Though HOP-FROG was apparently published a little before a few other 1849 stories, I chose to focus on the earlier story for my final post of THE POE PROJECT. Though Poe's forays into pure humor and philosophy are not entirely worthless, there's no question that his true genius appeared in his works of the macabre-- of "the grotesque" rather than "the arabesque," so to speak.
HOP-FROG takes place back in an indeterminate medieval period, when the king of an unspecified country takes great pleasure in tormenting his jester Hop-Frog, a misshapen, crippled dwarf. Hop-Frog's sole delight is in his female companion Tripetta. During one of the king's raucous gatherings, the monarch amuses his obsequious underlings by forcing Hop-Frog to drink wine that makes him instantly drunk. Then, when the dwarf can't think quickly enough to suit the king's fancy, the monarch abuses Trippetta. The dwarf then devises an infamous revenge. He tricks the king and seven of his retainers into donning the costumes of ourang-outans-- the better to terrify other members of the court-- and then sets them all on fire. The dwarf and his companion escape without harm.
This colorful revenge-fantasy doesn't seem to have been adapted to film very often, aside from its use as a subplot in 1964's THE MASQUE OF THE RED DEATH.
Showing posts with label freakish flesh. Show all posts
Showing posts with label freakish flesh. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 20, 2018
Friday, October 5, 2018
MESMERIC REVELATION (1844)
Mesmerism is merely a means for Poe to unleash another of his Poe's philosophical-discourses-in-tale-form. Over a series of treatments, an unnamed narrator uses mesmerism on an asthma-sufferer named Vankirk. VanKirk goes into a trance and tells the narrator that he's passed into a half-world between life and death. The hypnotized man relates his insights into the commensurate nature of God, the universal mind, and "unparticled matter."
This is clearly Poe trying to reconcile theism with the physics-discoveries of his time. Within the story there's no proof of Vankirk's exegesis, except for one odd aftermath. Vankirk dies, and the narrator observes that in less than a minute the man's body "had all the rigidity of stone." I would term this trope "freakish flesh" in that the reader cannot be sure that it's anything but a physiological effect brought on by the sufferer's unique mental condition.
This is clearly Poe trying to reconcile theism with the physics-discoveries of his time. Within the story there's no proof of Vankirk's exegesis, except for one odd aftermath. Vankirk dies, and the narrator observes that in less than a minute the man's body "had all the rigidity of stone." I would term this trope "freakish flesh" in that the reader cannot be sure that it's anything but a physiological effect brought on by the sufferer's unique mental condition.
Saturday, September 29, 2018
THE BALLOON-HOAX, A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS(1844)
Once again Poe tries his hand at using his ratiocinative talents to put across a hoax. But whereas "Hans Pfall" at least a few amusing moments, "Balloon-Hoax" is utterly mundane, "fantastic" only in terms that Poe couldn't know exactly what elements would be needed for a balloon-ship to cross the Atlantic Ocean. Forgettable in almost every way.
A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS, however, is definitely underrated "Marvelous Poe." An unnamed narrator describes his friendship with a fellow named Augustus Bedloe, whose entire body had become rather elongated due to his suffering from neuralgia. Bedloe has been treated for years by a private doctor, Templeton, who is a follower of the doctrines of Mesmer, though mesmerism seems to play no role in the story.
Bedloe disappears from Charlottesville, the city in which he and the narrator reside. When Bedloe shows up at last, he tells a story of having got lost in the neighboring mountain range, the Ragged Mountains. Bedloe tells his friend and his doctor that before going for a walk in the mountains, he had a breakfast of coffee and pain-killing morphine. He then stumbled across a city and took part in an armed conflict before finding himself alone again. Templeton believes that Bedloe experienced a flashback to an earlier life, when a man named Oldeb, an acquaintance of the doctor, died during a riot in Benares, India. A little later, Bedloe perishes in a manner loosely similar to the fate of Oldeb, whose name is almost exactly the same.
There are strong parallels between this story and E.T.A. Hoffmann's "The Sandman," published in 1816.
A TALE OF THE RAGGED MOUNTAINS, however, is definitely underrated "Marvelous Poe." An unnamed narrator describes his friendship with a fellow named Augustus Bedloe, whose entire body had become rather elongated due to his suffering from neuralgia. Bedloe has been treated for years by a private doctor, Templeton, who is a follower of the doctrines of Mesmer, though mesmerism seems to play no role in the story.
Bedloe disappears from Charlottesville, the city in which he and the narrator reside. When Bedloe shows up at last, he tells a story of having got lost in the neighboring mountain range, the Ragged Mountains. Bedloe tells his friend and his doctor that before going for a walk in the mountains, he had a breakfast of coffee and pain-killing morphine. He then stumbled across a city and took part in an armed conflict before finding himself alone again. Templeton believes that Bedloe experienced a flashback to an earlier life, when a man named Oldeb, an acquaintance of the doctor, died during a riot in Benares, India. A little later, Bedloe perishes in a manner loosely similar to the fate of Oldeb, whose name is almost exactly the same.
There are strong parallels between this story and E.T.A. Hoffmann's "The Sandman," published in 1816.
Saturday, December 31, 2016
KING PEST (1835)
This story is unusual in that it's the first time in a short story that Poe attempts to deal with characters who are not aesthetes or aristocrats. That said, the author chooses to take a third person viewpoint, as in 1832's METZERGERSTEIN, in contrast to his well known first person narration.
The story follows the comical misadventures of two drunken sailors, "Legs" and "Hugh," rambling about London during the "chivalrous reign of Edward III" (the early 1300s). Too drunk to notice where they're going, they ramble into a district marked off as contaminated by plague. The sailors don't encounter anyone suffering actual plague, though the district is full of "fetid and poisonous smells." They blunder into a building described as "the stronghold of the pestilence," where they find six beggars celebrating with various spirits. The beggars, all of whom have comically freakish appearances, have all given themselves lofty aristocratic titles, and their chief has identified with the plague itself by calling himself "King Pest." The sailors manage to throw the celebration into chaos before they run off, carrying one of the female beggars with them.
The tale seems more like a sketch than a narrative, whose main point is to contrast the low-class drunks with the equally inebriated beggars, who have assumed lofty titles and speak in a much more elevated tone. It utilizes the tropes that I've labelled "freakish flesh" and "weird families and societies."
The story follows the comical misadventures of two drunken sailors, "Legs" and "Hugh," rambling about London during the "chivalrous reign of Edward III" (the early 1300s). Too drunk to notice where they're going, they ramble into a district marked off as contaminated by plague. The sailors don't encounter anyone suffering actual plague, though the district is full of "fetid and poisonous smells." They blunder into a building described as "the stronghold of the pestilence," where they find six beggars celebrating with various spirits. The beggars, all of whom have comically freakish appearances, have all given themselves lofty aristocratic titles, and their chief has identified with the plague itself by calling himself "King Pest." The sailors manage to throw the celebration into chaos before they run off, carrying one of the female beggars with them.
The tale seems more like a sketch than a narrative, whose main point is to contrast the low-class drunks with the equally inebriated beggars, who have assumed lofty titles and speak in a much more elevated tone. It utilizes the tropes that I've labelled "freakish flesh" and "weird families and societies."
HANS PFAALL (1835)
This story begins with the titular character descending in his balloon into the town of his native Rotterdam. He drops off a manuscript of his incredible balloon-adventures, and then departs. The remainder of the story is the citation of everything Pfaall claims to have done in the manuscript, concluded by the authorities' verdict that it's a hoax.
In contrast to the later "Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym," which resembles "Hans Pfaall" in structure, there's no strong evidence that the balloonist's tale actually took place. The theme and content of Pfaall's story, in which he takes to the air to escape his creditors and gets close enough to the moon to view its native inhabitants, has more in common with similar moon-travelling japes by Cyrano de Bergerac. However, in its approach Poe's story looks forward to hard science fiction, in that Pfaall constantly buttresses his story with details about his progress, his methods for preserving the air in the balloon, and so on. Verne, whose debt to Poe is well attested, shows a similar mania for detail.
Another contrast to "Pym:" the detail in "Pfaall" is largely boring, in part because a modern reader can't for a moment entertain the idea of a balloonist flying to the moon. I judge the story to be "uncanny" because of the suggestion that, even if his narrative is a lie, Pfaall may have actually experienced something in the heights, given the singularity of his appearance. In addition, Poe's physical description of Pfall is the first of many times when the author portrayed characters as weird-looking freaks:
The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now descended to within a hundred feet of the earth, allowing the crowd below a sufficiently distinct view of the person of its occupant. This was in truth a very droll little somebody. He could not have been more than two feet in height; but this altitude, little as it was, would have been sufficient to destroy his equilibrium, and tilt him over the edge of his tiny car, but for the intervention of a circular rim reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on to the cords of the balloon. The body of the little man was more than proportionately broad, giving to his entire figure a rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could not be seen at all, although a horny substance of suspicious nature was occasionally protruded through a rent in the bottom of the car, or to speak more properly, in the top of the hat. His hands were enormously large. His hair was extremely gray, and collected in a cue behind. His nose was prodigiously long, crooked, and inflammatory; his eyes full, brilliant, and acute; his chin and cheeks, although wrinkled with age, were broad, puffy, and double; but of ears of any kind or character there was not a semblance to be discovered upon any portion of his head. This odd little gentleman was dressed in a loose surtout of sky-blue satin, with tight breeches to match, fastened with silver buckles at the knees. His vest was of some bright yellow material; a white taffety cap was set jauntily on one side of his head; and, to complete his equipment, a blood-red silk handkerchief enveloped his throat, and fell down, in a dainty manner, upon his bosom, in a fantastic bow-knot of super-eminent dimensions.
In contrast to the later "Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym," which resembles "Hans Pfaall" in structure, there's no strong evidence that the balloonist's tale actually took place. The theme and content of Pfaall's story, in which he takes to the air to escape his creditors and gets close enough to the moon to view its native inhabitants, has more in common with similar moon-travelling japes by Cyrano de Bergerac. However, in its approach Poe's story looks forward to hard science fiction, in that Pfaall constantly buttresses his story with details about his progress, his methods for preserving the air in the balloon, and so on. Verne, whose debt to Poe is well attested, shows a similar mania for detail.
Another contrast to "Pym:" the detail in "Pfaall" is largely boring, in part because a modern reader can't for a moment entertain the idea of a balloonist flying to the moon. I judge the story to be "uncanny" because of the suggestion that, even if his narrative is a lie, Pfaall may have actually experienced something in the heights, given the singularity of his appearance. In addition, Poe's physical description of Pfall is the first of many times when the author portrayed characters as weird-looking freaks:
The balloon (for such no doubt it was) had now descended to within a hundred feet of the earth, allowing the crowd below a sufficiently distinct view of the person of its occupant. This was in truth a very droll little somebody. He could not have been more than two feet in height; but this altitude, little as it was, would have been sufficient to destroy his equilibrium, and tilt him over the edge of his tiny car, but for the intervention of a circular rim reaching as high as the breast, and rigged on to the cords of the balloon. The body of the little man was more than proportionately broad, giving to his entire figure a rotundity highly absurd. His feet, of course, could not be seen at all, although a horny substance of suspicious nature was occasionally protruded through a rent in the bottom of the car, or to speak more properly, in the top of the hat. His hands were enormously large. His hair was extremely gray, and collected in a cue behind. His nose was prodigiously long, crooked, and inflammatory; his eyes full, brilliant, and acute; his chin and cheeks, although wrinkled with age, were broad, puffy, and double; but of ears of any kind or character there was not a semblance to be discovered upon any portion of his head. This odd little gentleman was dressed in a loose surtout of sky-blue satin, with tight breeches to match, fastened with silver buckles at the knees. His vest was of some bright yellow material; a white taffety cap was set jauntily on one side of his head; and, to complete his equipment, a blood-red silk handkerchief enveloped his throat, and fell down, in a dainty manner, upon his bosom, in a fantastic bow-knot of super-eminent dimensions.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)