“Before
there occurred anything of a truly prodigious nature, the season had
manifestly erupted with some feverish intent. This, at least, was how it
appeared to us, whether we happened to live in town or somewhere
outside its limits.”
Thomas Ligotti places his short-story, The Shadow at the Bottom of the World, under the heading The Voice of Our Name,
most appropriate since, as in the above opening lines, the tale is told
by a narrator speaking in first-person plural, that is, as “we” and
“us” and “our.”
Personally, I'm put on my guard when anybody
takes on the role of spokesperson for an organization or crowd. Call me a
skeptic, but I sense some element of personal dignity is forfeited when
an individual assumes the identity of a group.
I'm also alerted
to something strange afoot when the narrator tells us “the season had
manifestly erupted with some feverish intent” and immediately talks
about a dark, abysmal presence in crisis or that something “perhaps had
been secretly invoked by small shadowy voices calling out in the midst
of our dreams.” He also speaks of a bitter scent in the air, the
"hysteric brilliance” of trees and the “intemperate display” of flowers,
shrubs and plants.
If this isn't enough, the narrator alludes to
the stars in the night sky growing delirious and taking on "the tints
of an earthly inflammation.” And, finally, there's that scarecrow in an
open field, a field refusing to turn cold when the season turned from
autumn into early winter.
Ah, that scarecrow. In addition to the
lurid description of the natural world appearing to have gone on some
weird acid trip, the tale's narrator expresses concern over a scarecrow
seemingly caught between opposing forces – its head slumps as if in “a
grotesque slumber” yet its arms extend as if in an “incredible gesture
toward flight,” its head nods as if trapped in a bad dream as its
overalls flap and flannel shirt flutters as if in a strong wind. But,
gulp, there is no wind; all else in field and trees remains completely
still.
Does all this bizarreness creep out the men and women who
witness what has happened to their otherwise reliable, predictable
world? You bet it does. But there's a glimmer of comprehension in the
person of a Mr. Marble whose been making his own detailed observations,
studying signs and uttering prophecies.
Sidebar: Some Thomas
Ligotti irony on display here in his calling this man Mr. Marble, as in
those common expressions - “losing one's marbles” and “scrambled
marbles” since attributes of a tribal shaman frequently include crazy
wisdom along with a deep connection to the Earth and an ability to
journey to realms beyond the purely physical, qualities, as we come to
learn, possessed in abundance by strange Mr. Marble.
Such an
incredible tale probing the human psyche, the dynamics of groupthink and
the very nature of reality. Here are several clips from what could be a
Shadow at the Bottom highlight reel -
One – The narrator
reports many individuals were nudged from their beds, called as
witnesses to what he terms “an obscene spectacle.” The scarecrow appears
to be a living creature (“appears” and “seems” are terms the narrator
uses repeatedly, as if they're all being tricked into seeing what they
see). Beholding the scarecrow, some claim it “actually raised its arms
and its empty face to the sky, as though declaring itself to the
heavens” while others saw “its legs kick wildly, like those of a man who
is hanged.” Of course, what's so freaky about scarecrows is how similar
they are to humans, adding a special sting to the night's “obscene
spectacle.”
Two – The following day, they all revisit the field
and the scarecrow. In his account, the narrator uses terms like pilgrim,
augur, idol, avatar, revelation, congregation, terms closely associated
with religion. The narrator reflects, “Our congregation was lost in
fidgeting bemusement.” However, there is an exception: Mr. Marble “whose
eyes...were gleaming with perceptions he could not offer us in any
words we would understand.” Their inability to understand is predictable
- after all, their worldview is probably a combination homespun
pragmatism and fundamentalist Christianity. Anything outside their
limited sphere of belief and comprehension would be far too removed from
even the first step in appreciating and understanding what someone like
Mr. Marble had to offer.
Three – Standing in that field, the
narrator recounts there wasn't sufficient sunlight to “burn off the
misty dreams of the past night.” He also observes “radiant leaves
possessed some inner source of illumination or stood in contrast to some
deeper shadow which they served to mask” and the group's impeded
efforts to come to terms with their fears. Also, how “odd droning noises
that filled the air could not be blamed on the legions of local cicadas
but indeed rose up from under the ground.” Oh, how all of what's spoken
here relates to tribal ritual and shamanism – dreams, shadows, masks
and, of course, that continuous cicada-like droning noise we can liken
to a didgeridoo, sacred instrument of the Australian Aboriginal peoples.
Four – When the farmer who owns the field tries
to tear the scarecrow apart, he and everyone else are in for a shock:
after the straw and rag clothes are discarded, rather than two crosswise
planks as to be expected, there was something “black and twisted in the
form of a man, something that seemed to come up from the earth.” The
narrator describes the gruesome particulars and concludes with “All of
this was supported by a thick, dark stalk which rose from the earth and
reached into the effigy like a hand into a puppet.” Ligotti fans will be
brought to attention by this last statement - puppets controlled by a
malignant outside presence serving as a major theme for the author.
And
what happens when they try to hack away and destroy that stalk rising
from the earth? And what happens thereafter (I've only highlighted the
opening scenes)? For Thomas Ligotti to tell.
The Shadow at the Bottom of the World
prompts us to ask a number of philosophic questions. Will this
community's worldview be shattered when nature appears to violate its
own rules? Is anybody truly open to messages that might be contained in
their dreams? What's with Mr. Marble and what will he do under these
seemingly horrific circumstances? Are these people connected or
disconnected to the Earth? Do these freakish happenings threaten a
traditional Christian view of God? What, if anything, is nature herself
trying to communicate to these men and woman? Might there be a kind of
Zoroastrian dualism at play here?
The questions continue. Have a read yourself. I'm confident you'll come up with some humdingers on your own.
American author Thomas Ligotti, born 1953
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