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Fantasy Commentator, v. 1, issue 7, Summer 1945
Page 146
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146 FANTASY COMMENTATOR lasciviously on the greensward. Demoniac tittering and loud peels of inhuman laughter polluted the air. Finally, at the first cock-crow, everything returned to normal and the hierophants staggered from the garden---drawn and exhausted. John's acquaintance with Pamela had grown by natural degrees into a tender love. Naturally he feared for her safety although she had never taken part in her uncle's rituals---he had always locked her securely in her bedroom on all such occasions. John's terror and concern rose to almost insupportable heights, however, when he heard Woodfell assert to his evil companions that they would never succeed in raising the Lords themselves until a missing feminine element---the disgusting rite of Ashtaroth---was added. The story reaches a tremendous climax on that awful night---the night of the last ritual. With a priestess of shunned Ashtaroth included in their vile circle, the ceremony was complete. Terrible and revolting things took place which it would be unfair to reveal to a prospective reader. Let it suffice to say that it was a night of abysmal horror not often equaled in literature of the weird and the supernatural. First of all, it must be noted with extreme pleasure that the author has scrupulously avoided two fatally familiar clichés: Pamela's uncle, the magician Woodfell is not a despicable monster---he is a quiet, serious student who goes beyond forbidden barriers in his zeal, and suffers a terrible fate. Nor is Pamela made the sacrifice in the final rite, nor is she made to perform its foul mummeries via hypnotism, possession or any other means. The author shows a considerable knowledge of the ancient mysteries, especially as evidenced in his magnificent descriptions of the happenings in the garden. He submits a fairly fresh variant on the creepy idea that a wizard's control over what he evokes may be weakened merely by the vicissitudes of age and personal health. Even so, he does not try to force the supernatural down our throats. A chance for a completely psychological explanation is hinted at---if the readers insists on such an explanation. However, we do not have to see Jepson's cheeked tongue to understand just where his real beliefs lie. We are inevitably lead to comparisons. Jepson has little of the quality of the late M. R. James in his ability to produce frightful vistas by mere matter-of-fact narration, but it seems to this writer that a likeness to the somewhat bland terrors of E. F. Benson is a closer simile. One is remorselessly reminded of "Negotium Parambulans…" and also, somehow, of "The Horror Horn." Jepson's concept of the Gods (Pan in particular) has nothing of the sly, sensuous and terrible beauty of Dunsany. His Pan is vile and malevolent---uncompromisingly so. Here some readers may try to draw a parallel with the works of Lovecraft but such a similarity is only on the surface. Jepson's mythos is purely classical in nature: his terrors arise from the ancient mysteries and the Black Art---his conception of the supernatural is clear and unadulterated. Lovecraft, on the other hand, created an eclectic mythos new to literature: a blending of modern space-time elements with certain of the age-old concepts of the weird and supernatural; his achievement was an attitude which led us to look upon the strange and unexplained attributes of the universe in the light of the supernormal. Now, this is not to belittle Jepson in any way. He is a writer of definite stature in the realm of the weird, characterized by certain deft touches of suggestive technique, the implications of which dawn upon us out of a clear sky from the supposedly innocent words of his narrative. A few examples: John's finding of the queer device in the sycamore tree which later on turns out to be the mystica vannus Iacchi, or bull-roarer, used to summon initiates to the Bacchic mysteries in elder ages; Mark's refusal to reveal to John what the tracks were which he (Marks) stamped out of the gravel in the garden; John's terrified puz- (concluded on page 155)
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146 FANTASY COMMENTATOR lasciviously on the greensward. Demoniac tittering and loud peels of inhuman laughter polluted the air. Finally, at the first cock-crow, everything returned to normal and the hierophants staggered from the garden---drawn and exhausted. John's acquaintance with Pamela had grown by natural degrees into a tender love. Naturally he feared for her safety although she had never taken part in her uncle's rituals---he had always locked her securely in her bedroom on all such occasions. John's terror and concern rose to almost insupportable heights, however, when he heard Woodfell assert to his evil companions that they would never succeed in raising the Lords themselves until a missing feminine element---the disgusting rite of Ashtaroth---was added. The story reaches a tremendous climax on that awful night---the night of the last ritual. With a priestess of shunned Ashtaroth included in their vile circle, the ceremony was complete. Terrible and revolting things took place which it would be unfair to reveal to a prospective reader. Let it suffice to say that it was a night of abysmal horror not often equaled in literature of the weird and the supernatural. First of all, it must be noted with extreme pleasure that the author has scrupulously avoided two fatally familiar clichés: Pamela's uncle, the magician Woodfell is not a despicable monster---he is a quiet, serious student who goes beyond forbidden barriers in his zeal, and suffers a terrible fate. Nor is Pamela made the sacrifice in the final rite, nor is she made to perform its foul mummeries via hypnotism, possession or any other means. The author shows a considerable knowledge of the ancient mysteries, especially as evidenced in his magnificent descriptions of the happenings in the garden. He submits a fairly fresh variant on the creepy idea that a wizard's control over what he evokes may be weakened merely by the vicissitudes of age and personal health. Even so, he does not try to force the supernatural down our throats. A chance for a completely psychological explanation is hinted at---if the readers insists on such an explanation. However, we do not have to see Jepson's cheeked tongue to understand just where his real beliefs lie. We are inevitably lead to comparisons. Jepson has little of the quality of the late M. R. James in his ability to produce frightful vistas by mere matter-of-fact narration, but it seems to this writer that a likeness to the somewhat bland terrors of E. F. Benson is a closer simile. One is remorselessly reminded of "Negotium Parambulans…" and also, somehow, of "The Horror Horn." Jepson's concept of the Gods (Pan in particular) has nothing of the sly, sensuous and terrible beauty of Dunsany. His Pan is vile and malevolent---uncompromisingly so. Here some readers may try to draw a parallel with the works of Lovecraft but such a similarity is only on the surface. Jepson's mythos is purely classical in nature: his terrors arise from the ancient mysteries and the Black Art---his conception of the supernatural is clear and unadulterated. Lovecraft, on the other hand, created an eclectic mythos new to literature: a blending of modern space-time elements with certain of the age-old concepts of the weird and supernatural; his achievement was an attitude which led us to look upon the strange and unexplained attributes of the universe in the light of the supernormal. Now, this is not to belittle Jepson in any way. He is a writer of definite stature in the realm of the weird, characterized by certain deft touches of suggestive technique, the implications of which dawn upon us out of a clear sky from the supposedly innocent words of his narrative. A few examples: John's finding of the queer device in the sycamore tree which later on turns out to be the mystica vannus Iacchi, or bull-roarer, used to summon initiates to the Bacchic mysteries in elder ages; Mark's refusal to reveal to John what the tracks were which he (Marks) stamped out of the gravel in the garden; John's terrified puz- (concluded on page 155)
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