The Fantasy Fan January 1934 - The Fans' Own Magazine

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Title: The Fantasy Fan January 1934 - The Fans' Own Magazine
Author: Various
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Fantasy Fan January 1934 - The Fans' Own Magazine" ***

THE FANTASY FAN

THE FANS' OWN MAGAZINE

Editor: Charles D. Hornig
(Managing Editor: Wonder Stories)

Published 10 cents a copy
Monthly $1.00 per year

137 West Grand Street, Elizabeth, New Jersey

Volume 1 January, 1934 Number 5

IT'S UP TO YOU!

The time has come when we must ask you a very important question.
Do you want _The Fantasy Fan_ to remain a monthly, or would you
rather have a bi-monthly or a quarterly instead? Now, don't answer
this question by sending in a written reply. The only way you can
answer it is by mailing to us a dollar for a year's subscription.
Since the inception of _The Fantasy Fan_ it has been running at a
great loss. The cost of having the magazine printed is not small and
the subscriptions do not pay for one quarter of the total cost. This
fact may astound you, but it is the truth. _The Fantasy Fan_ is young
and not many of the fans know of its existence, chiefly because of the
lack of a good advertising mediums for the most part, and the refusal
of Weird Tales, the only really good medium for advertising such a fan
magazine, to accept our ad for the second time. Perhaps you do not
find our magazine worth a dollar a year, and that weird fiction would
get along just as well without a fan magazine. In this case, you need
pay no attention to this editorial. But there are those of us who
really like our magazine and would not like to see it go bi-monthly or
quarterly and yet have not subscribed. Of course, those of our readers
who have, have all done their part and are under no obligation. The
editor has created a considerable sinking fund for the cost of
publication, and although the sinking fund is practically exhausted,
we are not sunk! As long as he has an income, the editor is willing to
sacrifice a portion of it to keep _The Fantasy Fan_ alive--but he
alone cannot keep it a monthly. You cannot lose by the deal. You will
get full value for your money. Our magazine will not fail, but if it
did, every subscriber on our list would get back his money for those
numbers he would not receive. So if the success of our magazine means
anything to you, subscribe at once--each dollar sent in will insure a
shorter period between issues. If you have already subscribed, try to
get some of your friends interested. Give subscriptions for your
fantasy fan friends. If your subscription runs out in a month or
two, renew it now, ahead of time. Please send only dollar bills or
money orders--no checks or stamps. _Are you faithful to fantasy
fiction?_--then let's see action. I'm doing my part--are you doing
yours? The February number will be the regular monthly issue, and
probably March, but future numbers will be bi-monthly unless you who
have not sent in your subscriptions do so at once! If you could
foresee the many rare treats we have in store for you, you would not
hesitate a moment.

Here's hoping we have many faithful readers.

--The Editor

INFORMATION

Through the courtesy of Ralph Milne Farley, Donald A. Wollheim, David
Stolaroff, Ted Lutwin, and several other of our readers, we are able
to present this additional list of stories written by Edgar Rice
Burroughs as an addenda to the list presented last month:

The Outlaw of Torm
The War Chief
The Mad King
The Girl From Hollywood
The Tarzan Twins
The Girl From Farris's
The Mucker
The Man Without a Soul
The Pirates of Venus
Lost on Venus
Tarzan and the Lion Man
Tarzan and the City of Gold
The Apache Devil
The Bandit of Hell's Bend
The Moon Men
The Red Hawk
HRH the Rider
Efficiency Expert

All of the above stories are not fantasy fiction.

* * * * *

Come over to 'The Boiling Point' and join in the argument.

SCIENCE FICTION IN ENGLISH MAGAZINES

by Bob Tucker

(Series Four)

This month, the column is devoted entirely to a small English
publication knows as "Boy's Magazine." The particular issue in
discussion is one of late November, 1933.

One of the two fantasy stories in this issue is "The Menace of the
Monsters." The monsters, which are prehistoric nightmares of the past,
invade England and proceed to raise everything they come upon,
including a train, a couple of autos, etc. The story carried three pen
and ink sketches which were very well executed. One portrayed a huge
stegosaurus uprooting a train of cars, tossing it into the air, and
spilling people out of it right and left.

Another illustration showed a tyrannosaurus in a death battle with a
giant sabre-tooth tiger ... 'tis something to gaze upon, take my word
for it!

The other science fiction story in the issue is named "The Ocean
Crater" and resembles _Astounding's_ "Telegraph Plateau" somewhat, in
the fact that a deep crater opens in the ocean and ships drop down
into it. This story has two illustrations, one showing a ship falling
into the "ocean-pit" and the other portraying the destruction of an
airplane carrier via "electric-arrow" rays from an overhead enemy
plane.

Another story in the issue, "Chin Ling's Ghost" was supposed to be a
supernatural tale.

(We hope to be able to present another article in this series in an
early issue.)

THE BOILING POINT

After five months, the Smith-Ackerman debate is still waxing hot.
We open this month's column with another rebuttal from Ackerman:

"Since the pros and cons on my Boiling Point article have changed
around to discussions of character, I wish to state that I do not like
H. P. Lovecraft's attitude. I was interested in his closing sentence
in the second issue, and also in Mr. Derleth's. They were both
interesting to analyze. But I resent Mr. Lovecraft's further uncalled
for remarks. If I am not qualified to judge any weird tales, he is not
qualified to call names. It seems to me of late that his palsy-walsy
Clark Ashton Smith has been turning out an over-abundant amount of
literature--but goodness! I don't think the man egotistic and
attempting to draw attention to himself! The man likes to write, and
so do I. Yet Mr. Lovecraft says of me 'peculiarly ridiculous', because
I make absurd comments to focus people's eyes on me; and write
voluminously for the same reason, I take it. But I don't keep a
scrap-book. That's not vary consistent with the nature described,
is it? And ask Mr. Hornig what my answer was when he proposed a
'Forrest J. Ackerman' issue of _The Fantasy Fan_. What a puffing up
I should have gotten had I been _that_ sort of person: You tell 'em
Charles--what I said: 'No!' Not that I see what difference it makes
who writes articles and how many of them there are in one issue, as
long as they're good--which I hope mine are. But people _will_ talk.
And so I am not obliging with an autobiography of myself for the
'Famous Fantasy Fans' feature either.

"Furthermore, Mr. Lovecraft, you seem to have forgotten something. I
keep my letters from famous writers. You say I once wrote you a very
childish attack on your work. But your answer to that letter was: 'I
was very pleased to get your bright and candid letter this morning.'
That is a different story.

"I write these paragraphs in my behalf, because, being more of a weird
fans' magazine, I can't expect many voices on my side from _The
Fantasy Fan_ readers. If you will see the third paragraph in the
letter of C. Ferry and B. Rogers in the December _Wonder Stories_,
however, you will find that the gentlemen are three times over as
vehement and acidic as I. You might call them unknowing supporters.

"To Robert Nelson, who says I must be daft or an imbecile or a
notoriety-seeking clown and knave (and does it in one breath), I can
only answer that I thought it was a foregone conclusion that fantasy
fans were 'daft' anyway, and that examination of the ratings of the
members of my alma mater graduating class might prove differently
about the second statement, and that I think I have cleared of the
third already.

"Richard E. Morse's letter has impressed me as the one that really
'says something.' His thought had not occurred to me before, and it is
worthwhile considering. _Weird Tales_ allows science fiction; why
not _Wonder Stories_ weird tales? As the science fiction fan I am
always eager to see stf in _Weird Tales_ and any other magazine. I see
that the process can easily be reversed. So Mr. Morse 'has' me. The
argument is settled.

"Numerous Eyrie letters knock stf in _Weird_: I only did the same, but
from the other side of the fence."

H. P. Lovecraft also retaliates:

"Glad you are giving the vociferous Master Ackerman a hearing--it's
always well to let both sides of a debate have an equal chance. But I
fear that Effjay the Terrible and his allies don't make out a very
strong case. The tirade to which exception was taken was not merely an
assertion that Smith's 'Dweller in Martian Depths' is unsuited for a
science fiction magazine. It was a wholly gratuitous and intemperate
attack on the story itself, written with a slap-dash extravagance and
obviously sadistic gusto which plainly showed either a complete lack
of analytical understanding and imaginative sensitiveness, or (as it
was probable) a mere boyish desire to show off and attract notice.
However, Ackerman is young, as proved by his tendency to regard
ordinary civilized language as alien and incomprehensible. Now that
he's had a good barrage from the general public, it would be just as
well to leave him in peace. Five years from now he'll go beyond any of
us in laughing at his explosions of today."

William H. Dellenback also has something to say:

"I am not a Weird Man; indeed, I have read _very_ few weird stories
that I have considered really good. Therefore, this is not so much a
defense of Smith (who, I believe, is absolutely wrong in trying to
link weird fiction with science fiction), as a rebuttal to Ackerman.
However, first let me say that I think you are making a mistake,
Editor, in publishing, and readers, in writing, letters which make too
personal remarks. Aside from the fact that they are not true, the
Boiling Point is for arguing about principles and not for calling
antagonists names.

"But on with the dance--Forrest says that 'Dweller in Martian Depths'
and 'The Light From Beyond' should not have been published in _Wonder
Stories_. He also calls 'The Time Stream' doubtful material for a stf
publication.

"Point 1--In regard to Forrest's dislike of Smith's excessive
vocabulary, I will say this is purely a matter of personal opinion.
And I respect his opinion (which is more than do Messrs. Lovecraft,
Barlow, and Nelson) even though I don't agree with him. As a change
from the average run of stf stories, I enjoy Smith's wonderful
language; I believe I have read very few stories as beautifully told
as 'The Light From Beyond'. And though I don't like his weird stories,
nevertheless, his manner of telling seems to me admirably fitted to
weird fiction.

"Point 2--I agree heartily with Mr. Crawford; science fiction would
indeed be dull, if it consisted of nothing but the ideas Mr. Barlow
lists. Fantasy is an integral part of stf; and while the three above
mentioned stories were, for a large part, fantasy, they also contained
the elements of strict stf.

"Point 3--Finally, if no other explaining will suffice, I can only
offer this last fact: Such stories provide variety, and there are many
who will like them. So, if you don't, Forrest, just forget about it.
Stf can not be composed of all interplanetar yarns, or all medical,
or all of any other type."

We hereby give notice that the Smith-Ackerman debate will be concluded
in the February issue. It has just about run its course. If you have
anything to say, you'd better say it now. It's your last chance. In
next month's column, Clark Ashton Smith presents a rebuttal to the
vociferous letter of D. Alexander's in our December issue. Mr. Smith
is glad to know that Ackerman is being given an even break. We hope
that this friendly argument has been well-taken by all concerned and
will cause no hard feelings.

The Ghoul

by Clark Ashton Smith

During the reign of the Caliph Vathek, a young man of good repute and
family, named Noureddin Hassan, was haled before the Cadi Ahmed ben
Becar at Bussorah. Now Noureddin was a comely youth, of open and
gentle mien; and great was the astonishment of the Cadi and of all
others present when they heard the charges that were preferred against
him. He was accused of having slain seven people, one by one, on seven
successive nights, and of having left the corpses in a cemetery near
Bussorah, where they were found lying with their bodies and members
devoured in a fearsome manner, as if by jackals. Of the people he was
said to have slain three were women, two were travelling merchants,
one was a mendicant, and one a grave-digger.

Ahmed ben Becar was filled with the learning and wisdom of honorable
years, and withal was possessed of much perspicacity. But he was
deeply perplexed by the strangeness and atrocity of these crimes and
by the mild demeanor and well-bred aspect of Noureddin Hassan, which
he could in no wise reconcile with them. He heard in silence the
testimony of witnesses who had seen Noureddin bearing on his shoulders
the body of a woman at yester-eve in the cemetery; and others who on
several occasions had observed him coming from the neighborhood at
unseemly hours when only thieves and murderers would be abroad. Then,
having considered all these, he questioned the youth closely.

"Noureddin Hassan," he said, "thou hast been charged with crimes of
exceeding foulness, which thy bearing and thy lineaments belie. Is
there haply an explanation of these things by which thou canst wholly
clear thyself, or in some measure mitigate the heinousness of thy
deeds, if so it be that thou art guilty? I adjure thee to tell me the
truth in this matter."

Now Noureddin Hassan arose before the Cadi; and the heaviness of
extreme shame and sorrow was visible on his countenance.

"Alas, O Cadi," he replied, "for the charges that have been brought
against me are indeed true. It was I and none other, who slew these
people; nor can I offer any extenuation of my act."

The Cadi was sorely grieved and astonished when he heard this answer.

"I must perforce believe thee," he said sternly. "But thou hast
confessed a thing which will make thy name hence forward an
abomination in the ears and mouths of men. I command thee to tell me
why these crimes were committed, and what offense these persons had
given thee, or what injury they had done to thee; or if perchance thou
slewest them for gain, like a common robber."

"There was neither offense given nor injury wrought by any of them
against me," replied Noureddin. "And I did not kill them for their
money or belongings or apparel, since I had no need of such things,
and, aside from that, have always been an honest man."

"Then," cried Ahmed ben Becar, greatly puzzled, "what was thy reason
if it was none of these?"

Now the face of Noureddin Hassan grew heavier still with sorrow; and
he bowed his head in a shamefaced manner that bespoke the utterness of
profound remorse. And standing thus before the Cadi, he told this
story:

The reversals of fortune, O Cadi, are swift and grievous, and beyond
the foreknowing or advertence of men. Alas! for less than a fortnight
agone I was the happiest and most guiltless of mortals, with no
thought of wrongdoing toward anyone. I was wedded to Amina, the
daughter of the jewel-merchant Aboul Cogia; and I loved her deeply and
was much beloved by her in turn; and moreover we were at this time
anticipating the birth of our first child. I had inherited from my
father a rich estate and many slaves; the cares of life were light
upon my shoulders; and I had, it would seem, every reason to count
myself among those whom Allah has blest with an earthly foretaste of
Heaven.

Judge, then, the excessive nature of my grief when Amina died in the
same hour when she was to have been delivered. From that time, in the
dire extremity of my lamentation, I was as one bereft of light and
knowledge; I was deaf to all those who sought to condole with me, and
blind to their friendly offices.

After the burial of Amina my sorrow became a veritable madness, and I
wandered by night to her grave in the cemetery near Bussorah and flung
myself prostrate before the newly lettered tombstone, on the earth
that been digged that very day. My senses deserted me, and I knew not
how long I remained on the damp clay beneath the cypresses, while the
horn of a decrescent moon arose in the heavens.

Then, in my stupor of abandonment, I heard a terrible voice that bade
me rise from the ground on which I was lying. And lifting my head a
little, I saw a hideous demon of gigantic frame and stature, with eyes
of scarlet fire beneath brows that were coarse as tangled rootlets,
and fangs that overhung a cavernous mouth, and earth-black longer and
sharper than those of the hyena. And the demon said to me:

"I am a ghoul, and it is my office to devour the bodies of the dead. I
have now come to claim the corpse that was interred today beneath the
soil on which thou art lying in a fashion so unmannerly. Begone, for I
have fasted since yester-night, and I am much anhungered."

Now, at the sight of this demon, and the sound of his dreadful voice,
and the still more dreadful meaning of his words, I was like to have
swooned with terror on the cold clay. But I recovered myself in a
manner, and besought him, saying:

"Spare this grave, I implore thee; for she who lies buried therein it
dearer to me than any living mortal; and I would not that her fair
body should be the provender of an unclean demon such as thou."

At this the ghoul was angered, and I thought that he would have done
me some bodily violence. But again I besought him, swearing by Allah
and Mohammed with many solemn oaths that I would grant him anything
procurable and would do for him any favor that lay in the power of man
if he would leave undespoiled the new-made grave of Amina. And the
ghoul was somewhat mollified, and he said:

"If thou wilt indeed perform for me a certain service, I shall do as
thou askest." And I replied:

"There is no service, whatsoever its nature, that I will not do for
thee in this connection, and I pray thee to name thy desire."

Then the ghoul said: "It is this, that thou shalt bring to me each
night, for eight successive nights, the body of one whom thou hast
slain with thine own hand. Do this, and I shall neither devour nor dig
the body that lies interred hereunder."

Now was I seized by utter horror and despair, since I had bound myself
in all honor to grant the ghoul his hideous requirement. And I begged
him to change the terms of the stipulation, saying to him:

"Is it needful to thee, O eater of corpses, that the bodies should be
those of people whom I myself have slain?"

And the ghoul said: "Yea, for all others would be the natural
provender of myself or of my kin in any event. I adjure thee by the
promise thou hast given to meet me here tomorrow night, when darkness
has wholly fallen or as soon thereafter as thou art able, bringing the
first of the eight bodies."

So saying, he strode off among the cypresses, and began to dig in
another newly made grave at a little distance from that of Amina.

I left the graveyard in even direr anguish than when I had come
thinking, of that which I must do in fulfilment of my sworn promise,
to preserve the body of Amina from the demon. I know not how I
survived the ensuing day, torn as I was between sorrow for the dead
and my horror of the coming night with its repugnant duty.

When darkness had descended, I went forth by stealth to a lonely road
near the cemetery; and waiting there amid the low-grown branches of
the trees, I slew the first passer with a sword and carried his body
to the spot appointed by the ghoul. And each night thereafter, for six
more nights, I returned to the same vicinity and repeated this deed,
slaying always the very first who came, whether man or woman, or
merchant or beggar or grave-digger. And the ghoul awaited me on each
occasion, and would begin to devour his provender in my presence, with
small thanks and scant ceremony. Seven persons did I slay in all, till
only one was wanting to complete the agreed number; and the person
whom I slew yester-night was a woman, even as the witnesses have
testified. All this I did with utmost repugnance and regret, and
sustained only by the remembrance of my plighted word and the fate
which would befall the corpse of Amina if I should break the bond.

This, O Cadi, is all my story. Alas! for these lamentable crimes have
availed me not, and I have failed in wholly keeping my bargain with
the demon, who will doubtless this night consume the body of Amina in
lien of the one corpse that is still lacking. I resign myself to thy
judgement, O Ahmed ben Becar, and I beseech thee for no other mercy
than that of death, wherewith to terminate my double grief and my
twofold remorse.

When Noureddin Hassan had ended his narrative, the amazement of all
who had heard him was verily multiplied, since no man could remember
hearing a stranger tale. And the Cadi pondered for a long time and
then gave judgment, saying:

"I must needs marvel at thy story, but the crimes thou hast committed
are none the less heinous, and Iblis himself would stand aghast before
them. However, some allowance must be made for the fact that thou
hadst given thy word to the ghoul and wast bound as it were in honor
to fulfill his demand, no matter how horrible its nature. And
allowance must likewise be made for thy connubial grief which caused
thee to forfend thy wife's body from the demon. Yet I cannot adjudge
thee guiltless, though I know not the punishment which is merited in a
case so utterly without parallel. Therefore, I set thee free, with
this injunction, that thou shalt make atonement for thy crimes in the
fashion that seemeth best to thee, and shalt render justice to thyself
and to others in such degree as thou art able."

"I thank thee for this mercy," replied Noureddin Hassan; and he then
withdrew from the court amid the wonderment of all who were present.
There was much debate when he had gone, and many were prone to
question the wisdom of the Cadi's decision. Some there were who
maintained that Noureddin should have been sentenced to death without
delay for his abominable actions though others argued for the sanctity
of his oath to the ghoul, and would have exculpated him altogether or
in part. And tales were told and instances were cited regarding the
habits of ghouls and the strange plight of men who had surprised such
demons in their nocturnal delvings. And again the discussion returned
to Noureddin, and the judgment of the Cadi was once more upheld or
assailed with divers arguments. But amid all this, Ahmed Ben Becar was
silent, saying only:

"Wait, for this man will render justice to himself and to all other
concerned, as far as the rendering thereof is possible."

So indeed it happened, for on the morning of the next day another body
was found in the cemetery near Bussorah lying half-devoured on the
grave of Noureddin Hassan's wife, Amina. And the body was that of
Noureddin, self-slain, who in this manner had not only fulfilled the
injunction of the Cadi but had also kept his bargain with the ghoul by
providing the required number of corpses.

WE'LL BET YOU DIDN'T KNOW

by Mortimer Weisinger

That Penn State Froth, the official comic magazine for Penn
University, recently burlesqued Amazing Stories.

That Charles Willard Diffin composes his stuff on a dictaphone.

That the A. in A. Hyatt Verrill's name stands for Alpheus.

That Jack Williamson is the only writer who ever copped a cover for
each part of a serial.

That it's ironic that the letters in Verne's name, rearranged, spell
'never.'

That P. S. Miller is a descendant of Alexander Hamilton.

That Wonder Stories is the only s-f mag on file in the New York Public
Library.

That the reason the first eleven issues of Amazing Stories were
printed on heavy paper was because the publishers wanted to give the
fans "a big package for their money."

That, with the exception of his first story, Hamilton has never had a
story refused by Weird Tales. And even the first was accepted after
rewriting.

That William Briggs MacHarg and Edwin Balmer (the creators of Luther
Trant) are brothers-in-law.

That Wonder Stories paid over seven cents a word for Charles Tanner's
story "The Color of Space."

That Forrest J. Ackerman used to correspond regularly with 115 fans.

That Jack Williamson is a cowboy.

That Charles Cloukey was fifteen years old when he sold his first
story.

That the mystery novel, "The 13th Murder," refers to Amazing Stories
and Weird Tales as "detective and mystery fiction"--and they ring
Saturn!

That the story, "Warriors of Space," featured in the first issue of
Science Wonder Stories, was a sequel to "The World in the Balance," in
an old Argosy.

That Hugo Gernsback conducted a contest in Science & Invention to
obtain a name for his projected magazine--named Amazing Stories after
the winner was announced.

That P. Schuyler Miller had a B.S. and an M.S. degree before he was 21.

MY SCIENCE FICTION COLLECTION

by Forrest J. Ackerman

Part Five

More for my own satisfaction than anything else, is the second part of
this last division of my collection; "stills." These are scenes from a
score of fantasy pictures ranging in size from 5" × to 11" × 14", and
in subjects from prehistoric monsters of 10,000,000 years ago to
exploring interplanetary parties of the future. There are many scenes
from "Metropolis" of the vast, shining electricity, of the inside
furnishings of the buildings, of the costumes of the people of that
time; and there are pictures of the machinery to run the city, the
underground world, the robotrix, the televisors. From "King Kong" I
have 9 stills: a brontosaurus, an allosaur about to eat a man, Kong on
exhibition in New York, in the jungle with the girl, smashing in a
building, atop the Empire State, etc.

Secured from 'Frankenstein' are pictures of the monster, and his
making in the laboratory. "Just Imagine" offers scenes of
heaven-scraped New York in 1980, of the rocket for Mars, of the nifty
little earthplanes. I have seven interesting pictures from "The Most
Dangerous Game." Laboratories and the death ray of "The Mask of
Fu-Manchu" are included. From Wells' "Island of Lost Souls" there are
photos of the evoluted animals of a hundred thousand years hence;
ape-men, the panther-woman, wolf-creatures, etc. "High Treason" offers
numerous stills: television, the European city, war in 1940, a dance
hall of seven years ahead, the English Channel sub-sea express, a
broadcasted trial, and more. "The Mummy" is shown returning to life,
prehistoric monsters from "The Mystery of Life" are present.
Machinery, experiments, scientists--all from the stf-detective tale,
"Doctor X." I also have several stills from "By Rocket to the Moon,"
such as those showing the model rocket and its trip--also pictures of
Mars, Saturn, the end of the world, and an ethership from "Our
Heavenly Bodies" a scene from "The Lost World," "The Stellar Express,"
and many others.

[In part six, next month, Mr. Ackerman concludes his interesting
article.]

HOW TO COLLECT FANTASY FICTION

by Julius Schwartz

Part Five--Conclusion

Fantasy booklets have appeared at lesser intervals. _Amazing Stories_
put out Landell Bartlet's "Vanguard of Venus" in 1928. Gernsback has
put out 18 science fiction booklets, of which only the last six are
now in print. He likewise issued a reprint of Garret Smith's "Between
Worlds". Mimeographed booklets were put out by Carl Swanson (Edmond
Hamilton's "The Metal Giants", a reprint) and by the Fantasy Fiction
Publications ("Guests of the Earth" by Hugh Langley). The Arra
Printers have put out A. Merritt's "Thru the Dragon Glass," "The
Cavemen of Venus," "The Price of Peace," and Dr. Keller's "Wolf Hollow
Bubbles."

This article wouldn't be complete without mention of the hard-covered
fantasies. It's a hopeless task to try and muster even a tenth of all
the fantasy books. The best way to go about it, however, is to "haunt"
the second-hand book stores and scrutinize any book whose title sounds
promising or inviting.

There's one tantalizing feature connected with the collection of
fantastic fiction: your collection will Never be complete! But this
misfortune has one commendable merit. The collector's interest in
Fantasy fiction will never wane.

The End

SUPERNATURAL HORROR IN LITERATURE

Part Four

by H. P. Lovecraft

II The Dawn of the Horror Tale

As may naturally be expected of a form so closely connected with
primal emotion, the horror tale is as old as human thought and speech
themselves.

Cosmic terror appears as an ingredient of the earliest folklore of all
races, and is crystalized in the most archaic ballads, chronicles, and
sacred writings. It was, indeed, a prominent feature of the elaborate
ceremonial magic, with its rituals for the evocation of demons and
spectres which flourished from prehistoric times, and which reached
its highest development in Egypt and the Semetic nations. Fragments
like the Book of Enoch and the Claviculae of Solomon well illustrate
the power of the weird over the ancient Eastern mind, and upon such
things were based enduring systems and traditions, whose echoes extend
obscurely even to the present time. Touches of this transcendental
fear are seen in classic literature and there is evidence of its still
greater emphasis in a balled literature which paralleled the classic
stream, but vanished for lack of a written medium. The Middle Ages,
steeped in fanciful darkness, gave it an enormous impulse toward
expression; and East and West alike were busy preserving and
amplifying the dark heritage, both of random folklore and of
academically formulated magic and cabalism, which had descended to
them. Witch, werewolf, vampire, and ghoul brooded ominously on the
lips of bard and grandam, and needed but little encouragement to take
the final step across the boundary that divides the chanted tale or
song from the formal literary composition. In the Orient, the weird
tale tended to assume a gorgeous colouring and sprightliness which
almost transmuted it into sheer phantasy. In the West, where the
mystical Teuton had cone down from his black Boreal forests and the
Celt remembered strange sacrifices in Druidic groves, it assumed a
terrible intensity and convincing seriousness of atmosphere which
doubled the force of its half-told, half-hinted horrors.

Much of the power of Western horror-lore was undoubtedly due to the
hidden but often suspected presence of a hideous cult of nocturnal
worshipers whose strange customs--descended from pre-Aryan and
pre-agricultural times when a squat race of Mongoloids roved over
Europe with their flocks and herds--were rooted in the most revolting
fertility-rites of immemorial antiquity. This secret religion,
stealthily handed down amongst peasants for thousands of years despite
the outward reign of the Druidic, Graeco-Roman, and Christian faiths
in the regions involved, was marked by wild "Witches' Sabbaths" in
lonely woods and atop distant hills on Walpurgis Night and Hallowe'en,
the traditional breeding-seasons of the goats and sheep and cattle;
and became the source of vast riches of sorcery legend, besides
provoking extensive witchcraft prosecutions of which the Salem affair
forms the chief American example. Akin to it in essence, and perhaps
connected with it in fact, was the frightful secret system of inverted
theology or Satan-worship which produced such horrors as the famous
"Black Mass"; whilst operating toward the same end we may note the
activities of those whose aims were somewhat more scientific or
philosophical--the astrologers, cabbalists, and alchemists of the
Albertus Magnus or Raymond Lully type, with whom such rude ages
invariably abound. The prevalence and depth of the medieval
horror-spirit in Europe, intensified by the dark despair which
waves of pestilence brought, may be fairly gauged by the grotesque
carvings slyly introduced into much of the finest later Gothic
ecclesiastical work of the time; the demoniac gargoyles of Notre
Dame and Mont St. Michel being among the most famous specimens. And
throughout the period, it must be remembered, there existed amongst
educated and uneducated alike, a most unquestioning faith in every
form of the supernatural; from the gentlest of Christian doctrines
to the most monstrous morbidities of witchcraft and black magic.
It was from no empty background that the Renaissance magicians and
alchemists--Nostradamus, Trithemius, Dr. John Dee, Robert Fludd, and
the like--were born.

In this fertile soil were nourished types and characters of somber
myth and legend which persist in weird literature to this day, more or
less disguised or altered by modern technique. Many of then were taken
from the earliest oral sources, and form part of mankind's permanent
heritage. The shade which appears and demands the burial of its bones,
the demon lover who comes to bear away his still living bride, the
death-fiend or psychopomp riding the night-wind, the man-wolf, the
sealed chamber, the deathless sorcerer--all those may be found in that
curious body of mediaeval lore which the late Mr. Baring-Gould so
effectively assembled in book form. Wherever the mystic Northern blood
was strongest, the atmosphere of the popular tales became most
intense; for in the Latin races there is a touch of basic rationality
which denies to even their strangest superstitions many of the
overtones of glamour so characteristic of our own forest-born and
ice-fostered whisperings.

(continued next month)

The Sacred Bird

Annals of the Jinns--4

by R. H. Barlow

There appeared one day in the market-place of Ulathia a most peculiar
fowl which fell exhausted from the skies. Its plumage was of brilliant
hue, and despite its confusion, a wise and knowing look was seen
within the orange eyes. After resting a moment, it fluttered about the
square, entering the various shops in a proprietary manner and finally
settled in that of a sweetmeat dealer. Soon all the tradesfolk hurried
across the cobble-stones to see this gaudy visitor and to feed it many
tid-bits. Not in the least bothered by its admiring audience, it
permitted its head to be scratched and petted as it ate.

In time, the news spread through the thatched houses to the ears of
the Imperial Council, all of which laid down their pens and came in a
body to view it. It was discovered by them greedily eating a preserved
orange-rind, a meal varied by occasional pecks at a nut. Having
already devoured odds and ends of all sorts, it was no longer hungry,
and even as they panted in, it fell asleep. When the crowd drew aside
to admit the rotund Council, it complained loudly.

"Gwarn arf 'n chase y'self!" commanded the half-awake bird. "Gwarn
arf," it repeated, fluttering its wings and adjusting for a nice nap.
It then uttered a rasping incoherency and dozed off placidly. The
people drew back whispering excitedly. "A demon!" averred one. This
brought a chorus of dissention among the others. "An angel.... Just a
trick.... Who ever heard of a bird talking?... A magician in
disguise.... What has happened?... Still thy tongue, neighbor...."

... The head of the Council, a gray-beard notoriously superstitious,
cleared his threat and a silence fell over all present. "My friends,"
he gurgled happily, "My _dear_ friends and fellow citizens! This is an
occasion of undoubted significance in the annals of our fair city,
equalled only by that of, as you doubtless will realize, early in the
reign of--rather; to continue; In other words, my dear friends," he
began over, unable to sustain the sentence any longer, "To make it
clear to all concerned, this is, I believe, and no one, I hope, would
contradict me, I have occasion to think--" Here his voice lowered to a
whisper and ended in a triumphant shout, "A _Messenger_ sent to guide
us!" He leered cheerfully at the mob. "Therefore, let us convey it in
state to the City Hall to rule us as it sees fit!"

Which was forthwith done amid much celebration, and the chattering of
the escaped parrot from that day guided the fortunes of the city of
Ulathia, interpreted by the Ruler and his Council as they desired.

* * * * *

Another tale in this series will appear next month.

OUR READERS SAY

S. M. White, one of our New Zealand readers is not altogether satisfied
with science fiction in general:

"_The Fantasy Fan_ is of great interest to me. I hope that it keeps on
going. I have two objections to scientifiction--1. There is too much
'blood and thunder.' 2. Not enough originality in plots. Thus too much
spoils the flavor. But there are several themes on which few of your
authors have touched. 1. A story with lots of science. 2. A story
concerning that which comes after death (if anything). 3. A really
humorous story. 4. None of the authors except H. G. Wells has tried to
solve the problem of labor vs. capital. Stories often end up: "Workers
of the world, you are free!" Free to what? Technocracy? NRA?
Vanderbiltism? These four ought to keep writers busy."

The hardest job of an editor is trying to please everyone. As this is
an impossibility, all they can do is to please as many as they can.
When a majority voice a suggestion, he must take it into serious
consideration. We find that the underused plots you have mentioned
have been used quite often, except that which is not for science
fiction, but has been overdone in weird stories.

"I keep forgetting that each month I am going to receive a copy of
_The Fantasy Fan_ so that, when it does come, it is such a pleasant
surprise. As a regular feature, I enjoy Bob Tucker's report on the
English stf magazines best of all. 'How to Write a Stf Story' was _so_
funny."--Forrest J. Ackerman

"The November TFF is decidedly improving and I look forward to future
issues with much interest. I wonder how many collectors there are that
can discriminate between the trash that seems popular and the best in
Fantasy?"--R. H. Barlow

"The November issue of TFF was magnificent! What got the cake was 'How
to Write a Stf Story' by Hoy Ping Pong. By the way, Editor, who is
this Hoy Ping Pong? Anyway, regardless of who he is, he seems to be
humorously inclined, so let's have more from him. No periodical is
exactly good without a touch of humor."--Ted H. Lutwin

There's no use in concealing the identity Hoy Ping Pong. It is none
other than Bob Tucker, author of the English science fiction series,
and more Hoy Ping Pong articles to come.

"I liked the November issue very much and hope you'll publish more of
Smith's poetry."--Robert E. Howard

"I was certainly disappointed to hear that the _Necronomicon_, _Book
of Eibon_, and the _Nameless Cults_ had no existence except in the
fertile imaginations of Lovecraft, Smith, and Howard. That's not
illusion of reality. Anyone could quote books and authors that never
existed. To me, it is plain fabrication. According to Joseph McCabe,
the monks of the middle ages were adepts at it. I must say, however,
that it was quite a help in giving an illusion of reality to
Lovecraft's stories, and Smith's. It won't be now, though, because the
cat is out of the bag. But what about 'Yog Sothoth' and 'Sattaquo' and
'Thule.' Surely, there must be a legend of some sort to account for
them, or does their ancientness go no farther than 1924? Were they
born about the same time as _Weird Tales_? I notice that the Illusion
of reality has much more force at night than in the daytime."--Carl J.
Smith

It is only an A-1 author that can make you believe that a thing exists
when it really doesn't. Perhaps the cat is out of the bag, at you say,
but we don't believe that it detracts from Smith's, Lovecraft's, or
Howard's stories one bit. However, weird fans will probably not be
satisfied until the aforesaid "fabricators" write up the books _in
toto_ that they have created in their minds. Smith is now working
on a chapter of "The Book of Eibon."

"I was pleased to receive your clever little 'Fantasy Fan' and
consider it highly entertaining and useful and well worth the dollar I
enclose for a year's subscription. From time to time I noticed in the
reader's columns the uprise of little pamphlets, but never gave them
serious thought. This one you have sent me startled me into
appreciating that the fantasy fans are an energetic lot.

"My eulogies and praises to the incomparable Clark Ashton Smith for
his 'Kingdom of the Worm.' He has the magic of words that makes great
writers. We like to honor the memory of Poe as the father of the short
story and the fantastic type of fiction, but Smith surpasses him.

"Enclosed you will find a little story of mine that I tender you
gratis--let us say as a Christmas present, for use in TFF. I wrote it
on the spur of the moment one day, as the idea popped into my mind and
refused to depart."--Eando Binder

We thank Mr. Binder, an author of note, for his excellent story. It
will appear in an early issue of TFF. The theme used is a brand new
one, and we believe will make a big hit with all lovers of weird
fiction.

"The November issue was a gem all the way through, and I am certainly
learning a lot of facts about fantastic fiction that are quite new to
me. It answers numerous questions that I have had in mind for a long
time. I think the comments by the readers constitute a most absorbing
part of your magazine, especially when they are by contributors and
old fans that know the 'ropes' well. Understand that I am a
comparative beginner in the absorbing game of chasing fantastic
literature. It is quite noticeable that the trend is turning even more
toward the fantastic than the pure science fiction, which, it would
seen, has been on the wane for some time. I am not a science fiction
crank, however, and have several good tales in my collection. They are
not interplanetary, though, but ones approaching closer to the
fantastic.

"The poem by Clark Ashton Smith was enormous; yet, more than that. I
do not think one could describe it. 'The Other Gods' by H. P.
Lovecraft added just the right atmosphere to TFF. The mention of
Ulthar in this story recalled a story by the same author named 'The
Cats of Ulthar.'

"As Mr. Ackerman's collection continues to pile up, it seems that in
spite of mania to judge literature, he certainly does a thing up right
when he starts.

"The discovery that the now famous book 'Necronomicon' is entirely
fictitious was a considerable shock. Too bad that such a volume is not
available to all lovers of fiction pertaining to the black arts and
kindred subjects. I had even thought seriously of sending to the State
College Library in quest of a copy in English! I wondered at the time
if it had yet been translated. Why not have Lovecraft write such a
book? I am sure it would sell well. I enjoy reading the denouncement
of Mr. Ackerman."--Duane W. Rime

As Dr. Keller says, it doesn't matter whether a reader praises Forrest
or condemns him, so long as they say _something_. We, also, were on
the verge of sending someplace for the _Necronomicon_ in English.

"Lovecraft's 'The Other Gods' and 'Supernatural Horror in Literature'
are a treat for which I am sure every reader is grateful. 'True Ghost
Stories' is very well presented and Barlow's 'Annals of the Jinns'
very capably upholds fantastic lore. Smith's 'The Kingdom of the Worm'
recalled to my mind Donald Wandrei's 'The Worm King', a poem which
I read in _Weird Tales_ years ago. While different in essence of
tone, these two carry the same eery quality. Although your various
departments have not yet swung into full stride, great promise is
indicated.

"I have a suggestion for Mr. Tucker. If his English connection will
supply him with sufficient information, a column or so on Arthur
Machen and Algernon Blackwood might introduce two very worthy writers
of weird tales to your readers."--Chester D. Cuthbert

We have on hand for early publication, several articles on the works
of the great writers of the past. Watch for them. To our readers: How
did you like Mr. Cuthbert's story "The Sublime Vigil" in the February
1934 issue of _Wonder Stories_? Watch his progress! We predict that in
less than one year he will be one of your favorite authors.

"Glad to see the December issue. All the stories art excellent and the
departments are as interesting as usual."--H. P. Lovecraft

"I have received the November TFF and would say that it is the most
satisfactory issue so far. 'The Other Gods' is indeed a masterpiece of
prose poetry, filled with imaginative overtones. Barlow's second
Annals of the Jinns is memorably touched, and the sense of atmosphere
conveyed is remarkable in view of its brevity. Hoy Ping Pong's article
on how to write scientifiction is most amusing.

"Re the origin of the word 'weird,' which you attributed to Edgar
Allan Poe. I believe that Poe was perhaps the first to employ this
adjective in the modern sense of eerie or uncanny or bizarre; but
you will find it used in older writers, such as Shakespeare, with
a special application to witchcraft or sorcery. The three Fates
of classic mythology were spoken of as 'the weird sisters,' and
the root-meaning of the word has reference to fate or destiny. As
a noun, it is still sometimes used in the latter sense; and it also
means a prediction of prophecy. The word itself is of Anglo-Saxon
origin, and is related to the old German _wurt_ and Icelandic
_urdhr_."--Clark Ashton Smith

In my filler concerning the origin of the word "weird," you will
remember that I said that its meaning the bizarre originated with
Edgar Allen Poe. I had in mind the other meanings as I wrote it.
Undoubtedly, if Edgar Allan Poe had not used it, the word would not be
popular today.

"I had intended to write since I received the first copy of TFF, but
circumstances made it impossible. I wish to compliment you on the
magazine. It is not perfect, of course--But it is different and that
is a blessing indeed."--Louis C. Smith

Send in your letter to "Our Readers Say," fans. We want your opinions,
criticisms, and suggestions. Do you think that too much space is
devoted to this department? If so, we'll cut it down.