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Through the Dragon Glass/The People of the Pit
Abraham Merritt (1884-1943), who published under the byline A. Merritt, was an American editor and author of works of fantastic fiction. Originally trained in law, he turned to journalism, first as a correspondent, and later as editor. He was assistant editor of The American Weekly from 1912 to 1937 under Morrill Goddard, then its editor until his death. He was a major influence on H. P. Lovecraft, and highly esteemed by his friend and frequent collaborator Hannes Bok. Merritt's stories typically revolve around conventional pulp magazine lost civilizations, hideous monsters, etc. His heroes are gallant Irishmen or Scandinavians, his villains treacherous Germans or Russians and his heroines often virginal, mysterious and scantily clad. What sets Merritt apart from the typical pulp author, however, is his lush, florid prose style and his exhaustive, at times exhausting, penchant for adjective-laden detail. His fondness for micro-description nicely complements the pointillistic style of Bok's illustrations. He wrote Through the Dragon Glass, and The People of the Pit (1917), The Moon Pool (1918), The Metal Monster (1920), and Three Lines of Old French.
46 pages, Paperback
First published February 15, 2008
About the author
A. Merritt
234 books130 followersAbraham Grace Merritt, wrote under the name of A. Merritt, born in New Jersey moved as a child to Philadelphia, Pa. in 1894, began studying law and than switched to journalism. Later a very popular writer starting in 1919 of the teens, twenties and thirties, horror and fantasy genres. King of the purple prose, most famous The Moon Pool, a south seas lost island civilization, hidden underground and The Ship of Ishtar, an Arabian Nights type fable, and six other novels and short stories collections (he had written at first, just for fun). Nobody could do that variety better, sold millions of books in his career. The bright man, became editor of the most successful magazine during the Depression, The American Weekly , with a fabulous $100,000 in salary. A great traveler, in search of unusual items he collected. His private library of 5,000 volumes had many of the occult macabre kind. Yet this talented author is now largely been forgotten.
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
November 5, 2013
These are two stories (1917/1918) from the interwar pulp fantasy writer Abraham Merritt, most famous as the author of 'The Moon Pool'.
They are early works. It took a while for Merritt to move from accomplished short story writer to author of larger scale novels and both of these examples are well worth reading.
'Through the Dragon Glass' is a quasi-erotic orientalist story that uses a common theme of Merritt's - passing through some transparent medium into a vivid world to find love with a truly alpha woman.
'The People of the Pit' gives us another Merritt meme but one that is more standard literary fare, albeit genuinely horrific in this case - the evil to be found in an ancient alien civilisation.
What is interesting is to read these and other Merritt tales and see him part of a lineage - both deriving themes from the world of Algernon Blackwood and H.G Wells and presaging themes we are used to seeing in the work of H.P. Lovecraft.
I mention Wells and Lovecraft advisedly because, though high fantasy, Merritt is always teetering on the edge of science fiction, as we will see when we get to a review of the 'Moon Pool'.
There is much in Merritt to appeal to Lovecraftians albeit that he is much the inferior to Lovecraft in simple literary skill and intellectual sophistication.
June 11, 2012
A Merrit sure knows how to write. It's no wonder Lovecraft style is so alike this writer. Remarkable. Made almost 90 years ago it's like reading a Lovecraft story. Horror. Pure Pulp Horror.
People of the Pit
Yukon, Canada. The vagueness of the place is deliberate enough to make you think the place might be real and enough to make sure you couldn’t find it, nor denying it's existence. The characters: Two adventurers searching for gold find a dying man with a tale to tell and a request.
The writing style of scenery
From the North and high overhead there came a whispering. It was not
the rustling of the aurora, that rushing, crackling sound like the
ghosts of winds that blew at Creation racing through the skeleton
leaves of ancient trees that sheltered Lilith. It was a whispering
that held in it a demand. It was eager. It called us to come up where
the beam was flashing. It drew. There was in it a note of inexorable
insistence. It touched my heart with a thousand tiny fear-tipped
fingers and it filled me with a vast longing to race on and merge
myself in the light. It must have been so that Ulysses felt when he
strained at the mast and strove to obey the crystal sweet singing of
the Sirens.
The Feeling of the Pit
I can't describe these carvings! No human being could--the human
eye cannot grasp them any more than it can grasp the shapes that haunt
the fourth dimension. Only a subtle sense in the back of the brain
sensed them vaguely. They were formless things that gave no conscious
image, yet pressed into the mind like small hot seals--ideas of
hate--of combats between unthinkable monstrous things--victories
in a nebulous hell of steaming, obscene jungles--aspirations and
ideals immeasurably loathsome--
The Evil of the Pit
Saw the Things under the lights," he answered. "Great transparent
snail-like bodies--dozens of waving tentacles stretching from
them--round gaping mouths under the luminous seeing globes. They
were like the ghosts of inconceivably monstrous slugs! I could see
through them. And as I stared, still bowing and whispering, the dawn
came and they streamed to and through the entrance. They did not crawl
or walk--they floated! They floated and were--gone!
Through the Dragon Glass
This is another tale that has written pulp/horror fiction in every word. Each sentence is movement to the end. Beautifully written and scary at the same time. As the previous one the narrator is not the one telling the tale. Both stories the narrator is hearing the tale from a third person.
It called us to come up There never has been anything like that thing! Never! At first all you saw was a cool, green, glimmering translucence, like the sea when you are swimming under water on a still summer day and look up through it. Around its edges ran flickers of scarlet and gold, flashes of emerald, shimmers of silver and ivory. At its base a disk of topaz rimmed with red fire shot up dusky little vaporous yellow flames.
Afterward you were aware that the green translucence was an oval slice
of polished stone. The flashes and flickers became dragons. There were
twelve of them. Their eyes were emeralds, their fangs were ivory,
their claws were gold. There were scaled dragons, and each scale was
so inlaid that the base, green as the primeval jungle, shaded off into
vivid scarlet, and the scarlet into tips of gold. Their wings were of
silver and vermilion, and were folded close to their bodies. But they were alive, those dragons. There was never so much life in metal and wood since Al-Akram, the Sculptor of ancient Ad, carved the
first crocodile, and the jealous Almighty breathed life into it for a
punishment! And last you saw that the topaz disk that sent up the little yellow flames was the top of a metal sphere around which coiled a thirteenth dragon, thin and red, and biting its scorpion-tipped tail. It took your breath away, the first glimpse of the Dragon Glass. Yes, and the second and third glimpse, too--and every other time you looked at it.
What a writer. Beautiful. Unspoken Horror.
People of the Pit
Yukon, Canada. The vagueness of the place is deliberate enough to make you think the place might be real and enough to make sure you couldn’t find it, nor denying it's existence. The characters: Two adventurers searching for gold find a dying man with a tale to tell and a request.
The writing style of scenery
From the North and high overhead there came a whispering. It was not
the rustling of the aurora, that rushing, crackling sound like the
ghosts of winds that blew at Creation racing through the skeleton
leaves of ancient trees that sheltered Lilith. It was a whispering
that held in it a demand. It was eager. It called us to come up where
the beam was flashing. It drew. There was in it a note of inexorable
insistence. It touched my heart with a thousand tiny fear-tipped
fingers and it filled me with a vast longing to race on and merge
myself in the light. It must have been so that Ulysses felt when he
strained at the mast and strove to obey the crystal sweet singing of
the Sirens.
The Feeling of the Pit
I can't describe these carvings! No human being could--the human
eye cannot grasp them any more than it can grasp the shapes that haunt
the fourth dimension. Only a subtle sense in the back of the brain
sensed them vaguely. They were formless things that gave no conscious
image, yet pressed into the mind like small hot seals--ideas of
hate--of combats between unthinkable monstrous things--victories
in a nebulous hell of steaming, obscene jungles--aspirations and
ideals immeasurably loathsome--
The Evil of the Pit
Saw the Things under the lights," he answered. "Great transparent
snail-like bodies--dozens of waving tentacles stretching from
them--round gaping mouths under the luminous seeing globes. They
were like the ghosts of inconceivably monstrous slugs! I could see
through them. And as I stared, still bowing and whispering, the dawn
came and they streamed to and through the entrance. They did not crawl
or walk--they floated! They floated and were--gone!
Through the Dragon Glass
This is another tale that has written pulp/horror fiction in every word. Each sentence is movement to the end. Beautifully written and scary at the same time. As the previous one the narrator is not the one telling the tale. Both stories the narrator is hearing the tale from a third person.
It called us to come up There never has been anything like that thing! Never! At first all you saw was a cool, green, glimmering translucence, like the sea when you are swimming under water on a still summer day and look up through it. Around its edges ran flickers of scarlet and gold, flashes of emerald, shimmers of silver and ivory. At its base a disk of topaz rimmed with red fire shot up dusky little vaporous yellow flames.
Afterward you were aware that the green translucence was an oval slice
of polished stone. The flashes and flickers became dragons. There were
twelve of them. Their eyes were emeralds, their fangs were ivory,
their claws were gold. There were scaled dragons, and each scale was
so inlaid that the base, green as the primeval jungle, shaded off into
vivid scarlet, and the scarlet into tips of gold. Their wings were of
silver and vermilion, and were folded close to their bodies. But they were alive, those dragons. There was never so much life in metal and wood since Al-Akram, the Sculptor of ancient Ad, carved the
first crocodile, and the jealous Almighty breathed life into it for a
punishment! And last you saw that the topaz disk that sent up the little yellow flames was the top of a metal sphere around which coiled a thirteenth dragon, thin and red, and biting its scorpion-tipped tail. It took your breath away, the first glimpse of the Dragon Glass. Yes, and the second and third glimpse, too--and every other time you looked at it.
What a writer. Beautiful. Unspoken Horror.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 28, 2013
I just read The People of the Pit as my copy did not include Through the Dragon. A. Merritt must definitely have been a favorite writer of HP Lovecraft because this story hits aaaaaaalllll of his notes.
Ancient previously unknown civilization? Check.
Guy lured in by promises of great treasure & massive curiosity? Check.
Giant slug-like creatures with massive writhing tentacles? Check.
Bizarre alien ceremonies featuring captured and chained narrator? Check.
An ominous and ancient Unseen Evil? Check.
Amazing getaway that crippled and killed narrator just after he Told His Story? Check.
Very well done though.
Ancient previously unknown civilization? Check.
Guy lured in by promises of great treasure & massive curiosity? Check.
Giant slug-like creatures with massive writhing tentacles? Check.
Bizarre alien ceremonies featuring captured and chained narrator? Check.
An ominous and ancient Unseen Evil? Check.
Amazing getaway that crippled and killed narrator just after he Told His Story? Check.
Very well done though.
February 15, 2016
Another good story by this pulp era writer. Recommended
Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews