlo, for all to see. Unknowable forces will animate him, distant powers will speak through him, he will break minds and suck life away. Zrcadlo will be the drum that beats for a terrible change. 'Tis Walpurgis Night, a time for metamorphosis! *shudder*...more
the first half of this longish story is eerily affecting: a pristine countryside during a golden summer; a long path ending at a rustic rental, surprithe first half of this longish story is eerily affecting: a pristine countryside during a golden summer; a long path ending at a rustic rental, surprisingly occupied by an old acquaintance; an unhealthily dark and oily pool nearby; a girl's voice tormenting that acquaintance, reminding him of past misdeeds. Machen's prose charms, the descriptions are elegantly wrought, and his voice is pleasant, wry, and thoughtful. what is this dark pool, hidden away; what children does it spawn?
hark! spoilers ahead!
the second half is interesting, but unfortunately the magic evaporates as Machen literally explains how the unconscious will absorb many unsettling memories of long-past misbehavior and humiliation - but those memories remain, and may resurface when least expected. um... duh! the dark pool is that deep well of unconscious: a slimy place and an abyss of apprehension and fear and past regrets, a dreadful landscape whose dreadfulness preys on its observer; its "children" being those distant memories coming home to roost, and torment. I would have preferred less analysis and more eeriness....more
Old Men, sitting by a fire with cups in hand, telling tales of Old Days, before the changes. London is a mysterious town, full of strange places, and Old Men, sitting by a fire with cups in hand, telling tales of Old Days, before the changes. London is a mysterious town, full of strange places, and Northern England even more so. Machen encapsulates his entire raison d'être as a writer: sometimes worlds may overlap. The universe is a fluid place, and may at times allow visions of before and of elsewhere to appear now, and here.
Gentrification is a topic in this short story; the pulling down of the archaic, to be replaced with the prosaic. As I am also an Old Man (or soon to be), I found much that resonated in the sentiments expressed. Ah, the San Francisco I first moved to, in 1994. Strange, full of mysterious nooks and crannies, odd shops, odder people; now a shiny tech paradise full of tall bright buildings and tall uninteresting people. Alas!
But back to the story: "perichoresis" is most usually defined as a way of describing the relationship between the Holy Trinity: a blending, an overlap of sorts, but most of all a rotation. It may be used in other ways as well... to describe an interpenetration between the world we know and a world - or a person - that has passed, or that exists elsewhere, now only to be seen in fleeting visions....more
stray out on the streets of Banwick after dark, on the eve of Holy Innocents, and you may discover certain surprises. children playing, singing, and dstray out on the streets of Banwick after dark, on the eve of Holy Innocents, and you may discover certain surprises. children playing, singing, and dancing... but why at such a late hour? and why do they bear such ghastly wounds? no need to be nervous: they are merely celebrating a relevant holiday; as all good Christians know, "Holy Innocents" commemorates "The Massacre of the Innocents" by King Herod - first of the Christian martyrs.
a bit less quality than the prior volume. still fairly entertaining, with a handful of excellent stories and only one that was laughable drek.
with tha bit less quality than the prior volume. still fairly entertaining, with a handful of excellent stories and only one that was laughable drek.
with this second stage in his career, story-wise it appears that CAS became less interested in yearning tales of love, alien and otherwise, and refocused on contes cruel. the majority of the pieces in this collection are short ones describing unfortunate and disturbing endings for a range of deserving or undeserving characters. unfortunately, that particular offshoot of short horror fiction has little interest for me. they usually lack the depth, resonance, and ambiguity that I often crave in my Weird Fiction. alas!
however that handful of excellent stories truly shined. "Door to Saturn" is a lot of droll fun as two enemy wizards find themselves within the bizarre landscape of Saturn, and at the mercy of its various bizarre residents. "The Testament of Athammaus" features an absorbingly repulsive villain/monster. both have the feel of classic sword & sorcery high fantasy, except with a thick red vein of CAS darkness. "A Rendezvous in Averoigne" takes place in one of the author's more underrated locales: the imaginary French countrysides and castles of Averoigne, circa the 12th century, I assume. this one features two lovers and their servants encountering a dismal castle in the countryside, and its hungry residents. "The Letter from Mohaun Los" is an amusing science fictional tale of space travel to a couple very off-kilter and threatening planets. featuring a giant tentacled robot, of all things! and the bonafide classic of the the collection, "City of the Singing Flame" details the haunting lure of a flame of extermination, captivating all sorts of alien creatures - as well as our protagonist and his buddy - to their potential doom.
CAS' prose throughout all of the stories is lushly descriptive and gorgeously purple, per usual.
Hyperborea The Door to Saturn The Testament of Athammaus
Averoigne A Rendezvous in Averoigne
- love - Told in the Desert The Willow Landscape
- death - The Gorgon An Offering to the Moon The Kiss of Zoraida The Face by the River The Ghoul The Kingdom of the Worm The Justice of the Elephant The Return of the Sorcerer A Good Embalmer
- strange adventures - The Red World of Polaris & A Captivity in Serpens An Adventure in Futurity The City of the Singing Flame The Letter from Mohaun Los
- drek - The Hunters from Beyond (although it did introduce me to the word "nympholepsy" for which I suppose I'm grateful?)...more
A beautiful collection of stories. Diverse in tone and varied in subject. Despite the frequent and welcome scent of old school decadence that perfumesA beautiful collection of stories. Diverse in tone and varied in subject. Despite the frequent and welcome scent of old school decadence that perfumes many of these tales, what makes them resonant is Schwob's clear empathy. It is the unifying factor amidst so much that is unalike.
The book and the stories within are well-known for springing from sources other than their author's mind. Schwob often lifted entire sections from the archaic originals. And so they are not original - and yet they feel original, thanks to his own force of personality, visible in his elegant style, the free-floating sense of longing and melancholy, the noted empathy, and the sardonic wit.
"He believed that all had been said, and forgotten," ... "His art was the gift of choice and amalgamation. He found the origin of all his books. He was not unaware that his were made of the debris of many others."
Highly recommended for admirers of Borges and the like.
"The King in the Golden Mask" - in his decadent court, the king masked in gold wonders what lies beneath; sadly, he comes ill-equipped for the disease called reality.
"The Death of Odjigh" - at the end of time, Odjigh the wolf-slayer searches for signs of life; happily, life will often spring from death.
"The Terrestrial Fire" - as the world burns, two adolescents flee to the sea, huddling in a barge; happily, love is born, and baptized with flame.
"The Embalming Women" - in the Libyan desert, two brothers find a strange oasis populated by odd women; sadly, a corpse's kiss is cold comfort indeed.
"The Plague" - two Florentine youths leave their plague-ridden city in search of adventure; sadly, an old jest becomes less than comic.
"The Faulx-Visaiges" - across the countryside, masked bands of men enact various depradations and atrocities; happily, torture can have therapeutic value.
"The Eunuchs" - in ancient times, drinkers of pink wine ruminate on their bucolic past lives, young and free, before slavery; sadly, what has been taken seldom returns.
"The Milesian Virgins" - in Miletus, a wave of suicides: virgins found hanging from rafters; sadly, Athena's mirror has supplanted the promises of Aphrodite.
"52 and 53 Orfila" - in an institution for seniors, passionate rivals coo and flirt over a doddering gent; happily, enforced exile remains the best way to handle a tramp, of any age.
"The Sabbat at Mofflaines" - a knight is invited to attend a merry dinner celebrating His Infernal Majesty; sadly, small minds will seek to curtail such merriments.
"The Talking Machine" - an invitation to attend upon a certain machine is issued by a talkative old crank; happily, a machine may choose to make its own pronouncements.
"Bloody Blanche" - in an evil Count's lair, a child-bride over-indulges in food and wine; happily, gouts of blood - and schadenfreude - will prove a nutritious supplement.
"The Grand Brière" - in the swampy French countryside, a hunting party sets out; happily, one member of the party finds she can hunt more than birds.
"The Salt Smugglers" - on board a slave galley, an opportunity for escapes arises; happily, for some, slavery is where the heart is.
"The Flute" - on board a pirate ship come a blind man and his eerie flute; sadly, reminders of childhood and now-empty lives will seldom turn a pirate's frown upside down.
"The Cart" - during a moonlit night, two knaves review their latest misdeeds; sadly, blood is a stain that is difficult to remove.
"The Sleeping City" - from the Jolly Roger come crew and captain, to a silent city full of once-living statues; sadly, nostalgia and tribalism will increase this city's population.
"The Blue Country" - in a dark and dreary unknown city live a lively young lass and her hunchbacked little friend; happily, a dream country can become a destination.
"The Return to the Fold" - in haughty Paris, colorful circus performers from the country invade a dance hall; happily, the countryside lacks both haughtiness and Parisiennes.
"Cruchette" - during the heat of the day, two convicts on a chain gang consider escape with a water bearer; sadly, escape from labor does not mean escape from jealousy.
"Bargette" - spying a barge heading South, a dreaming maid departs in search of flowers and other wonders; sadly, the grass is ever greener wherever we do not go....more
Stefan Grabiński, Polish author of strange stories, had a resurgence a few years back, his bleak and surreal tales receiving the acclaim that the authStefan Grabiński, Polish author of strange stories, had a resurgence a few years back, his bleak and surreal tales receiving the acclaim that the author lacked during his lifetime. The stories in this collection are rather different than most classic weird fiction. As the introduction notes, their difference appears to come from why they were written in the first place: these are the author's explorations of his own state of mind, projected onto the page. He analyzes his own perspective, his flaws, his engagement with the world; constructing a satisfactory narrative or creating feelings of horror or transcendence are minor, secondary concerns. There is a certain abstractness to each of these tales, an internal quality that creates distance between reader and author. Despite the experimental design of some, the conte cruel twists in others, these often felt less like stories and more like ruminations on the nature of the mind, disguised as fiction. And so I was left both cold and fascinated.
"On the Hill of Roses": a man with outstanding olfactory powers is led to a lovely home and a less than lovely smell.
"Frenzied Farmhouse": a father who is definitely not insane does something for which he is definitely not to blame.
"On a Tangent": a deranged man obsessed with patterns and logic finds the logical end of his own peculiar pattern.
"Strabismus": scratch a cynic, scratch his damn eyes... and you'll find he has the ability to enter your chest cavity.
"Shadow": an unfortunate configuration of random objects casts an old man into dejection, night after night.
"At the Villa by the Sea": projected memories may overtake a man or boy, creating an unpleasant frisson for a murderer.
"Projections": beware those strange, fetching images cast upon your walls, when their source lies beyond those walls...
There are overarching motifs and themes that are threaded through the stories. In particular the idea that both past and future moments of disturbance can leave their physical mark on the present, a sort of stain, taking the shape of shadows or marks on walls or an odd scent or even bizarre actions that somehow feel inevitable. And by using the phrase 'moments of disturbance' I am certainly understating the cause of these effects, as these moments include murder, suicide, accidental death, and the slaughter of one's children.
The writing moves from unnervingly prosaic when introducing the troubled mind of each story's protagonist to an often lush descriptive power when depicting scenes and settings where a transformation or discovery will take place. The author withholds much information from the reader, rarely straying into the visceral while still carefully portraying various manic and depressive emotions only barely hidden beneath placid surfaces.
Of the stories, I was most impressed by "Frenzied Farmhouse" and "At the Villa by the Sea". I was also amused by "Projections" but mainly because who isn't amused by nasty nuns who reappear from beyond the grave in order to lead foolish introverts to a nasty death. Très amusant!
"Farmhouse" is utterly horrifying in its implacability: the father will abuse and then kill his children that he adores, as all parents kill their children in the farmhouse where he has chosen to live - against all local advice. The images of a stain on the wall depicting the slaughter to come and the descriptions of the surrounding garden, where various fauna and flora glory in the destruction of their young, gave me genuine chills. A perfectly told story that I will never reread.
"Villa" is almost a murder mystery, one in which the reader and probably the protagonist know exactly who the murderer is. The mystery is in what exactly is occurring: is the murderer projecting the personalities of his victims onto his friend, his stepson? Is this psychic projection a manifestation of his own guilt, or of karmic justice, or are the victims themselves returning to haunt all three? Of course there are no answers in this very elegantly told tale. But at least there is some welcome schadenfreude!...more
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