#david lindsay

“David Lindsay is at once one of the most remarkable and one of the most tragic figures in 20th-century literature. Anyone who is willing to read his work patiently, from that amazing fantasy A Voyage to Arcturus to the strange unfinished torso called The Witch, will agree that the man was a towering genius whose mind is cast in the same mould as that of Dostoevsky. The Philosophical Aphorisms published in 1972 in the Scottish magazine Lines reveal him as a thinker who deserves comparison with Nietzsche. His problem was simple. Ordinary technical ability, the literary talent that so many third-rate novelists possess in abundance, was denied to him. As a result, his works have simply failed to reach a wider audience, and remain confined to a small band of ardent admirers. For example, this novel, Sphinx, has been out of print ever since it first appeared in 1923. Yet anyone who is willing to take it seriously—that is, to put into it the same kind of energy he might put into reading acknowledged masterpieces like Joyce's Ulysses or Proust's Remembrance of Things Past—will agree that it is a work of power and originality, with a haunting quality that is uniquely its own.

(…)

Let me take a deep breath and try to summarise Lindsay's ideas, for the benefit of readers who are discovering him for the first time. The tremendous problems of his life tended to make him pessimistic. In his Philosophical Notes (263) he writes: 'Deep depression, even to the extent of a breaking heart; then a sudden flashing light of joy and defiance—that is when the Sublime appears in its elemental purity.’ Every writer knows what he means: immense disappointments that seem to drain all your courage and batter you to your knees, and then that sudden upsurge of pure strength and optimism that seems to sweep away all doubts. It was a sensation experienced over and over again by men I called (in my first book) 'Outsiders', men like Nietzsche, Van Gogh, Dostoevsky. The Outsider is a man who feels that he has somehow fallen between two stools: too intelligent to be a 'success' in the everyday world, yet not intelligent or forceful enough to compel the world to take him at his own valuation. A few Outsiders—the most pathetic—feel alienated because their physical appearance is repellant—like Victor Hugo's hunchback of Nôtre Dame or the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. Edmond Rostand even treated the idea with a certain humour in Cyrano de Bergerac, whose noble spirit seems to be mocked by his monstrous nose. Lindsay himself was presentable enough as a human being, but his curious clumsiness with words, his inability to express his deepest ideas on paper, makes him an archetypal Outsider.

Nightspore, Maskull and Krag prepare for the journey from Earth to Arcturus (specifically a city called Tormance). Maskull, as always, is filled with a billion questions and Krag, as usual, is evasive as fuck.

Maskull: yo, so what’s this Surtur guy I keep hearing about like?

Krag: he’s like the windows

*gestures to windows that magically show distant galaxies with a shrug*

Krag: no point in explaining, you’ll see him soon enough

Maskull, sighs: fine, let’s go already

Nightspore: do we strip?

Krag: naturally

Nightspore and Krag strip slowly.

Maskull: why?

Maskull joins in anyway.

Krag: idk what Tormance fashion is like. We might grow an extra leg. I don’t think we will though. Hell, might even get a new “pleasure organ”

[3 paragraphs later..]

Krag breaks open a bottle of alcohol.

Krag: a drink to our success!

Krag proceeds to flop on the floor and drag Maskull into horseplaying while Nightspore paced around like a grump.

Some creepy banshee wail happens sometime later in “honor of our departure.”

The three scale a ladder up into another room in the house or the tower which opens to reveal a “torpedo of crystal” machine that’s long af — the ship taking them to Arcturus.

The inside of the ship is also made of crystals. Everyone settles in for the ride.

.

.

.

What the fuck is with this book?

What was Lindsay smoking?

“The house is empty,” replied Nightspore, biting his nails. “Better break a window.”

Summary of Ch1 & 2

Chapter 1

If I’m understanding this right..

Faull hold a ritual to “materialize” a humanoid form from thin air. Backhouse is going to do the summoning by breaking the wall between the spirit world and our world (which sometimes can cause insanity and death).

10 minutes later

A mist comes out of a pedestal in human-ish form. Dude forms on the couch and just lays there. Kinda dead looking. Some lady faints (lol).

“Phantom body” sits up and smiles.

Maskull tries to interrogate them - fails.

Nightspore gets grumpy.

Then Krag - a jolly fellow comes in casually. Faull is huffy but too polite to say get out.

Krag, like any guy who sees a smiling “phantom body” goes up and strangles him.

Chapter 2

The ritual wraps up. Maskull, Nightspore and Krag leave the house to chat.

Maskull is giddy about all this but also curious. More so about what Krag knows about this “phantom body” buisness

(The possible murder didn’t or motivation behind it remains a mystery)

(Maybe this is normal in this universe. Who knows?)

Krag explains that the “phantom body” dude is actually a Crystalman who come not from this world but of Arcturus suburb on the planet Tormance.

And Maskull is like “lol, dude. Very funny.”

Krag takes it in stride. “Also we’re going on a roadtrip.”

Maskull perhaps realizes just who he’s talking to. “Cool. You’re crazy.”

Nightspore collaborates Krag’s claim saying another friend is already there. Maskull is like “okay, so I don’t have a life so I’m totes down for this but like lil proof, man?”

So, as you’d expect, Krag produces a 10-pound pair of spectacles that to “peep at Arcuturus.”

Maskull sees 2 suns orbiting each other. Impressed but he’s not entirely sold.

Nightspore, on the other hand, is there for the ride. He says “Krag’s no liar” but doesn’t seem to have faith that he’s right more like, “alright, let’s see where this goes.”

[referring to the vapor aparition given physical form]

Nightspore turned his back, but everyone else stared at the intruder in astonishment. […]

“May I ask, sir, how I come to have the honor of being your host?” said Faull sullenly. […]

The newcomer looked at him for a second, and then broke into a great, roaring guffaw. He thumped Faull on the back playfully— but the play was rather rough, for the victim was sent staggering against the wall before he could recover his balance.

“Good evening, my host!”

“And good evening to you, my lad!” he went on, addressing the supernatural youth, who was now beginning to wander the room, in apparent unconsciousness of his surroundings. “I have seen someone like you before, I think.”

There was no response.

[1 minute later]

Before anyone realised what [the newcomer] was doing, he encircled the soft, white neck of the materialised shape with his hairy hands and, with double turn, twist it completely round. A faint unearthly shriek sounded, and the body fell in a heap to the floor.

About A Voyage To Arcturus by David Lindsay

A Voyage to Arcturus David Lindsay cover art by Bob Pepper