The Maker of Gargoyles, my first introduction to the writing of Clark Ashton Smith, is a too-slight but potent mix of high fantasy, dark fantasy, straight-up horror, and everything between, and, despite their variety, they all suggest a delirious imagination. A mind energized completely by the possibility of creation and tempered with the skill of a born writer. A California resident, a ladies' man, a poet first and storyteller second, Clark Ashton Smith reads like the passionate yang to H. P. Lovecraft's chilly New England yin. For example, I can't imagine Lovecraft indulging the sight of a woman "gowned in a tight-fitting dress of apple-green that revealed the firm, seductive outlines of her hips and bosom."
The titular tale, "The Maker of Gargoyles," deserves its emphasis - it's the peak of the collection. The story deals with a lowly sculptor who crafts two gargoyles for a church. One carries a look of fury. One looks lustful. Although the reader can probably predict the story that develops from these initial conditions, "The Maker of Gargoyles" is as dreadful and seductive as a Clive Barker story. As the sculptor's feelings for the beauty in her apple-green dress take hold, so does the gargoyle, and the story is measured not by whether or not bad things will happen, but by how terrible things will get. The story's unstoppable downward slide is a thing of dark beauty.
Other stories, instead of developing into fantasy like "The Maker of Gargoyles," begin at strange and get even stranger. "The Abominations of Yondo" follows a man in an alien world excommunicated to a wasteland full of hellish mutants. Smith takes the opportunity to create a vivid bestiary. Like the gargantuan albino spider with the rows of bat teeth. Or the five-legged primate, if it is a primate at all, and, of course, it probably isn't. "The Third Episode of Vathek" takes things in a different direction, with a perverse tragic love between royal brother and sister. They have the misfortune to make separate pacts with the Devil. The travelogue of hidden realms proves equally memorable, but the real surprise is that the incest-y romance stops feeling unappealing and eventually grows...poignant.
"The Testament of Athammaus" is a wonderfully screwed-up fantasy set in the world of Conan the Barbarian (Hyperborea), but the premise stands on its own as a pitch-black hoot. A professional executor has trouble beheading a victim, whose head has the nasty tendency to grow right back. A city-wide panic follows. "The Nameless Offspring" similarly nods to other work, opening with a quote from the mostly unquotable Necronomicon. If there's a weak link in this bunch of stories, it's the predictable "Resurrection of the Rattlesnake." Read the title, and you've read the story.
Wildside Press published this volume, and they've also published The Double Shadow, another strong collection of his work - I quickly picked that up after reading this one. Given that much of Smith's work has fallen into the public domain, however, I don't understand why this volume is so slim, at only seven stories total. The Double Shadow has only six, and two other volumes put out by Wildside have four apiece. I can understand the desire to publish smaller volumes due to Smith's lack of popularity, but a more weighty collection would fantastic. This looks like a job for Penguin Publishing.
RATING: B+
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