As in
A. Merritt’s The People of the Pit, published
earlier that same year, adventurers
stumble upon the remains of an unknown, lost civilization. The ruins however contain an actively evil,
though alluring and irresistible presence.
The Moon Pool, is by far the
better of the two stories, and is probably responsible for establishing Merritt’s
career in weird fiction. Yet both are
entertaining for their imaginative creation of beings that are wholly “other”. Interestingly, an escape is possible—barely—in
The People of the Pit, but not at all
in The Moon Pool.
The Moon Pool will remind some readers of the Indiana Jones series and similar films,
which probably drew their inspiration from stories like those written by A.
Merritt. Professor Throckmartin, fleeing
by boat from a strange entity that has seized his wife and the rest of his
expedition, tells his story to an acquaintance named Goodwin. So much depends on the presence of moonlight—the
source of the entity’s power and its ability to travel great distances. A storm overhead keeps the professor safe
long enough to tell his tale. But his
escape is short lived, and Goodwin is left with maps and other details, and
perhaps enough courage, to launch a rescue.
(Merritt wrote a sequel published in 1919 called Conquest of the Moon Pool.)
Like
much pulp fiction of the time, racial and ethnic stereotypes serve as kind of
shorthand for characterization, as if national or socio-economic origin was a
reliable predictor of personality traits and temperaments. For example, the character of Thora, a
Swedish woman who accompanies the professor’s wife, is described as “a Swede,
as you know, and in her blood ran the beliefs and superstitions of the
Northland…” and: “She was the great
Norse type—tall, deep breasted, molded on the old Viking lines.” For this kind of characterization to work
requires that readers hold these stereotypes to be true, and not personally know
any particular Swedes that might challenge these assumptions.
In a
similar vein, the women in the party are submissive to the men, and more susceptible
to the powers of the entity that resides beneath the ancient monoliths. The native islanders are seen as fearful,
superstitious, and conniving. They
ascribe the weirdness of the place to evil spirits they call ani.
In flight from the ruins of Nan-Tanach, Professor Throckmartin
repeatedly calls for additional white
team members, who are presumably more reliable than the natives. At least the natives had the sense to avoid a
place that generations of them had identified as extremely hazardous to body and
soul—and they know it was risky business to be in the vicinity during three
days of the full moon.
There
is some interesting theology in The Moon
Pool. Much is made of the number 7,
which describes aspects of the entity’s appearance and the ancient underground
structure from which it emerges. The
number 7 is prevalent in the Old and New Testaments, where it often signifies
completion or perfection. Merritt also
toys with a kind of dualism or Manichaeism—the notion that good and evil are
inextricably mixed together as a result of ongoing struggles between the light
of spirit and the darkness of the material world.
Throckmartin
and his friends are simultaneously attracted and repelled by the emanations of
‘the dweller’. The mingling of opposite
tendencies is mirrored in their faces, which have been transformed as though
“by the hand of God and the hand of Satan, working together and in harmony.” In both The
Moon Pool and The People of the Pit, Merritt
describes an almost sexual and ecstatic attraction to evil. It is not clear what these evil beings want
with weak-willed humans, though it appears to be a kind of worship mixed with
enslavement. As in many horror stories
with a religious tone, idolatry is on stage.
More
interesting from an historical perspective—World War One had just ended when
Merritt published The Moon Pool—is
this question that Throckmartin rhetorically asks at one point:
“Yet
I cannot believe that God would let a thing like that conquer! But why did He
then let it take my Edith? And why does
He allow it to exist? Are there things
stronger than God, do you think, Goodwin?”
The
essential question is ancient, and attempts to answer it are documented
thousands of years ago—in the Book of Job for example, among other places. But its appearance even here shows the impact of The Great War on modern assumptions of God’s
presence or omnipotence in the face of great evil.
Merritt
achieves some genuine creepiness through great attention to visual and physical
detail—his preoccupation with the moon, for example—and emotional tone. There is one graphically jarring scene in
which Throckmartin asks Goodwin to experiment with a mark left by ‘the dweller’
on his chest—using a knife and a cigarette!
But his attempts to tackle broader questions about the unknown and the reliability
of traditional religion in the modern world make this an impressive story. The Moon
Pool should be considered required reading for fans of early 20th
century horror and science fiction.
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