Isegoria

I’d been meaning to read The Circus of Dr. Lao for a few years now, and with Halloween on the way, I decided to pull it off the shelf and to move it to the top of the reading stack. I must say that it’s quite an unusual book, one that seems well ahead of its time in any number of ways.

A few of the reviews on Amazon ably make the point, like this review from Steven R. Dandois, ostensibly of Zothique:

File under “Apocalyptica Sardonicus”
Reading the other reviews here reminds me of the old saw about the blind men and the elephant — how one (feeling its legs) describes it as resembling a tree; one (feeling its trunk) describes it as like a rope; et cetera. The simple fact is you can’t experience this particular elephant unless you read it for yourself. It is truly sui generis.

As for the negative comments that some have lobbed at this book, I can only laugh bitterly and loudly. For the whole concept of the book is about a small-minded town that’s exposed to an act of real and genunine magic — and how the town misses the point utterly. They’re limited by their blinders, and perceive only that which can be easily categorized within their existing worldviews. Draw what parallels you may….

Be warned that despite its labelmates in the Bison series, this “Circus” has as much in common with William S. Burroughs as Edgar Rice… and psychedelic/anarchist philosopher Robert Anton Wilson owes this slim tome a debt of gratitude. (His “catalog” of characters and ideas at the back of his “Illuminatus! Trilogy” is an obvious homage to the similar catalog appendixed here.)

The “Circus” is luminous and lyrical, shifting gears from rhapsodic flights of fantasy to bitter and insightful jibes at humanity’s foibles. And it’s probably my all-time favorite book, ever. It invites and withstands re-reading after re-reading.

This review by Mark Shanks also hits its mark:

Amazingly bitter, cynical, and sardonic — I loved it!
Finney writes as though he had been possessed by the spirit of Ambrose Bierce, and to me, that’s a good thing. More of a short story than a novel (I last read it in the space of a single afternoon), “The Circus” shines light in many directions and is best appreciated after more than a single reading. Frankly, I’m astonished that it got published in the first place, and even more surprised that it here receives what amounts to a “Criterion Collection” sort of treatment, including reproductions of the illustrations by Boris Artzybasheff from the first edition.

The citizens of Abalone (plus a few visitors) are scathingly protrayed in amazingly understated passages. Presented with actual unicorns, satyrs, sea serpents, mermaids, and other “fabulous” creatures and miracles, hardly any of the townspeople can muster more than a yawn and a shrug. The ultimate spectacle, the sacrifice of a virgin to the giant bronze god of the rotten-to-the-core city of Woldercan, is absolutely a gem.

The use of several racial epithets does nothing to reflect on Finney — it doesn’t take a super-astute reader to understand Finney is reflecting on his characters, yes, even in 1935.

As most reviewers have noted — this is not a children’s book. And while the Tony Randall film of 1960 has some of its own charm (thank you, Barbara Eden!!), it is a kiddy-fied, watered-down version of this story. It was probably Finney’s experience as a newspaperman that soured him on human nature — it must be an occpational hazard, since he shares that experience with the afore-mentioned Bierce as well as with another arch-cynic, Cyril Kornbluth of “Marching Morons” fame. The writing style varies (intentionally) from pulp to inspired to crisp and concise, sometimes all on a single page. Obviously not a book for everyone, but I find it refreshing, enlightening, and supremely entertaining.

The Tony Randall movie, Seven Faces of Dr. Lao, was, despite all the wonderful five-star reviews, almost unwatchable.

I recently mentioned a famous historical anecdote, attributed to the Assassins, that found its way into John Milius’s Conan the Barbarian:

Thulsa Doom: Yes! You know what it is, don’t you boy? Shall I tell you? It’s the least I can do. Steel isn’t strong, boy, flesh is stronger! Look around you. There, on the rocks; a beautiful girl. Come to me, my child…
Thulsa Doom: [coaxes the girl to jump to her death]
Thulsa Doom: That is strength, boy! That is power! What is steel compared to the hand that wields it? Look at the strength in your body, the desire in your heart, I gave you this! Such a waste. Contemplate this on the tree of woe. Crucify him!

Another famous tidbit comes into the movie when the quasi-Mongol leader asks, “Conan, what is good in life?”

Mongol General: Hao! Dai ye! We won again! This is good, but what is best in life?
Mongol: The open steppe, fleet horse, falcons at your wrist, and the wind in your hair.
Mongol General: Wrong! Conan! What is best in life?
Conan: To crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and to hear the lamentation of the women.
Mongol General: That is good! That is good.

The original quote is, of course, attributable to Genghis Khan:

Conan’s response to the Mongol General is an abbreviation of a real quote attributed to Gengis Khan: “The greatest pleasure is to vanquish your enemies and chase them before you, to rob them of their wealth and see those dear to them bathed in tears, to ride their horses and clasp to your bosom their wives and daughters.”

Conan’s opinion of what is best in life is not all that links him to Genghis Khan. Subotai (or Subedei Baghadur) was also the name of Great Khan’s general. The fact that Conan is not only chased but to some extent orphaned by dogs also recalls Genghis Khan’s well-documented fear of that particular animal. Finally, the writers’ preoccupation with steel seems oddly coincidental, given that Genghis Khan’s birthname, Temujin, is frequently translated as “finest steel.”

The movie isn’t simply a hodgepodge of historical tidbits; it’s also a hodgepodge of Robert E. Howard stories, not all of them Conan stories:

The name “Valeria” comes from the heroine of the novella “Red Nails.” The theft of the tower in Zamora is from “The Tower of the Elephant.” The speech King Osric gives about the throne room becoming a prison echoes a similar passage in “The Mirrors of Tuzun Thune,” a King Kull story. The scene where Conan is crucified and kills a vulture with his teeth is from “A Witch Shall Be Born.” Finally, the scene where Valeria vows to come back from the dead to save Conan and then does so is from “Queen of the Black Coast.”

In fact, the antagonist of the movie, Thulsa Doom, is King Kull’s arch nemesis, not Conan’s — and his film version has its own origin:

Thulsa Doom and his warriors are patterned after the Teutonic knights from Alexander Nevsky. The similarities between the two are very striking. From the helmets, body armor, weapons and mannerisms. Thulsa Doom’s even has the same pageboy haircut has the Teutonic Knight’s commander. Milius even went on to use the same Prokiev score for the work prints and pre-release trailers while Poledouris’s score was still being worked on.

The more you look, the more homages you find:

The scene in which Conan is covered with the cryptic writings of the wizard (Mako) to protect him from evil spirits is an adaptation of a chapter of Kwaidan titled “Hoichi the Earless”. In this chapter, a priest covers Hoichi with Japanese characters, writing out a holy Buddhist text on his body to protect him from the spirits of the dead come to claim Hoichi’s life.

As A Critical Appreciation of Conan the Barbarian points out, the film draws its themes from Nietzsche.

The Secret Origins of the Fantastic Four can be found in the popularity of the Justice League — but also in the Doc Savage pulps:

Doc Savage’s crew consisted of his Fabulous Five — Johnny, Monk, Ham, Renny, and Long Tom — and, later, his (female) cousin Pat. Combining some of these characters and adding superpowers yields the Fantastic Four:

DR. REED RICHARDS is based on DR. CLARK SAVAGE aka Doc Savage. Reed is a brilliant inventor and scientist just like Doc. Reed’s habit of constantly using big words comes from Johnny Littlejohn.

BEN GRIMM is based on MONK MAYFAIR. Ben is a “Thing”; Monk resembles a gorilla. Ben’s running feud with Johnny is based on Monk’s squabble with Ham. Like Renny, who was described as “thin and GRIM,” Ben also loves to slam his huge fists through doors — or anything else.

SUSAN STORM is based on PAT SAVAGE, the unofficial sixth member of Doc’s team. The beautiful and glamorous Pat is Doc’s cousin; Susan is Johnny Storm’s sister.

JOHNNY STORM is based on JOHNNY LITTLEJOHN. Johnny gets his name from Littlejohn. Moreover, it was said that “underneath Littlejohn’s gaunt appearance burns a strength and fire unbelievable.”

Paul Hersey creates what he calls Organic Armor:

We create handmade costume pieces, jewelry and props that look like ancient metal, bone and leather. But unlike the real thing — you’ll find the pieces lightweight and comfortable. Wear them for hours through active movement — especially suited to performance. Wear it to clubs, rituals, festivals, on stage, or in the backyard!

(Hat tip to Gizmodo.)

Researching the Secret Origins of Mr. A led me to research the Secret Origins of the Bat-Man. I knew that Batman was inspired by Zorro and The Shadow, but I didn’t realize that the first Batman story, “The Case Of The Chemical Syndicate,” was “borrowed” from a Shadow novel, “Partners of Peril” — which has been recently republished:

I also knew that Batman was created by Bob Kane, but I didn’t realize he had a partner, Bill Finger, who did most of the work, but who was too shy and reticent to demand credit. In fact, Bill Finger lived paycheck-to-paycheck and died young — which brings us to this doctored Shadow piece:

And that brings us full circle, back to Mr. A, who is really a Randian version of The Shadow — ruthless and prone to judgmental monologues.

Never heard of the Quarry Men? Well, here they are at George’s brother Harry’s wedding reception in 1958: