Dr Hermes
2004-07-27 23:20:17 UTC
From the April 1950 issue of THRILLING WONDER STORIES, this is James
Blish's try at giving a rational explanation for werewolves. Some of his
ideas about how the phenomenon would work are fascinating and convincing
enough as you`re reading them. The story itself is very well-crafted,
with lots of suspense and surprises. Looking over this review, it seems
to be more critical than usual. Although I ended up dwelling on what I
didn`t like, I would like to emphasise that if you like a nice taut
little horror story, this is worth tracking down and
and reading.
What gave me the most hindrance with this tale was Blish`s habit of
throwing in obscure words without explanation. Now, I think I have a
reasonable vocabulary, having been an obsessive reader all my life.
Given a context, I can usually make a good enough guess at what an
unfamiliar word is to keep rolling with the narrative.
But within this short novella, Blish hits us with a merciless barrage:
armamentarium, flocculated, radiogens, epiphanised, anaphylaxis,
etiology, mercaptan, psychopomps, embrasures, fumarole, dyne, tetanic
silence. With a textbook, these interruptions are not fatal. You can
mark your place, look up the word and then resume. With a horror story,
though, every time I paused and thought, "flocculated... speckled?
Scattered? Something like that," and picked up the train of thought
again, a little bit of momentum and mood had been lost.
Although this practice weakens the effect of the story, "There Shall Be
No Darkness" is strong enough to still be enjoyable reading. We have a
dozen snooty types, mostly of a rather brittle and unlikeable nature,
socializing at a castle deep in Scotland. They are being entertained by
a world class pianist with a shady reputation. Jan Jarmoskowski is a
textbook example of every single trait which gives a werewolf away, from
the long index finger and hair on the palms, to the noticeable canines
and the eyebrows which meet in the middle. He also has made a fuss about
the silver tableware and the dogs hate him on sight.
Exposed early on, Jarmoskowski transforms into a huge black wolf, trots
outside and begins the stalking of the partygoers. Time to start
rounding up any silver in the castle and melting it down...
Although most of the story is told centering on Paul Foote, a rather
unpleasant artist with a hobby of eavesdropping, the most intriguing
character is Christian Lundgren. A wiry, craggy man with gray hair,
Lundgren is described as a psychiatrist who is "the world`s ultimate
authority on hormone-created insanity." It`s Lundgren who explains how
werewolves function. Seabury Quinn wrote some stories years earlier
about a ghostbusting psychiatrist (similar to his better known creation,
Jules de Grandin) named Chris Lundgren ("The Phantom Farmhouse."). If
Blish was borrowing Quinn`s character as a homage, it`s not particularly
respectful to have the poor old fellow killed and partially eaten by the
monster. Of every one in the castle, Lundgren should have set up the
most reliable defenses.
The story has enough tension and surprises to make it entertaining even
if it were simply presented as a straightforward fantasy tale, but James
Blish adds another element. He provides a rational explanation for all
the supernatural effects. Werewolfism turns out to be a disease of the
pineal gland (so that`s what that gland is for! I always thought it had
something to do with the Third Eye!). Sufferers change shape because
"...Protoplasm is a liqud. The pineal hormone lowers the surface tension
of the cells; and at the same time, it short-circuits the sympathetic
nervous system directly through the cerebral cortex, by increasing the
efficiency of the cerebrospinal fluid as an electrolyte beyond the
limits in which it`s supposed to function..."
Although Blish specifically says vampires are a myth, as the hyperpineal
victims only think they are taking bat shape (wolves and apes are okay,
but changing into bats is just going too far), he also calls werewolves
"nosferatu - the undead"
The attacks can be triggered by pollen from the monkshood family of
plants (which includes wolfbane, although Blish surprisingly gets the
Curt Siodmak poem from the Wolfman movies wrong). Werewolves have an
allergic reaction to garlic and rosemary, which makes it hard for them
to keep the animal shape.
Actually, I found the part of the story which most stretched credibility
had nothing to do with the monster. One of the characters makes a phone
call to a company called "Consolidated Warfare" and the next day a jet
lands outside the castle (in the wilds of Scotland), delivers crates
full of automatic rifles and silver bullets, and then nonchalantly takes
off again. That`s convenient, and it`s all covered by the host writing a
check for one thousand dollars even.
Adding to the mix is a novice witch whose budding powers could either be
the means to destroy the beast or (if she succumbs to the dark side and
joins him) could make an unstoppable team. As it turns out, she leads to
a final ambiguous scene after the big dramatic finale which, frankly, I
can`t quite figure out. It really seems to weaken the natural resolution
of the story.
There is a wonderful moment which has always haunted me since I first
read this tale as a kid many years ago. Jarmoskowski says, "Go into a
great railroad station some day... Waterloo, or a Metro station, or
Grand Central in New York; get up above the crowd on a balcony or
stairway and look down at it in a mirror. We do not show in a silvered
mirror." I`ve been in Grand Central Station a number of times but never
happened to have a silver-backed mirror with me. Maybe it`s just as
well.
http://community.webtv.net/drhermes/ForbiddenKnowledge
Blish's try at giving a rational explanation for werewolves. Some of his
ideas about how the phenomenon would work are fascinating and convincing
enough as you`re reading them. The story itself is very well-crafted,
with lots of suspense and surprises. Looking over this review, it seems
to be more critical than usual. Although I ended up dwelling on what I
didn`t like, I would like to emphasise that if you like a nice taut
little horror story, this is worth tracking down and
and reading.
What gave me the most hindrance with this tale was Blish`s habit of
throwing in obscure words without explanation. Now, I think I have a
reasonable vocabulary, having been an obsessive reader all my life.
Given a context, I can usually make a good enough guess at what an
unfamiliar word is to keep rolling with the narrative.
But within this short novella, Blish hits us with a merciless barrage:
armamentarium, flocculated, radiogens, epiphanised, anaphylaxis,
etiology, mercaptan, psychopomps, embrasures, fumarole, dyne, tetanic
silence. With a textbook, these interruptions are not fatal. You can
mark your place, look up the word and then resume. With a horror story,
though, every time I paused and thought, "flocculated... speckled?
Scattered? Something like that," and picked up the train of thought
again, a little bit of momentum and mood had been lost.
Although this practice weakens the effect of the story, "There Shall Be
No Darkness" is strong enough to still be enjoyable reading. We have a
dozen snooty types, mostly of a rather brittle and unlikeable nature,
socializing at a castle deep in Scotland. They are being entertained by
a world class pianist with a shady reputation. Jan Jarmoskowski is a
textbook example of every single trait which gives a werewolf away, from
the long index finger and hair on the palms, to the noticeable canines
and the eyebrows which meet in the middle. He also has made a fuss about
the silver tableware and the dogs hate him on sight.
Exposed early on, Jarmoskowski transforms into a huge black wolf, trots
outside and begins the stalking of the partygoers. Time to start
rounding up any silver in the castle and melting it down...
Although most of the story is told centering on Paul Foote, a rather
unpleasant artist with a hobby of eavesdropping, the most intriguing
character is Christian Lundgren. A wiry, craggy man with gray hair,
Lundgren is described as a psychiatrist who is "the world`s ultimate
authority on hormone-created insanity." It`s Lundgren who explains how
werewolves function. Seabury Quinn wrote some stories years earlier
about a ghostbusting psychiatrist (similar to his better known creation,
Jules de Grandin) named Chris Lundgren ("The Phantom Farmhouse."). If
Blish was borrowing Quinn`s character as a homage, it`s not particularly
respectful to have the poor old fellow killed and partially eaten by the
monster. Of every one in the castle, Lundgren should have set up the
most reliable defenses.
The story has enough tension and surprises to make it entertaining even
if it were simply presented as a straightforward fantasy tale, but James
Blish adds another element. He provides a rational explanation for all
the supernatural effects. Werewolfism turns out to be a disease of the
pineal gland (so that`s what that gland is for! I always thought it had
something to do with the Third Eye!). Sufferers change shape because
"...Protoplasm is a liqud. The pineal hormone lowers the surface tension
of the cells; and at the same time, it short-circuits the sympathetic
nervous system directly through the cerebral cortex, by increasing the
efficiency of the cerebrospinal fluid as an electrolyte beyond the
limits in which it`s supposed to function..."
Although Blish specifically says vampires are a myth, as the hyperpineal
victims only think they are taking bat shape (wolves and apes are okay,
but changing into bats is just going too far), he also calls werewolves
"nosferatu - the undead"
The attacks can be triggered by pollen from the monkshood family of
plants (which includes wolfbane, although Blish surprisingly gets the
Curt Siodmak poem from the Wolfman movies wrong). Werewolves have an
allergic reaction to garlic and rosemary, which makes it hard for them
to keep the animal shape.
Actually, I found the part of the story which most stretched credibility
had nothing to do with the monster. One of the characters makes a phone
call to a company called "Consolidated Warfare" and the next day a jet
lands outside the castle (in the wilds of Scotland), delivers crates
full of automatic rifles and silver bullets, and then nonchalantly takes
off again. That`s convenient, and it`s all covered by the host writing a
check for one thousand dollars even.
Adding to the mix is a novice witch whose budding powers could either be
the means to destroy the beast or (if she succumbs to the dark side and
joins him) could make an unstoppable team. As it turns out, she leads to
a final ambiguous scene after the big dramatic finale which, frankly, I
can`t quite figure out. It really seems to weaken the natural resolution
of the story.
There is a wonderful moment which has always haunted me since I first
read this tale as a kid many years ago. Jarmoskowski says, "Go into a
great railroad station some day... Waterloo, or a Metro station, or
Grand Central in New York; get up above the crowd on a balcony or
stairway and look down at it in a mirror. We do not show in a silvered
mirror." I`ve been in Grand Central Station a number of times but never
happened to have a silver-backed mirror with me. Maybe it`s just as
well.
http://community.webtv.net/drhermes/ForbiddenKnowledge