So, which of these two classic horror stories hits the similar thematic nail on the head most effectively? Are the narrators' points of view the key difference, and which one exhibits the most effective style? I favor Kipling on the basis of style, but at one point he slips up by having the narrator wonder out loud if the Mark could be some sort of latent birthmark. The tension of not wanting to believe in the curse is stretched too far by his absurd conjecture--or is it?

jkh

OK, I just read Beast. This was maybe the 2nd time. I'm going to do each story separately, then try to do the comparison separately, as well.

Overall, I'd say that the story is way, way over-the-top, not so much subject matter (for me, it's hard not to think that the entire fantasy genre is over-the-top by definition, the reader knows this going in, is OK with it, so conceptually anything goes) as the manner of narration. This may in large part be due to the voice Kipling used as the narrator--essentially, a 19th C English adventurer in India. He is as over-the-top as the stereotypical contemporary Australian. Crocodile Dundee, normed for the British Raj.

But Kipling is of course responsible for choosing not only the voice--although the narrative flow required a direct witness of some kind, and this would likely be, yep, a Victorian Englishman of the era. But the extent to which the character falls readily into cliche is unnecessary. An overdrawn character.

I'd say that this story has "commercial product" written all over it--it feels like a shaggy dog story at times. No actual authorial involvement, intellectually, philosophically, or aesthetically. It's a *very* talented writer punching the clock.

There's no sense of anything deeper going on than the notion of "east is east and west is west, and never the twain shall meet." There is no hint of supernatural mechanisms in place, different cosmologies at work, etc. Very much like the common knowledge that gypsies can tell fortunes, and are light fingered.

Amusing at a very superficial level, relying heavily on repulsive imagery.

--Sawfish

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I'll want to reread "Mark of the Beast." In the meantime, I'll mention that it was the Kipling selection for a one-shot course on Late Victorian and Edwardian Fantasy that I prepared for 1996. In case a description of it would be out of place here, I'll start a thread of its own on that.

Re-read Lukundoo now. This, too, is probably the second or third time.

I think White's method of narration is better than Kipling's in Beast. He chose a less overcooked narrator (Singleton), and told much of the story in dialog--which seems highly unlikely that Singleton, in recounting to story to the others, would have used dialog, but..."poetic license" :^) .

This, too, is a sort of never the twain shall meet story, in that there is no real explanation of what supernatural mechanisms are in play, or what sort of cosmos would permit them, but that's OK for this kind of story.

White does a very interesting thing with characterization. He sets this in a private club, looks like (BTW, this is how I see the ED forum... :^) ), and a sort of alpha male (Twombly) is holding forth by the fire. Then Singleton, a wallflower by comparison, interjects his story, and here's what's important in establishing a sort of enhanced credibility: by comparing a blustering bullshitter (Twombly can easily be imagined to be like that) to a reserved observer, when the observer speaks, we *listen*, and his views have a sort of default credibility.

Then we get Van Rieten, who is a Euro-centrist, if ever there was one--proud, arrogant, and Echtam, who is:

Quote:

White

Even though he was in tatters and had five days' beard on, you could see he was naturally dapper and neat and the sort of man to shave daily. He was small, but wiry. His face was the sort of British face from which emotion has been so carefully banished that a foreigner is apt to think the wearer of the face incapable of any sort of feeling; the kind of face which, if it has any expression at all, expresses principally the resolution to go through the world decorously, without intruding upon or annoying anyone.

Salt of the earth, that.

This makes him a lot like Singleton--relatively high credibility, which is needed to plausibly get the Van Rieten expedition to go one week out of its way to help Stone, Echtam's leader, and the veritable model of the 19th C British gentleman's manly ideal, complete with the sin of hubris.

(Here I'll note what I think is a plot flaw: why was Echtam traveling with two tiny heads? Sure, it turned out that he needed to show them to Van Rieten to finally motivate him to go to Stone--but how in the world would he have clearly known in advance that this might be needed? I mean, he did a forced march thru terrible conditions for a week, bringing along with him two tiny heads?

...but this falls *just barely* within what I'll accept, if the payoff is sufficient. Yet there was no real reason that White had to do it that way--he did it to advance the plot in a manipulative fashion, so far as I can see.)

So Van Rieten--who,if you think about it, is a lot like Van Helsing, if Van Helsing had decided to explore Africa instead of becoming the world's leading expert on vampires--sees the heads, goes to Stone (otherwise, he ignores Stone, and so Singleton would have no tale to tell at the club, later), sees the eruption of the latest head, lops it off, and has a deathbed discussion with Stone, who bravely faces his deserved fate, then expires.

And if this all sounds unlikely to you, Singleton realizes it and says, at the end:

Quote:

"I did not expect you to believe it," he said; "I began by saying that although I heard and saw it, when I look back on it I cannot credit it myself."

Too, the story scores even *higher* on The YUK! Factor scale than Beast. It's hard to top a terminal leper in repugnance, but the "carbuncles" do it for me.

Still, I feel that the story conveyed more care and author commitment to the finished product than Kipling showed in the Beast.

My opinions, only.

--Sawfish

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The fate of Dumoise is told in Kipling's "By Word of Mouth."

Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> The fate of Dumoise is told in Kipling's "By Word
> of Mouth."


Yep, he managed to indirectly plug another story, if you've got five extra shillings.

--Sawfish

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So I didn't much care for Mark of the Beast, which was no doubt evident, but what about this one?

The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows

[en.wikisource.org]

Quite short, not supernatural by any stretch, but the story blew me away. Completely and utterly.

I have read it only once, maybe two years ago.

--Sawfish

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I'm still on "The Mark of the Beast," which prompts me to suggest (a bit facetiously) that Horror stories come down to one or more of these four situations:

1.Something wants to kill/eat me.
2.Ewww! Look what's happened to him/her -- no, don't.
3.Oh no -- what have I/they done?
4.I think I'm going nuts.

Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> I'm still on "The Mark of the Beast," which
> prompts me to suggest (a bit facetiously) that
> Horror stories come down to one or more of these
> four situations:
>
> 1.Something wants to kill/eat me.
> 2.Ewww! Look what's happened to him/her -- no,
> don't.

!!!

> 3.Oh no -- what have I/they done?
> 4.I think I'm going nuts.


Hah!

"The Beginner's Guide to Horror"

Good one! Get your name on it, Dale! ;^)

--Sawfish

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I haven't read "Lukundoo" (unless long ago). I would prefer to go on to "The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows" next.

"Mark of the Beast" again impressed me. It doesn't become a farce of horror, and yet several sources of horror converge in it.

1.The natural revulsion evoked by the unfortunate Silver Man's advanced leprosy
2.The supernatural or preternatural horror of Fleete's lycanthropic sufferings
3.The physical horror of the torture inflicted upon the Silver Man

The deployment of these several elements and the author's discreet management of them are far above what one would expect from the imagination of a writer of routine pulp.

The Kipling Society posts thorough notes on the stories:

[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]
[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]

[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]
[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]

You toil at writing, you aspire to Literature. Then you read "The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows," written by Kipling when he was 18. You might be tempted to lay down your pen and take up stamps.

But seriously, what an impressive piece, and one that, I should think, would have appealed to CAS. It's a horror story for all the gentleness of its telling, the confession of a man who sees death is approaching but is paralyzed by apathy. Wheww!

Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> You toil at writing, you aspire to Literature.
> Then you read "The Gate of the Hundred Sorrows,"
> written by Kipling when he was 18. You might be
> tempted to lay down your pen and take up stamps.


HAH!!!

Great, great ironically comic response, Dale!

Yep, I had taken one or two creative writing classes, liked some of the stuff I did, even, but realistically...

I don't really have the creative gene, I'm afraid...

>
> But seriously, what an impressive piece, and one
> that, I should think, would have appealed to CAS.
> It's a horror story for all the gentleness of its
> telling, the confession of a man who sees death is
> approaching but is paralyzed by apathy. Wheww!

I hoped you might like it, and not waste your time...

--Sawfish

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I can hardly imagine that anything by Kipling would be a waste of time to read.

Next story?

I don't know; not my thread to direct.

--Sawfish

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Possibly the thread should be renamed, if that can be done, to something like "Kipling's Weird Fiction."

JKH/Kipling, this was your thread -- your thoughts about what to do next?

Sure.

SUPER THREAD: Kipling's Weird Fiction

--Sawfish

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May I suggest, as our next Kipling story, one of my favorites -- "At the End of the Passage"?

The confinement theme of the story might even fit our present Covid circumstances.

And, after that, "The Return / The Recrudescence of Imray"?

[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]

DN

I'm going to need to get these (I will) and I'll also be out of town tomorrow (going to the Tacoma area to visit a relative) and will get to the first one on Sunday, most likely.

--Sawfish

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Found both on Project Gutenberg last night and started Passage.

So far as establishing a "typical" character that worked under the British Raj (all of the card players are to this point similar), the heat, the lonliness, the homesickness, the sheer drudgery and misery of being in India and working there, from the POV of an Englishman, all this is superb, masterful.

No sign of the MacGuffin yet, though, and I now have to get going.

--Sawfish

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I'm curious about that 1996 course, Dale. Were Machen and/or M.R. James on the reading list? --"The essential quality of the ghost story is that it gives satisfying form to the unanswerable; to thoughts and feelings, even experiences, which are common to all imaginative people, but which cannot be rendered down scientifically into 'nothing but' something else"-- Robert Aickman

jkh

Kipling (JKH), there's a thread about the 1996 course that lists all the required readings -- yes, I included one story each for James and Machen.

"At the End of the Passage" is certainly a horror story. Kipling also makes it a story of "grace under pressure." These men don't particularly like each other, but they need each other and they recognize the imperative of duty. They try to do the right thing.

Kipling has been praised for being one of a relative few of authors who really wants to know about the work that his characters do. This can, on occasion, pose small challenges for readers who are not used to authors being interested in their characters' work, and who aren't familiar with the job or vocation in question. Happily, that need stop no one from understanding and enjoying Kipling, thanks to the detailed notes provided free by the Kipling Society online.

Kipling makes the preternatural or supernatural element of the story emerge from the convergence of specific elements -- character, isolation, oppressive heat, etc. Each of these elements is convincing in its own right, without running away with the story. Kipling hears the men's voices, he knows what their cards look like, he visualizes the layout of the bungalow clearly.

As in "The Mark of the Beast," one man becomes the locus of the frightening developments while others are witnesses (I'd rather say "witnesses" than "observers" or "spectators"). There seems to be no obvious reason why it should be he -- certainly no suggestion that he deserved what he experienced.

"The Return of Imray" is also a horror story, and here, I think, one might sense Kipling indulging more of an intention to write a shocker or flesh-creeper than with "At the End of the Passage." "Return" too is well furnished with authenticating details, but having read it one can see Kipling setting up his climax cleverly. To say this isn't to disparage the story. We can see what Kipling was up to & go along with it.

This one, though, is a little bit like Conan Doyle's "Speckled Band" in that, if not on a first reading, then later, one may realize that there is one or more great implausibilities -- which one doesn't notice, caught up in reading the tale. In "Band," one perhaps hardly pauses to consider the implausibility of the stepdaughter sleeping for many months in a bed that is bolted to the floor, but apparently without wondering why. She doesn't wonder what the deal is with the dummy bell-pull by the bed. And so on. I love that story, even so. Similarly, there's one big implausibility with "Return," which I am pretty sure I didn't notice on a first reading or two. Namely: there's this corpse up there overhead -- wouldn't there be quite a bad odor? Kipling may well have thought of that, but of course he can't have his characters wandering around the house talking about the stink; they'd have investigated long ago, & of course the reader would've twigged. I will go on liking this story even though there's that implausibility.

The way that the bodyservant fessed up so quickly reminded me of a joke told to me by a friend who had repatriated from 4 years' work in Japan, in the early mid-80s:

Question: How do the apprehend murders in Japan?

Answer: The murderer confesses after receiving a citation for jaywalking.


Cultural differences....ah, you gotta love 'em...

--Sawfish

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Kipling Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> So, which of these two classic horror stories hits
> the similar thematic nail on the head most
> effectively? Are the narrators' points of view the
> key difference, and which one exhibits the most
> effective style? I favor Kipling on the basis of
> style, but at one point he slips up by having the
> narrator wonder out loud if the Mark could be some
> sort of latent birthmark. The tension of not
> wanting to believe in the curse is stretched too
> far by his absurd conjecture--or is it?

Ah! I'm getting back to it!

As I had written elsewhere, I preferred Lucas' story because I found Kipling's characters "overdrawn"--whatever that means. (To me, they are just a bit *too* much--distractingly so--and might have benefited from a less eccentric narrator, with other colorful characters intersperse--but this is a small complaint. It was a conscious artistic choice by a great master, and while I didn't agree with it, it was effectively executed.)

I also noted that Lucas slipped up, too, to my mind, by having a character carry around two shrunken heads on a forced march thru central Africa, for no good reason *other than to heavy-handedly resolve a problem with the plot*.

I don't know about the bite being tossed off as a birthmark as such a bad thing. By doing this, Kipling re-emphasizes the schism between the late 19th C British addiction to extreme materialism/Rationalism, as a sort of nod to contemporaneous convention. But the reader, by that point in the story, instantly sees it as a sort of last ditch grasping at straws...an attempt to deny the increasingly obvious.

What do you think?

--Sawfish

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Interleaved, below:


Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> "The Return of Imray" is also a horror story, and
> here, I think, one might sense Kipling indulging
> more of an intention to write a shocker or
> flesh-creeper than with "At the End of the
> Passage." "Return" too is well furnished with
> authenticating details, but having read it one can
> see Kipling setting up his climax cleverly. To
> say this isn't to disparage the story. We can see
> what Kipling was up to & go along with it.
>
> This one, though, is a little bit like Conan
> Doyle's "Speckled Band" in that, if not on a first
> reading, then later, one may realize that there is
> one or more great implausibilities -- which one
> doesn't notice, caught up in reading the tale. In
> "Band," one perhaps hardly pauses to consider the
> implausibility of the stepdaughter sleeping for
> many months in a bed that is bolted to the floor,
> but apparently without wondering why. She doesn't
> wonder what the deal is with the dummy bell-pull
> by the bed. And so on. I love that story, even
> so. Similarly, there's one big implausibility
> with "Return," which I am pretty sure I didn't
> notice on a first reading or two. Namely: there's
> this corpse up there overhead -- wouldn't there be
> quite a bad odor? Kipling may well have thought
> of that, but of course he can't have his
> characters wandering around the house talking
> about the stink; they'd have investigated long
> ago, & of course the reader would've twigged. I
> will go on liking this story even though there's
> that implausibility.

Let's see: by pure chance, it seems, the next resident of Imray's bungalow is a police inspector, himself a sort of weirdo, like Holmes--ate at all hours, standing up, like Grant on his march to the sea, has little-to-no social skill, and most important, has a locally acquired dog who has a deep and protective bond with Strickland.

Te narrator, Strickland's guest, has a couple of days' disquieting experience, which is verified by the dog, and less importantly, by Strickland, himself. Eventually the narrator wants to leave, and on the very night that will be his last (probably), Strickland sees the tails of a couple of snakes protruding around the "ceiling cloth", a peculiarity of a native bungalow, apparently, and in the act of routing them out, finds the corpse of Imray.

As an aside, Kipling does a nifty job in telling us about the native construction--and I personally have seen unexpected parallels in parts of Hawaii with what is called "kama'aina houses": modern houses with single wall construction, sort of a copy of Japanese residence construction techniques.

I was sufficiently engrossed in the tale that I didn't think of the likely smell, or where, in fact, the body could lie without deforming the ceiling cloth. But later I did, and I agree that it's a minor flaw in verisimilitude.

Again, I think that Kipling having the body servant, the murderer, confess openly and quickly underscored the difference in the cultures: he did not think of it as a crime--by his lights it was not--but understood that his British employers would, and so...

A fine, entertaining story by a master storyteller.

--Sawfish

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I'd welcome others' nominations, but, in the meantime, what about a look at "The Phantom 'Rickshaw"?




[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]

To me, Rickshaw is fine; I'll also make further observations on "Passage", which I *believe* was the better of the two stories you referred most recently. Like you, I thought that the development of character and setting, and the interplay of the two were subtle additions to the effectiveness of the story.

--Sawfish

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Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> "At the End of the Passage" is certainly a horror
> story. Kipling also makes it a story of "grace
> under pressure." These men don't particularly
> like each other, but they need each other and they
> recognize the imperative of duty. They try to do
> the right thing.

I'd like to discuss "Passage" at greater depth, especially the structure of the story, and some parts of what actually happened to Hummil, "poor old chap...".

Let me make it clear that I really enjoyed this story--better than "Imray" and the "Beast"--and as you mention later in this post, it's because I got to learn a whole lot about the commonplace workings of the British Raj. Plus the weather, the living quarters, the food, the natives, etc.

This was tremendously interesting and enjoyable to me.

OK, now into the specifics...

The copy of the story I have is 17 pages long. The first 9 pages are devoted to the miserable conditions, the past suicide of a guy called Jevins, etc. We are saturated with the tangible misery of living there, from the POV of a British subject. It isn't until after the card game, etc., when the other two guys go home, that even an inkling of the problem arises, nor is there any clue up to that point (and beyond, actually) that there is any supernatural element to the tale.

We need remember by name only Hummil and the doctor, Spurstow.

When the others leave, Hummil wants them to stay, but only Spurstow stays. They turn in, but Spurstow notices that Hummil is laying there, all wound up, not sleeping. At this point Hummil tells Spurstow of his troubles, which is principally fear of being caught and killed in a sort of ill-defined quasi dream state.

Now the nature of this state becomes confusing--and it is well to note that so far we know of nothing that Hummil has done--although reading the story quickly, I may have missed either an admission or an inference of some punishable sin by Hummil--to deserve what follows.

Hummil seems to say that he can't sleep, and he is essentially stalked by something fearful--and it appears to me that he's most vulnerable when half-asleep. It seems that if he's either awake, or deeply, soundly asleep, he's OK, and we know the latter because he seeks sleep (of course) in the form of medical intervention--and he emerged from this sound enough. Spurstow uses morphine (carried in his *cigarette case*---hmmmm....), but not enough. And in this haf-state Hummil explains that he'll be caught unless he's all the way asleep, apparently. He never fully explains how this works, but we can get this thru inference.

So far we *still* don't know why he has been singled out for this fate, so while his eventual demise looks a lot like moral recompense, he seems innocent of any wrong-doing, knowingly or unknowingly (like in "Imray").

After a good night's sleep, Hummil feels better and says that he's going to stick it out until the rains, *even though Spurstow will help him get leave*. This is done for very noble reasons; Hummil's replacement, and his wife, would not be able to take the heat of that part of India as well as Hummil.

To get to the point, a week passes, Spurstow and the two others meet for their weekend festivities, and discover Hummil dead, but with the mark of terror on his face, and something peculiar about the pupils of his eyes. Ironically, one of the two expresses a sort of envy...

They question the servants and one of them makes reference to this same thing happening to natives "when the spell is laid on them". Only we know nothing of any spell, nor any reason Hummil should be the target of such a spell.

Finally, Spurstow takes some photos of Hummil's pupils, but destroys the images, leading us to believe that there was something recogizable, and too terrible for words, to be seen there.

So:

1) Why did this supernatural visitation happen to Hummil?

2) What was in his pupils?

I'll note also a minor flaw; Kipling uses as sort of collective omniscient narrative POV, but when Spurstow leaves, the POV shifts to Hummil, alone, noting an image of himself on the veranda--this is the first time we've ever been in Hummil's head, seeing thru his eyes, and it's kind of jarring; it's also the only time we see from Hummil's eyes. This is noticeable enough for to notice the reader, but it's minor. Maybe even it just me being overly picky...

Thoughts? Comments?

--Sawfish

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Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 29 Sep 20 | 12:57PM by Sawfish.

I'll take your question #2 first. There was, if I'm not mistaken, an idea that if someone died of fright, the image of what he saw could be imprinted on his pupils. What the photo showed was the face that is mentioned briefly, weeping but unable to wipe its tears. That was the last thing Hummil saw, even though it was with the "inner eye."

Now for #1. I don't think there is any indication that Hummil's fate was the consequence of some wrongdoing on his part, but, rather, the desperate conditions under which he was living. Such fates were known to the indigenous people.

In "The Phantom 'Rickshaw" there's a variation on this. Jack, like many another nominally Christian Briton, entered an illicit relationship with a married woman. He was guilty but no more guilty than many another man (or woman). But he found out the relationship he'd indulged in didn't have the tidy wrap-up he would have expected. I was reminded of a passage from a story by Cornell Woolrich (I'm not sure which one):

"I’m not sure how it should be played. No one ever told me. No one ever tells anybody. I only know we must have played it wrong. We broke some rule or other along the way, and never knew it at the time."

One of the remarkable touches in "'Rickshaw" is that, as Jack continues to be pulled out of this world and into the spectral world, he comes to find a kind of consolation in his relationship with the ghost -- of course, we feel horror as we see him, in fact, being destroyed. There is pathos here as well as horror, as in Lovecraft's "Colour Out of Space" where, again, you have the sense of an implacable advancing destruction of the person(ality).

Dale Nelson Wrote:
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> I'll take your question #2 first. There was, if
> I'm not mistaken, an idea that if someone died of
> fright, the image of what he saw could be
> imprinted on his pupils.

Was that idea conveyed within the context of the story, or was this "common knowledge" that the reader needed to carry into the story?


> What the photo showed
> was the face that is mentioned briefly, weeping
> but unable to wipe its tears. That was the last
> thing Hummil saw, even though it was with the
> "inner eye."

Yes, I recall about the face with tears.

>
> Now for #1. I don't think there is any indication
> that Hummil's fate was the consequence of some
> wrongdoing on his part, but, rather, the desperate
> conditions under which he was living. Such fates
> were known to the indigenous people.

The stated difference from within the story, though, was that the related example had a spell cast on him.

In a way, if Hummil was free of any attributable guilt, the implication is even more profound that India is a *different* place, where noraml things are different beyond the ken of Europeans. As is "Imray" who ran fatallhy afoul of local sensibilities *without even knowing it*.

I've always liked these stories a great deal. He's a great master story teller.

BTW, have you ever read Dunsany's Jorkens stories? These are a great source of entertainment.

>
> In "The Phantom 'Rickshaw" there's a variation on
> this. Jack, like many another nominally Christian
> Briton, entered an illicit relationship with a
> married woman. He was guilty but no more guilty
> than many another man (or woman). But he found
> out the relationship he'd indulged in didn't have
> the tidy wrap-up he would have expected. I was
> reminded of a passage from a story by Cornell
> Woolrich (I'm not sure which one):
>
> "I’m not sure how it should be played. No one
> ever told me. No one ever tells anybody. I only
> know we must have played it wrong. We broke some
> rule or other along the way, and never knew it at
> the time."
>

WHOA! Almost forgot...

I'm not the sort of reader to look for unstated parallel--imputed meanings beyond the directly stated facets of the story, but gosh, "Passage" had the undertone of cholera in it, doesn't it?

I could easily overlook the mentions in the story as simply embellishments to the setting, making the constant threat of foul disease--in this case, cholera--like the heat, the dust, etc.

But gosh, Kipling goes and adds it to the little prologue thingie which ends with mention of "the cholera horn".

Much of Hummil's complaint, if generalized, would apply to the course of cholera: protracted disease with much misery, acquired mysteriously.

I don't actually think the story used his sleeplessness as a surrogate for cholera; why would anyone need to do that? And yet the story devotes four direct mentions of it, counting the prologue; maybe to emphasize that such things as cholera, an awful way to die, was constantly on everyone's minds--as well as the heat, etc. And there was, at the time the story was written,no vaccine or effective treatment.

Just one more thing about India...

Hah!

I'll start on Rickshaw soon. I'm finishing a couple by Le Fanu. Compared to Kipling, his characters are remote, flat. Very good story teller, but nowhere near as vivid as Kipling.

> One of the remarkable touches in "'Rickshaw" is
> that, as Jack continues to be pulled out of this
> world and into the spectral world, he comes to
> find a kind of consolation in his relationship
> with the ghost -- of course, we feel horror as we
> see him, in fact, being destroyed. There is
> pathos here as well as horror, as in Lovecraft's
> "Colour Out of Space" where, again, you have the
> sense of an implacable advancing destruction of
> the person(ality).

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
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Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 29 Sep 20 | 04:55PM by Sawfish.

Sawfish, I believe the idea of the image on the pupil was common in Kipling's time. I wouldn't be able to prove that.

I've read perhaps a very few of the Jorkens entertainments. Are there any you think are particularly good?

A book about cholera that sounds interesting:

[www.amazon.com]

I try to reduce my book buying and book borrowing, but you see they keep writing and publishing them!

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> Sawfish, I believe the idea of the image on the
> pupil was common in Kipling's time. I wouldn't be
> able to prove that.

No, not meeded.

It was something in his era that his expected audience would know, but in the 21st C less likely so.

It's just something for me to remember ad allow for.

>
> I've read perhaps a very few of the Jorkens
> entertainments. Are there any you think are
> particularly good?

All I can say is that I've read all of them, and there are probably in excess of 100.

Light entertainment, witty, can make you laugh aloud, and some are fantasy. Thye may have been the inspiration for the "bar fantasy" sub-genre, like Clarke's "Tales From the White Hart"--themselves amusing and clubby.

>
> A book about cholera that sounds interesting:
>
> [www.amazon.com]
> g-Epidemic/dp/1594482691/ref=sr_1_5?dchild=1&keywo
> rds=cholera&qid=1601424932&s=books&sr=1-5
>
> I try to reduce my book buying and book borrowing,
> but you see they keep writing and publishing them!

Hah!

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Much of the popular fiction and even the children's books of the previous century would benefit by good, brief editorial notes.

OK, ready to discuss Rickshaw.

All below...

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I'll take your question #2 first. There was, if
> I'm not mistaken, an idea that if someone died of
> fright, the image of what he saw could be
> imprinted on his pupils. What the photo showed
> was the face that is mentioned briefly, weeping
> but unable to wipe its tears. That was the last
> thing Hummil saw, even though it was with the
> "inner eye."
>
> Now for #1. I don't think there is any indication
> that Hummil's fate was the consequence of some
> wrongdoing on his part, but, rather, the desperate
> conditions under which he was living. Such fates
> were known to the indigenous people.
>
> In "The Phantom 'Rickshaw" there's a variation on
> this. Jack, like many another nominally Christian
> Briton, entered an illicit relationship with a
> married woman. He was guilty but no more guilty
> than many another man (or woman). But he found
> out the relationship he'd indulged in didn't have
> the tidy wrap-up he would have expected. I was
> reminded of a passage from a story by Cornell
> Woolrich (I'm not sure which one):
>
> "I’m not sure how it should be played. No one
> ever told me. No one ever tells anybody. I only
> know we must have played it wrong. We broke some
> rule or other along the way, and never knew it at
> the time."
>
> One of the remarkable touches in "'Rickshaw" is
> that, as Jack continues to be pulled out of this
> world and into the spectral world, he comes to
> find a kind of consolation in his relationship
> with the ghost -- of course, we feel horror as we
> see him, in fact, being destroyed. There is
> pathos here as well as horror, as in Lovecraft's
> "Colour Out of Space" where, again, you have the
> sense of an implacable advancing destruction of
> the person(ality).

I think this story shows Kipling to be both a masterful writer in that he establishes setting and creates distinct and subtly developed characters with ease and great skill, but he also seems to be ready to manipulate, or at least "fudge", the plot to drive the resolution toward his intended conclusion.

We're back in India, this time in Simla, where the climate is more to the liking of the British. This creates a sort of society that includes more women, and this being a British outpost, more decorum.

(ASIDE: This setting, and in fact the character of Jack Pansay, as self-described in his manuscript, is very similar to the hero of the George MacDonald Fraser "Flashman" series, with Fraser's Indian novel also seemingly influenced by Kipling. The main difference between Pansay and Flashman are that Flashman is of the gentry, in the military, and completely unapologetic...he willingly seduces any number of married women, entirely without regret.)

So we have what amounts to a lengthy introduction to the specific narrative, and this "frame narrator" is unidentified and could well be Kipling, himself. You'll note a sort of literary "breaking of the fourth wall" where he alludes to his own writing style (the "mixed metaphors" reference), then describes the doctor who figures in the tale, and reveals the manuscript by Pansay, himself.

So Kipling uses the frame narrator to directly tell the reader what life is like in Simla, and in keeping with the intransigent materialism of the educated Victorian English, introduces the idea that this story of the supernatural might be a product of over-work and/or climate and social conditions.

So early on Pansay admits to a brief but passionate affair with a married women on shipboard, on the way back to India; we never know if it was carnally consummated, but I sorta doubt it. He callously breaks it off just before arrival and then sees her in Simla, where he apparently works.

Kipling establishes a tremendous amount of pathos for this submissive, masochistic woman--who has insufficient self-pride to simply kick Pansay in the nards, like he deserves, and be done with it, so she pines away, pathetically, until she simply dies. I'm not sure we ever have any direct mention of her husband, who seems to be a disinterested, uninvolved non-entity.

All this seems almost uniquely Victorian.

Concurrently Pansay is seriously courting, to the point of formal engagement, another young woman, this one of significant mettle, as it turns out--the antithesis of the married woman.

So now to get down to it, Pansay starts seeing the married woman, riding around in her hired rickshaw, and she calls to him plaintively, evoking both guilt and disgust in Pansay. This causes him to act weird enough that his fiancée first questions him sharply--and to me, this part is *significant* as subtle character development and as an insight into upper class British domestic customs--and he responds by basically lying to her.

So we see by this, and at least one other reference by another very minor character, the dominant domestic role of married females, and the petty lying to appease them.

A sad way to run one's life, but..

All this falls thru, she dumps him, he goes about his business still seeing--and talking to--the married woman in the rickshaw, which only he can see, and eventually died prematurely, "hag-ridden".

There is the *distinct* possibility that the entire apparition is the figment of his guilty conscience--a materialistically compatible explanation. This makes it much more than a simple ghost story.

The plot manipulation, to me, is the coincidence of the doctor as being one of the witnesses of his talking to the phantom, and later that evening meeting him at dinner. This allows the doctor to become involved as a man of science--an observer--and a sounding board for Pansay's character and ideas. The doctor, himself, is pretty bluff, overbearing, and officious, but all towards a good cause: getting Pansay healthy again.

The doctor, too, is a well defined character, although somewhat stereotypical of the way academics of any stripe, including scientists and physicians, seems to be held in respectful awe by everyone one else. This, too, seems yet another example of the tension between the material and spiritual that seemed to reach its height in the time period.

Your thoughts/ideas?

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
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Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 30 Sep 20 | 10:56AM by Sawfish.

I think Jack and Mrs. Keith-Wessington were, at least once, lovers in the physical sense. Towards the end Pansay refers to her as "my dead and buried mistress." "Mistress," to be sure, can be used in more innocent ways, but by this point in the story Jack has stopped writing of her as he does early (she's the one at fault, etc.) and is admitting his culpability. In the background of the story might be the verse from 1 Corinthians 6, "What? know ye not that he which is joined to an harlot is one body? for two, saith he, shall be one flesh." Pansay might have thought that when he got what he wanted from his shipboard flame, by saying he loved her, it was a case of "Wham, bam, thank you ma'am" and that's it," but it wasn't.

Btw Kipling was never graphic, but he was frank about sexuality. There's a good story about a man dying of advanced syphilis, for example ("LOve o' Women").

[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]

"'Rickshaw" is well constructed. Basically Jack has to undergo a parallel to his lover's experience. For example, when she won't leave him alone, he says something so obscene that it hits her "like the blow of a whip." Later in the story, the lively Kitty gives Jack a slash across the face with her riding-whip.

Even late in the story, he cries that he "'never did her any harm.'" Of course, in an all but literal sense, he killed her, and her apparition effects his death. Before that happens, the "real world" has become ghostly and the ghost-world has become real to him. But just before he dies, he admits, "as surely as ever woman was killed by man, I killed Mrs. Wessington."

The nemesis-element is like Greek tragedy. Pansay cannot escape death, but he does gain knowledge, like Oedipus.

I think this is one of the world's best supernatural stories, a true masterpiece of the macabre. "...the dead travel fast"!

When we're ready, let's keep the Kipling ball rolling with "'They,'" shall we?

Here are notes for as/after reading it.

[www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 30 Sep 20 | 01:51PM by Dale Nelson.

Dale Nelson Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I think Jack and Mrs. Keith-Wessington were, at
> least once, lovers in the physical sense. Towards
> the end Pansay refers to her as "my dead and
> buried mistress." "Mistress," to be sure, can be
> used in more innocent ways, but by this point in
> the story Jack has stopped writing of her as he
> does early (she's the one at fault, etc.) and is
> admitting his culpability.

Yes. This makes sense to me, accounting for both her extreme attachment and his fatigue.

And all this happened in a relatively short time--on board ship, if I got it right--so it reads like a very quick but passionate physical fling.

> In the background of
> the story might be the verse from 1 Corinthians 6,
> "What? know ye not that he which is joined to an
> harlot is one body? for two, saith he, shall be
> one flesh." Pansay might have thought that when
> he got what he wanted from his shipboard flame, by
> saying he loved her, it was a case of "Wham, bam,
> thank you ma'am" and that's it," but it wasn't.

Yes, the more you point this out, the more likely it seems.

He is a roguish cad, after all... ;^)

>
> Btw Kipling was never graphic, but he was frank
> about sexuality. There's a good story about a man
> dying of advanced syphilis, for example ("LOve o'
> Women").
>
> [www.kiplingsociety.co.uk]
> s.htm

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes, will start "They" soon.

Good fun!

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One more point: this is much more than a ghost story, in my opinion. It's social commentary, a sort of an examination of contrasting characters, and again, I want to emphasize that so far as I recall, the was no independent manifestation of the rickshaw, its power source, nor its occupant. This differs from Passage (the image in Hummil's pupil seen by the doctor and one other) and Imray, which was pretty much told from the POV of uninvolved observers.

This, alone, plays with the reader's imagination in a way different from the other two.

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whatever readers think of "'They,'" they're more resistant to Kipling's descriptive details than I if they don't fall in love with the house.

After "'They,'" I propose "Wireless," and then -- could we have a go at "Mrs. Bathurst"? That one is notorious in the canon of Kipling's stories, for an aspect that I won't spell out (no, not colonial attitudes, etc.).



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 30 Sep 20 | 04:30PM by Dale Nelson.

I'm having trouble finding a copy of "They", and while I certainly don't mind departing from CAS--especially in pursuit of good discussions!--I don't wish to commit beyond any one story, or two if paired thematically for comparison.

A bit too much like a class syllabus for my liking.

Do you know of any place online that has a copy of "They"?

--Sawfish

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"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It is in Kipling's Traffics and Discoveries.

[www.gutenberg.org]

Thanks, Dale!

There'll be a moderate delay; I just fixed my Kindle and find that I have Pynchon's Inherent Vice checked out from the library. Never read any Pynchon before and so I must plow thru it while I still have it.

I won't forget, though!

--Sawfish

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"The food at the new restaurant is awful, but at least the portions are large."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 30 Sep 20 | 08:55PM by Sawfish.

Of course, Sawfish. Perhaps others will join us.