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Wednesday, September 27, 2023

Review: Random relevancies in two stories by Beagle and Lovecraft

Yesterday, I happened to hear two podcasts in immediate succession that had some unexpected congruencies. The first was LeVar Burton Reads' rendition of "Mr. McCaslin" by Peter S. Beagle. The second was The Drabblecast's version of "Cool Air" by H.P. Lovecraft. These stories have no relation to each other, yet it turned out that their coincidental pairing drew some interesting highlights. I'm going to give plot summaries for them both, so if you've never read them and want to avoid spoilers, please listen to them first.

I'd never read "Mr. McCaslin," but I'm a longtime fan of Beagle, from his classic fantasy "The Last Unicorn" to other books including "A Fine and Private Place" and "The Innkeeper's Song," to short stories like "Underbridge," about a wandering adjunct professor who has an unusual encounter. Many of his stories involve people in modern times encountering elements of the fantastical. Some of his early stories are a bit callow, like "Lila the Werewolf," but many are richly deep and moving.

In "Mr. McCaslin," some boys in New York City help their cranky old neighbor fend off death, or at least his family's traditional messenger of death, for a few days during a hot summer so that he can get one final task done. The Black Dog is a monstrous creature in Irish legend, but here the Black Terrier is not too terrifying, although unnaturally cold; the boys are actually able to catch it and confine it in their apartments until it eventually escapes and carries out its psychopompic role. Afterward, the narrator grows into a man, and occasionally thinks he hears the terrier's claws clicking nearby, although he's not too bothered by it.

As for "Cool Air," I had read it before, along with many other Lovecraft stories. I think all of his works are nominally set in the real, modern world (well, modern in the 1920s and '30s), although there are eerie and horrific things happening. But since he loved archaica and history, and many of his stories contained references to shadows from the past, along with his blatantly racist and classist attitudes, they tend to feel even older. (For a modern sequel to this story, from the perspective of the Mexican landlady's family, you may want to listen to Pseudopod's reading of "Bitter Perfume" by Laura Blackwell.)

"Cool Air" is actually one of his most modern-feeling stories, as one of its most prominent features is the futuristic (for the 1920s) air conditioner that keeps a New York City brownstone apartment cold during a heat wave. The narrator, who lives in the apartment below, is annoyed by an ammonia leak from upstairs, but later has a heart attack and is helped by that upstairs neighbor, Dr. Muñoz. When the doctor's air conditioner breaks, the narrator tries hard to get it repaired, but is too late; he makes the horrifying discovery that his neighbor had died years ago and had been keeping his apartment cool to keep himself from decaying. Afterward, any "draught of cool air" leaves the narrator shuddering with horror.

So, each story is set in New York City during a heat wave, each one is narrated by a helpful (or would-be helpful) neighbor, and each one involves someone trying to delay death (or its results). However, the tone of each is very different.

In "Mr. McCaslin," the boys are friends and part of a vibrant community. Their neighbor may be a cranky old guy, but he's THEIR cranky old guy. The boys work together to fulfill their pledge to help him for a few days, so he's able to write a letter to his daughter (it takes him a long time because he's not used to writing to her, but he needs to tell her something), and then finally to let the Black Terrier in, and be at peace when he dies. Despite being about death, the story is actually fairly lighthearted and hopeful.

In "Cool Air," the narrator, a writer, is isolated and rather contemptuous of most of the immigrant residents of his building, and he and Dr. Muñoz are drawn together partly because they feel superior to their fellows. Although the doctor has harmed nobody, and helped many before he deteriorated too much, the other neighbors and workers who come to the apartment become so terrified or disgusted that they refuse to help (and won't even deliver ice), so the doctor's end is lonely and awfully pathetic. (His long fight against death is apparently for no other reason than that he doesn't want to die, which is reasonable but not exactly altruistic.) The writer's lingering horror implies that he's sorry he ever got involved, or at least that he's sorry he found out the truth.

According to "The Cool Air" narrator, "the abnormal always excites aversion, distrust and fear." This may be sadly true of much of humanity, and certainly of Lovecraft. However, I much prefer Beagle's vision of people who take an oddity like a supernatural death dog in stride and focus on the task of being good neighbors, with no regrets. 

I was pleased to hear during LeVar Burton Reads' podcast that Beagle will have a new book coming out in 2024. I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons is about someone who hates the exterminating job that he inherited, and finds himself dragged into royal complications. It was originally supposed to be published in 2008 or so, but that publication deal fell through; now it's getting a new chance. Good luck to it and to Beagle!

Tuesday, September 5, 2023

Review: The Hopkins Manuscript, by R.C. Sherriff

I spotted The Hopkins Manuscript on the New Books shelves at my local library. This is actually a 2023 trade paperback version of a 1939 novel. I'd never heard of the author, R.C. Sheriff, or The Fortnight in September, the other book of his that's mentioned on the cover, or other books by him. However, he worked on scripts for a bunch of movies I've seen and found pretty interesting: The Dam Busters, No Highway, That Hamilton Woman, The Four Feathers, The Invisible Man, and Goodbye, Mr. Chips, among others. 

I didn't know that when I checked it out, and I don't know why the book has been republished now (although, having read it, I certainly can see some relevancies to current times in governments' behavior and citizens' reactions), but I thought the description on the inside front cover looked interesting: Edgar Hopkins, a retired math teacher and member of the British Lunar Society, learns that the moon is on a collision course with the Earth. He's sworn to secrecy, but eventually the truth can no longer be denied.

Cover of The Hopkins Manuscript, by R.C. Sherriff, shows a large yellow moon looming over a town in the English countryside.

I always find these conspiracies of silence a bit maddening, whether they're in books or on TV, about looming environmental/astronomical catastrophes, alien invasions, or whatever. Various governments in the book take some proactive measures, such as digging shelters (but saying they're against bombs, for the next world war), but they don't want to people to panic or have their lives spoiled. 

A little more than half the book is devoted to the lead-up to the event. Everything is filtered through Hopkins' eyes, as he goes to meetings, reads reports, and tries to influence events, while breeding chickens and winning shows. As it turns out, he has little effect on what happens.  He thinks a lot of himself, but other people don't see him as much of a leader. He's really rather narrow in his viewpoint, snobbish and classist, although he means well. He proudly keeps the secret and merely drops some advice that is ignored, since nobody knows he has inside knowledge. 

Once the looming, reddened moon is apparent to the naked eye, Hopkins' neighbors fall into three basic groups:  Those who think it's all just a scare and won't affect England at all, those who think the moon will graze the Earth but not cause much damage, and those who think the end is nigh. Some people quit their jobs and run wild, but many Keep Calm and Carry On (so to speak; that didn't actually become a slogan until the real-life World War II, and actually the saying wasn't really popularized until the 21st century), or join the digging projects and other preparations.

As it turns out, England is not destroyed by the moon, although there are great changes in the world. This is not a spoiler, since the opening frame in the "foreword" of the book is that Hopkins' manuscript recounting the lead-up, the event and its aftermath has been discovered by a scientist from a subsequent civilization, long after Hopkins' final days, sealed in a thermos and hidden in a wall.

After the event, much of the second half of the book is taken up with recovery and rebuilding efforts. Hopkins, who has always been a solitary man, builds a small community. However, although people work together at first, the world once more slides toward war, in a seemingly inevitable competition for resources and access, with tensions stoked by politicians to gain power, or simply out of fear and pride.

There's actually a lot of wry humor in this book, comparing Hopkins' views and expectations with what actually happens. There are moments of quiet heroism. Relationships range from condescension to mild hostility to respect to quietly affectionate caring. However, the end is certainly a bit depressing, even though given some of the events of the last decade, it does not seem at all unrealistic. Sherriff, of course, would have seen the rising tensions of his own time, as World War II began in Europe the year this was originally published.

The Hopkins Manuscript fits the "cozy catastrophe" label for the most part; indeed, I've seen it listed as an influence on John Wyndham's later "cozy catastrophes" such as The Day of the Triffids. Although events affect the world, the narrative is tightly focused on one man's point of view; moreover, although things go badly for many mostly unnamed people, humanity does survive.

I can't recommend this book for everybody. If you're interested in period pieces between World War I and World War II (with a somewhat ironical flavor of classism), if you're interested in disaster fiction, if you're interested in the genre history of science fiction, you may want to give this a try. It's definitely well written; it's just a very particular flavor. Many people will find it dreadfully slow. But I enjoyed it.

Content Warnings: Offscreen deaths, classism, insularity.

Comparisons: John Wyndham's The Kraken Wakes, Arthur Conan Doyle's The Poison Belt.

Disclaimers: None.

 

UPDATE 9/18/23: I really enjoyed the conversation about this book at https://www.sffaudio.com/the-sffaudio-podcast-752-readalong-the-hopkins-manuscript-by-r-c-sherriff/, by Jesse, Paul Weimer, Bryan Alexander, and Terence Blake, except for about 10 minutes of anti-vax diatribing by the host, about 2.5 hours or so into the podcast, after the main discussion had finished and they were digressing.