We've already read two stories from The Fiend in You, the aforementioned "Mute" and Robert Bloch's "Lucy Comes to Stay." Now let's read five (count 'em--five!) more stories that (supposedly) are about the monster that is your mind and which might actually happen, stories by people whose work we have already written about here at MPorcius Fiction Log. For this purpose I will be using a PDF of the book readily available online for free.
"The Women" by Ray Bradbury (1948)
We start with a story from a man who by some measures is probably America's most successful writer of speculative fiction. "The Women" debuted in an issue of Famous Fantastic Mysteries full of full-page illos by Virgil Finlay and including a tribute to the 73-year-old Edgar Rice Burroughs and a story by Theodore Sturgeon. Wow, looks like a good issue. There are so many awesome SF magazines out there, I will die before I can read them all.Woah, this is a story for you to read for your gender studies class! You know how in Howard Wandrei's "Danger: Quicksand" and in Donald Wollheim's "The Rag Thing" a blob monster sort of spontaneously appeared via chemical reaction among just the right randomly assembled ingredients? Well, this is Bradbury's take on this theme, but with a difference:
It was of the sea. And being of the sea it was--feminine.
It in no way resembled man or woman. But it had a woman's ways, the silken, sly, and hidden ways. It moved with a woman's grace. It was all the evil things of vain women.
An evil phosphorescence comes to life in the ocean, drifts close to a beach where are reclining a married couple, a handsome man and his wife, who wears a black swimsuit. The wife subconsciously perceives that the ocean wants to take her husband, and, as the phosphorescence uses its psychic powers to draw the man into the water, she comes up with all kinds of stratagems to keep her husband from going for a swim, like asking him to go buy her hot dogs, then making him eat the hot dogs, and then telling him he can't swim because he has just eaten. Who will win custody of the hunk, the wife or the blob monster?
This is a good monster story, with some real suspense and with heavy doses of Ray Bradbury's poetic style that tries to give you a strong sense of place with loads of images and metaphors as well as Bradbury's typical focus on ordinary folks suddenly confronted by inexplicable weirdness. This is also a story about women and how jealous they are and how they ruthlessly compete with each other; "The Women" would be a good specimen if you were writing your dissertation on how popular literature penned by men exposes men's fear of women.
Thumbs up! There is a reason Bradbury was such a success!
(Like "Mute," however, there is no way this crazy story about a blob monster "could really happen." Is it about "The Mind?" Well, there are psychic powers, so, maybe a wee bit?)
"The Women" is one of the stories included in the collection I Sing the Body Electric!, which has been reprinted a million times.
"Perchance to Dream" by Charles Beaumont (1958)
In the afterword to his story "A Flourish of Strumpets" in Collected Stories: Volume 2, Richard Matheson mentions Charles Beaumont, how Beaumont was selling stories to Playboy long before Matheson himself would, and says Playboy would pay over ten times as much for a story as would a fantasy or science fiction magazine. Here is a story Beaumont sold to our most prestigious skin rag two years after Matheson sold them "A Flourish of Strumpets." (I guess the Playboy people liked the stories they printed to have Shakespearean titles.)Beaumont's intro to the Bradbury story here in The Fiend in You was a pointless joke. His intro to his own story explains how the images in "Perchance to Dream" are autobiographical and, in the process, spoils the images. (I may write a blog full of spoilers, but I hate spoilers myself and found this a little irritating.)
The main character of "Perchance to Dream" has a weak heart and had a wacky mother. (Good grief, is this turning into "MPorcius Misogyny Blog?") Mom died of a psychosomatic illness, and had encouraged her son to push his imagination to the limit by telling him if he concentrated as he stared at a tapestry depicting cavalrymen that he could make them move. He achieved this feat, though the mounted soldiers returned to their original position when he looked away. He used this ability on all kinds of books and magazines, until one day the picture of a knight and a dragon in a coloring book didn't change back!
The weak heart guy explains this to a shrink, and other episodes of extreme imagination. These include recent dreams of going to an amusement park where an attractive woman tempts him to get on a rollercoaster. In real life this guy can't ride roller coasters, as the excitement will give him a heart attack. Every night, the dream continues, our narrator riding the first car on the roller coaster, the woman sitting next to him, flirting and kissing him, each night the coaster getting closer to the top of the first peak. (I think maybe we are supposed to think this woman is a version of his mother.) He knows that if the roller coaster starts its descent he will die of a heart attack, so he has striven to stay awake, using drugs and now finally coming to the psychiatrist to seek help.
The twist ending is that his conversation with the psychiatrist is part of the dream; he has actually fallen asleep in the head shrinker's office before even beginning to describe his problems to the man. He dies in his sleep from a heart attack when the dream comes to its horrifying climax.
Acceptable. "Perchance to Dream" has been a success, serving as the title story for a Beaumont collection and being turned into another Twilight Zone episode I don't remember. The Twilight Zone is like Monty Python, something I was into as a kid that I revisited as an adult and found was not nearly as impressive as a young MPorcius thought. (I still liked "Scott of the Sahara" and the one in which William Shatner becomes obsessed with a cheesy fortune-telling device, but in general watching these TV shows felt like a waste of time.)
"One of Those Days" by William F. Nolan (1962)
(Meddle is so good, isn't it?)
"One of Those Days" is another success featured in The Fiend in You; first published in F&SF it would go on to reappear in one of Judith Merril's critically revered Year's Best series of anthologies. Editor Avram Davidson's odd and jokey intro to "One of Those Days" in F&SF gushes over Nolan, informing us that the man is prominent in the world of automotive journalism. Beaumont's intro in The Fiend in You warns you the story is confusing and you will have to reread it--luckily it is only like four pages of text.
"One of Those Days" is just a list of surreal images. The narrator is doing some gardening when a butterfly floats by singing a song from a famous opera so he decides to make an unannounced visit to his psychoanalyst. While walking there he sees a bipedal cat, witnesses a friend transforming into a camel, is accosted by a cop and tricks a bystander into murdering the officer, and finally meets the shrink who transforms into a dog.
Total junk, just random goop vomited onto the page--rereading it would be like putting your finger back in the light socket. Why did Davidson, Beaumont and Merril inflict this emperor-has-no-clothes chicanery on the SF community? Wikipedia reminds us that Nolan was close friends with Beaumont, Bradbury, Bloch and Matheson, so I guess this story's success is all about connections and you-scratch-my-back networking. Very annoying; this affront has diminished my opinions of Nolan, Davidson, Beaumont, and Merril, Merril least painfully because you expect her to promote this sort of thing as part of her project to expand the limits of SF to include everything and Davidson most painfully because I was so impressed recently by "Revolver." Et tu Brute?
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