Readers
by now have probably heard or read about the British scientist who offered
three reasons why women should be segregated from men in research laboratories: “Let me tell you about my trouble with girls,”
he began, “You fall in love with them, they fall in love with you, and when you
criticize them, they cry!”
A Nobel
laureate, his brilliance apparently could not cross over from the linear-thinking
and scientific left hemisphere of his
brain to the groovier, far more intuitive and socially aware right hemisphere, and so save him from embarrassing
himself and the entire Royal Society. (I
realize that neuroscience has now disproved the left brain/right brain
dichotomy, but I still find it a useful metaphor for our divided souls.)
I
thought of this scientist and his faux pas while reading an equally sexist bit
of fiction, the C.M. Eddy, Jr.—H.P. Lovecraft collaboration, Ashes (1924). One might excuse the latter for its male
chauvinism, having been published early in the 20th century, a couple
of decades before the British scientist was born. But that is not very much time in terms of positive
social change, which—barring the catastrophes of war or pestilence, or even
despite them—needs at least a century or more to unfold. The scientist’s comments were a reminder, if
one was needed, that sexism persists and continues to affect the workplace, in
this case research laboratories.
The
female lab partner in Ashes does not
cry when criticized, but the narrator does fall madly in love with her and her
with him. “That girl took to chemistry as a duck takes to water!” he remarks,
worshipfully. But the poor woman is
later gagged, tied up and locked inside a big mahogany chest by the maniacal
Professor Van Allister, a brilliant chemist, (but probably not a member of The
Royal Society). She is to serve as bait, to lure the narrator back to the
evil scientist’s sound-proofed lab so that he
can be sacrificed to weird science and fulfill the madman’s dream of
everlasting fame.
Unlike
other joint efforts that are considered “primary revisions”, Lovecraft’s turgid
prose style and mythos trappings are wholly absent from C.M. Eddy’s text; his
typically heavy hand as editor cannot be easily detected. Lovecraft’s influence is much more obvious in
another Lovecraft—Eddy collaboration, The
Loved Dead (1924)—see also Lovecraft’s
Brush with Necrophilia. The
inclusion of a woman, some conventional
romance, and two domesticated animals that are not cats make this work
primarily Eddy’s and not Lovecraft’s. And
there is also a happy ending to Ashes, impossible in a Lovecraft story.
S.T.
Joshi described Ashes as “perhaps the
single worst tale among H.P. Lovecraft’s ‘revisions’”. It is indeed awful, relative to the work
Lovecraft accomplished later in his career.
But Ashes can still be entertaining
in the same way that a low budget, grade Z movie can be, as long as it is done
in earnest, and without irony. If not an
‘A’ for effort, the story can at least earn a passing grade as a sort of proto shudder
pulp fiction.
All of the
elements of “weird menace” are there: a mad
scientist, a tormented young woman who must be rescued, over-the-top melodrama,
breakneck pace, plot twists and evil thwarted at the very last minute. Ashes
was initially rejected by Weird Tales
until Lovecraft worked on it; the story was published in the March 1924 issue
along with Lovecraft’s own The Rats in the
Walls, among others.
My
favorite passage occurs right after the evil Professor Van Allister has
demonstrated his invention, a liquid concoction that turns anything it touches—“except
glass!”—into a pile of white ash. The
professor envisions his secret recipe as a potential weapon of mass
destruction. “An army equipped with
glass bombs filled with my compound could annihilate the world!” The narrator and the beguiling Miss Marjorie
Purdy, “one of those strict-attention-to-business types”, observe as the
scientist reduces a terrified rabbit, a bunny,
to powder. Miss Purdy faints dead away,
and while she is unconscious...
“The
feel of her soft, yielding body held close to my own was the last straw. I cast prudence to the winds and crushed her
tightly to my breast. Kiss after kiss I
pressed upon her full red lips, until her eyes opened and I saw the lovelight
reflected in them.”
“After
a delicious eternity we came back to earth again—long enough to realize that
the laboratory was no place for such ardent demonstrations. At any moment Van Allister might come out of
his retreat, and if he should discover our love-making—in his present state of
mind—we dared not think of what might happen.”
Oh,
my. To insert a musical earworm at this
point: “It’s poetry in motion/She turned her tender eyes to me” as Thomas Dolby
sang in his brilliant 1982 song She
Blinded Me With Science. Evidently,
ever since the 1920s, this kind of shenanigans has been the ever latent terror
of co-ed laboratories around the world, at least those that focus on chemical
reactions.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your interest in The R'lyeh Tribune! Comments and suggestions are always welcome.