Clark Ashton Smith was a poet, sculptor, painter and author of fantasy, horror and science fiction short stories. It is for these stories, and his literary friendship with H. P. Lovecraft from 1922 until Lovecraft's death in 1937, that he is mainly remembered today. With Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, also a friend and correspondent, Smith remains one of the most famous contributors to the pulp magazine Weird Tales.
Antiquarian John Sebastian obtains a tome of forbidden knowledge this one called the Testament of Carnamagos, from a book he is exposed to the horror a of the great old ones. The god in question slowly advances towards him across a gulf of time and space, ultimately- turning the man to dust and ultimate corruption.
Lovely little story that I can't decide would be better, or worse, if it was longer. Wonderful. Clark’s prodigious vocabulary and poetic voice are on full display and fit with the Lovecraftian tone. In addition, although the plot is conventional, it is wonderfully rendered, and adds an inevitability that works to its advantage.
Okay, so in this little piece we got the (un-?)fortunate heir of a Mansion John Sebastian, his manservant Timmers and we got the Dudes Carnamagos and Quachil Uttaus mentioned.
3 days ago he, John Sebastian, ran out of his study… out of his house without a word. Too scared of… of what exactly? As Sebastian comes back home, deep inside he somewhat laughs at himself and this ridiculous notion that something was off as soon as he was reading the manuscript, that damned Testament. But where is his 'ancient' companion Timmers?
I loved the Ambiente of this story. I could see the dark, dusty study in my mind's eye. Full of rare and aged books, that wooden lecturn plus the old era stationery and notebooks.
Slowly but surely Smith is becoming one of my old, weird favourites. It was just the right amount of short story… no rambling, no blah blah. Well done!
I'm not sure how many times we've seen puny little human sorcerers go questing for eldritch knowledge in some book of forbidden lore, and then biting the dust when they encounter something bigger and greater than them. Here, our puny little human is entranced with The Testaments of Carnamagos, until Quachil Uttaus comes for him and literally turns him into . . . you guessed it: dust. Wha ha ha!
Clark Ashton Smith has his verbose cooties all over this one, which I enjoyed very much.
This is the kind of horror story that needs to be read on a dark stormy night in front of a fire giving yourself chills. It had a beautiful brooding atmosphere and spine tingling climax, and I could almost smell the dusty walls and mouldering books. A perfect little story that I can’t decide would be better, or worse, if it was longer.
Some might say that this wasn't Smith's best work, but something I enjoy seeing in weird fiction is a feeling of unqiueness, and this was certainly that. Fans of Smith and H.P. Lovecraft obviously know the Crawling Chaos, Tsathoggua, Ubbo-Sathla, Azathoth. So the being in this feels unqiue to the universe.