Showing posts with label Lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lee. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2025

Tanith Lee: "You Are My Sunshine," "The Unrequited Glove," and "Mirage and Magia"

There are a lot of Tanith Lee collections out there.  Let's read a few stories from 1989's Women as Demons, published by The Women's Press as part of their science fiction series, which is meant "to present exciting and provocative feminist images of the future" that "offer an alternative vision of science and technology" and "challenge male domination of science fiction itself."  On the title page the collection has a long subtitle, as might an academic treatise: "The Male Perception of Women Through Space and Time."  Of the book's sixteen stories, I've already read, I believe, four: 1978's "The Demoness," 1979's "The Thaw," 1981's "Gemini," and 1982's "Written in Water."  Let's read three more tales from the book, those  with titles that are striking me: "You Are My Sunshine," "The Unrequited Glove," and "Mirage and Magia."

"You Are My Sunshine" (1980)

"You Are My Sunshine" debuted in Roy Torgeson's Chrysalis 8 alongside Barry Malzberg and R. A. Lafferty stories I don't think I have read.  Two years after being reprinted in Women as Demons, "You Are My Sunshine" would reappear in the Lee collection Space is Just a Starry Night.

"You Are My Sunshine" begins and ends with excerpts from a transcript of an interrogation by some officials of the only survivor of a space ship disaster.  The middle, the lion's share of the story, is the story of the disaster, told in the third person but only depicting events the sole survivor, a good-looking thirty-something guy named Leon Canna, experienced.

It is the future of interstellar civilization, in which solar-powered starliners carry thousands of passengers at a time between star systems.  These huge ships closely orbit stars for a few days before an interstellar jaunt to charge their batteries.  The vessels' shields filter out all dangerous radiation, so only beneficial radiation reaches the crews and passengers of the ships--this beneficial radiation provides tremendous health benefits, and people who can afford it flock to the "Solarine" ships to bask in this health-giving radiation while they are charging up.  

Canna is a "Passenger Link," a sort of morale officer, geisha man and liaison between the technical crew who operate the ship and the civilian passengers; he makes sure everybody on the cruise is having a good time and if anything goes wrong makes sure the passengers don't panic or get too angry.  It seems that he regularly has sex with female passengers as one means of keeping their spirits up.

Canna notices a shy and plain girl passenger, Apollonia Hartley, boarding the ship right before one of these popular charging-up periods.  He encourages her to come out of her shell, go tan in the solarium, and he flirts with her.  Lee portrays his dealings with the girl as somewhat predatory, but also suggests Canna himself is being manipulated--Canna is not sure why he is attracted to this girl who is not very good-looking or interesting.

Over the course of just a couple of days the plain girl seems to blossom, becoming the hottest girl Canna has ever seen and pursuing Canna sexually--now Canna is scared of Apollonia, and he tries to avoid her but she finally succeeds in coupling with him in his cabin.  Parallel to this erotic drama, a technical drama is proceeding.  The levels of radiation on the ship are rising, and the computers and technicians can't find anything wrong with the ship's shields or its other systems--where is the radiation coming from?  Of course we readers know it must be coming from the mysterious Apollonia.  After she has sex with Canna, she goes out to the solarium--the solarium has been declared off limits because it gets more solar radiation than anywhere and the crew assumes if the dangerous rise in radiation is coming from the star they are orbiting so closely then the solarium is the most dangerous place to be, but the Ms. Hartley stole the key from Canna right before losing her virginity to him.  The tech boys detect that the radiation in Canna's cabin is higher than anywhere else on the ship and tell him to get in his space armor tout suite.  Right after he dons his vacuum suit the no-longer-plain girl explodes, destroying the ship and killing everybody aboard except the fully armored Canna.

Lee, as I have told you a hundred times, is a great writer who is very skilled at putting sentences and paragraphs together and creating moods and painting characters, and so "You Are My Sunshine" is an entertaining and exciting story and of course I am giving it a thumbs up.  As for the plot, it works fine if we accept it as a horror fantasy set in a future starfaring civilization and not a serious science fiction story that is trying to teach you science or make an educated guess about what the future will be like; one might complain that Lee never makes clear what is going on with this exploding young woman--is she an alien or something?--but fantasy writers don't need to explain trolls and ogres and dragons and demons, they are just there, perhaps as symbols.

So, this is a good story I recommend.  But, considering where I am reading it, maybe we should assess if "You Are My Sunshine" really is a feminist story that is all about male perceptions of the female and offers an alternative female or feminine vision.

For one thing, early in the story there is a throwaway line that suggests that in the future people will realize women are smarter than men and stop stifling women's superior brains and superior ambition:

...the Solarines had a low percentage of female crew—since women had realised their intellectual potency, they tended to go after the big-scale jobs which pleasure-cruisers didn’t offer.
This female superiority doesn't manifest itself any other way in the story, unless we think that the passenger who seduces Canna and then kills everybody (and herself?) is demonstrating some kind of superior ambition and cleverness by doing so.

The board of inquiry that hears Canna's story accuses him of making up or hallucinating the story of a plain girl blossoming sexually under his influence and then exploding, saying he has "managed to turn a naval tragedy into an exercise in masculine ego."  This sounds like feminist talk, but Lee undercuts this assessment by offering unmistakable clues that indicate Canna really is telling the truth to the investigators.  I'm not even sure "You Are My Sunshine" really works on the simple level of feminist revenge fantasy in which a woman turns the tables on a male aggressor--sure, Canna has contempt for the young woman and manipulates her, and then she turns the tables on him and he suffers, but he lives through the disaster, suffering far less than all the people on the ship who never did anything to hurt her, hundreds of whom must be women passengers.  

In the context of the story, the girl in "You Are My Sunshine" really was something of a demon, a creature who used her sexual wiles to get something she wanted out of a man and then callously or cruelly killed thousands of people--Lee's story doesn't seem to be questioning men's perceptions of women as trouble so much as instantiating it.  The final image of the story is the burns on Canna's back in the shape of Apollonia's arms and hands that Lee compares to those left by branding irons--sex with Apollonia physically injured, perhaps permanently scarred, Canna, which feels like Lee's symbolic representation of men's fears of disease and of permanent attachment should they have sex with a woman.  Well, maybe if we go full "meta" we can say by writing a story in which a woman's blossoming, triggered by a man flirting with her, kills thousands of innocent people and permanently damages the man, Lee is offering a vision of what men think, providing a peek into the male mind.


"The Unrequited Glove" (1988)

In 1988 four issues of the widely beloved Weird Tales appeared, including special issues devoted to Avram Davidson, Gene Wolfe, and Lee.  "The Unrequited Glove" debuted in the Lee issue, which is full of illustrations by Stephen Fabian, so his fans as well as Lee's should seek the issue out.  Besides Women as Demons, you can find "The Unrequited Glove" in the 2017 collection The Weird Tales of Tanith Lee.

"The Unrequited Glove" is a lot like "You Are My Sunshine," and many of my comments about that story apply to this one.  A good-looking, confident guy trifles with a virginal and shy young woman in an exotic locale frequented by the wealthy, and when he loses interest in her she achieves a terrible revenge on him.  While written in the third person, it is mostly written from the perspective of the male lead, with the female avenger "on screen" relatively rarely.  The man had some level of contempt for the woman, but didn't intentionally set out to harm her, so is her use of her supernatural powers to commit murder justified, or is she the villain?  

Jason Drinkwood is a wealthy Englishman who spends long periods of time in some kind of coastal tropical "colony" in the New World where lots of rich or artistic Europeans and Americans hang around.  These jokers all have servants and sit around drinking and attending parties and having affairs with each other and so forth.  Jason has a brief affair with a female painter who owns a gallery where she sells her work, Alys Ashlin.  Jason doesn't take women too seriously, going through them at a rapid pace, and he soon tires of the painter and tries to break off their relationship.  But she has fallen in love with him.  She comes to his place, to tell him she loves him, and then departs, leaving behind a glove.  The glove is animate, and terrorizes Jason for weeks, throwing things at him, cutting holes in his expensive clothes, etc.  It toys with him, I guess the way Alys thinks he toyed with her.  The glove follows him everywhere, and is too magical for him to actually destroy, even though he does catch it once.  Jason begins to lose his sanity.

Finally, by taking a "steamer" back to London and bringing no luggage so the glove has nowhere to hide, Jason escapes the glove.  But Alys figures out a way to get the glove across the pond (a friend of Jason's has a crate of oranges from the colony shipped over to Blighty and the glove hides in the crate--some friend!) and this time the glove is not playing--it murders Jason.

This is a superior horror story that perhaps we should see as the wish fulfillment fantasy of shy sensitive girls who think of themselves as smart and who resent the good-looking but not-quite-as-smart guys whom they desire but who reject them.  Is the idea that, if you fall in love with a guy but he doesn't fall in love with you, he deserves capital punishment, a feminist idea, making this a feminist story?  Or is "The Unrequited Glove" just a reworking of the traditional theme that women are trouble and every time you get involved with a woman you are taking a terrible risk because women are irrational and calculating and play by different rules than do men, or respect no rules at all?

"Mirage and Magia"  (1982)

"Mirage and Magia" debuted in the DAW witch story anthology Hecate's Cauldron, which was reprinted in Germany as Hexengeschichten. The story has been reprinted in multiple anthologies and Lee collections in our own 21st century so all you admirers of the female form have a wide array of hubba hubba sex-sells covers to choose from.

"Mirage and Magia" immediately reminded me of Clark Ashton Smith.  The story takes place in some exotic fantasy world in which there are "balloon-ships" and "carriages" that walk on giant insect legs, in a remote city of rococo towers and fantastical mansions terrorized by a witch.  This witch, Taisia-Tua, only appears in public in a mask and wig, never wearing the same mask and wig twice, so nobody knows what she looks like.  She seems obsessed with her own image, carrying a little mirror around with her in which she often gazes upon herself.  TT has the ability to summon men to her; against their will, men she accosts on the street with the phrase "Follow me" walk to her mansion, through its 30-foot-high gates.  When they come back out through those gates their souls are absent, apparently awarded to some demon or evil god--the men are vegetables, unable to clean or feed themselves, and those who look into the empty eyes of one of Taisia-Tua's victims see not their own reflections, but the back of the victim himself!

Over the years, many men lose their souls this way.  Attacks, physical and magical, on the witch and her mansion come to nothing.  Taisia-Tua arrogantly flies a kite over the city trailing a banner that boasts that she is the greatest of all magicians.  The city's greatest thief, in return for a hefty fee, sneaks into the mansion and investigates, finding the place's interior a labyrinth of mirrors of dizzying variety.  The thief witnesses one of the witch's victims losing his soul, apparently merely from looking at his own many-multiplied reflection in all the mundane and magical mirrors.        

Years later another magician arrives in the city, a sorcerer skilled in the making of music and the performance of acrobatic feats.  He advances to Taisa-Tua's mansion and proves immune to her mirrors.  We learn the witch's story.  A man broke her heart and she came to the city of mansions to work her revenge on the world, using men's own vanity to stupefy them.  But this new man falls in love with Taisa-Tua after convincing her to reveal her true face and hair to him, and wins her love.  This love connection causes the mirrors to shatter and the witch's apparently soulless victims to recover their senses.  The lovers leave the city, and in the abandoned mansion the city dwellers, now liberated from her campaign of terror, find a note which bears witness to Taisa-Tua's recognition that love is the greatest magician of all.

An unexpected happy ending, but not necessarily a feminist happy ending!  A woman lashes out at the world because one man broke her heart, and then another man comes along and his love cures her and ends her reign of terror--"Mirage and Magia" suggests that even the most able of women's whole outlook on life and her behavior are determined by the response of men to her!

A quite successful fantasy tale; Lee piles on the extravagant descriptions but "Mirage and Magia" does not feel overwritten--all the descriptions paint a vivid picture in the mind or convey to the reader a powerful mood--every sentence is entertaining.  


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These are three good stories, and the Women's Press has done the world a service making them available to more people by printing Women as Demons.  I'm skeptical that these fantasy stories of women abusing people with their magical powers further the mission of the Women's Press of exposing people to "provocative feminist images of the future" and "alternative vision[s] of science and technology," but I suppose the most powerful and least controversial feminist act is giving a woman an opportunity to demonstrate her abilities, and Lee is a writer of high ability and these stories certainly prove that.  These stories specifically and Women as Demons as a whole are highly recommended to fantasy and horror fans and to those who enjoy speculative fiction that emphasizes traditional literary values over teaching you science or beating you over the head with some kind of obvious political or social commentary.

Saturday, March 29, 2025

Tanith Lee: "Sea Warg," "A House on Fire," and "Beyond the Sun"

When recently I read Gene Wolfe's sword and sorcery chess and gender roles story "Bloodsport" in Paula Guran's The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror: 2011 Edition, I noticed the book also included a story by Tanith Lee.  Let's check that story out and two other stories from the period by the talented Ms. Lee, who has one of the best prose styles in speculative fiction and regularly stuffs her fiction full to bursting with strange and disturbing images and themes.

"Sea Warg" (2010)

Here's the story from Guran's 2011 "Best of" anthology.  The editor's note in front of "Sea Warg" pessimistically says that we live in an "Age of Solipsism" in which people only care about themselves and only notice another's unhappiness if it has been photographed.  We're in disturbing territory already!

"Sea Warg" is a monster story with an intricate plot which I won't describe in detail here, and two characters with rich backstories, whose histories and personalities I won't exhaustively detail either.  There is also quite a bit of detective business going on, with one character committing monstrous crimes and going through various tergiversations and manipulations to conceal them, and the other using his particular abilities to see through the monster's deceptions and camouflage, collect and interpret clues, and then lay a trap for the monster that destroys it.  There is a lot of plot material here, but the story does not feel long and it doesn't bust your brain--Lee's smooth and evocative prose renders everything easy to digest and quite engrossing.

"Sea Warg" begins with a description of an abandoned pier and a town, once a fashionable seaside resort with a ferry to France, now the decrepit haunt of drug addicts and the dealers who supply them their "skunk" and "crack."  Decay and decline are one of Lee's themes; another is the selfishness hinted at in the little intro.  Related to this solipsism is the idea of alienation--the monster, a sort of aquatic werewolf, is of course an outsider who is callous or cruel to ordinary people, but the man who engineers the destruction of the killer beast is a cold and callous outsider himself who preys upon people in his own fashion and who doesn't slay the monster because he feels any duty to defend society but as a sort of entertaining puzzle.  The trap he springs on the monster snares some innocent ordinary people, and the monster slayer shrugs these casualties off as acceptable collateral damage. 

A great weird tale; I can't think of any flaws in it--five out of five severed hands found washed up on the beach!   

"Sea Warg" was first printed in the 2010 anthology Full Moon City; it can also be found in the 2019 Lee collection A Wolf at the Door and Other Rare Tales.  I'd like to see a scan of Full Moon City as there is a Gene Wolfe story in there, but the scan at the internet archive is no longer operative for able-bodied people.  I guess I could claim I have a disability to get access, but that would be like claiming I had a disability to get extra time on a school exam, or claiming I was a girl so I could compete against young women in some kind of sporting event, and no self-respecting person indulges in such knavish tricks.

"A House on Fire" (2011)

Stephen Jones, indefatigable anthologist, presented to the horror community in 2011 a volume entitled Haunts: Reliquaries of the Dead that reprinted a bunch of tales Jones considered classics as well as ten new stories.  Among the reprints are tales by people we read, like Richard Matheson, Robert Silverberg, Basil Copper, Ramsey Campbell, and Karl Edward Wagner, so maybe I'll look into this book again.  But today we're reading the original-to-this-volume story by Lee, "A House on Fire."

The epigraph of "A House on Fire" is an excerpt from a fictional book of "legal mysteries," a brief description of how some guy murdered his mistress and then burned down her remote house to hide the evidence.  The authorities were fooled, and judged the woman to have died in the fire which they deemed an accident, but then the killer confessed and was hanged.  The main story of like 27 pages explains why he confessed.

It is the late 19th century.  Slum-born Edwin Onslowe received a considerable inheritance and as an adult lives a life of leisure with his London apartment as his home base.  For some years he has been conducting an affair with Violet North.  Wealthy middle-aged businessman Mr. North spends most of his time in India, the British climate not agreeing with him, leaving his young attractive wife Violet alone in England for long months at a time.  Edwin and Violet only meet a few times a year, and make an elaborate game of their trysts, wearing disguises, putting on fake accents, giving false names at inns and hotels, etc., ostensibly to protect their reputations, but largely because this deception is fun--in fact, Edwin has come to enjoy all this espionage business more than the actual sex.

Via a pseudonymous letter, Violet invites Edwin to one of her husband's remoter properties, a 17th-century country house.  Edwin dons a disguise and boards the train to meet her there, reflecting that this will probably be the last time he meets her--he is tired of her and has just met a 19-year-old woman he thinks he can seduce (Violent is now 27.)  The 17th-century house has a strange effect on Edwin; Violet says it is built on some kind of pagan holy ground, made of bricks and wood collected from holy sites throughout the world, designed and built by carefully vetted men of high character.  Edwin feels like the house is watching him, listening to him, judging him.

After they have sex Violet breaks the news to Edwin--Mr. North has fallen in love with an Indian princess, and is abandoning Christianity and giving Violet a divorce and a huge settlement, including this house.  Violet tells Edwin she is in love with him and now they can get married!  Edwin has never loved Violet, and never suspected Violet loved him, and he wants nothing more to do with her.  His rejection drives her to hysteria.  When she assaults him, he kills her.  Then, to cover his tracks, he burns the house.

Back in London, Edwin is haunted by the smell of smoke, nightmares whose theme is heat, optical illusions when he looks at gas lamps or other fires, and eventually hallucinations of fires.  Things get worse and worse; Edwin goes totally insane and we are told straight out that the dead house is haunting him by making him experience its death--its murder at his hands--again and again.  The police find Edwin collapsed in the street in his nightclothes; he confesses to the murder of Violet and as his execution approaches he seems to welcome death.

"A House on Fire" is good but not great.  I enjoyed all the stuff with the Norths and Edwin's relationship with Violet.  But the escalating haunting of Edwin back in London is kinda long and kinda repetitive.  And the whole idea of a house of goodness that is essentially alive and then seeks revenge is a little silly; Lee suggests the house is a healer and a protector, so why is it on a campaign of vengeance?  Turn the other cheek, house!  

In my humble opinion, if Lee wanted to write a story about a vengeful house, she should have made it the house built by a murderer on the site of a massacre, and if she wanted to write a story about a good goody house, she should have depicted it protecting a woman from murder and reforming the bad guy.   

In 2013 "A House on Fire" was reprinted in the Lee collection Animate Objects.

"Beyond the Sun" (2011)

Over the years, we've read like seven stories from the 2015 Lee collection Blood 20.  Well, here's an eighth.  "Beyond the Sun" made its debut alongside a bunch of stories by people I've never heard of in 2011's Evolve Two: Vampire Stories of the Future Undead; we are reading it in a scan of that very volume.

Here we have a sympathetic vampire story, one that paints vampires as superior beings, as both romantic and tragic; "Beyond the Sun" is a sort of wish fulfillment fantasy for those who dream of being immortal and sexy aristocrats.  The more original and creative part of the story is how Lee speculates on how the super powers vampires have might be utilized in the star hopping future and how this might shape the role of vampires in larger human society.

Our narrator is Anka, though she sometimes writes about herself in the third person.  We learn her life story out of chronological order, in flashbacks as we observe her current work as a terraformer/sunmaker.  

Anka was born into a future world in which vampires were accorded special legal status because they are so useful to society--after all, they are perfect astronauts, able to live without oxygen, fly on their own mental power, see in the dark, etc.  And out in most of space they can work 24/7 because vampires only need sleep when close to the hated rays of a sun.

Vampires in modern society typically have two human companions, blood donors, who act as their source of food.  Having your blood sucked by a vampire is erotically exciting, at least for some people, so there are plenty of people willing to fill these jobs.  Anka, at age 20, becomes one of a handsome vampire's blood donors and falls in love with him; they get married and he turns her into a vampire.  After some decades together, they break up and Anka takes a job flying around the galaxy in a spaceship with her two blood donors, preparing colonies for humans by terraforming planets and creating new suns to warm them.  We hear plenty about how the sex life of this interstellar menage a trois operates and how Anka marvels at the beauty of outer space and planetary surfaces as she flies around at the head of her squadron of robots, directing their terraforming efforts.

The big climax of the story is the revelation that vampires have better dreams than us, that their dreams seem real and occur to them when they are awake, seeing as the vampires in this story do not sleep.  Anka periodically has dreams of having sex with the vampire who turned her into a vampire, and these dreams are the best part of her life but are also heartbreaking and leave her crying in her cabin on her space ship.

"Beyond the Sun" is merely acceptable.  Lee's story lacks tension, didn't surprise me, and failed to make me care what happened to any of its very fortunate characters (if I was a leftie or a religious person I would call them "privileged" or "blessed" instead of "fortunate.")  The plot is kind of boring--the characters don't really face risks or make decisions--and the images and characters are not very engaging or moving--we've got beautiful people living beautiful lives seeing beautiful things.

Not a bad story, but a disappointment considering how fine so many Lee stories are.  Ripe for class and gender analysis, though.  We might say that "Beyond the Sun" has a stereotypical plot designed to appeal to females--a girl is turned into a princess by a man.  (The corresponding stereotypical plot designed to appeal to males is a young man killing a bunch of people or monsters and thereby making himself king--John Carter, Tarzan, and Conan do this sort of thing.)  And then there is all that business of the vampires getting special legal status and lording it over the commoners, whom they can raise to the aristocracy if they see fit.

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It is too bad that the first story we read today was the finest and the last was the least satisfying, but such is life.  

No doubt there will be more Tanith Lee in our future, but first, short stories by other SF authors.

Monday, March 24, 2025

2011 Horror: D Etchison, T Lee, and G Wolfe

I don't read a lot of 21st-century material, but I was poking around the internet archive looking for stories by Gene Wolfe written late in his career and came upon Paula Guran's The Year's Best Dark Fantasy and Horror: 2012 Edition, and saw it had stories not only by Wolfe but also Dennis Etchison and Tanith Lee, writers I generally life.  So let's check out these horror stories penned and published in the internet age, only a few years before I started up this blog of mine.

"Tell Me I'll See You Again" by Dennis Etchison

"Tell Me I'll See You Again" debuted in Stephen Jones' A Book of Horrors.  Over ten years ago we read the Ramsey Campbell story in A Book of Horrors, "Getting it Wrong," a story about torture that has particular appeal for film buffs.  Let's hope I like Etchison's contribution to A Book of Horrors more than I did Campbell's.

(Hopes are dashed.)

"Tell Me I'll See You Again" is about survivor's guilt, a topic that is coded as mature, a fit subject for serious contemporary literature or a special episode of a TV drama, and thus kind of pretentious and boring.  This story itself feels pretentious and boring, a sort of fragment of suburban working-class life with scenes in a grocery store and talk about going to Home Depot.  Zzzz.

The fantasy or horror element of "Tell Me I'll See You Again" is a young boy's odd affliction: he will periodically collapse and appear dead--his heartbeat and breathing are actually undetectable during these events.  But then he gets back up just fine.  These episodes are likened to "playing possum"--in the same scene in which the kid has one of these episodes his friends actually find nearby a possum feigning death and the girl of the bunch uses the same technique on both boy and marsupial to arouse them.  We learn that the kid started having these episodes after his mother and brother died in a car accident--the kid himself was scheduled to ride with Mom, but he was busy so his brother went.  The aforementioned girl is a budding scientist or aspiring doctor or something, and is trying to figure out what is going on with her friend, experimenting on bugs, reading books, interrogating him.  He tells her he hopes he dies for real.

Then the story ends abruptly, telling us the boy with the odd malady and the smart girl drift apart and the boy's father dies when he is a senior in high school and the boy develops a sad philosophy about life and death.

This story feels like a load of nothing, lacking a conventional plot structure with characters who make decisions and some kind of resolution, and offering themes and images that are jejune but respectable mainstream fodder.  Thumbs down.  In 2019 I read the Karl Edward Wagner intro to the 1984 Dennis Etchison collection Red Dreams in which Wagner suggests ordinary people are too dim to understand Etchison, so maybe this is on me, even though I have enjoyed quite a few Etchison stories.


"Why Light?" by Tanith Lee

Here we have a tale of a teenaged girl's angst--her father is dead, she doesn't get along with her mother, and she is being thrust unwillingly into the world of adult relationships.  But it all turns out well for her in the end.  I don't think we can even call this a horror story--luckily Guran's book has "dark fantasy" as well as "horror" on the cover.  (I'm not adding "dark fantasy" to my blog post title, though--just remember I'm not engaging in false advertising, but "subverting reader expectations.")   

Daisha is a seventeen-year-old in an alternate universe where they have email and automobiles and skyscrapers, just like your world, reader, but in this world many of the wealthy are vampires and they live on estates catered to by human servants.  These vampires are genetically diverse; sure most of them have to drink blood and are harmed by sunlight, but some, like Daisha, can eat regular people food and endure some time in the sunlight.  Daisha can tolerate more sun than most, and this is one of the reasons her aristocratic family is cementing an alliance with another family of aristocratic vampires by having her marry a guy named "the Wolf," a 27-year-old vampire who is very vulnerable to the sun.  The Wolf's family's bloodline will benefit from gaining some resistance to solar radiation.  These bloodsuckers are into selective breeding!  (Daisha's rough relationship with Mom is also, it seems, because Mom is disgusted by or envious of Daisha's ability to tolerate, even relish, the sunlight she herself hates and fears.)

"Why Light?"'s 17 pages are split into three parts.  Part One is an imagistic scene in which Daisha dramatically describes her mother carrying her outside as a child to witness a sunrise and see how much sun her little vampire kiddo can take.  In Part Two seventeen-year-old Daisha says good-bye to home and rides across the country is a chauffeured limousine to her new home, that of the Wolf, where she finds the vampires of this family live quite differently from her own family back home.  Daisha is cold towards these odd disturbing people, and the Wolf himself is cold--could he be as unexcited about this arranged marriage as Daisha is?  

In Part Three, after three weeks with her new family, Daisha learns of the Wolf's secret sorrow.  He loves sunlight, dreams of it, but the slightest touch of sunlight makes him deathly ill!  He was bedridden for ten months when his parents took him outside as a child to test his resilience to the dawn.

And then Daisha learns what a goody the Wolf is--he cures any humans on his estate who get hurt or fall ill by letting them drink his blood!  Daisha falls in love with the Wolf.  And she has a brainwave--after they are married tomorrow, she will offer him her blood to drink!  Maybe he will gain some tolerance to the sun after drinking her blood, and they can share the light!

"Why Light?" is like a romance novel, or maybe I should say what I suppose a romance novel to be, not being very familiar with them.  Maybe it is Lee's version of Pride and Prejudice or Wuthering Heights or something like that, the novels I am led to believe are the foundational texts of the women's romance genre.  "Why Light?" is also what we might call a switcheroo story.  Aristocrats in stories often oppress the commoners while vampires in stories traditionally murder and exploit humans, but in this story an aristo is generous and giving, and the lead vampire donates blood to give life to mere mortals rather than killing or enslaving them to steal their blood.

Lee is a good writer and her descriptions and metaphors are all good, and Daisha really does talk like a teenaged girl who is all depressed and angry and acting out one day (she declares she will wear black to her wedding) and then falls in love with a super guy and is all gushing over how awesome he is (she picks out a green dress for the wedding) the next.  So the story isn't bad; it may be a superior specimen of what it is trying to be, the characters and setting being totally convincing as they are.  But do I really want to read a story about good vampires or a story in which a teenaged girl meets her Heathcliff or Mr. Darcy or whatever?  Not really.  We'll call this one acceptable, though it may well be catnip for the people who like sympathetic vampire stories or all those paranormal romance books which I know even less about than I do Jane Austen, Emily Bronte, or Georgette Heyer.        

Vampire fans can find "Why Light?" in Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling's Teeth: Vampire Tales and the 2019 Lee collection A Wolf at the Door.

"Josh" by Gene Wolfe

Here we have a six-and-a-half-page story that is genuinely creepy at some points and disgusting at others, so a horror success, thumbs up.  Do I really know 100% what is going on in this story?  Maybe not--as the little intro before "Josh" reminds us, in a Gene Wolfe story the narrator is often an unreliable one.

"Josh" is a portion of the journal of a young man who lives with his parents, a sort of depressed anti-social type, a guy who sees himself as an outsider or loner.  I guess he is high school age.  The family moves into a new house far away, a house in a sort of remote spot by a forest.  Before the furniture has arrived, before the electricity is switched on, Josh's parents disappear, leaving Josh alone for days in a house almost empty, and the journal excerpt ends before Mom and Dad reappear.  Josh has several eerie supernatural experiences in and around the house, and a sex and violence adventure with some hitchhikers which winds up with him trying to hide a dead body and then fearing attack from vampires.  Or so he suggests.  Is Josh including wish-fulfillment fiction in his journal?  Is Josh insane?  Are ghosts making him see things?  The vampires using their hypnotic powers on him?  Who knows?  There definitely seems to be some thing or things haunting the house, but the vampires seem to be coming to the house from outside.  (We had two distinct, perhaps competing, supernatural groups in Wolfe's "Sob in the Silence" a few days ago, didn't we?)

"Josh" debuted in Portents, an anthology edited by Al Sarrantonio, and has been reprinted in the 2023 Subterranean Press Wolfe collection The Dead Man and Other Horror Stories.

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Lee's story is written in a rich style, lavish in detail and easy to understand, but, as with the Etchison, the main themes are not to my taste.  Etchison's and Wolfe's stories are on the spare side stylistically, and a little challenging to get, but while Etchison's story is not engaging at all, Wolfe, as he does so often, does that thing where the story is very entertaining on the surface, delivering the thrills and chills we hope to find when we open up a book with the words "horror" and "fantasy" and a picture of a haunted house on the cover, even if you don't quite comprehend what it all means or what is really going on. 

I'll be mining the internet archive, world's greatest website, for more relatively recent Wolfe stories for our next episode.

Monday, May 22, 2023

More Masterful Dark stories: F Leiber, D Knight, T Lee & G A Effinger

Here at the blog we are reading stories from Dennis Etchison's 1988 anthology Masters of Darkness II, our source being the scan at the internet archive of the 1991 omnibus edition of all three Masters of Darkness books.  The Masters of Darkness books reprint, in some cases in revised form, horror stories selected by authors from their own bodies of work.  Last time we read stories by Manly Wade Wellman (quite good), Charles L. Grant (lame), Frank Belknap Long (not good) and Thomas F. Monteleone (a pungent slice of NYC-flavored urban alienation), and today we have tales by Fritz Leiber, Damon Knight, Tanith Lee, and George Alec Effinger.

"Black Corridor" by Fritz Leiber (1967)

This is one of Leiber's Change War stories, and first appeared in Galaxy.  Even though it is part of that series, it seems to stand perfectly well on its own.

Remember how, in Dr. No, James Bond has to navigate his way through a sort of cramped gauntlet/maze?  (In the book he has to fight a giant squid at the end, but that was too complicated for the silver screen.)  "Black Corridor" is a little like that, but includes some logic puzzles and philosophical content.

A naked guy who has lost most of his memory finds himself in a corridor--a wall behind him is moving forward, compelling him to advance to a pair of doors labelled "AIR" and "WATER."  He has only a brief period of time in which to select which door to open.  The story describes the series of such choices he must make; it is implied that if he ever makes a wrong choice he will be killed by whatever fatal hazard lies behind the door which bears the "wrong" answer to the puzzle.  One of the doors is labelled "TIGERS," presumably a reference to the famous story "The Lady or the Tiger?"  

After surviving multiple such dilemmas, the protagonist comes to a choice between "PERPETUAL SOLITARY CONFINEMENT IN HAPPY COMFORT" and "LIFE OR DEATH."  Of course he chooses the latter--it is pretty common for SF stories to tell you that an easy life in a utopia is actually bad for people, that to be satisfied and to reach their potential people need challenge and risk.  Anyway, behind the "LIFE OR DEATH" door the protagonist finds an office where sits a nurse with a robotic hand.  The end of the story seems to suggest that the corridors were a test to see if he was suitable to colonize this alien planet and/or therapy to cure some psychological issue from which he was suffering, but now cannot remember--the nurse gives him a file folder full of information about himself, and in it he will learn what neurosis he has been liberated from.

"Black Corridor" is well written, and the plot is acceptable, so I can give this one a mild recommendation.  It is followed (as all the stories in the Masters of Darkness books are) by an Author's Note; Leiber in his describes the circumstances in which he wrote the story, places it in context within the speculative fiction field, and dedicates it to Robert Heinlein, whom Leiber praises as an inspiration and an educator.  The themes of "Black Corridor" perhaps bear some resemblance to those of Heinlein's Tunnel in the Sky, in which students face a potentially lethal final exam that consists of surviving on an alien planet and have to make such basic decisions as what equipment and weapons to bring and whether to work in teams or individually.

"Black Corridor" seems to have been reprinted in French and Italian more often than in English; it appears in two different Urania anthologies with Karel Thole covers.


"Strangers on Paradise" by Damon Knight (1986)

This is another of those stories I was just alluding to that suggest the easy life in a utopia is not all it is cracked up to be; I guess we get so many of these stories because scientific and technological advances since the Industrial Revolution have made material life so much easier, and at the same time a wide range of political actors have promised to improve the lives of their clients via vigorous government intervention into the economy--these anti-utopian and utopian-skeptical stories remind us that changes that appear good on the surface or in the short term or for particular interest groups might have painful unintended consequences, impose serious long term costs, or entail trespassing on the rights of people outside a political actor's constituency or inflicting harm on society as a whole.

"Strangers on Paradise" is set in the 22nd century.  The human race has developed teleporter technology and is exploring the galaxy; for the teleporters to operate, both a transmitter and a receiver are required, so exploration is relatively slow, as it takes decades to fly to an unexplored star system and deploy there a teleporter receiver.

Thus far, the human race has discovered and colonized only one Earth-type planet, Paradise.  There is no disease on Paradise, nor any crime or pollution, and the colonists keep it that way by strictly controlling who can visit and who can immigrate.  Our hero, an Irish professor of English based at a Canadian university, is one of the lucky few allowed to land on Paradise after spending three months on a medical satellite having his body disinfected.  (Knight presumably affiliated him with bland anodyne nations so we wouldn't think the prof represents the Cold War West or Western imperialism or whatever.)   The prof has come to Paradise to conduct research on a female poet who was permitted to move to Paradise some 30-odd years ago; she died two or three years ago.

The prof finds Paradise as advertised--everybody is happy and friendly and good-looking, the air is clean and nobody ever gets sick.  But buried in the poet's papers he finds a secret message--she figured out that the original colonists massacred the entire population of intelligent natives!  Paradise is built on a foundation of genocide!

The prof keeps his knowledge to himself.  It is suggested that the Paradisans might permit him to immigrate to their peaceful Edenic world, and it is implied that a university job and relationships with attractive women will be available to him, but he decides to return to Earth, which is polluted and full of germs.  It appears that he is not going to reveal the horrible truth about Paradise--he cancels his plans to write a book about the poet.

All the science fiction business  in "Strangers on Paradise"--the means of travel and the alien species and the medical developments--is good, and the pacing and plot structure are as well, and the twist ending is actually surprising but not outlandish.  The story's themes have broad appeal; the story will resonate not only with anti-utopians like me, but also lefties who will see the story as an attack on religious people (the first colonists were members of a "Geneite sect" and one Paradisian flatly declares that the planet was given to humanity by God) and on the United States--one has to assume that we are supposed to see Paradise and its extinct natives as stand-ins for North America and American Indians.  At the same time I will note that there are clues that we are expected to see Paradise as being like Australia.  For one thing, the extinct natives are referred to as "aborigines."  Secondly, the prof, in an act of sabotage, frees a male and a female rabbit from a lab--these rabbits have been given an experimental treatment that is likely to have made them immortal, and Paradise lacks any predators large enough to take down even a rabbit. 

I am a Knight skeptic and have attacked many of the man's works of fiction at this here blog, so it always feels good to find a story by Knight that is easy to like, because it makes the respect he receives more intelligible, and because it reassures me that my low opinion of so many of his stories is a fair and rational response to individual stories and not the product of prejudice or a subconscious campaign of vengeance for Knight's infamous hostility to A. E. van Vogt.  

Thumbs up!

When it first appeared in F&SF, this story bore the title "Strangers in Paradise."  Gardner Dozois and Donald Wollheim both included the story in their annual "Best of" volumes in 1987, suggesting that this story was a big hit in the SF community.  In his Author's Note, however, Knight suggests he had trouble selling the story because it is such a misanthropic downer.  He doesn't name the editors who rejected the story, though if we look at the big magazines in 1985 and '86, Analog was being edited by Stanley Schmidt, Amazing by George H. Scithers, Asimov's by Shawna McCarthy ('85) and Dozois ('86), and Omni by shifting combinations of  Ellen Datlow, Gurney Williams III, and Patrice Adcroft.  


"Gemini" by Tanith Lee (1981)

On a recent trip to Wonder Book in Hagerstown, MD, I spotted a copy of the ninth volume of Roy Torgeson's Chrysalis series, which purports to contain the "Best All-New Science Fiction Stories."  When I saw that it contained a Tanith Lee story I didn't recognize, I whipped out my smartphone to figure out if I could find that tale online someplace, an act which incepted this current Masters of Darkness-centric project.

Gemmina, our narrator, is a beautiful blonde who is pathologically shy.  She lives in some alternate universe or alien planet or far future or whatever where there is a socialistic government which provides a UBI and demands ten days of service four times a year.  This society still has private property, though, and Gemmina lives alone on her family's ancestral estate in a mansion which, via robotics or magic, cleans itself.

One of the mysteries of Lee's story is how Gemmina seems to anthropomorphize her insecurities about other people, talking to us as if she had living within her a jealous vampiric entity that wants her all to itself.  When women try to make friends with her or men try to seduce her this entity inflicts pain on her, makes her shun or fight those who would get close to her.  When she looks into a mirror this entity feeds on her beauty.  Is some creature living within Gemmina, or is she just nuts?

Another mystery has to do with Gemmina's identity, and her resemblance to some blonde deities of her people, an incestuous pair of androgynous twins, a slender girl with small breasts and a thin boy with no facial hair.  These deities are named Gemmina and Gemmini.  Outside her mansion, our narrator wears a brown wig so her blonde hair, "the hair of the golden Twins," won't attract attention.

As an intellectual and artist, for her quarterly ten-day service Gemmina is generally assigned to work in libraries or art galleries (this story has elements of a grad student's wish-fulfillment fantasies, what with the stigma-free dole and having to work only 40 days a year, and that at a solitary creative job.)  In the period covered by the story she is cataloging books and painting a mural in the Library of Inanimate Beauty.  The mural is of the golden Twins Gemmina and Gemmini holding hands.  

The plot of the story, once all the background is out of the way, concerns an attractive young man she meets in that Library during her service.  This ill-fated man endeavors to approach Gemmina, and, driven by the jealous entity within her that seeks to keep her all to itself, Gemmina pushes him off a balcony to his death.  As the story ends, the government begins investigating our narrator in connection with the disappearance of that young man, and it is hinted that a disaster in Gemmina's life is looming.

Pretty good.  Lee is a master of mood and image and all that, and "Gemini" delivers that stuff as well as the solid plot and setting I have described above.  In her Author's Note, Lee comes right out and tells us that there is no alien entity possessing the narrator, that Gemmina has a psychological problem, what Lee calls "a case of bad nerves," and has constructed an artificial male oppressor to justify her unhealthy fears and distance herself from the moral implications of her anti-social behavior.          

"Gemini" would resurface in the Lee collection put out by the Women's Press in 1989, Women as Demons.


"Glimmer, Glimmer" by George Alec Effinger (1987)

I think I have read nine stories by Effinger over the course of this blog's improbable life; here the long-suffering staff of MPorcius Fiction Log presents a list of them, complete with links to my blog posts about them and even representative quotes from those posts for the TLDR crowd:     

"New New York New Orleans" ("This sort of thing isn't really my cup of tea")

"Trouble Follows" ("too lame to bother figuring out")

"A Free Pass to the Carnival" ("Marginal thumbs up")

"The Westfield Heights Mall Monster" ("borderline negative vote")

"The City on the Sand" ("a literary mood piece...a good one")

"Ibid." ("a decent Twilight Zone-style story")

"Live, from Brechtsgaden" ("I'd be lying if I said I enjoyed it or was moved by it or whatever")

It looks like I only liked three of those nine.  Will today's Effinger story, my tenth, improve my view of the man's oeuvre?  "Glimmer, Glimmer" debuted in an issue of Playboy the cover of which is dominated by the mug of Howard Stern Show habitue Jessica Hahn, about whom I have not thought in many years.  Besides in Masters of Darkness II, "Glimmer, Glimmer" would be reprinted in the Effinger collection Live! From Planet Earth. 

Rosa is a scientist, married to Joey, a man who inherited his father's dress shop and has built it into a business empire with outlets in hundreds of shopping malls.  Their marriage isn't working out so well--Joey can't take any time off of work to spend with Rosa, but somehow he finds time to cheat on her with a woman named Melinda.  As the story begins, this couple is taking their first vacation together in over a decade, biking cross country from one national forest or state park to another.  Joey planned this vacation without much of any input from Rosa, and it often leaves them alone, far from any other people, leading us readers to suspect Joey has brought Rosa deep into the wilderness with the idea of murdering her!

Whether or not Joey was capable of murder we will never know, but one thing is for sure--Rosa is willing and able to commit murder in the first degree!  Uninterested in settling for only half of the fortune Joey's hard work has accumulated, Rosa eschews the idea of divorcing her unfaithful husband and instead leverages her knowledge of biochemistry and insects to set a deadly trap for Joey.

This is a pretty good crime story that has a relationship drama at its core and employs a science gimmick, like we might expect of a science fiction writer.  Probably more interesting to social science and humanities types than the way Rosa uses her hard science knowledge of insects and chemistry to kill somebody is the matter of the story's gender and class politics: is "Glimmer, Glimmer" a feminist/leftist story in which a capable professional woman--a woman who fucking loves science!--wreaks a just punishment on a grasping nouveau riche bourgeois striver?  Or is it a misogynist/populist story about how women are cunning and manipulative and duplicitous and love money more than anything and will spread their legs or stab you in the back in order to get it from you, and how the credentialed elite of the non-profit sector have contempt for real work and will use their diabolical cleverness and esoteric knowledge to steal the fruits of your honest labor from you!    

I like it.

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Four good stories in a row, from four different authors?  How often does that happen?  When an English professor of the future studies this blog, he, she or they will recognize this as a black swan event!

Saturday, March 18, 2023

Elephantasm by Tanith Lee

She hated him yet wanted to touch him.

As Natalie Merchant tells you in that song you'll hear in department stores, and as Ray Davies tells you in that song you'll hear here at MPorcius Headquarters, what people want in their entertainment is sex and violence.  And we here at MPoricus Fiction Log are no different!  Recently we went seeking our S&V fix in Dana Reed's 1988 Demon Within, but found the book quite unsatisfying.  So today we turn to one of the speculative fiction world's most adept wordsmiths, one of our favorites, the great Tanith Lee, and a book I recently bought at Wonder Book in Frederick, the 1996 paperback edition of 1993's Elephantasm

Well, Elephantasm certainly features some nasty blood-, urine- and vomit-spiced sex, sex that is ugly and quasi-incestuous, plus gruesome scenes of injury and death.  But instead of seeing it as primarily a sex and violence exploitation novel, I feel it is more accurate to think of Lee's novel as a woke social justice revenge fantasy (not that people were necessarily using those terms back in '93.)  Men mistreat women, the rich mistreat the poor, English people mistreat Indian people, and humans mistreat animals, and then the abused achieve a horrifying supernatural revenge!

I don't think Elephantasm is as fun or as beautifully written as those Flat Earth books I read last year; it is more grim, and less emphasis is placed on metaphors and images, and the climactic sequence is perhaps a little too long.  However, Elephantasm is certainly well-written and constructed, and full of little nods to Dickens, Conrad and Kipling that people will likely find engaging, so is easy to recommend.

Elephantasm up like 330 pages of text, and consists of five parts.  Part One takes place in Victorian London amid Dickensian squalor.

Teenaged Annie and her sister Rose were born among the middle classes, but their parents died and they now live with Rose's husband in a slum near the river and a homeless encampment.  Rose's husband, the physically beautiful but morally repulsive Innocent, lays around the flat all day reading the paper while Rose and Alice prepare his tea and, to make ends meet, take in mending and sew rag dolls; Rose also prostitutes herself, her posh accent has proven an asset in attracting gentlemen.  Innocent often spends all night out drinking, and that is when Rose breaks out her secret ouija board!  (Lee doesn't use the word "ouija," which I guess was coined in the period after that in which our story takes place.)

One day Annie is out on an errand for Innocent, and when propositioned on the street flees into an alley and finds herself in a shop full of exotic goods.  The proprietor, some kind of foreigner she comes to think of as a prince from India, insists she buy for a penny what he calls an amulet, a tiny ivory figure of an elephant--young uneducated Annie doesn't even know if elephants are real like horses or a fantasy like unicorns.  That night the ouija board seems to tell the girls, in vague terms, that they are soon going on a trip--maybe to India! 

After a night of drinking with his buddies, the Joyless Bugger, the Badger and Earbone, Innocent starts beating Rose; when he finds the elephant amulet it looks like he will start beating Annie, and Rose scratches her husband's eyes out and then kills him with a knife.  The fallen amulet floats on a stream of Innocent's blood back to Annie.

In scenes in court that feminists will relish, Rose is convicted of murder amidst dialogue from the fat and oily lawyers about how women are not trustworthy and perhaps need to be beaten to keep them in line.  Rose is hanged and Annie is taken under the protection of a female merchant who in the past purchased the rag dolls Rose fashioned.  This businesswoman hooks Annie up with a position--ostensibly as a scullery maid and seamstress--in the distant country house of the Smoltes.  In Part Two we are introduced to this house and its denizens and learn what Annie's real job is going to be.

Sir Hampton Smolte made his fortune in India.  He has a fascination with India, a mixture of love and hate--for him India is like a woman of great beauty and terrible evil whose charms he cannot resist.  Sir Hampton has a personal cook who learned to make curries while serving with him in India, and when he returned from the East like eighteen years ago he had the country house to which Annie arrives built in the style of an Indian palace; its interior and its grounds abound with paintings depicting Indian scenes and statues of Hindu deities.  Sir Hampton's wife, Flower, a former showgirl, blonde and voluptuous, now getting fat, spent some years abroad with her husband; she detested India's heat and food and smells and resents today the smell of her husband's curries and has had her private rooms decorated as far as possible in English style.  The Smoltes have three children whom Flower does not like.  The youngest at eighteen is cruel feline daughter Elizabeth--in keeping with the novel's Indian themes the idea is suggested that she was a cat in an earlier life.  (In one of several such creepy scenes, Elizabeth, after voyeuristically watching two members of the staff making out, notes how their kisses resemble her cat's devouring of a shrew it has presented her, and ventures to taste the raw mangled beastie herself.)  Elizabeth's older brothers are brutish Urquhart, who acts like a pig but has succeeded in making friends with local aristocrats and gentlemen, and sensitive, sickly and beautiful Rupert, the oldest, who when he isn't coughing acts like a too-cool-for-school hipster jerk, complaining about everything, including England--he'd prefer to be back in India.  We also meet many of the servants, each with his or her personality and quirks.

Annie washes dishes and sweeps for a while, but is soon elevated from the kitchen and given more pleasant quarters and more exalted duties; putatively, her job is to sew for Elizabeth.  (Beyond mundane work on Elizabeth's dresses, Annie is also commissioned by Elizabeth to sew on to undergarments the bones of the small animals her black cat brings her.)  But after Rupert, spying on Annie as she bathes, registers his approval of her young body, Annie takes up her main duties at the Smolte house--serving as the histrionic eldest son's sexual plaything.  As Rose was of Innocent, and Sir Hampton is of India, Annie is both drawn and repulsed by the beautiful, sensual, dangerous and cruel Rupert; a virgin, she is initially excited to be ushered into the world of sex.  But instead of a world of joy, Rupert inaugurates her into a world of pain, fear and disgust; Part Two climaxes with some quite gross BDSM sex as Rupert indulges the perversions that stem from his childhood relationship with his nanny ("ayah") back in India.  

Part Three starts with a flashback to India, to the time of Sir Hampton's first trip to the subcontinent, when he was still Captain Smolte, a scoundrel of a soldier in his early twenties sent on a disagreeable mission as a sort of punishment for his misdemeanors.  At the head of a dozen soldiers, he escorts an eccentric and corrupt government official, Withers, "into the green hell of the rukh" to an almost forgotten station near the palace of a Muslim raja..  At this age Smolte doesn't like Indian food or Indian women, but Withers assures him that curries, and maybe other delicacies India has to offer, can prove addictive:

"That's how it is with India.  You loathe it; then you take to it.  Then you can't get enough."

Chapter 1 of Part Three chronicles how Smolte becomes smitten by Indian food and an Indian woman, the Hindu sister of that raja, as he and Withers bring the abandoned British station near the raja's palace back into operation.  

The rest of Part Three is back at the Smolte house, where Lee expands upon her themes of revenge and of the inadequacy of the riches Smolte wrested from India to satisfy him.  Annie, perhaps animated by Indian spirits (she wears her ivory elephant around her neck, a mixed-race servant the Smoltes brought back with them from India having put it on a chain for her) turns the tables on Rupert, sexually dominating him, making him worship her.  Annie dastardly poisons one of her fellow servants, a girl who robbed her.  We see how the other gentry and aristocrats in the area look down on Sir Hampton as a nouveau riche who won his money in a disreputable way (they call him a "jumped-up knave;" "parvenu") and shun his house.  Flower Smolte, starved for society, hears of a performer who has a troupe of trained Indian monkeys, and hires him to serve as the main attraction to a big party she holds.  The monkeys initially behave, performing their elaborate tricks, but eventually get out of control and cause havoc; as with Annie, it is suggested they are possessed by some Indian spirit out for revenge on the Smoltes.

In Part Four, a flashback to Smolte's second trip to India, we get the inside skinny on why these spirits might want vengeance on Sir Hampton.  Smolte was drawn back to the subcontinent from England by letters from Withers promising tremendous wealth should he enter the service of the raja, who felt the need of a guard of British soldiers.  Smolte's new wife Flower joined him for this second Indian sojourn, and it is in India, at the remote station, that Rupert and Urqhuart were born and spent their early childhoods.  (Elizabeth was conceived there, but born in England.)  

Smolte gathers together and commands a company of white deserters and criminals with which to maintain order in the domain of the raja, and we see the origin stories of various members of the Smolte household (there are a bunch of characters in the novel whom I have not mentioned) and witness Smolte's crimes and learn the source of his wealth.  He and Withers loot forgotten temples in the jungle, with (it appears, at least) the tacit permission of the raja, but Smolte goes too far when he rapes the raja's beautiful virginal sister--the sneaky raja has (it seems, at least) been using the promise of his sister to manipulate Smolte, a promise that is just a tease and was never to be fulfilled.  The pious Hindu woman commits suicide by starving herself, and over a month after she is raped she dies and is cremated in an elaborate ceremony; a supernatural event at the cremation inspires the raja's people to rise up against Smolte, his family and his motley company of ne'er-do-wells and scum.  Smolte and his troops wipe out the raja's entire community, sparing neither woman nor child; Smolte himself shoots down the raja.

In Part Five a cataclysm strikes the Smolte household through Annie and the ivory amulet.  It starts with the amulet coming to life, slipping away from Annie and harassing Elizabeth, her black cat and the kitchen staff, an elephant small and nimble as a mouse.  The weather turns hot, the English woods become infested with Indian animals, a monsoon strikes--the estate is overgrown in Indian jungle, the house is destroyed, and a multitude of white people are killed in various ways.  Animal rights activists will cheer as the aristocratic and middle-class men leading a fox hunt fall prey to a tiger.  The Smoltes go insane and most of them die in agony; the ivory elephant, absorbing all the ivory in the house, grows to colossal size and plays a role in the death of Sir Hampton.

The ghost of Rose appears and informs Annie she is only her half-sister--Annie's father was what Rose calls a demon and Annie suspects was a supernatural Indian creature (it is hinted it was a rakshasha) disguised as an Englishman.  (Like in a Lovecraftian story, Annie has been of the alien "other" all along!)  Has Annie's entire life been directed by supernatural forces from the mysterious East, has she always been merely a pawn in a transnational anti-imperialist plot of revenge?       

The rukh, apparently miles deep, has surrounded the Smolte estate.  The only truly healthy and sympathetic character in the book (he loves animals! he comforts the dying! he spouts the wisdom of the East!) leads Annie and the rest of the handful of survivors out of the jungle and back into mundane England.  It seems that Annie and this one decent man, who is old enough to be her father, are going to become lovers and live happily ever after.

A solid novel about how the Victorians were a bunch of meanies full of well-done exotic supernatural horror business and a helping of gore and twisted sickening sex.  Thumbs up for Elephantasm.

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It is back to 1950s science fiction short stories in out next episode; see you then!

Friday, July 22, 2022

Death's Master by Tanith Lee

Perhaps the gods had made Death.  Perhaps men had made him, the shadow of their terror thrown on a wall, a name that had taken on a shape.  How long had he existed?  Long enough to come, in however strange and opaque a manner, to an awareness of himself.  Or to an awareness of what himself must be.  And, as he was capable of dispassionate tears, as he was capable of emotionless grief, now he unfeelingly felt the pangs of a hollow disquiet.  Not at the notion of life, for life was susceptible to him...but at the notion of a life which was no longer susceptible, life which could negate death.  For even Death did not wish to die. 

Back in April we read Tanith Lee's 1978 novel Night's Master, and thought it was great.  Today we express our love for Night's Master's first sequel, 1979's Death's MasterNight's Master and Death's Master are only the first two of the five volumes of Lee's Tales of the Flat Earth, all of which first appeared as DAW paperbacks.  As with the first volume, I am reading book number two of the series in my 1987 hardcover omnibus edition of the first three titles, Tales of the Flat Earth: The Lords of Darkness.  I am certainly happy to have this hardcover edition, but I see that the original DAW edition of Death's Master has a frontispiece by Jack Gaughan, which I would like to see, and a recent printing of the novel actually has a drawing by Lee herself on the cover, a drawing which is quite accomplished, both creepy and charming--Lee was a multi-talented lady!

Death's Master is long, taking up like 340 pages of my omnibus edition, and is split into two books, each of which has five named parts; at the end is an epilogue.  While the novel does have an overarching plot, following the adventures and interactions of four main characters and the many secondary and minor characters whom they tend to leave worse for wear, each of the ten named parts is sort of like an individual short story, with its own plot and climax as well as developments that lay the groundwork for later parts.   

These ten "stories" are somewhat reminiscent of Clark Ashton Smith's or Jack Vance's fantasy tales; like those worthies, Lee has a distinctive writing style, and like Smith's Zothique and Hyperborea stories, and Vance's Dying Earth and Lyonesse tales, they take place in a strange ancient/medievalish milieu and feature amoral or morally compromised characters doing reprehensible things and suffering horrible fates.  There are lots of wizards and witches and demons and priests and kings, plenty of ruins and castles and palaces and fortifications and temples, lots of magical spells and a whole bestiary of creepy monsters and conventional animals rendered strange.

Lee is a very skilled writer at the level of the individual sentence, and the book is full of beautiful and horrible bits of poetic prose and striking and disturbing images--a unicorn stamping on a hare and tearing it with its teeth; an ancient witch who bears the form of a fourteen-year-old girl clad only in a girdle of finger bones on a gold chain, each finger the payment she has received for acting as an intermediary between a supplicant and the Lord of Death; a cruel wizard who marches across the countryside, accompanied by a brass cage which walks on its own legs and carries within it the rotting corpse of the king the wizard slew with his sorcery.        

Lee's excellent style is matched (here in Death's Master, at least) by her plotting and pacing.  All the crazy characters and all the crazy situations they set in motion or find themselves embroiled in are compelling and entertaining.  Things that happen early in the book foreshadow or trigger events that occur later in a way that is clever and satisfying.

Death's Master is, as the cover of the first edition warns us, an "adult" fantasy and it is full of horror and full of transgressive and fetishistic sex--sex that is transactional, or based on trickery, or exploitative, as well as incest, bestiality, and necrophilia.  

Lee's focus on sex has an element of salaciousness or lasciviousness, but there is a lot more to it than that: Lee deals with issues like gender roles, sexual identity, sexual orientation, and the place of women in society; having set her tale in a cruel and decadent fantasy world where not only social norms but the very laws of physics are different than those of our own, Lee is free to offer up outré characters and situations that challenge all our preconceptions and brush aside all our taboos about sex and gender in a matter of fact fashion.  Lee presents us with a series of female characters who both embody and radically defy models of the feminine, women who rebel against social and political establishments--but Death's Master is not triumphant celebration of girl-bossery.  The women of Death's Master are ruthless and cruel, and their acts of rebellion are selfish and bring destruction and tragedy to themselves and those around them.

We've got Queen Nerasen, a woman who lives like a man, hunting great cats with a spear, defeating her enemies with her sword, enjoying sex with a succession of concubines.  But fate, her ambition to rule and her responsibility as a monarch force her to go against her nature and embody what we might call vulgar and maximalist versions of traditional conceptions of the essence of womanhood--she is compelled to have sex with many men and produce a child, and later seizes the opportunity to become the nagging, domineering, wife of a ruler more powerful than she.  As she lies in the agony of childbirth, she stifles her screams and vows to take revenge upon all men, to kill her own child if it be a boy!  

There's the witch Lylas, a 14-year-old who permitted men to use her body in exchange for sorcerous knowledge; taking up the position of Death's chief handmaiden, she manipulates the politics, culture and history of a town, but two centuries later she is defeated and the social order she built overthrown by perhaps the most central character of the novel, Simmu.

Simmu is the product of Nerasen's union with an animated corpse.  Simmu is a hermaphrodite able to voluntarily change sex on the fly; as a child he/she is raised by female demons, as an adolescent by hypocritical priests; Simmu escapes murder at the hands of his/her own mother when Nerasen's corpse walks the Flat Earth in search of vengeance, and as a young man pursues a quest that challenges the Lord of Death.

Among the secondary and minor characters, there is a wonton, aggressive prostitute who accosts a good-hearted priest; he asks her "What devil drove you to this life?" and she replies "A devil called man."  She later tries to blackmail a hypocritical priest and in desperation he kills her.  The princess of an undersea kingdom betrays her people out of love for a wizard--this wizard enjoys her body, loots her kingdom, kills her father and abandons her; another woman falls in love with a hero and helps him steal the treasure from her people's sanctum sanctorum, but with the treasure in his grasp, the hero's ardor for her cools.

The women of Death's Master challenge established orders and as a result their lives are destroyed; many of them are in positions of authority and their rebellion is an act of betrayal of those to whom--by the rules of the established order, at least--they bear some level of responsibility.

Lee's book is bleak, with everybody misbehaving, everybody getting defeated, everybody at the mercy of others or of Fate.  The Lord of Death himself is a slave to Fate!

"Death is like the night.  He comes when he must, but he does not choose the moment of his coming.  He is a slave, too."  

Death is of course a central theme of the book, as are efforts to cheat death and stave off death--most of the witches and wizards in the book seem to have taken up sorcery as a profession with the objective of extending their life spans any way they can--including by stealing the life force of others--and there are plenty of animated corpses walking around and people making contact with "the other side."  But in the same way the women of the novel who rebel come to grief and bring grief upon others, efforts to defeat Death fail, or succeed only to show that a life without death is no better, and perhaps worse, than a life lived within death's shadow.  (Death's Master is yet another piece of speculative fiction that tells you that what you think will be a utopia is not going to make you happy.  We've read a lot of these at this blog!)

Death's Master is a great dark fantasy novel that focuses on horror and sex and black magic and which has as a sort of backbone that central theme of women challenging established orders, including norms around the role of women.  Lee's writing is brilliant, and her book is chockablock with some of my favorite themes, like suicide, the quest for immortality, and disastrous sexual relationships, and so I loved it.  

Five out of five blood-stained unicorn horns!

Highly recommended to fans of weird fiction and those interested in portrayals of women and alternative forms of sexuality in speculative fiction who are willing to accept depictions of feminist and LGBT themes that are ambiguous rather than earnestly affirming.  

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If you are interested in spoilers and more examples of how Lee treats Death's Master's various themes, find below my overly long plot summaries of each of the novel's eleven parts, each with a fun representative quote.   

BOOK ONE

Part One: Narasen and Death

"I am king of an empty kingdom.  But I will show you as much.  This you shall learn immediately: That you must remain with me a thousand mortal years.  I ask no more, and no less."

Narasen paled, and she was pale already.  But she said grimly:

"That is indeed some little while.  And what is it that you want me for, that a thousand years are required to satisfy you?"

Nerasen is queen of the city of Merh, a redheaded lesbian, a skilled fighter with a sword and a bold hunter of leopards, which she dispatches with a spear.  One day she meets the wizard Issak; Issak declares his intention to have sex with Nerasen, his determination to use his magic to rape her.  Issak may have not been such a bad guy as a youth, but the tuition he had to pay to the wizard who trained him in the sorcerous arts ruined him.  You see, the fee his master demanded was that the teen-aged Isaak serve as his catamite.  The master wizard, through pederastic intercourse, stole Issak's life force, extending his own longevity, and in return ejaculated into Issak his own evil, corrupting the youth, so that Issak today is driven by monstrous lusts.

Nerasen is resourceful and strong, and outwits and defeats Isaak.  As the would-be rapist lays dying, Nerasen's spear pinning him to the floor, Issak curses Nerasen.  The curses blight her kingdom of Merh--no crops grow, babies are born dead, a plague starts killing everybody, etc.  The court magicians read the signs and tell Nerasen that her own fertility represents that of her kingdom--the kingdom will be sterile until she herself brings forth a child.  Though she has no interest in having sex with men, she surrenders her body to the desires of hundreds of men of all social classes, but to no avail--the curse prevents her from conceiving.

Nerasen thinks she has found a loophole in the curse--if she has sex with a dead man, perhaps she will conceive.  Through the intermediary of Lylas, a 200-year old witch who appears as a fourteen year-old girl, Nerasen meets Death, whose secret name is Uhlume, and they strike a deal.  An effeminate teen-aged boy rises from his tomb to have sex with Nerasen; in return, after she dies, Nerasen's soul will not immediately proceed to the afterlife but be trapped in her dead body; her animated corpse will reside in the limbo that is the home of Death for 1,000 years to keep the lonely Lord of Death company.

Part Two: The Crying Child 

"Bless the gods, lady, for it is a son," a girl's voice cried.

Narasen whispered: "If it is a man, take it and throttle the thing."

"Tut," said the chief physician, "the girl is a dolt, majesty.  It is a female child."

Merh recovers from the blight.  Nerasen gives birth to a hermaphroditic child and is murdered moments later by the captain of the guard, Jornadesh, who makes himself king.  The unusual baby is interred in the tomb with Nerasen, from which Death snatches her.  Two demonesses with snakey hair hear the wailing of the baby and adopt it, naming it Simmu.  They raise it for a while, flying around the world with it, feeding it by placing it at the dugs of leopards and other beasts, but then their duties to superior demons call them away, so they leave the baby at a temple, where the child is taken in.  Lee ironically dwells on the hypocrisy of the priests, who take vows of poverty, modesty and humility but demand payment for their healing services, collect exorbitant tithes, devour magnificent feasts, and are treated like royalty wherever they go.  The temple only takes in healthy and handsome foundlings, and luckily Nerasen's child appears to qualify.  The child can conceal one if its sexes so as to appear to conform to the gender binary, and as all women are barred from entering the temple, whose priests have taken a vow of celibacy, so Nerasen's child, named Shell by the priests, takes on a masculine aspect, hiding its female genitalia.

Part Three: The Master of Night 

"You have sold out my life, you have killed what is good in me or might have been.  You foul and filthy one, you have dragged me into the slime.  I did not grieve that you deserted me after the act.  I did not grieve at the lies of men, neither at death.  But you, accursed and crawling thing, I do not know how you deceived me, but I know this--I will not have you near me."
In the desert, a nomad king's favorite wife gives birth to a child with skin and hair of different hue than anyone else in the band, leading to suspicion, envy, and hatred.  Fearing her son will be murdered, when the child is five, his mother consults a witch, who uses her magic to make the oddly complected child, named Zherim, almost invulnerable to physical harm and immune to aging.  The witch's fee: Zherim's mother's beautiful white teeth are magicked out of her mouth to replace the ancient witch's own brown and rotten choppers.  It is worth every molar, though, as when his envious half-brothers try to feed Zherim to the lions some years later, the great cats' claws and fangs are unable to penetrate the boy's skin.  Thinking Zherim possessed by a demon, his father the king hands him over to the priests where he becomes friends with Shell.  Shell, who is both man and woman, though his female side is hidden, falls in love with Zherim, and is jealous when Zherim, who turns out to be a skilled and generous healer, becomes popular with the common people and later when he is approached by a beautiful harlot.   

This part of the novel hits a lot of fetishes.  Shell voyeuristically observes a particularly corrupt and hypocritical priest (we know he is a villain because he is fat!) having sex with the prostitute, and then changes to female form to seduce Zherim.  The fat priest, the next day, frames Shell and Zherim for the murder of the harlot, whom fatso himself slew when she threatened to blackmail him for money.    

Shaken by his coupling with his friend, Zherim despairs of life and is willing to be executed, but Simmu/Shell uses her/his magical powers to rescue Zherim and achieve revenge on the fat priest.  (Simmu's powers involve being able to talk to and direct animals, and Lee does a creepy and fun job of portraying the animals' thought and personality.)  Zherim, still psychologically broken, and essentially invulnerable to death, flees Simmu and wanders the land, determined to enter the service of Azhrarn, prince of Demons.  Finally Simmu catches up to him in a secluded demon-haunted wood by a salt lake where cruel unicorns dance and duel; Zherim succumbs to Simmu's sexual desire again, and they try to summon Azhrarn--a figure arrives who may or may not be the Prince of Demons, but who certainly tells Zherim that Azhrarn has no need of a mortal servant.  In a meteor's crater Zherim's feverish efforts to kill himself summon Death, who cannot kill Zherim but can put him into a deep sleep.  Thinking her lover is dead, Simmu returns to male form and leaves this grim region.

Part Four: She Who Lingers

"Black cat," said Narasen, "go back and prowl in your crockery city, black cat.  You and your cousin Uhlume, you two Lords of Darkness, I spit on both of you."  And then, in her fury, Narasen smote Azhrarn across the mouth.

"Daughter," said Azhrarn, in the kindest of tones, "you have not been wise."

And indeed, she had not been.  For from her right hand with which she had smote him, the flesh scattered like blue petals, leaving only the bare skeleton behind. 

For sixteen years Jornadesh has been king of Merh.  He has become fat!  Below in the grey world of Death, the queen Jornadesh deposed, Narasen, mother of Shell, figures out how to get back to the surface to wreak her revenge.  She stalks Merh in her dead body, which, away from the plane of Death, starts to decay.  She summons the spirit of Issak (which arises in the form of a big worm from out of his bones) and with its help inflicts a plague on Merh.  The poison that slew Narasen was blue, and the flesh of her walking corpse is blue, and the plague Narasen inflicts on the plants, animals and people of Merh turns them blue as they die.

Meanwhile, Azhrarn toys with Simmu, helping the hermaphrodite forget Zherim and goading Simmu to go to Merh, of which he/she is rightful monarch.  When Nerasen encounters Simmu (he is safe from the plague thanks to the demon jewel he wears and the help of Azhrarn) she tries to murder her offspring, but Azhrarn neutralizes her, sends her back to the world of Death.

Part Five: Pomegranate 

Outside the mansion, the wild pomegranate trees whispered to each other nastily, and dropped their malignant fruit on the ground for their witch mistress to tread on in the morning.  If the trees remembered Narasen, they did not say.  But they discussed the moon and wished they could drag it down in their branches, for, being slaves trapped in soil, they resented the freedom of others.

In this brief chapter, Azhrarn takes Simmu to the mansion of Lylas, which sits among pomegranate trees, and we learn how Lylas became the Lord of Death Uhlume's chief handmaiden, as well as a secret Death wished to keep from Azhrarn--somewhere on the Flat Earth lies a well directly beneath a pool of immortality high above, where reside the gods.  Should elixir leak from the gods' pool to the well below, humans may have access to immortality, so knowledge of the well, has the potential to render Death obsolete! 

BOOK TWO

Part One: The Garden of Golden Daughters

Out of her fourteen-year-old mind burst fourteen-year-old fantasies and she made them real.

This part chronicles the history of Veshum, the desert town near the well of immortality.  Lylas, 200 years ago, an exuberant and imaginative 14-year-old, working in the service of Death, created monsters to guard the well, and forced the people of Veshum to build a wall around the valley of the well and to garrison it.  Indulging in the childish fantasies of a teenaged girl who never had a real childhood and has had so much transactional sex that her idea of paradise is to live in seclusion as a virgin among friendly animals and fellow virgin girls, Lylas used her magic to create an Eden in the monster-guarded valley and ordered the people of Veshum to send their nine prettiest thirteen-year-old virgins to the valley to serve the well for nine years; at the end of nine years a new crop of virgins would relieve the original.

This tradition endured for over 200 years, but today one of the new crop of virgins, Kassafeh, has an independent spirit and great perceptive power, her mother having kissed one of the angelic elementals who occupy the sky between the Flat Earth and the overworld of the gods before conceiving Kassafeh with her husband.  Again disrupting all our preconceptions about sex, Lee offers us in Kassafeh a character who has three biological parents and who bears genetic traits from all three of them.  Kassafeh's eyes can see through illusions, and she can tell that much of Lylas's paradise is a fraud, and so she is not thrilled to be imprisoned in the Eden of the valley of the well for nine years, unlike her eight companions, who are totally snookered.  (So wondrous is life in the valley for the gullible that many virgins commit suicide when their nine years of easy luxurious service are up, and the rest live in sadness, some marrying and being so dissatisfied with heterosexual life that they murder their husbands and any children they have given birth to.)

Simmu has conceived a hatred for Death, and at the urging of Azhrarn, who stole the location of the well from Lylas's mind and puts the hermaphrodite on the right path, Simmu makes the one-year journey to Veshum.  Committing fully to his male form, Simmu becomes a sterling specimen of masculinity--a hero on a quest who is an unbeatable fighting man (he may have no combat training, but he lived as a child among demonesses and animals and has amazing speed and reflexes.)  There is a very good magic/action sequence in which Lylas summons a monster from another world (an "afreet") and Simmu must fight it hand to hand and then resort to summoning Azhrarn to aid him--Lylas is hoist by her own petard and joins Nerasen and Uhlumme in the grey limbo world of Death.  Equally effective is the tale of how Simmu uses his arcane abilities--including the ability to change sex--to overcome the guardians of the valley and seduce the virgins.  Kassafeh falls in love with  Simmu and they destroy Lylas's paradise and drink from the Well of Immortality.

Part Two: Death's Enemies

And if he loved Kassafeh, and possibly it was not love he felt for her, it was because she too had something of his animalness, and certainly the beauty of an animal....Tanned, limpid-limbed in slumber, her hair a polish of sunlight raying from her exquisite, not-quite-human face, and he would see in her the gazelle, the lynx, the serpent--his own psychic menagerie.  More sister than wife.  But he was always eager to couple with her.  

Simmu and Kassafeh cross the desert, hundreds of miles, able to survive because they are immortal.  On the other side they meet the charlatan and rogue Yolsippa, a sort of comic relief character (he has a peculiar fetish--any woman or girl, or man or boy, who is cross-eyed excites in him a irrepressible lust); Yolsippa steals a drink from Simmu's jar and becomes the third immortal human.  Azhrarn enlists the cunning and unscrupulous Yolsippa to be the overseer of a strange project--the construction of a magnificent city of which Simmu will be king.  Through the use of sorcery and with the help of demons, Yolsippa kidnaps architects, craftsmen and slave laborers--and horny women to act as the builders' comfort girls--and they carve out of a remote stony region a beautiful city and it is named Simmurad.  Rumors of the city spread throughout the Flat Earth, and elite individuals come from far and wide to face tests--the few who pass the tests are given a drop of Immortality elixir and permitted to take up residence in the city.  Lord Death attacks Simmurad with plague and famine, but its inhabitants brush off these afflictions.  But can they so easily withstand the boredom, the sterility, of a life without risk?  Is immortality, as Uhlume tells Simmu, a "trap" that "crystallizes" not only "ambition" but a man's "very soul"?

Part Three: Zhirek, the Dark Magician

"I will not weep...because the sea people, whose eyes are ever full of the salt sea, have no tears of their own to shed."

"Zhirek" is the name taken by Zhirem after he wakes up in the valley of the crater and has a series of wild and crazy adventures on land and under the sea, during which adventures he, who was once generous and kind, becomes aloof and cruel.  In a city far beneath the waves, the princess of a callous and cruel race falls in love with Zhirem, and teaches him the sorcery of her people--Zhirem learns not only puissant magic, but to be even crueler than his teachers.  Lee's depiction of the perverse and decadent undersea civilization, and the relationship of Zhirem and the princess, is first rate tragic dark fantasy, the vivid images, sad reflections, and powerful poetic passages coming one after another.  A highpoint of the novel.    

Part Four: In Simmurad

"It is this man, this Zhirek, who has put such doubt, such horror in my heart that I could not any longer blind myself.  Our lives are worthless.  We are like birds that cannot fly, like roads that lead nowhere, save into some desert."

Zhirek, now a lieutenant of the Lord Death Uhlume, makes his way to Simmurad for a reunion with Simmu.  Zhirek has powerful memories of Simmu and seeks a terrible revenge on him/her, but Simmu's memories of Zhirem have all been erased by Azhrarn.  Kassafeh and Simmu's relationship has cooled, immortality having sapped their passion, and Kassafeh aggressively pursues Zhirek, generating a sort of love triangle based not on lust or affection, but instead resentment.  Zhirek's presence opens Simmu's eyes to the terrible reality that immortality is a curse, and he destroys the elixir so no additional immortals may be created.  Zhirek, employing the ocean magic he learned under the sea, then engineers the destruction of Simmurad: the immortals are paralyzed, the ocean rises to cover the city, and the immortals are encased in coral, forced to endure sensory deprivation for eternity.  (This was all foreshadowed in Book Two, Part Three.)  Zhirek carries the paralyzed Simmu off to torture him; Kassafeh, thanks to her partly angelic blood, is rescued by the sky elementals, and the wily Yolsippa is as well, even though the beautiful elementals are disgusted by his fat body.

Part Five: Burning

"Your terror and your agony will dwell with me through all the years which are to come.  I shall run form this spot.  I will seal my ears against the memory of your cries, I will writhe and sweat in horror at what I have done to you.  So I shall live."

Zhirek inflicts upon Simmu a terrible revenge which cleverly recalls Zhirem's ordeal back in Book One, Part Three.  Simmu burns in an eldritch fire for nine years and is reduced to mere cinders, but those cinders live!  Azhrarn has lesser demons smith a sort of mechanical body, and the cinders are put into the humanoid machine; Azharn brings this mechanical Simmu to true life by having sex with it!  His memory of his life as a hermaphroditic mortal totally expunged, Simmu lives on as a demon, forever, doing the things demons do, namely, going up to the Flat Earth at night to torment people.

Zhirek, also more or less immortal, becomes a hermit who sits still in a desert cave for many decades, sometimes weeping when his memories of Simmu are triggered.

Epilogue: The Traveling House

"Lord Death had taken a wife--a fright, she was, poison-blue with yellow sparks for eyes, and her right hand was a bone.  The denizens of Innerearth cast themselves flat in squeamish homage before this horror, and she, proud over-bearing bitch, trampled on their backs."

In the Epilogue we learn the fate of a bunch of secondary and minor characters.  The sky elementals tired of Kassafeh and Yolsippa and dropped them back on the Flat Earth.  Nerasen has made herself Queen Death, a nagging wife to Lord Uhlume, interfering with his business and setting about refurbishing the grey limbo that is the world of death, building herself a huge palace, planting flowers, etc.  (Here we see Nerasen, initially a rebel against all stereotypes of the female, now embodying one of them, that of the domineering wife.)  Lylas, once Death's representative on Earth, is now Queen Nerasen's handmaiden.

To escape this irritating domestic situation, Uhlume stalks the Flat Earth.  Kassafeh and Uhlume, the last two immortal humans, convince Death to take then on as his intermediaries; Kassafeh fills the role Lylas once played, and Yolsippa is her assistant, driving the black elephants that pull Kassafeh the witch's weird mansion on wheels, a house which travels from town to town and in which she deals with those petitioners bold and desperate enough to seek a boon from the Lord of Death, as Nerasen did so long ago.