"The Scourge and the Sanctuary" - an occultist breaks into an empty penthouse and finds that it is not empty and that you cannot trespass i
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"The Scourge and the Sanctuary" - an occultist breaks into an empty penthouse and finds that it is not empty and that you cannot trespass into a place that is your own home. This luxurious little story served as a reminder to me of the themes that entrance the author (and that entranced me, especially The Academy Outside of Ingolstadt)... intensely personal exploration of mysteries and Mysteries, occult spirituality as both practice and perspective, the mortification of the flesh as gateway to moving beyond this mortal coil, maps and meanings hidden within landscapes and architecture. The story also functions as an introduction, of sorts, to the tenets of Gnosticism and a rejoinder to the idea that "apostasy" is actually, well, apostasy. All in all, a pleasingly light read, he said sardonically, made all the more pleasant by the stylish violet prose and stylized artificiality that I've come to expect and always appreciate when reading this talented author.
"Permutations of the Citadel" - a desk clerk at an opulent hotel explores the strange physical dimensions of his workplace, inbetween the occasional rendezvous with a much older woman; meanwhile, his friend constructs elaborate yet obscure jests to play upon the hotel guests and the hotel itself. This was a tantalizing story of searching beyond the mirror for an alternate place, an alternate path. Studying maps and musing over measurements, traveling through various doors and entranceways, ascending strange staircases and descending onto stranger balconies the curious fellow goes, not sure of what he is looking for but seeking it nonetheless. I was reminded of the author's glittering Abyssinia, which portrays a similarly shifting landscape. Murphy has a bit of a misstep when detailing the words of a priestess encountered on the other side - much too literal, too explicit. Fortunately, the rest of this absorbing vignette is steeped in the ambiguity that I crave from such journeys.
"The Salamander Angel" - how can you not love that title? This is the most structurally ambitious piece that I've read yet from the author. "Salamander" juggles multiple perspectives, letters & articles, and a wry narrator in its depiction of various characters engaging in various occult activities in an unknown city. It all leads to a phantasmagorical finale (if "finale" can even be used - perhaps "beginning" is more appropriate) in which a meteoric lodestone, the demon star Algol (a personal favorite), and a statue of the titular angel herald transformation within and without. Astral projection, statues coming to life, bizarre letters sent and burned, portals opening, arcane rituals enacted, synaesthesia and Stendahl syndrome all have a happy home in this uplifting tale of people getting what they want. Reading this novella made me look forward to efforts of similar narrative complexity put out by Murphy. However, those other efforts will hopefully be reviewed by a more attentive editor! There are a number of disappointments on a technical level in the writing - errors that could have easily been corrected by an editor who cared enough to point out the misuse of certain words and who had the courage to tell this splendid occultist that sometimes his prose veered regrettably towards the self-parodic. Still, all in all, this was a very enjoyable story. And the most openly witty yet by Murphy.
"A Book of Alabaster" - an erudite loner plays a game that leads to strange places. Color me surprised to find a Damian Murphy story that is about a video game! I'm so used to more rarified settings from him, and would not have imagined that the interior of an outdated video game would prove to feature many of his hallmarks. I'm not remotely a gamer, so this story about an increasingly hallucinatory virtual adventure felt much more foreign to me than any baroque hotel could ever feel. Although a bit overwritten at times, the story effectively portrayed the protagonist's insular life, his questionable memories, and of course the landscape of the game itself. The imagery of a game avatar entering the body of a threatening, macroscopic angel that is all eyes and flame was wild. Despite retaining the motifs and themes of his other works, this is the most straightforward "tale of horror" that I've read so far from the author.
"The Music of Exile" - a poetess is instructed in the art of maintaining rather than traversing liminal space; a luminosity from within is displayed, feared, and at last understood; houses and altars are explored and evaluated; a radiant dawn is avoided and a radiant darkness is embraced.
At first I was discomfited to realize that I was actually reading a story about poetesses and their craft, with actual examples of their poems (never, ever my thing). But soon enough, I left that discomfort behind when in a flash I realized that this was the Damian Murphy who first enchanted me. Sadly, with that knowledge came an uncomfortable reevaluation of the prior stories. Alabaster's focus on the horror the horror, and its gotcha ending, suddenly felt rather cheap... Citadel's permutations and Sanctuary's scourges seemed like too-obvious warm-up exercises for superior works like Abyssinia and Ingolstadt and this story... Salamander's narrative complexity now seemed to be a path towards mainstream fiction (all that cross-cutting between various POVs!) that I am relieved Murphy chose not to take. Of course, I still enjoyed all of those tales, they all remain of value. Fun stuff.
But "Music of Exile" just feels so much more pure, so much more a distillation of what the author himself is all about. The oblique storytelling, the hypnotic cadence, the chilly characterization built from psychological ambiguity rather than from stylized caricature, the overtly formal dialogue, decadence and hallucinatory landscapes as givens rather than as goals, prose that is dreamily strange yet crystalline rather than lushly overripe and at times overly cooked, bizarre imagery that somehow feels bizarrely natural when placed within a tale that is less a narrative and more a spiritual journey, and above all, the calm even zen-like confidence on display. Although I'm a bit sad that this story revealed the preceding stories' flaws so clearly, I'm mainly delighted that the collection ended with such a masterful display of Murphy's skills. By the time I closed this book, my eyes were wide open again to his unique talents.
...and so the golden pheasant will find itself ensnared, perhaps willingly. will it be reborn? the golden path will always lead to transformation. per...and so the golden pheasant will find itself ensnared, perhaps willingly. will it be reborn? the golden path will always lead to transformation. perhaps this golden pheasant will become a golden phoenix...
Damian Murphy scores a third time with me, in this absorbing tale of teen Valérie's sojourn outside of Tours, France. Valérie is likewise absorbed, first with the hallucinatory wallpaper in her chateau, which appears to be leading her... somewhere. And then with the appropriately named Séraphine, a local aristocrat and perhaps enchantress, and with a book and a keepsake that belongs to that strange woman, items that appear to be keys for Valérie to use... somehow. And finally with that mysterious top level in Séraphine's manse, which surely leads... someplace.
the author's prose is as elegant and pellucid as ever. mystery delivered with clarity. the transparency of the prose and careful pacing grounds the narrative's waking dream ambiguity. this novella is built with both dream logic and the real world logic of realistic characterization. unlike the protagonists of my past two experiences with this author (The Academy Outside of Ingolstadt and Abyssinia, both amazing), I understood who Valérie was immediately. she was automatically real to me in her reactions to her surroundings, her father, an admirer, her schoolmates, and her fascination with the unknown, with rituals that could help her to move beyond the prosaic and the knowable. even the mysterious Séraphine became a very real person to me: a spellbinding predator who preys upon Valérie, but who will also be a useful tutor - or perhaps tool? - to help Valérie take that next step onto the golden path. in the end, the student will no doubt rise above and beyond the teacher....more
the doorway is there, not quite beyond your reach. close your eyes and step in. transform, transmogrify, transubstantiate; your head in clouds, your fthe doorway is there, not quite beyond your reach. close your eyes and step in. transform, transmogrify, transubstantiate; your head in clouds, your feet that burn. this too shall pass, as shall you; speak a name, and so pass through.
the writer Damian Murphy writes on the sinister ambiguity of certain things, places, states of mind... but with a bracing clarity, neither overwritten nor needlessly abrupt. seven - or eight - suites exist in an antique hotel, and they are all named for places "whose boundaries have since been subsumed". the painter Damian Murphy describes a lush atmosphere but "lush" does not describe his limpid, elegant prose. a decadent ambience is painted in soft, muted colors. the character Celia has found her mate: a puppet that gives her pale life a strange meaning, a partner who brings depth and emotion and melancholy and a sometimes strident, sometimes sly wit; Celia exults in the artifice of animating her puppet partner, and yet this is no performance. reality is what you make of it. the character Petra has her own sort of dummy, her partner Dominik: a supportive presence but of no real consequence to the story or, essentially, to Petra, whose search for an alternate or different or higher or immaterial plane forms both the plot and purpose of this novella. a plane of signs and wonders; a plane where meaning is given form, its own form but not a material one, a form that equals meaning and is thus recognized, at least by Petra. the author Damian Murphy writes of liminal spaces; such places are where his characters live or seek to enter. the magician Damian Murphy plays an otherworldly game with Petra and the reader; he riffs on all such stories of all such seekers of all such holy and unholy lights.
the material shell of the book Abyssinia enchants; a rare synergy exists between the meaning of the story and the physical form it takes. the reader mark monday was transported. seek and you shall find; seek, and so be found....more
Synopsis: A former student returns to his academy. His former instructor continues to instruct.
I'm a bit abashed to say that what first turned me on tSynopsis: A former student returns to his academy. His former instructor continues to instruct.
I'm a bit abashed to say that what first turned me on to the novel, and to Damian Murphy, was this phrase in Karl's review: "On some level the book could be viewed as a kind of an adult Harry Potter experience, with magic and education occurring without wands and dazzling spells."
Synopsis: Two mirrors face each other: an infinity of reflections.
I found Murphy's elegantly restrained and coolly distant style to be hypnotic. I enjoyed reading this slowly, at night, the later the hour the better. I became lost in a brown study.
Synopsis: There is a Left-hand Path and there is a Right-hand Path. The terminology is reductive and imprecise. Both paths lead towards the same goals. There is but one Path, and many ways to walk it.
Students at the Academy Outside of Ingolstadt are encouraged to wander throughout the building, to explore its hallways and rooms by night, to study its architecture, to construct maps of its shifting shape. Students are similarly encouraged to cross boundaries and borders, to trespass and transgress. Learning takes many forms.
Synopsis: Five categories of lessons will be given to the students at the Academy Outside of Ingolstadt: Offerings, Requests, Relics, Perils, and a Threat.
When Franz experiences the first part of his Threat, I was surprised. I did not expect a display of active violence, of sadomasochism - or at least the appearance of it. Appearances are of course deceiving. In the hands of a lesser author, the scene could have easily been risible. In the hands of this author, the scene is but another seemingly inexplicable step that Franz must take to discard his trappings and become naked to himself. There is a certain invulnerability in this nakedness, this discarding of layers. And so Franz takes whip in hand. I do wonder though, how the path may have changed if Franz had chosen to use that tool upon he who had lead him to his Threat, rather than on its intended target. But that's another novel, I suppose, or another lesson.
Synopsis: "There is another topography; elusive, hidden, impossible to verify. You must find your way within its boundaries and make of it a second home."
By the end of the novel, I was reminded of Robert Musil's Young Törless, a book I loathed. And yet there are ideas to admire there, ideas that in this book are given clarity and focus, without the offensive trappings of Musil's horror show. Put simply: a true student must abandon their preconceptions, the "self" they have created. Such things are are contrivances and constraints; assumptions and binary thought must be obliterated when seeking truth below surfaces. A student must remain a student; meaning will be implicit within the structures of their ongoing education - whatever forms that education may take.
Synopsis: A red book is found, or perhaps given. Within the book are many voices. Within the book is one voice.
The book is costly. Well worth it, for me. However there are less costly ways to discover this author, within two inexpensive collections. As I have found from reading two of his works, his goals remain consistent. All artists have overriding interests that will be present in all of their works. Price point need not be a barrier to enjoyment and contemplation of this author's themes.
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