|
Post by Craig Herbertson on Dec 3, 2013 17:05:32 GMT
If that's what your attic is like i wouldn't mind lurking in it....
|
|
|
Post by Robert Adam Gilmour on Dec 3, 2013 19:16:08 GMT
When I think I'm going to like an author, I sometimes get way ahead of myself and buy everything I can. But I was fairly sure CASmith wouldn't be a major blunder to get all his work after reading just one story and a few poems.
As far as I know, this is how to get all his stories and poems (didn't bother with his visual art or letters collections)...
Collected Fantasies Of Clark Ashton Smith 1-5 Miscellaneous Writings (kind of a 6th volume to the above series) Complete Poetry And Translations 1-3 Nostalgia Of The Unknown (prose poetry) Sword Of Zagan Red World Of Polaris Black Diamonds
...I think the last three are juvenile or unfinished works. Nostalgia Of The Unknown was really expensive for such a slim collection (the original price was fine but the book is fairly old and becoming rare) and the Collected Fantasies have had complaints about spelling mistakes (I haven't read any of them yet). I really don't know why the Complete Poetry couldn't have included the prose poems given that there wasn't that many. So it isn't totally simple getting an ideal collection of CASmith.
Anything I'm missing?
|
|
|
Post by doomovertheworld on Jun 6, 2014 15:51:32 GMT
|
|
|
Post by helrunar on Jan 23, 2019 22:35:51 GMT
|
|
|
Post by bluetomb on Mar 22, 2019 15:27:28 GMT
Finished The End of the Story : The Collected Fantasies of Clark Ashton Smith Volume 1 recently. My first proper exploration of Smith, after just a few odd forays in anthologies, and time very much well spent. As the name suggests, fantasy prevails, but there is much macabre too and some science fiction. The range is grand, from quiet, simple, sad supernatural encounters to rollicking monster filled cliff-hanging sci-fi adventures, from single houses to crossing stars, from demons of the mind to proper eldritch abominations of elder worship. And through it all the one the one voice of Smith. Poetic and transporting, he loves colour and shape and vastness and space, things beyond understanding or possibility, words like erubescent and purpureal, irremeable and innominable. But soulful too, acute on loss and yearning, delusion, hearts hurt or astray. Yet still uncomplicated and unpretentious, even at its most "serious". Perfectly suited to his imagination, from its most restrained, fables, feelings, atmosphere over action, to its less and least, often soaring, beyond dazzling the mind's eye, but up close and thrillingly visceral at times too.
Of course underneath all this what's most important are the stories themselves. This collection is inevitably not as concentrated or organised as earlier, more selective ones, it definitely is a bit of a completist exercise. But the quality is still quite consistently impressive. Smith makes a striking start and doesn't rest from there, forging onward , foraging around, taking impressively few wrong turns, at worst mostly just tarrying too long, and still laying foundations perhaps for later, better work. If I had to be ruthless and cut the volume down it really wouldn't be by much. And the best are quite wonderful.
First story proper, The Abominations of Yondo is a great summation of macabre fantasy, an "out of the frying pan and into the fire" tale whose well chosen, finely turned details speak of a whole forbidding world and culture beyond in just a few pages. A few down comes A Night in Malneant, lost and grey and foggy and perfectly clear and choking. Lost love, folly and its wages. From the first cities to today we might all spend a night in Malneant if unwise. Haunting and quite brilliant. Next highlight is The Tale of Satampra Zeiros, in which the title thief and his friend Tirouv Omphalios venture for loot into the abandoned city of Commoriom, where once was worshipped Tsathoggua. It turns out not to be quite so abandoned as all that, and so we get the first of Smith's proper eldritch abomination action, a nightmare beast, a belter of a chase and a wry smile of caution. And then I particularly enjoyed The Epiphany of Death, A Murder in the Fourth Dimension and The Devotee of Evil. The last especially, but all three weave aspects of Poe and Lovecraft with a sensibility all their own. Ghoulish, hellish, and melancholy tinged, and the last even has an arcane contraption/unearthly summoning scene worthy of the best tales of Carnacki. Together they show a mastery of more straightforward horror, if not quite pure at least direct, in structure and setting and purpose. The Uncharted Isle has something of this too, though with more strangeness. Later comes Marooned on Andromeda, the aforementioned rollicking monster filled cliff hanging sci fi adventure. Too many such stories tend towards too much brawn, action that bludgeons and tires rather than thrills, not enough real imaginative energy. Marooned on Andromeda is good old school pulp through and through, but always as much dizzy nightmare as boy's own adventure, thrilling and awesome and creepy. And last, The Necromantic Tale and A Voyage to Sfanomoe. The first, a warping of reality and return to the past through the power of the word, could be another vital summation, this time of Smith's own mission, and is immensely gripping when the enchantment is afoot. The second, more outright science fiction again, reaches a quite unusual note of sinister loveliness that lingers long.
Even the weaker stories have some strong virtues. The Phantoms of the Fire has strong real colour and human failing, The Resurrection of the Rattlesnake a nicely sly sting. Tragic exotic romance The Venus of Azombei has a striking, witheringly gloomy opening, a feel for adventure and love, some excitement, but its all just a bit too simplistic and straightforward, it outlasts its interest. The Monster of the Prophecy begins insightfully sober then veers into a tremendous space transportation sequence through the first of one of Smith's many arcane contraptions (he loves an arcane contraption) but its main story and satirical substance are a bit thin and again it goes on a bit. Also uncomfortable on eugenics on slavery, I'm not sure Smith was any Lovecraft in his real views but still these things don't go down well. Only The Root of Ampoi is really flunky though, some potential in it but its battle of the sexes satire is far too dated to be of any real use and the setting and surrounding adventure are of little interest, if reasonably well handled.
There are middle stories too. By this point you probably know if you'll enjoy them yourselves.
Altogether, this is a pretty highly recommended volume. The style may take some getting used to, the subjects fondness across genre, or more generally their time and place in literature. It may not be a perfect starting point unless you are already completist minded, it isn't wall to wall greats. But it is mostly strong, and a lot of fun, and rarely really falters. Roll on Volume 2.
|
|
|
Post by Jojo Lapin X on Mar 22, 2019 16:09:38 GMT
"A Voyage to Sfanomoë" introduces a theme that Smith would return to again and again and again: (SPOILER!) People turning into flowers. It seems to have been a major hang-up with him. We can only speculate as to what kind of traumatic childhood experience might be behind it.
|
|
|
Post by helrunar on Mar 22, 2019 19:22:17 GMT
Interesting point, JoJo. Imagine how horrified Mr Smith would have been by the infamous Lost in Space episode, "The Great Vegetable Rebellion," in which a giant talking carrot (portrayed by veteran character actor Stanley Adams) turns Dr Smith into a poetry-spouting celery stalk. Come to think of it, that story could be viewed as some twisted individual's attempt to adapt one of Smith's exquisite fables for television at the height of the "camp" flower-power era at its most insane.
H.
|
|
|
Post by mcannon on Mar 23, 2019 2:27:26 GMT
"A Voyage to Sfanomoë" introduces a theme that Smith would return to again and again and again: (SPOILER!) People turning into flowers. It seems to have been a major hang-up with him. We can only speculate as to what kind of traumatic childhood experience might be behind it. I recall reading somewhere that amongst the odd jobs Smith would undertake to make ends meet was gardening - but that he did not enjoy it. Make of that what you will! Mark
|
|
|
Post by Knygathin on Mar 23, 2019 17:40:56 GMT
"A Voyage to Sfanomoë" introduces a theme that Smith would return to again and again and again: (SPOILER!) People turning into flowers. It seems to have been a major hang-up with him. We can only speculate as to what kind of traumatic childhood experience might be behind it. I personally think it was just part of the cosmic viewpoint he had: that of Life's eternally ongoing struggle between Man and flower. And the great horror of it all, that flowers always win in the end; even if we occasionally and quickly manage to root some of them up. As we get old (caused by toxics from the flower kingdom slowly building up in our systems) and weaker in the knees, and eventually falter, fall over, and decompose into the ground, the flowers eat us up, getting nourishment for their beautiful displays. And their evil scheme always repeats itself. Smith's mother also looked like a flower-lady, wearing a very wide-brimmed sunhat, and spontaneously broke out in loud singing (under alcoholic influence?) while (I imagine) picking flowers. Perhaps this embarrassed the young to-be-poet (although having a happy life-affirming extrovert mother normally shouldn't have), or his incipient imagination unwillingly even saw some horrifying twisted perspective of this, contributing to his life-long cosmic trauma. Who knows.
|
|
|
Post by Jojo Lapin X on Mar 23, 2019 18:15:17 GMT
"A Voyage to Sfanomoë" introduces a theme that Smith would return to again and again and again: (SPOILER!) People turning into flowers. It seems to have been a major hang-up with him. We can only speculate as to what kind of traumatic childhood experience might be behind it. I personally think it was just part of the cosmic viewpoint he had: that of Life's eternally ongoing struggle between Man and flower. And the great horror of it all, that flowers always win in the end; even if we occasionally and quickly manage to root some of them up. As we get old (caused by toxics from the flower kingdom slowly building up in our systems) and weaker in the knees, and eventually falter, fall over, and decompose into the ground, the flowers eat us up, getting nourishment for their beautiful displays. And their evil scheme always repeats itself. Smith's mother also looked like a flower-lady, wearing a very wide-brimmed sunhat, and spontaneously broke out in loud singing (under alcoholic influence?) while (I imagine) picking flowers. Perhaps this embarrassed the young to-be-poet (although having a happy life-affirming extrovert mother normally shouldn't have), or his incipient imagination unwillingly even saw some horrifying twisted perspective of this, contributing to his life-long cosmic trauma. Who knows. That must be it.
|
|
|
Post by bluetomb on Aug 29, 2019 23:28:50 GMT
Read The Door To Saturn : The Collected Fantasies of Clark Ashton Smith Volume 2 recently. In short, frequently remarkable. By this stage Smith's style is fairly well established. He has the prose of a poet, a painter and a sculptor, and a vision that trips farther than almost anybody else (not, say, Olaf Stapledon) but also pierces inward. In this second volume there aren't great surprises, but its progressions, though smaller, are great in value. Essentially it shows a growing boldness, and a willingness to embrace horror and the grotesque. The results at their best are awesome and fearful and nightmarish (sometimes all three) in just the best ways. It isn't all totally on form, some old quibbles remain. But it's darned close.
The boldness begins with the first story, the title story, in which a priest pursues a sorcerer through the titular portal to, yes Saturn, or Cykranosh, and both find the place not quite to their hopes. Smith's best satire so far, and names like Hziulquoigmnzhah. Next Volmar, Jasper, Roverton and company return from Marooned On Andromeda. The Red World of Polaris may not be such a rip roaring adventure, but it shows off Smith's talent for creatures and contraptions that take shape in the mind's eye before disquietingly breaking from rational comprehension, it has good grisly details and builds to a cataclysm that take not just the breath but ground, walls, very space away, leaving the reader beautifully lost. Much in this grand sci-fi and fantasy line, mostly fine with a couple of major highlights. One, The City of the Singing Flame, a place reached blind from Earth through interdimensional portal. Smith pits not just our sight but underlying concept against the alien (the essence of which is in the title) and intermingles joy with the disquiet. The result, quite wonderful. The other highlight later.
Horror springs first in A Rendezvous In Averoigne, in which a tryst in the forests of that haunted medieval French land goes awry and man and love become captives of a fiend. The climax is frankly a little bit crap but in the build up Smith's style turns a prosaic situation into a thing of unexpected and most pleasingly gripping weird menace. It continues with The Gorgon, which turns up the weird a little and sustains the effects until the end, then branches. Exotic trappings and ice pick erotic charge in conte cruel The Kiss of Zoraida, Poe-etic descent in The Face by the River. Smith's commitment and control makes just about any turn fruitful and there are several more to come
The grotesque? Well, that may have been what I was really waiting for all along. At least a little. Ghastly punishment for trespass in The Kingdom of the Worm, outright gruesome results from The Return of the Sorcerer. The writing of course is by standards to come quite tame, description is swift and to the point, but Smith knows his words and their power, the power or rhythm and flow, the shape of phrases. So the effect is as powerful as many a drawn out passage of rending viscera, and more elegant. Gives a pleasurable thrill up the spine.
Bold fantasy and horror and grotesquery come together in The Testament of Athamaus, that second highlight. A sort of prequel to The Tale of Satampra Zeiros in the first volume, account by the executioner of the city of Commoriom of how it came to be cursed and abandoned. The stage is set swiftly, the capture and sentence of the fearsome and terrible outlaw Knygathin Zaum. He will not go easily. This much is straightforward, but the turn for dark humour, and then into eldritch abomination that seems strikingly like an inspiration for a certain 1982 sci-fi horror classic makes top of the line madcap fun. More than that. Really, the quintessence of this sort of genre writing, the very thing that first drew me, like paperback covers and movie posters, old comics and magazines before I ever had a real concept of what it all was. A delight.
I should mention the quibbles. After The Red World of Polaris the longer pieces do stretch or reiterate the point a bit. Some fine details, transporting, thrilling, sometimes grisly, but the overall effect is dimmed. An Adventure in Futurity is the closest to a real let down, it has an interesting ultimate note and worthy point but could have sat easily in the earlier, lesser volume. And some of the shorter ones hark back to earlier work, feeling trifling however skilfully turned. Not bad, just relatively forgettable.
Still, I loved a whole lot of this. For classic pulp and weirdness fans, pretty much essential.
|
|
|
Post by fritzmaitland on Oct 25, 2020 21:41:22 GMT
Clark Ashton Smith - The Devotee Of Evil. October 25th's tale comes thanks to The Abominations of Yondo (Panther 1974 paperback). Novelist Philip Hastane is perusing a newspaper report of a particularly nasty crime when he is approached by Jean Averaud, who has recently moved into the area. Averaud is rich and reclusive, and has bought an abandoned house with a bad reputation. As their acquaintance grows, Averaud expounds upon his theories concerning evil. He believes that it's an actual force, that emanates in space, and is attracted to certain areas or places on earth - such as the house he has purchased. Furthermore, he's developing a machine that will have the ability to harness this dark force...and wants Hastane to visit his place for a demonstration. The second CAS story I've read, and he's beginning to grow on me.
|
|
|
Post by helrunar on Jan 13, 2021 19:37:33 GMT
Cool cover art here from a reprint of Clark's story "The Flower Women." dmrbooks.com/test-blog/2021/1/13/maal-dweb-as-protagonist-the-flower-women-by-clark-ashton-smithOddly, the blog originally featured a scan of the original cover (and the issue included a selection by Otis Adelbert Kline, too) but during the interval of copying the link and then checking back (an interval of a scant three minutes), the cover scan disappeared and instead the original painting had replaced it. H.
|
|
|
Post by andydecker on Aug 19, 2023 12:04:16 GMT
The Averoigne Archives - The Complete Averoigne Tales by Clark Ashton Smith (Pickman's Press, 2019, this edition Ebook) Contents: Averoigne (map) (2006)
Pronounciation Guide
Introduction by Ron Hilger
Mother of Toads (1938)
The Maker of Gargoyles (1932) The Holiness of Azédarac (1933) A Night in Malnéant (1933) The Colossus of Ylourgne (1934) The Enchantress of Sylaire (1941) The Beast of Averoigne (1933) The Mandrakes (1933) A Rendezvous in Averoigne (1931) The Disinterment of Venus (1934) The Satyr (1931) The End of the Story (1930) Averoigne (1951) poem This is a collection of all the Averoigne tales by CAS in one volume. It was edited with the participation of Ron Hilger who also was one of the editors of the CAS edition from Nightshade. (Maybe he was the creator of this for Pickman's Press, he is not listed as such in the small print.) Stories are reprinted by the permission of the Smith estate. This is not to be confused with The Averoigne Chronicles done by Centipede Press in 2016 as a limited edition and later as a tpb by Hippocampus Press. While the stories are the same, Pickman's Press left out the poems except of one.
There was also a paperback of this with a (slightly) better cover than this. It seems to be OOP.
|
|
|
Post by ramseycampbell on Aug 29, 2023 12:39:37 GMT
Somehow I've only just stumbled on this! How it takes me back! The previous year Fritz and I did a reading at Jack Sullivan's apartment on the Upper West Side in New York.
|
|