Clark Ashton Smith’s The Treader of the Dust, one of the last stories published in his lifetime, appeared in the August 1935 issue of Weird Tales. The author would go on to publish only a few more stories before shifting his attention away from fiction and poetry writing to sculpture and painting. His marvelously dark and distinctive work was created in a short span of about six years, after which his intensity as a writer dimmed like the dwindling red sun overhanging his imaginary continent of Zothique.
A few
years before the publication of The
Treader of the Dust, Smith had experienced considerable frustration with
Hugo Gernsback, at that time the publisher of Wonder Stories, whom he later had to sue for nearly $1000 owed him.
Following the initial success of his
first “Captain Volmar” story, Marooned in
Andromeda (1930), Gernsback complained that Smith’s second story in the proposed
series, The Red World of Polaris
(2003), was too slow, lacked a plot, and needed more action.
In a
letter to Clark Ashton Smith, dated January 29, 1932, H.P. Lovecraft commiserated
with his colleague about the increasing demand for conflict, movement and
faster paced story lines:
You
certainly succeed in preserving the pictorial quality despite the omnipresent
demand for “eckshun”, & are exceedingly fortunate in being able to bridge
the gulf. Whether I could do the same is
very doubtful…The most I can subjectively realise in the field of “eckshun” is the
phenomenon of flight & pursuit—especially of the sort in which
the quarry does not quite see or identify that which is pursuing. To have my “hero” turn on his intangible nemesis
& stage a wholesale slaughter in the Robert E. Howard fashion would be
beyond the powers of my imagination.
Smith
grudgingly made some revisions in The Red
World of Polaris to accommodate the magazine, but the story did not see
publication in his lifetime. Smith’s
foray into science fiction, at first filled with hope and excitement, was ultimately
a disappointment. (See also With
Captain Volmar, Somewhere Near Andromeda and Tloong
vs. Murm on the Red World.) According
to S.T. Joshi, it was probably the passing of his mother—in the same year The Treader of the Dust was published—as
well as the deaths of his father and his
close colleague H.P. Lovecraft, both in 1937, that led to the rapid decline of
Smith’s written output by the mid to late 1930s.
In this
context, The Treader of the Dust is
both eerie and sad, ably capturing the author’s state of mind at this point in
his life. More a nightmarish prose poem
than a story, it seems to personify—in the entity called Quachil Uttaus—the relentless
and inescapable approach of aging, deterioration and death. John Sebastian, an occult scholar, has
recently fled his home in order to “exorcise the dim, bodiless legion of his
fears”. However, he manages to overcome his
ambivalence and return to the house at dusk.
Drawn
like a moth to a now guttering flame, Sebastian is alarmed by the excessive dust
and decay that have afflicted his personal possessions, despite his absence of
only a few days. His faithful servant is
unaccountably missing. As his panic increases—and the sun literally sets—he
tries to reassure himself with realistic explanations for the weird condition
of his residence. His moth-like path
takes him to his study, where his copy of the dreaded tome, The Testaments of Carnamagos lies open
to a very problematic passage.
Set in
contemporary setting, The Treader of the
Dust is interesting because of its use of realistic detail to depict the
approach of the otherworldly Quachil Uttaus, which may be a deity, an
extraterrestrial, or even an avatar of good old death. Perhaps at this time Smith was moving away
from his more familiar dark fantasy to develop a kind of psychological realism. A similar style can be seen in Smith’s Genius Loci (1933), and especially in The Face by the River, written in 1930
but published posthumously. (See also When
Your Genius Loci is a Spiritus Malus and Don’t
Take Me to the River) The theme of decadence, which runs throughout much of
Smith’s work, seems especially condensed in this story from late in his career,
and must have been acutely felt by the author himself.
********************
We
could ask this question about Clark Ashton Smith, Robert E. Howard, and H.P.
Lovecraft: what if these three masters had survived the 1930s, both physically
and artistically, had managed to make the transition to more realistic, more
scientific, more lucrative fiction, found better editors and publications,
(ones their work deserved), had gone on to Hollywood…
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