Theodore Sturgeon: "It," a short story

Theodore Sturgeon:  "It"

As I began reading, I found myself doing something strange:  I was pausing more often than I usually do when reading prose.  The more I looked at it, the more it struck me as poetry: a poem about the birth of a monster.  These are the first two paragraphs of the story, as I saw them.  Below I have added the same two paragraphs as printed in the version I have.

It walked in the woods.

It was never born.
                            It existed.

Under the pine needles
                            the fires burn,
                            deep and smokeless in the mold.

In heat and darkness and decay
                            there is growth.

There is life
                            and there is growth.

It grew,
            but it was not alive.

It walked unbreathing 
                             through the woods.
                                   and  thought and saw 
                                   and was hideous and strong
                                   and it was not born
                                   and it did not live.

It grew
              and moved about 
                                 without living.


It crawled out of the darkness
                          and hot damp mold
                                  into the cool of a morning.
It was huge.

It was lumped  and crusted
                         with its own hateful substances,
                         and pieces of it dropped off
                         as it went its way,
                                      dropped off and lay writhing
                                      and stilled, and sank putrescent

into the forest loam.                    
                                      
-      -     -     -     -     -   

Now, the prose version as Theodore Sturgeon wrote it:

It walked in the woods.

It was never born.  It existed.  Under the pine needles the fires burn, deep and smokeless in the mold. In heat and darkness and decay there is growth.  There is life and there is growth. It grew, but it was not alive.  It walked unbreathing through the woods. and  thought and saw and was hideous and strong and it was not born and it did not live.  It grew and moved about without living.


It crawled out of the darkness and hot damp mold into the cool of a morning.  It was huge.  It was lumped  and crusted  with its own hateful substances, and pieces of it dropped off as it went its way, dropped off and lay writhing and stilled, and sank putrescent into the forest loam.                     




What do you think?   Is there a difference, aside from structure of course, between the two formats?  What is that difference, if any?                        


Several commentators have remarked on possible sources for "It," one being Frankenstein's monster, in which there is a scene similar to one in Sturgeon's tale and the other being a golem.   I think there might be a third source:  Genesis.


"7.  And the LORD GOD formed man of the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul."

.     .     .     .     .

21.  And the LORD GOD caused a deep sleep to fall upon Adam, and he slept:  and he took one of his ribs, and closed up the flesh instead thereof;

22  And the rib, which the LORD GOD had taken from the man, made he a woman, and brought her to the man."

Genesis 2: 7, 21-22
Authorized King James Version


In Genesis, all the LORD required was a rib, whereas Sturgeon's creation of clay needed a complete skeleton.

The monster is a strange one, innocent and naive.  In its innocence it is destructive, but it is neither deliberately evil nor cruel; it is not immoral, but amoral.  It has no sense of right and wrong.  And this, not so much its shape or appearance, is what makes it a monster.






SPOILER





As usual, Sturgeon provides a little surprise, an unexpected turn to the tale.  And, in this story, it's the demise of the monster.  What would be expected is a climactic struggle, with the monster resisting to the very end, perhaps even killing one or two more in its death throes.  But Sturgeon goes a different route with a very different end for his monster.   First is the "poetic" format, and at the end, the prose format of Sturgeon




The monster
             lay in the water.
It neither liked
                        nor
                               disliked this new element.
It rested on the bottom,
                     its massive head 
                               a foot beneath the surface,
                                       and it curiously considered the facts
                                                                           that it had garnered.
There was the little humming noise of Babe's voice
                                               that sent the monster questing
                                                                                       into the cave.
There was the black material
                                    of the brief case
                                               that resisted so much more
                                                      than green things when he tore it.
There was the little two-legged one
                        who sang and brought him near,
                                         and who screamed when he came.
There was this new cold moving thing
                                            he had fallen into.
It was washing his body away.
                       That had never happened before.
                                                               That was interesting.
The monster decided
                                to stay
                                       and observe this new thing.
It felt no urge to save itself;
                             it could only be curious.



The brook came laughing
                      down out of its spring,
                              ran down from its source
                                      beckoning to the sunbeams
                                               and embracing freshets and
                                                                        helpful brooklets.
It shouted and played
                         with streaming little roots,
                                  and nudged the minnows
                                                and pollywogs about
                                                              in its tiny backwaters.
It was a happy brook.
                     When it came to the pool
                                    by the cloven rock
                                                it found the monster there,
                                                                             and plucked at it.
It soaked the foul substances
                   and smoothed and melted the molds,
                                       and the water below the thing
                                              eddied darkly with its diluted matter.
It was a thorough brook.
                       It washed all it touched,
                                                        persistently.
Where it found filth,
                   it removed filth;
                            and if there were layer on layer of foulness,
                                              then layer by foul layer it was removed.
It was a good brook.
                   It did not mind
                             the poison of the monster,
                                                    but took it up
                                                            and thinned it and spread it
                                                      in little rings
                                                              round rocks downstream,
                                                                                    and let it drift
                                                      to the rootlets
                                                                   of water plants,
                                                                           that they might grow
greener
     and lovelier.

And the monster melted.

The monster lay in the water.  It neither liked nor disliked this new element.  It rested on the bottom, its massive head a foot beneath the surface, and it curiously considered the facts that it had garnered.  There was the little humming noise of Babe's voice that sent the monster questing into the cave.  There was the black material of the brief case that resisted so much more than green things when he tore it.  There was the little two-legged one who sang and  brought him near, and who screamed when he came.  There was this new cold moving thing he had fallen into.  It was washing his body away.  That had never happened before.  That was interesting.  The monster decided to stay and observe this new thing.  It felt no urge to save itself;  it could only be curious.

The brook came laughing down out of its spring, ran down from its source beckoning to the sunbeams and embracing freshets and helpful brooklets.  It shouted and played with streaming little roots, and nudged the minnows and pollywogs about in its tiny backwaters.  It was a happy brook.  When it came to the pool by the cloven rock it found the monster there, and plucked at it.  It soaked the foul substances and smoothed and melted the molds, and the water below the thing eddied darkly with its diluted matter.  It was a thorough brook.  It washed all it touched, persistently.  Where it found filth, it removed filth; and if there were layer on layer of foulness, then layer by foul layer it was removed.  It was a good brook.  It did not mind the poison of  the monster, but took it up and thinned it and spread it in little rings round rocks downstream, and let it drift to the rootlets of water plants, that they might grow greener and lovelier.  And the monster melted.
 

There is a little more after this, but I will leave that for you to discover, if you so choose to read this charming little horror tale.

Michael Shea: Nifft the Lean, Pt. 2

See previous post for introduction and discussion of the First Adventure.

Warning: I will discuss significant events and endings.


Second Adventure:

"The Pearls of the Vampire Queen"

In his usual pedantic and fussy manner, Shag Margold tells us that this tale came to him from Ellen Errin (also known as Greymalkin Mary), Nifft's long time friend and lover. At the end of the introduction, Margold poses an ethical question that has long bothered him: is the rule of the Vulvula, the Vampire Queen worse than that of the Hipparch, the cruel ruler of Gelidor, whose main export is weapons of war, and who is also suspected of fomenting conflicts. Or, to put it Margold's words: "Who drinks more blood--the Hipparch or Queen Vulvula?"

Briefly, Nifft and Barnar are broke. They decide to improve their financial status by favoring the country of Fregor Ingens with a visit. Fregor Ingens is the only known source of the rare black pearls, much favored by the rich and powerful, and they decide to do a little free-lance pearl diving of their own. The pearl trade, of course, is strictly controlled by the government, so their first concern is to avoid being spotted. Diving for the pearls is usually handled by a team of three people. Two are needed to grab the tentacles of the plant (it's a flesh-eater, naturally), and third to grab pearls. However, two can do it if one is extremely strong (Barnar) and one extremely fast and nimble (Nifft). The thought of hiring on as legitimate pearl divers never occurs to Nifft and Barnar.

The work is hard and dangerous, and their hoard grows slowly. On learning of the festival that's being held in the capital city, Nifft decides that there's an easier way of becoming rich, although it's even more dangerous. The festival is the annual festival of renewal for the Queen. For one year, a young male is given all that he desired. Whatever he wanted, he was given. At the end of his year's "reign," the Queen would drain him of all of his blood. This will restore her strength and her youth and allow her to live another year, slowly aging, until the next festival.

This is reminiscent of certain spring festivals held many centuries ago here on Earth in which certain individuals were treated "royally" for a specified length of time, frequently a year, and then sacrificed to the gods to ensure a good harvest. It's also a reminder of the old tradition that the ruler was identified with the land and the land with the ruler. A healthy ruler insured a healthy land. In the Arthurian Quest for the Holy Grail, Percival encounters a wounded king whose affliction mirrors his kingdom, which has been described in some accounts as the Wasteland.

There was a condition though: she needed to drain every last drop of his blood, or the restoration would not be complete. At the next festival, therefore, she would again be restored, but she would have aged a bit that corresponded to the amount of his blood that she didn't consume. Nifft's plan was simple: steal a cup of blood and hold it for ransom.

It all works out as planned, except for one minor detail. They decide to make their escape on the back of a basilicus, a flying beast that is too stupid to be considered a true demon, but it is controllable. It was commonly thought to be the fastest flying critter on the planet, but Nifft and Barnar soon discovered "that there is something faster than a basilicus." They never learned its name, but its description sounded like a gigantic praying mantis to me. While it cost them part of the ransom, this turned out to be a highly successful trip.


Third Adventure:

"The Fishing of the Demon-Sea"

According to Shag Morgold, this tale is told by Nifft himself, in his own hand. Margold provides the reader with a brief history of Kairnheim, the location of this adventure.

Nifft and Barnar have arrived in Kine Gather, a city in Karnheim, with thoughts of improving their financial status. Before they get a chance to do much more than look over the town, they are arrested and found guilty of thievery when "evidence" is found that proves they have committed at least one theft. Seconds before they are to be executed, a herald bursts onto the scene ordering them to halt the execution. Nifft immediately recognizes the situation. They were set up in order to persuade them to undertake a perilous task, one so dangerous that only those facing imminent death would agree to it.

The son of one of the most powerful men in Kine Gather has been kidnapped by a demon. Actually it's his fault. He's a perfect example of the oft-quoted line--"a little learning is a dangerous thing"--especially when accompanied by stupidity and an irrational belief in one's superior powers and in one's immortality. Such is Wimfort, the son of Rod-Master Kamin. Unfortunately, he managed to correctly perform a summoning spell for demons, but, even more unfortunately, he didn't do as well with the spell of protection. Wimfort summoned the demon, who promptly grabbed him and returned home, to the Demon-Sea.

Nifft and Barnar's task is easy: go down to the Demon-Sea and rescue the Rod-Master's son. To prevent them from just taking off for parts unknown when given the chance, a magic spell is placed on them that causes pain even when only thinking of doing anything but rescuing the Rod-Master's pride and joy.

After numerous painful and bloody encounters they finally manage to rescue Kamin's P and J. Wimfort's gratitude is overwhelming:

" 'My father sent you . . .' echoed the boy. I [Nifft] was getting alarmed--his stare was so wide. 'Three months here!' he groaned. 'Three months. And my father sent you. He waited two months, and then sent a pair of baboons on foot who took another two months to get here!' His voice was rising to a howl as uncontrolled as his arithmetic was getting. "A good wizard could have had me out in a day! That dung-heap! That greedy, stingy dung-heap! THREE MONTHS!'"

The trip back was worse than the trip there. In addition to the other dangers, they now had to protect Wimfort who seemed determined to kill himself and his rescuers. It wasn't long before I decided that he should have been left there as he provides strong evidence in support of Robert A. Heinlein's theory of child raising. According to RAH, the child, after birth, should be placed in a barrel and fed through the bunghole. Once it reaches puberty, close the bunghole.




Fourth and Final Adventure:

"The Goddess in Glass"

This tale is quite different from the first three. Nifft appears to be a bystander, although he has worked himself into becoming a member of the priestess's inner circle of advisers. What he does behind the scenes, if anything, can only be guessed at.

Shag Margold had asked Nifft if he would stop at Anvil Pastures, a city whose main export is weaponry, to get some information about its chief religious cult. The divinity appears to be dead, but it is known to somehow transmit information to its priestess or oracle. Margold is doing a treatise on this cult and lacks certain information.

Nifft agrees and travels to Anvil Pastures, which he finds in turmoil. Months ago, the goddess/ alien? who may be dead or hibernating, asked, through the priestess/oracle, Dame Lybis, that the town gather up a herd of certain animals which had recently emerged from underground and bring them to the vicinity of the town. As Nifft soon learns, the town generally responds to such requests only if there's a profit to be made. As this would be expensive and unprofitable, the town's leaders ignored the request.

Shortly afterwards, the goddess provided information about a source of ore for weapons that was unknown to the town at this time. This time the leaders listened, and the ore was found to be a superior material for weapons. Prosperity was at hand. Months later, however, mining of the nearby mountain range had caused a shifting of large quantities of rock, much of which was now poised to come crashing down on the town. An appeal to the goddess produced a solution: bring the herd of animals from its present location to the town, as it had requested months ago.

The townspeople did and then went to the goddess. The oracle brought the following message: the goddess was pleased, but now a new problem had occurred, for which the goddess had a solution. The townspeople had no choice but to comply. This pattern repeats--as each problem is solved, a new one appears. At one point, the herd of animals that the goddess wanted brought to the vicinity became a threat to the town. They were lithovores--rock eaters--and were working their way towards town. The goddess suggested that all the gold in town be melted down into sheets and placed against a ridge that was between the lithovores and the town. Lithovores didn't eat gold. Hmmmm...

Frankly this sounds a lot like a scam to me, especially since Nifft is now one of Dame Lybis' advisors, or perhaps there's a closer, more intimate relationship?

The resolution soon becomes obvious: the townspeople are going to be punished for their sins. Of course, it isn't clear as to which sins in particular they are being punished for, but their punishment is inevitable.

I had read this book many years ago, so long ago I can't remember why, for I normally don't read this type. However, it stayed with me, and I decided to read it again. It was only during the second reading that I began to see just what Shea has worked into his stories. And, I suspect I've picked up only a few of the echoes of literature and ancient traditions that are present.


Overall Rating: Highly recommended.


I forgot to mention that Michael Shea went on to write two novels featuring Nifft the Lean.

The second book in the series is The Mines of Behemoth, again with Barnar Hammer-Hand. The third is A'rak. Barnar isn't in this one.

I haven't read either of them, but I do have both in my long queue. I think I'll move them up a bit.

Michael Shea: Nifft the Lean

Michael Shea's Nifft the Lean is the type of work that I seldom read. It's fantasy with a strong tinge of the horror tale about it. Actually, I should say tales since it's not a novel, but four separate stories with a linking device. Each of the stories is told by Shag Margold, a historian, about the exploits of his friend Nifft, known as the Lean. Margold tends to be on the fussy side, a bit pedantic, but don't let Margold's "Eulogy" and prefaces discourage you. Once he gets beyond the academic blather, he turns into a very good story teller. He did not witness the events of the stories for as he tells us, most of the information comes from Nifft himself and from Nifft's friends.

The four stories are really separate tales, linked only by the presence of Nifft and his friend Barnar. The work probably could be described as a "picaresque novel," even though not considered a novel in the traditional sense. According to the Wikipedia entry, picaresque comes from the Spanish picaro which translates into English as rogue or rascal. The novel is a series of stories, therefore, about a "hero of low social class who lives by his wits in a corrupt society." The article also points out that "[s]ome science fiction and fantasy books also show a clear picaresque influence, transported to a variety of invented worlds—for example, 'The Dying Earth" series of Jack Vance [and] Fritz Leiber's 'Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser.' " I think a number of role-playing games have adopted this format.


Warning: I will discuss some significant plot elements and events, and in some cases, the ending.


First Adventure: "Come then Mortal, We Will Seek Her Soul"

This tale has a more complicated frame structure than the other three. Presumably Shag Margold is presenting us with a tale that is "Nifft's own composition" but is obviously written by a professional scribe, implying that Nifft had someone else take dictation. Once into the tale, we find that the tale is actually a frame for another story.

Nifft and Barnar are on the road and make camp. That night, Nifft tells Barnar of an adventure that began years ago on this same campsite. It is about the time that Nifft and Haldar Dirkness, Nifft's companion before he met up with Barnar, went down to Hell. In fact, it is the tale of his last adventure with Haldar.

Nifft becomes part of a long and illustrious fellowship when he makes his journey into the underworld: Gilgamesh, Odin, Orpheus, Odysseus, Aeneas, and, of course, Dante, among others. Once there, his experiences do not differ greatly from the others. All have to cross water by boat, and all get the chance to talk to some of the inhabitants, and no doubt, come away wiser than before, probably. And, as always, there is a price to be paid.

Nifft, though, has a slightly different reason for his trip. The others go down to hell either to bring back someone or at least to get information which would help them on their quest. Nifft has a different task: he is to bring a living person down to the underworld as the bequest of another already there.

The person making the request is Dalissem. She has come back to beg Nifft and Haldar to bring her lover Defalk down to join her where she resides, in the Place of the Raging Dead. She was destined to be a priestess and therefore had to remain a virgin. However, she and Defalk fell in love and, eventually, were caught. They swore a suicide pact. When she got the opportunity, she killed herself, but Defalk reneged when he got off with only a warning. That was seven years ago (the magic number seven pops up everywhere), and she was tired of waiting for him. She promises them the Wizard's Key, a device of great power, if they would capture Defalk and bring him down to Hell.

As is typical of other trips to the underworld, there is a toll to be paid. Nifft gives up his left ear (with all the blood spurting about, the demons don't notice that they didn't get the entire ear, just the lobe--that's why Nifft volunteered to do the cutting himself). Haldar sacrifices his index finger, while Defalk loses an eye. That Defalk gains some wisdom on this trip reminded me of Odin in Norse mythology who goes down to the underworld to gain wisdom and must lose an eye as payment.

There are strong resemblances to Dante's Inferno in this tale. They, like Dante, had a guide. And, on their journey through the underworld, the three see numerous examples of souls being tortured by demons. In Dante's underworld, these are sinners and we are told why these souls are being punished. In Shea's story, it's not clear why many of these are here or why they are punished. At times I wondered if this is the fate of all, not just the evil ones. But, this is not true for all. Some earn a special place in Hell. Dalissem, for one, is condemned to the Place of the Raging Dead.

The Place of the Raging Dead is "a dim cauldron of gales" where "the winds wrestled and surged and blew in constant contradictions." It is a place where those with strong emotions are condemned to be blown about by winds that surge first one way and then another, as these people are by their emotions.

In Dante's Inferno, the first circle of Hell itself is for the carnal sinners "who are blown about forever on stormy winds. . . "

from Canto V

I came into a place of all light dumb
That bellows like a storm in the sea-deep
When the thwart winds that strike it roar and hum.

The abysmal tempest that can never sleep
Snatches the spirits and headlong hurries them,
Beats and besets them with its whirling sweep.

. . .

I learnt that in such restless violence blown
This punishment the carnal sinners share
Whose reason by desire was overthrown."



In both works, the sinners, or those doomed to reside here for eternity, are those whose emotions are strong and contrary, sufficient to overthrow reason. Their fate is to be blown about forever, never to rest, a symbol of their life on earth which also found them uncontrollably tossed about by their emotions.

The fates of the three--Nifft, Haldar, and Defalk--differ, as befits their differing souls. Haldar, whose strong passions and high-minded principles, echo those of Dalissem, gains his chosen fate. Defalk learns too late what he has lost when he abandoned his Dalissem and the suicide pact and loses all therefore, but he accepts his fate with a courage and valor that were not evident when we first meet him. And Nifft, ever the pragmatic one--his only concern is getting out of hell, alive, as quickly as possible, and he, also, gets his wish.

To be continued in my next post.