A Voyage to Arcturus by David Lindsay (the false prince series .TXT) 📕
Description
On hearing the title A Voyage to Arcturus, one might picture an astronaut strapping themselves into a rocket and flying into space for a swashbuckling adventure. Nothing could be further from what this book actually is.
Voyage is in fact a fascinating, bizarre, bewildering, and thought-provoking sort of acid-fueled Pilgrim’s Progress: a philosophical allegory told through the frame of a psychedelic gender-bending journey to an alien planet.
After a terrifying séance, the protagonist, Maskull, is offered the chance of an adventure on a different world. He agrees, and the reader follows him on his blood-soaked path through lands representing different philosophies and ways of life as he searches for the world’s godhead, Surtur. Or is it Crystalman?
Voyage features fiction wildly ahead of its time, and is hardly classifiable as either science fiction or fantasy; one might even say that the book is better approached as a philosophical work than a straightforward narrative. It’s not a book for a reader seeking simple fiction, but rather for a reader seeking a thoughtful, imaginative, and totally unexpected exploration of philosophy and of life.
Decades ahead of its time, Voyage was praised by contemporaries like C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien, and by modern authors like Clive Barker and Alan Moore. Many modern reviewers consider it a masterpiece of 20th century fiction and the work of an underappreciated genius. A century later it boasts a significant cult following, having inspired movies, plays, albums, and even operas, as well as a modern sequel by famous literary critic Harold Bloom—the only work of fiction he ever wrote.
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- Author: David Lindsay
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“Has the time come?” asked Maskull.
“Yes.”
He lay there waiting in the darkness, ignorant of what was going to happen. He felt her hand clasping his. Without perceiving any gradation, he lost all consciousness of his body; he was no longer able to feel his limbs or internal organs. His mind remained active and alert. Nothing particular appeared to be taking place.
Then the chamber began to grow light, like very early morning. He could see nothing, but the retina of his eyes was affected. He fancied that he heard music, but while he was listening for it, it stopped. The light grew stronger, the air grew warmer; he heard the confused sound of distant voices.
Suddenly Tydomin gave his hand a powerful squeeze. He heard someone scream faintly, and then the light leaped up, and he saw everything clearly.
He was lying on a wooden couch, in a strangely decorated room, lighted by electricity. His hand was being squeezed, not by Tydomin, but by a man dressed in the garments of civilisation, with whose face he was certainly familiar, but under what circumstances he could not recall. Other people stood in the background—they too were vaguely known to him. He sat up and began to smile, without any especial reason; and then stood upright.
Everybody seemed to be watching him with anxiety and emotion—he wondered why. Yet he felt that they were all acquaintances. Two in particular he knew—the man at the farther end of the room, who paced restlessly backward and forward, his face transfigured by stern, holy grandeur; and that other big, bearded man—who was himself. Yes—he was looking at his own double. But it was just as if a crime-riddled man of middle age were suddenly confronted with his own photograph as an earnest, idealistic youth.
His other self spoke to him. He heard the sounds, but did not comprehend the sense. Then the door was abruptly flung open, and a short, brutish-looking individual leaped in. He began to behave in an extraordinary manner to everyone around him; and after that came straight up to him—Maskull. He spoke some words, but they were incomprehensible. A terrible expression came over the newcomer’s face, and he grasped his neck with a pair of hairy hands. Maskull felt his bones bending and breaking, excruciating pains passed through all the nerves of his body, and he experienced a sense of impending death. He cried out, and sank helplessly on the floor, in a heap. The chamber and the company vanished—the light went out.
Once more he found himself in the blackness of the cave. He was this time lying on the ground, but Tydomin was still with him, holding his hand. He was in horrible bodily agony, but this was only a setting for the despairing anguish that filled his mind.
Tydomin addressed him in tones of gentle reproach. “Why are you back so soon? I’ve not had time yet. You must return.”
He caught hold of her, and pulled himself up to his feet. She gave a low scream, as though in pain. “What does this mean—what are you doing, Maskull?”
“Krag—” began Maskull, but the effort to produce his words choked him, so that he was obliged to stop.
“Krag—what of Krag? Tell me quickly what has happened. Free my arm.”
He gripped her arm tighter.
“Yes, I’ve seen Krag. I’m awake.”
“Oh! You are awake, awake.”
“And you must die,” said Maskull, in an awful voice.
“But why? What has happened? …”
“You must die, and I must kill you. Because I am awake, and for no other reason. You bloodstained dancing mistress!”
Tydomin breathed hard for a little time. Then she seemed suddenly to regain her self-possession.
“You won’t offer me violence, surely, in this black cave?”
“No, the sun shall look on, for it is not a murder. But rest assured that you must die—you must expiate your fearful crimes.”
“You have already said so, and I see you have the power. You have escaped me. It is very curious. Well, then, Maskull, let us come outside. I am not afraid. But kill me courteously, for I have also been courteous to you. I make no other supplication.”
XI On DisscournBy the time that they regained the mouth of the cavern, Blodsombre was at its height. In front of them the scenery sloped downward—a long succession of mountain islands in a sea of clouds. Behind them the bright, stupendous crags of Disscourn loomed up for a thousand feet or more. Maskull’s eyes were red, and his face looked stupid; he was still holding the woman by the arm. She made no attempt to speak, or to get away. She seemed perfectly gentle and composed.
After gazing at the country for along time in silence, he turned toward her. “Whereabouts is the fiery lake you spoke of?”
“It lies on the other side of the mountain. But why do you ask?”
“It is just as well if we have some way to walk. I shall grow calmer, and that’s what I want. I wish you to understand that what is going to happen is not a murder, but an execution.”
“It will taste the same,” said Tydomin.
“When I have gone out of this country, I don’t wish to feel that I have left a demon behind me, wandering at large. That would not be fair to others. So we will go to the lake, which promises an easy death for you.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “We must wait till Blodsombre is over.”
“Is this a time for luxurious feelings? However hot it is now, we will both be cool by evening. We must start at once.”
“Without doubt, you are the master, Maskull. … May I not carry Crimtyphon?”
Maskull looked at her strangely.
“I grudge no man his funeral.”
She painfully hoisted the body on her narrow shoulders, and they stepped out into the sunlight. The heat struck them like a
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