by Lester Anderson
Why the dearth of readers for that class of literature known as the
weird or fantastic? Why the cynicism in most circles regarding this
branch of writing? Many answers have been given to these queries,
the most common one being that of "lack of imagination." May I offer
a startling contradiction to this, namely--TOO MUCH IMAGINATION?
Precisely that.
A study of superstitions in America is being made by Dr. Otis Caldwell
of Columbia University, who announces that 98 people out of 100 are
superstitious. Let that sink in--98 out of 100. He further states
that women are more superstitious than men, and superstition is more
prevalent in the country than in the city.
Now, the person who goes around whistling in the dark, avidly studies
Dream Books (also known variously as "Success in 5 Lessons" and
"Would You DARE Join a Nudist Camp?"), avoids ladders, and keeps his
weather eye peeled for stray black cats--albeit he laughs it off
outwardly--isn't likely to pick up a copy of "The Slithering Shadow" no
matter in what state of dishabille the shapely lady might be in. (At
this point, let me briefly interrupt by stating that I have absolutely
no objections to the so-called "naked" covers gracing most issues of
Weird Tales--if the circulation is increased thereby). I venture to
say that the average reader of weird fantasy is remarkably free from
the superstitions which beset the run-of-the-mill literate, and if
encountered by an ultra-mundane manifestation would be the first to be
skeptical--and investigate.
By superstition I don't mean speculation on unknown forces or cosmic
powers, but those things which effect the material world; those that
are detrimental to your way of living; and those superstitions which
stand in the path of progress--progress in all spheres of human
activity, and which are crammed down the throats of our plastic
younglings.
A few reasons why most people are averse to reading fantasy, and cover
their dislike with a thinly-veiled sneer or a condescending smile, are:
someone might think them superstitious; there might be a grain of truth
in it at that; such childish stuff; and of course, their fear of that
great mental force, ridicule. Naturally, there are those who aren't
impressed one way or another, but in this article we are not concerned
with personal tastes.
Perhaps Mr. Wright has the wrong idea of what constitutes weirdness.
Would Weird Tales reach a tremendous circulation if Lovecraft, Machen,
C. A. Smith, Blackwood, Merritt, and other blood-brothers collaborated
on a novel with the following plot which I will sketchily outline? Have
the hero born on Friday the 13th under the sign of--say Capricornus.
Then show his misadventures down life's highway starting with the theft
of his mammy's rabbit's foot and culminating in a cacophonic tumult of
soul-shattering events following his breaking up of the merchandise in
a mirror warehouse. There you have something everybody can understand
and appreciate. Oh yes! and have the novel endorsed by Einstein,
Stalin, the A.A.A.S., Lindbergh, and Mae West. Publicly, you know.
Seriously, though, I do not believe fantasy will be a strong force
until we root out superstitious hoodoos. Paradoxical?