All God's Angels, Beware!

by Quentin S. Crisp

In these ten stories, Crisp takes us from the spectral purlieus of the ghost of a suicide, searching in vain for a mortal confidante (‘Troubled Joe’), to the future melancholy of a world in the early stages of human immortality, where a holographic environment is replacing the non-holographic (Karakasa), and through a variety of intimately portrayed worlds, both familiar and fantastical, to a final cri de coeur in the form of the novelette ‘Suicide Watch’, in which, against the background of the doomed present age, one suicidal loser attempts to save another.
Contents
1 Troubled Joe
2 The Were-Sheep of Abercrave
3 Ynys-y-Plag
4 Karakasa
5 A Cup of Tea
6 Asking For It
7 The Fox Wedding
8 Mise en Abyme
9 Italiannetto
10 Suicide Watch

Genres: Horror, Short Stories, Fiction, Weird Fiction

328 pages, Paperback

First published October 1, 2009

Reviews

[Simon · Rating 5 out of 5]

British author Quentin S. Crisp (no relation to the elder Quentin Crisp) is best known for being so unconventional in writing style that most of his work is impossible to classify in genre, to the point that even most independent presses reject his manuscripts. In other words he is too genuinely weird for the self-declared ”Weird Fiction” community, something that made me all the more curious about reading him.

If the short story collection ”All God's Angels, Beware!” from 2009 is typical of QSC's writing, quite a few of his stories live up to that reputation but others are easier to understand than I had expected. The first story ”Troubled Joe” is a darkly comical ghost story told from the ghost's viewpoint. ”The Were-Sheep of Abercrave” and ”Ynys-y-Plag” revolve around encounters with numinous entities in rural Wales that are impossible to categorise as either cryptids, demons, ghosts or aliens. Indeed ”The Bug”, as the entity in ”Ynys-y-Plag” is called, seems like more than anything else a malevolent genius loci - the spirit of the titular Welsh village but no clear-cut answer is ever offered. What those 2 Welsh stories remind me of are all those purportedly real entity encounters of high strangeness that even cryptozoologists, parapsychologists and ufologists shy away from.... with the exception of people regarded as eccentrics even in those circles: The late great John A. Keel, Jonathan Downes, Nick Redfern, Zelia Edgar and their ilk. In any case I would classify the first 3 short stories as extremely unconventional horror stories but horror nonetheless.

”Karakasa” is by far the most impressive story in here, as well as the one I understand the least. This rather long story illustrates QSC's frustration with modern Westerners' failure to imagine a future that does not look like a ”Blade Runner”-style cyborg megalopolis, taking place in a future where unimaginative modernist architecture becomes an uncontrollable ”rhizome blight” across the industrialised world, with brutal blocks of glass and concrete and steel growing like invasive plants over everything. Japan avoids this fate by finding a way to combine holographic architecture with its own traditional aesthetic style. The narrative follows a British refugee in Japan who encounters various weird characters both in his waking life and in his dreams, in a narrative structure reminiscent of Lewis Carroll's ”Alice in Wonderland” and Alfred Jarry's ”Dr. Faustroll”. In all these three stories, the protagonists encounter a succession of eccentric characters in surreal locations that put them through increasingly odd riddles each cultivating a new faculty of the mind. Quite a few modern Western occultists from Aleister Crowley over Erwin Neutzsky-Wulff to Damian Murphy (a sometimes literary collaborator with QSC as in ”Neo-Decadence: 12 Manifestos” and ”The Man from Düsseldorf”) pattern-match this type of story to the Kabbalah's path of initiation, where each new character posing a new challenge in a new environment represents a new Sephirah. (manifestation of the divine)

More noteworthy stories found within include: ”Mise en Abyme”, a science-fiction story exploring parallel universes; the relaxing ”Italianetto” following a middle aged man looking back on his childhood encounter with a pop singer he had a crush on back then, probably the young woman gracing the cover art of the paperback edition; as well as a handful of stories exploring life as a psychologically miserable young man of low socio-economic status, all of which conclude in unexpected ways be it the mystical experiences in ”The Fox Wedding” or the philosophical and religious tangents of ”Suicide Watch”.

As you can guess, ”God's Angels” is one of the least predictable short story collections written by a single author which I have ever read. The one thing that makes everything stick together is QSC's writing style: He is one of the extremely few authors I have read where I can perfectly imagine how everything in their stories looks, sounds, smells and feels like. If you are a fan of fantastic literature who enjoys expanding their literary horizons, if the comparisons to the ”high strangeness” corners of cryptozoology and ufology say anything to you, or if you have ever been a depressed young man at the bottom of the socio-economic hierarchy humouring an interest in obscure metaphysical topics you will in all likelihood find something to appreciate in here. Anyone else I can't guarantee will get anything out of this book.

[Axolotl · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read the stories of Quentin Crisp slowly. These are stories with such thought, nuance of feeling and skill in their execution that they demand to be savored not devoured.

Likewise, I will slowly fill in my impressions of each story at a later time. For now, let me say that the stories which I enjoyed the most in All God's Angels, Beware! were the ones which in the first few pages didn't really grab me straightaway in the usual sense in which this is meant; reading a story by Quentin S. Crisp does not always spell immediate gratification. His stories are like incantations crooned over an abandoned stove in rundown block of flats yet woven in a subtle yet unwavering fashion. The tension present in Crisp's stories is usually due to his characters' deep--almost heroic--uncertainty about what the world is and what it means to be a part of it. In a world where people are always seeking to profess their certainty--both about being and nothingness--this strikes a reader as something very special: something true yet not absolutely true, which is in itself the only truth to be had. And yet, some of Crisp's stories, possessing this spectacular quality, like "Suicide Watch" does, do not ring false anywhere and manage, on the contrary, to ring painfully true.

I would liken reading his stories, to a conversation with an old friend. At first you hesitate and worry that you might have nothing to say to each other and you feel slightly awkward and uncomfortable, at first. Slowly something magical begins to happen and you suddenly remember a moment the two of you shared long ago--perhaps a picnic in a pale yellow patch of sunlight, surrounded by a cool, lush, rustling & dark-green woods--and your friend tells you that she recalls that time too and adds her own memory of how the light flickered through the black foliage, as the two of you ate sandwiches near your haphazardly flung down bicycle and her red & upright one resting by the roots of a large oak tree. When I finish the best stories by Quentin S. Crisp, ones like "Ynys-y-Plag" which concerns a photographer who visits an out of the way village in the Welch countryside, I tend to confuse my own past recollections with those of the images just recently evoked; often I find that the two have become almost inextricably linked together. I then find it necessary to recuperate and separate the various strands of my memories from those of Crisp's stark-raving-fantasies.

Actually I doubt the veracity of that last, perhaps knee-jerk, description of Crisp's tales. The reason for this is because his narrative voice is usually, obsessively, (seemingly) calm and collected, as opposed to "stark raving". His stories are "stark raving" in implication only and not in their delivery---it is, therefore, your own sanity you come first to doubt.

"He who does that which he sees, shall understand; he who is set upon understanding rather than doing, shall go on stumbling and mistaking and speaking foolishness. ... It is he that runneth that shall read, and no other. It is not intended by the Speaker of the Parables that any other should know intellectually what, known but intellectually, would be for his injury--what, knowing intellectually, he would imagine he had grasped, perhaps even appropriated. When the pilgrim of the truth comes on his journey to the region of the parable, he finds its interpretation. It is not a fruit or a jewel to be stored, but a well springing by the wayside."

-George MacDonald

[Nirvana · Rating 5 out of 5]

I don't think anything I can say can convey how wonderful and singular the stories of Quentin S. Crisp are, so I shall repost the origin of the title below, as it perfectly encapsulates the general themes and atmosphere of this collection:




Guess your dreams always end.
They don't rise up just descend,
But I don't care anymore,
I've lost the will to want more,
I'm not afraid not at all,
I watch them all as they fall,
But I remember when we were young.

Those with habits of waste,
Their sense of style and good taste,
Of making sure you were right,
Hey don't you know you were right?
I'm not afraid anymore,
I keep my eyes on the door,
But I remember...

Tears of sadness for you,
More upheaval for you,
Reflects a moment in time,
A special moment in time,
Yeah we wasted our time,
We didn't really have time,
But we remember when we were young.

And all God's angels beware,
And all you judges beware,
Sons of chance, take good care,
For all the people not there,
I'm not afraid anymore,
I'm not afraid anymore,
I'm not afraid anymore,
Oh, I'm not afraid anymore.

-- Joy Division, "Insight"

[James · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of my favorite modern-day weird fiction collections. Recommended. Like Ligotti, though not quite as pessimistic.

[John Hepple · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book took me months to read, no joke. The concentration required for several of the stories meant that I just could not find the time to read, which was a real shame.

Now, almost quarter of a year down the line, can I say I enjoyed this collection? Yes, yes I can.

[Kulchur Kat · Rating 4 out of 5]

‘Ynys-y-Plag’, the brilliant novella at the heart of this collection of short stories, is a genuinely creepy and ingenious homage to classic weird fiction. Masquerading as an introduction to a new edition of a book of photographs called Traces, it relates the story of how the narrator came to take the mysterious and feted images on the outskirts of Ynys-y-Plag, a remote Welsh hamlet (with a Lovecraftian name).

Quentin S. Crisp is exceptional at describing the numinous, mysterious Welsh landscape and delineating a thick atmosphere of dread. Nature is infused with a weird melancholy, an eeriness, a destabilising, unhinging power. Crisp evokes the same sense of the untimely, unsettling weird place as Algernon Blackwood’s ‘The Wendigo’, Arthur Machen’s descriptions of the Welsh countryside in The Hill of Dreams and The Zone in Tarkovsky’s Stalker.

More Quentin S. Crisp reviews at
kulchurkat.wordpress.com

[Josh Maybrook · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is no single category into which the stories contained within this volume can easily fit, which may explain, in part, why their author has not received the recognition he deserves. Crisp works within a wide array of literary traditions such as Modernism, Surrealism and the Gothic, melding them into something simultaneously strange and beautiful.


The story “Ynys-y-Plag” is certainly a classic, although a classic of what, I’m not sure. In it, a professional photographer tries to capture the spirit of a remote Welsh village. The spirit, however, turns out to be much more literal than he anticipated. In this particular story, Crisp’s dense, crepuscular prose has the ability to transport readers to the most rarified states—the uncanny, the numinous, the sublime.

I cannot recommend this author’s fiction enough, and therefore, I’ll end this review here.

[L.S. Popovich · Rating 4 out of 5]

QSC's output is typically speculative. His stories do not fit into typical categories otherwise. This rare edition includes some gems.

For the first 3 tales, I was not enthralled. I found them lumbering, dreamy, wistful. They take place in Britain. A lot of the extraneous description and interior monologue might've been cut out. He tends to be extremely wordy. But it may depend on my mood. Sometimes the tumblers interlock and the keys of his diction clicks into place. It took a long time for this collection to rev up. But richnesses piled upon richnesses midway through, making way for a suffusion of ideas, a tangible sense of place, a sensuous texture to the sentences. These are all hallmarks of Crisp's superb fictional forays.
His style is characterized by a male narrator, often first person, somewhat self-deprecating. An outcast, an artist or writer, for most of the collection an ex-pat living in Japan. Or a teacher barely scraping by. Always short on money and long on ideas. Occasionally suicidal or going through a prolonged existential crisis, as in the final story. He is incredibly learned. The so-called friends depicted in the story do not stoke his ego but tweak his feelings of inadequacy. They cannot be called friends in the traditional sense. He disconnects from technology, dwells in books, on trains, scribbling underappreciated books by hand.
After running aground in the first 3rd of the book, the rest was smooth sailing. The collection became wonderous. Interesting facets unfolded. The narrator spends ample time contemplating the extent and perversion of his lust, the wall between him and other people, typically women. Terrifying in his blunderings, the reader will witness scenes of stark humiliation, and inscrutable human interactions. The tales bled together, all containing a certain state of mind, given over to a harrowing disinterest in the pursuits of societal status and conventional ambition.

Troubled Joe - a ghost ponders life and feels the need to accost young lovers. He must communicate the tale of his conundrum through whispers.
The Were-Sheep of Abercrave - A lot of meandering around a town, interrogating locals, stumbling off the beaten path, and encountering strange evidence of a slightly unnerving sheep.
Ynys-y-Plag - a traveling photographer encounters a malicious entity. Much interaction between oddball characters. deep interiority. Meditations on art and photographic aesthetics. Appreciation of countryside. Very slow.
Karakasa - Beautiful unpredictable. A futuristic tale dealing with longevity, social disorder, homelessness, and urban biology - buildings sprouting up like saplings in an earthquake plagued country.
A Cup of Tea - a contemplative tale in the manner of Soseki. The Crisp technique is delicate here. Reminiscent of Hearn.
Asking For It - a controversial story. Women depicted as smug temptations, then angelic innocents, after our narrator's self-castigating abasement.
The Fox Wedding - a beautiful story further deepening the confusing relationship between the narrator and women. Smacks of idol-worship. It is hard to ignore a tendency in Japanese advertising and culture in general to plaster young women's faces and bodies over every inch of the city, on every screen. This prevalence can be as haunting as it is enticing if viewed in a certain light.
Mise en Abyme - A cool premise. The main character tumbles into a sloppily planned hallway of mirrors. Would make an intriguing Twilight Zone episode.
Italiannetto - more atmospheric musings. immaculately written, but not particularly ripe with incident.
Suicide Watch - framed as a suicide note. Highly literary. Roping in far-flung ideas. Amusingly morbid. Much discussion of comparative religion. Contempt for organized religion. A drowning in the self, in the perceived meaninglessness of existence. Musings on Hindu texts.

It could be a misread to assume the narrator is the same throughout all the stories. If not precisely the same narrator, he remains pretty consistent throughout. The differences are subtle, but the story may hinge on those unnoticeable details. Where they lack conflict and plot, they deliver in terms of rigorous adherence to a method of didactic argument and descriptive confidence. There are also other tales in other collections by this author making use of the same view point. Crisp's disturbing and often achingly aesthetic approach to storytelling is sure to frustrate those who seek easy answers. For the discerning reader, his work is bountiful and will reward repeated study.