Clark
Ashton Smith was probably best known for his dark fantasy, though he did write
science fiction on occasion. His early
attempts in this field are interesting, though not as successful as his better
known work in horror and fantasy. For example, there is his short cycle of
Captain Volmar stories, written in the early 1930s, in which the crew of the
ether-ship Alcyone—a proto starship Enterprise—visit exotic planets teaming
with hostile and predacious life forms. (See also With
Captain Volmar, Somewhere Near Andromeda and Tloong
vs. Murm on the Red World.) Like his colleague Stanley G. Weinbaum, who
produced several memorable stories around this time, Smith applied his vivid
prose to the depiction of strange flora and fauna on other worlds, much of it
hazardous.
Late in
his career, Smith wrote much more sophisticated science fiction, of which Monsters in the Night and Phoenix are examples. (Smith died in 1961.) Both stories were published in 1954, and
reflect post World War II anxiety about rapid technological change; Phoenix in particular references the
growing fear of nuclear weapons, pervasive in the speculative fiction of that
time period.
Monsters in the Night is an interesting blend of fantasy
and science fiction. Smith imagines a
contemporary setting that includes werewolves and vampires as well as
unspecified monsters of more recent creation.
He seems to imply that there are traditional monsters in the country
side and “newfangled” ones in the cities—all of them equally lethal.
The
story is quite short and begins with a conventional depiction of a man’s
transformation into a werewolf under the light of the full moon. “But in no sense was he akin to those
monsters beyond nature, the spawn of a new and blacker magic, who killed
without hunger and without malevolence.”
Which ‘new and blacker magic’ is almost certainly science and
technology. Because Smith has used all
of the expected trappings of the werewolf tale—especially those familiar from
the 1941 film The Wolf Man—readers
are unprepared for the surprise ending.
As with
his contemporary H.P. Lovecraft, Smith’s attempts at science fiction show the
tension between science and fantasy in the weird fiction of these two authors. Smith was somewhat more successful than
Lovecraft in making the transition to the “scientifiction”, which was
encouraged by the new market for such literature. However, stories like Monsters in the Night and Phoenix
are transitional forms, combining elements of both horror and science fiction, and
interesting because of this, (as is Lovecraft’s 1928 story The Shunned House).
Phoenix is reminiscent of Smith’s Zothique
cycle of stories. The setting is
somewhat similar; in terms of fictional timeframe, the story is set in a future
beyond that of Zothique’s decadent civilizations. The sun is no longer red and dwindling with great
age. It has become a volcanic smoldering black orb, leaving a remnant of
technologically advanced humans to survive beneath the dark icy surface of a
frozen Earth. The story is similar to
William Hope Hodgson’s ambitious but difficult 1912 novel, The Night Land. Both are in
the subgenre of “dying Earth” stories.
In Phoenix, the light of human civilization
is about to flicker out because of a kind of genetic decadence, the result of having
to live underground for millennia. The
ominous deterioration is also seen in the livestock and hydroponic gardens that
had flourished for centuries in artificially illuminated caverns.
“Generation
by generation a mysterious sterility had lessened the numbers of the race from
millions to a few thousands. As time
went on, a similar sterility began to affect animals; and even plants no longer
flourished with their first abundance.”
Desperate
to save their world, scientists formulate a plan, a risky technological fix
involving still useable nuclear weapons from “the old atomic wars.” They will send an intrepid crew to the
surface of the dead sun and attempt to reignite it with synchronized
explosions. This is probably one of the first
appearances of this familiar, post-World War II science fiction trope—that
terrible weapons of war can be used to save humanity and its earthly home,
rather than annihilate them both in a paroxysm of self-destruction.
“How
glorious,” he went on, “to use for a purpose of cosmic renovation the deadly
projectiles designed by our forefathers only to blast and destroy.”
Though
one of his later stories, Phoenix is
very much an echo of the pulp science fiction of the 1930s. It is short on characterization, dialogue and
plot, but full of big, thought provoking ideas, a kind of thought
experiment. The story contains
interesting speculations about humanity’s racial, linguistic and technological
future. There are also several allusions
to ancient Greek mythology: besides the titular reference to the mythical bird
that is reborn from the ashes of its predecessor, there is a clever reversal of
the story of Prometheus. Smith even
includes a meditation on the possibility that history is a circle that returns to
same point again and again over vast eons:
“Had he and his companions gone forth in former cycles to the relighting
of former perished suns?”
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