“Memory”

The United Co-Operative sounds like some massive international agency. Actually, it was a tiny, short-lived side project undertaken by Lovecraft and a few of his new friends from The Vagrant. Lovecraft was one of the joint editors of this ostentatiously named writing mini-zine, and this short vignette of his appeared in its first issue in 1919.

“In the valley of Nis the accursed waning moon shines thinly, tearing a path for its light with feeble horns through the lethal foliage of a great upas-tree. And within the depths of the valley, where the light reaches not, move forms not meet to be beheld. Rank is the herbage on each slope, where evil vines and creeping plants crawl amidst the stones of ruined palaces, twining tightly about broken columns and strange monoliths, and heaving up marble pavements laid by forgotten hands. And in trees that grow gigantic in crumbling courtyards leap little apes, while in and out of deep treasure-vaults writhe poison serpents and scaly things without a name.”

I had to google "upas tree." In the pre-internet age, I'd have been at a loss for what to imagine there.

He waxes a little too poetic for his own good in the first few lines, but it gets easier to read as it goes on.

I should point out that this is the first sign of a problem that we’re going to see a loooooot more of going forward through Lovecraft’s works. I call it the Two Legs problem, for reasons that I’ll explain in a few more posts. Anyway, the gist of it is that the characters sometimes have horrified reactions to things that really shouldn't be horrifying. In the previous story, "The Beast in the Cave," the protagonist at least had the excuse of not being able to see the approaching creature and thus letting his imagination fill in the blanks with something scary. Oftentimes though, the reader is simply left baffled over what, exactly, is meant to be so disturbing, even by the standards of xenophobic nineteen-twenties America.

It’s not so bad in this case, but we see hints of it. "Accursed," "evil," "not meant to be beheld." Why? What he's actually describing - a ruined city reclaimed by the jungle - sounds not only visually beautiful, but of great interest to anyone with archaeological or zoological leanings. Maybe there's going to be something horrible lurking in the ruins, but in describing the mundane, expected, natural elements of the scene as being innately scary Lovecraft doesn't foreshadow the horror so much as make himself seem like a total wimp who hates going outside.

“Vast are the stones which sleep beneath coverlets of dank moss, and mighty were the walls from which they fell. For all time did their builders erect them, and in sooth they yet serve nobly, for beneath them the grey toad makes his habitation.”

We have a little more reason to be disturbed now, with the Ozymandias thing he's going for. Though in this case at least someone is still benefiting from the ruins.

“At the very bottom of the valley lies the river Than, whose waters are slimy and filled with weeds. From hidden springs it rises, and to subterranean grottoes it flows, so that the Daemon of the Valley knows not why its waters are red, nor whither they are bound.”

There's a demon around, and one with incomplete hydrological knowledge at that.

“The Genie that haunts the moonbeams spake to the Daemon of the Valley, saying, “I am old, and forget much. Tell me the deeds and aspect and name of them who built these things of stone.” And the Daemon replied, “I am Memory, and am wise in lore of the past, but I too am old. These beings were like the waters of the river Than, not to be understood. Their deeds I recall not, for they were but of the moment. Their aspect I recall dimly, for it was like to that of the little apes in the trees. Their name I recall clearly, for it rhymed with that of the river. These beings of yesterday were called Man.””

Now there's a genie too. It’s a party.

This seems to be Lovecraft's version of "There Will Come Gentle Rains." The impermanence and, ultimately, insignificance of humanity, to the point that even Memory itself doesn't think we're worth remembering in any detail.

We also have another comparison of human to apes, or vice versa. This is going to be a major recurring element throughout Lovecraft's career, and one that touches on several of his greatest anxieties.

“So the Genie flew back to the thin horned moon, and the Daemon looked intently at a little ape in a tree that grew in a crumbling courtyard.”

I wonder what the intent behind the demon looking at the little ape was. Is he simply musing over the ape's similarity to humans, since the conversation reminded him of us? Or is he looking at the apes expectantly, wondering if they too will someday build cities and monuments like their larger cousins did. Or is this another case of degeneration, with the implication meant to be that the apes are the descendants of humanity who have forgotten everything? This last possibility...actually makes a disturbing amount of sense.

The apes are consistently described as "little," which at first made me think of chimpanzees or bonobos, but Lovecraft could have meant it as "little compared to gorillas," which could mean human sized. The fact that Memory has dim recollections of humanity might hint that the apes are still aware of what they once were, and what they’ve lost. After all, what is "Memory" without living creatures to remember things? Even the early mention of Memory having incomplete knowledge of the area suggests that he is tied to the memories of the living and that, as an anthropomorphic personification, he only knows what we know. Given all the hints and careful word choices, I think this last possibility - that the apes are savage posthumans - is the author's intent.

Despite the clumsy intro and ambient melodrama, this vignette contains a great deal of subtlety that I came very close to missing, and it does a good job of mixing naturalistic beauty (even if Lovecraft himself didn't see the beauty in it) with hopelessness and despair. All in all, this seems to be a major step in Lovecraft's road to becoming what he's famous as.

And on that positive note, our next story will be...

Oh.

"Beyond the Walls of Sleep."

Brace yourselves, boys and girls. This is going to get ugly.