Weird Tales #349

Weird Tales #349 is a special edition: it celebrates the magazine´s 85^th anniversary. And it begins in great style, featuring a classic name and a regular contributor to Weird Tales since its resurrection in the 1980s: Tanith Lee.

Lee’s story, “Heart of Ice,” tells of Nirsen, an orphan betrayed by the people he lives with (and who make his life unbearable, as in all good stories about orphans) who must fend for himself in a forest in deep winter, entering the kingdom of the Ice Maiden—who is just a myth and metaphor for death by freezing—or she it? Nirsen fights wolves, bears, and other animals, all the while wondering if he´s not in fact already dead, which may well be a possibility. That is, until he visits the Palace of the Ice Maiden herself and walks on its floor of impervious skulls. Then he perceives that maybe it is worse to be very much alive with an apparition he can´t understand—and that can’t understand him. But it imprints upon him all the same, and his dangerous spree in the Palace of the Ice Maiden becomes an experience he will never forget.

Ramsey Shehadeh´s “Creature” is a sort of post-apocalyptic story featuring a fantastic, monstrous creature which, like Frankenstein´s monster, only wants to be understood and loved. But this monster also has a special skill which would have served Mary Shelley´s creature well; he’s able to manipulate people´s feelings—a skill which he uses to make them feel good. Add a strange little girl who isn’t exactly a girl anymore, black clad Matrix-like agents with guns, and a surreal landscape, and you have a story of outcasts on the run. In the end, it´s still not clear why monster and girl pair up or who the girl is; this story offers no explanations but also offers no expectations—and gives none.

Sarah Monette´s “The Yellow Dressing Gown” involves fashionistas and a museum—but not the usual dark, creepy museum where strange things go bump in the night. This story is about the daily bureaucratic proceedings of curators and researchers. A curator, Michael Overton, is obsessed with finding the dressing gown of a famous, suicidal artist of the 1800s. But weirdness lies in the old, forlorn house where the gown is finally found. And then, of course, there’s the dressing gown:

“It was yellow brocade, a vile, acidic, mustard yellow, faced with white satin. The combination reminded me strongly of drainage from an infected wound.”

and:

“There were stains on the hem, stains on the white satin cuffs, the white satin lapels, and I tried and failed to remember what method of suicide Ephraim Catesby had chosen. There was no need to wonder if he had been wearing the dressing gown at the time. He had been.”

The descriptions mesmerize; however, the dressing gown may not be the vehicle through which the suicidal painter channeled his evil energies. The researchers also find a painting that was considered lost, a horrible, Blake-esque work featuring hideous, bird-skulled monsters. The obsessed curator manages to buy not only the dressing gown but also the painting, both of which the museum wisely will not accept. Overton, however, only becomes more obsessed by these old, strange objects and decides to keep them in his home, to his peril. We all know what happens next, but Monette keeps us going until the end all the same. She´s a cruel writer—as all writers should be. And that´s very good indeed.

John Kirk´s “The Talion Moth” is a nice, old-fashioned tale about the Great Eastern Mysteries of Tibetan death cults. American Harry Talion is summoned to a far away, cold locale where he must free the soul of a recently dead farmer. Steel, snake-like daggers, strange sorcerers, treachery, shapeshifting demons, and pure magic—it’s all here. But the story fails to explain much about the protagonist; we are not told how Talion became a holy man or how he came to be in Tibet in the first place, and we are also kept in the dark as to the year in which the events happen. The omission isn’t sine qua non; the story remains good—the demon fight and its attendant blood and violence is great stuff—but it certainly leaves us expecting more. If there are more stories of Talion´s exploits coming, I would like to read them.

Rachel Swirsky´s short but interesting “Detours on the Way to Nothing” involves a strange tryst in the night. A shapeshifter, a being who craves to become nothingness, is compelled to take on the shape of others’ desires, transforming into the perfect fantasy of the people it encounters, before it can attain its elusive goal. And “you can´t be unfaithful with a fantasy”—a piece of philosophy that perhaps soothes the shapeshifter more than its lovers. The shapeshifter’s definition of a “fantasy” is definitely one of the best I´ve ever read:

“What is a fantasy? A scrap of yourself made into flesh. An illusion to masturbate with.”

The issue ends with a bang with the return of Elric of Melniboné in Michael Moorcock´s “Black Petals.” Very weak, and helped by his companion, Moonglum, Elric embarks upon a quest to the city of Nassea-Tiki to cure the sickness caused by his rare form of albinism. There grows the legendary noibuluscus plant, whose black flower blooms only once in a century. On his way, he must struggle with remembrances of things past and face people he betrayed: his cousin Duke Dyvim Mar, one of the few Dragon Masters to survive Elric´s betrayal of Melniboné to the Young Kingdom reavers; and Nahuaduar and Semleedaor, the brave twin daughters of the king of Uyt, who disappeared in an earlier excursion into the ruins of Soom, the exact place where the noibuluscus blossoms. Along with their captain, Duke Orogino, they intend to rescue their father if he´s still alive. Danger abounds. The jungle surrounding the ruined city of Soom is filled with dwarfish cannibals that flay people alive, but in order for Elric to have the strength to fight, he must draw his cursed sword, Stormbringer, which he has resolved not to do. Such is Elric´s hubris and Elric’s curse. But when they are attacked, he must decide whether he should draw Stormbringer and put it to its dreadful use or let every member—including, possibly, himself—in their improbable fellowship be killed. “Black Petals” is almost Lovecraftian in its telling, featuring as it does strange beasts, man-eating plants, and a tribe of wild fighters and cannibals. Grand Master Moorcock at his best.

Weird Tales #349 is an almost perfect issue. I’d say “you can´t get much better than this,” but Weird Tales has been steadily raising the bar. It´s excellent and getting even better.