" In this universe the night was falling; the shadows were lengthening towards an east that would not know another dawn. But elsewhere the stars were still young and the light of morning lingered; and along the path he once had followed, Man would one day go again"

Arthur C. Clarke Against the Fall of Night
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horror. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 17, 2020

"The Whispering Well" by Clifford Simak

 Our neighbourhood has many little libraries where one can exchange books.  I do partake, although I am better at taking than replacing. I have a large number of books earmarked for them; I simply don't get around to it. (Pause while I fill the backpack for the next walk with the dogs.)  The latest acquisition was a horror anthology, no surprise there, called Dark Forces edited by Kirby McCauley. I approached it as I usually do by reading the introduction. Then I looked for favourite authors.  

Spoilers coming

Bingo a Silver John story by Manly Wade Wellman "Owls Hoot in the Daytime." I had never read this one, and it was not bad. It reminded me of a comment I once heard about Robert Howard's heroes. I can't remember if it came from Howard himself or not. You know that Solomon Kane, Conan or Kull etc., will be captured or surrounded at some point in the story. To avoid a lot of mental gymnastics Howard keeps the mechanism by which they escape simple.  They burst their bonds, hack their way through or are released by a heroine. Silver John has a slightly more extensive tool kit but not by much. There is silver, usually the strings on his guitar, a passage from John  George Holman's book Pow-Wows; or, Long Lost Friend or brute strength combined with pluck and luck.

I enjoyed this, but it did not cover new ground. The third story I read was longer "The Mist" by Stephen King. It might be the first King I have read. I don't read a lot of modern horror, preferring Edwardian or Victorian stories or mythos fiction. "The Mist" is about a group of people trapped in a grocery store by monsters that come through an inter-dimensional rift. The narrator is trapped in the store with his young son. The assumption is his wife, who stayed home, has been claimed by the mist. So you have family stuff and group dynamics. This is pretty everything I dislike in a horror story (yeah there is sex as well so we are covered). In my universe the narrator should be alone or possibly with a few companions. They should be an intrepid polar explorer, occult investigator, unwary academic, luckless tenant, or the doomed beneficiary of a distant relative's largess. If the codicil says burn the book, house, mummy, etc., it is probably a good idea. I may or may not look at King again. So many books, so little time. 

The story I want to discuss is "The Whispering Well" by Clifford Simak. Thomas Parker is a professional non-fiction author. His recent books include works on palaeontology, Egyptology, ancient trade routes and folklore. As the story begins, he has been summoned by an eccentric but well-off aunt to write a family history. He agrees, and the story then jumps to his last stop. He is visiting the site of the farmstead of Ned Parker who settled there after the Civil War. This location became Parker's Ridge. It was not the best land available, but there was timber and a stream for hunting and fishing. Ned was worried, however, that the stream might dry up and had a well dug. The water table was so low that a huge windmill was installed to raise the water, and the whistling well was born. The locals say the ridge and the well has a "bad reputation" but can supply no specifics. However, Thomas feels a certain attraction to it and drives up to spend a few days in his camper. He immediately finds gastroliths, the gizzard stones of a dinosaur. All the time spent in museums has come in handy. There is a problem, however, because there is an undecipherable symbol engraved on it. After examining it closely, Parker comes to believe the engraving dates to the same period as the dinosaur which swallowed it.  There are also huge shapes that move around in the dark beyond his campfire, and he begins to feel uneasy. He remembers a discussion he had with an old black preacher while researching his book on folklore. The unnamed preacher talks about an ancient evil, one that predates our belief in the devil. An evil that predates humanity itself. ( Here, the story is marred by the typical racism of the genre/period) " You white folks don't know. You don't feel it in your bones. You're too far from the jungle. My people, we know. Or some of us do. We're only a few lifetimes out of Africa." (221)

I will insert a plug of Lost Kingdoms of Africa, details here, 

https://www.athenalearning.com/lost-kingdoms-of-africa/

While this passage is jarring today, I loved the concept that Simak introduced. "You're saying that there was evil before man. That figures of evil are not man's imagining?" (221) Here I think, Simak is not talking about the evil men do, but the archetypes that inform our concept of evil or rather the supernatural. His work often contains trolls, ghosts, banshees, and the devil himself. See The Goblin Reservation or, better yet, Out of Their Minds. 


This story is typical Simak with rocking chairs, a lone protaganist and a farm on a timbered ridge overlooking the river. But even more, large parts of it seem drawn from Simak's own life. 

"He walked the ridge, so high against the sky, so windswept, so clean, so open, so far-seeing. As if the land itself, the soil, the stone, were reaching up, standing on tiptoe, to lift itself, stretching toward the sky. So high that one, looking down, could see the backs of the hawks that swung in steady hunting circles above the river valley." (209) "The Whispering Well"

"This stems, I would suspect, from my boyhood, which was spent in the rural areas of southwestern Wisconsin. The impression made upon me by that country has stayed with me throughout my life. It is a picturesque country, with great high hills, deep wooded ravines, a couple of good sized rivers, the Wisconsin and the Mississippi, and any number of smaller streams running down almost every hollow or valley. As a boy and young man I hunted the hills and fished the valleys and was never  happier than when tramping through the woods. There was a peace and an understanding there I have found nowhere else." (64) Clifford Simak interviewed by Paul Walker in Speaking of Science Fiction. 

Parker and Simak have both produced non-fiction books on similar topics. I have three of Simak non-fiction titles here, he also published Prehistoric Man (1971), which is both outdated and expensive on ABE. Since I have several shelves on hominid evolution, I have given it a pass.  


I had posted this here because I see Simak as primarily a science fiction writer; that said, the Horror Writers Association made him one of three inaugural winners of the Bram Stoker Award for Lifetime Achievement. I enjoyed this story. It has all the right elements for me, a lone bemused protagonist, existential angst, revelations out of deep time, dinosaurs and a certain amount of H.P.L. cosmicism. In my earlier post on Ray Bradbury's The Halloween Tree, I stated.

"And I realize now it had continued to be my life. Reading Bradbury, I understood that the things that interested me as a child are largely the things that interest me today. I still love rocket ships, dinosaurs, and books with mummies, witches and werewolves on the cover." In Simak work, I again find an author who speaks too many of my lifelong interests. I do wonder, as I have with several other Simak's works whether he could have done more with this concept. But that is probably best discussed in another post.

I will be revisiting "The Whispering Well" again sometime soon. 

Cover credits;

Dark Forces jacket design by One + One Studio

Gobin Reservation by Gray Morrow

Out of Their Minds by Richard Powers

The Solar System jacket design by Joan Wall

Trilobite, Dinosaur and Man jacket design by Mina Baylis

Wonder and Glory jacket designby Angela Pozzi 

Tuesday, March 24, 2020

Horror and Science Fiction


  One thing I enjoy about science fiction is its fluidity. As a genre, it grew out of and encapsulated mythology, extraordinary voyages, lost races tales, future war warnings, scientific romances, and utopias and dystopias often accessed by voyages through time and space. Early authors moved between what we would now consider separate genres without perceiving any boundaries. Arthur Conan Doyle could offer us Sherlock Holmes, Professor Challenger, "When the World Screamed" and "The Horror of the Heights." H.G. Wells was, of course, everywhere, playing in every sand box known to science fiction with The Time Machine, War of the Worlds, The Food of The Gods, The Land Leviathan, and The First Men of the Moon among many others. As someone whose reading grew every much out a weird tale tradition, I have always been interested in the intersection between horror and science fiction. 

Two authors who are now well known for their work in other genres particularly interest me. One is George R. R. Martin, and the other, who I want to look at today, is Dean Koontz. I have just begun reading Koontz's work, and today I want to focus on two of his early short stories.

The first is "The Night of the Storm" (1974), which appeared in the Roger Elwood anthology Continuum 1. "This volume is the first of a series in which eight leading S.F. writers create their own very different worlds to which they will return in volumes 2,3, & 4." The further stories in this particular series are not by Koontz, and I will only look at his contribution at this time. This is the story of Suranov a robot living in a robot culture. Robots were created some 8-9 centuries ago. They are now dominate the Earth. The story of their creation by humans is largely considered a myth. Society is now run by the Central Agency. Individual robots "live" two hundred years, Then they have their memories removed and are reconditioned and released. Those whose data vaults have reached maturity are in line for promotion. One of these individuals is Bikermein, at 150 years old his data vaults are so extensive, he is immobile. Bikermein is Suranov's counsellor.         
  
  Suranov is 100 years old but has already begun to experience boredom. He had climbed mountains, penetrated halfway to the centre of the planet and travelled across the ocean floor for over a year, Suranov feels there is little more to experience. Bikermein points out that robots in this condition have found that deliberately reducing their abilities before undertaking new challenges helps alleviate this problem. Suranov undergoes this procedure and then joins three other robots on a trip to a hunting lodge at Walker's Watch. Since the robots prime directive forbids the destruction of life that cannot be restored they have only non-lethal weapons. 

I read the first page and a bit and thought this story was wonderful. My mind was racing with the implications. I love stories about robots and robotic societies. Also, Koontz had inserted that most hoary of horror tropes, the small group of strangers trapped in an isolated cabin in the wilderness. We have mysterious footprints and half-seen figures in the distance. Then, of course, one of the group disappears. This story was a great merging of horror and science fiction. I have the other volumes in this series and will be interested to see where the other authors take it.


The second Koontz story I wanted to discuss today is "To Behold the Sky," which appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December 1967. The protagonist is Jessie Bacon, a "cybernaut" who is part of the crew of a spaceship voyaging to the Sun. During the voyage, Bacon's consciousness will enter the cybernet, a system that allows him to monitor both the ship and the crew. Bacon is a very familiar science fiction character. An irascible loner who has been recruited because his skill set is irreplaceable. He hates the media who hounds him because of his relationship with Mandy Moraine, the most desirable actress of the era. He is generally impossible to get along with, although he does rescue a crew member endangered during a training exercise. And he is haunted by dreams of an accident in which he panicked and left someone to die.

Once the mission begins, problems appear. Instead of checking in with the crew regularly, Bacon seems to become lost in the system. The crew has to resort to leaving messages to communicate with them by writing notes on cardboard and leaving it propped against Bacon's body. When Bacon does emerge from the system, the crew complains of haunting dreams and a great shape that moves around the ship in the dark. Initially, Bacon investigates and finds nothing wrong. However, as they approach the Sun, Bacon becomes more self-absorbed and disinterested in the rest of the crew. Another good story. I am always interested in the human-machine interface, and Koontz again does an excellent job of interweaving this science fiction theme with some very familiar horror tropes. 

Whether Koontz intended this, the concept behind Bacon's role on the ship reminded me a bit of the scanners in the Cordwainer Smith short story "Scanners Live in Vain". And I do like this kind of connection even if it is only in my mind. Given the state of the world, perhaps I such be seeking out some of science fiction's more optimistic themes, but I have enjoyed Koontz's work so far and plan on reading more. 

Cover credits:

Continuum 1: Patrick Woodroffe

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Dec. 1967: Jack Gaughan's illustration for the "The Cloud-Sculptors of Coral D." one of J.G. Ballard's Vermillion Sands stories. If you have not read them, stop reading this and go buy an e-version so you don't have to go out.