RED SPECTRES 10: THE ONLY WOMAN WHO UNDERSTANDS

Capuchin catacombs, Palermo, 1980 (by Jesse Fernandez)

Only two more stories left, and I appear to have decided to draw them out for as long as possible. 

One thing that’s been interesting reading this book is seeing how these stories shifted style and tone over the decades. The earlier ones owed more to 19th century lit like Pushkin, Hoffman, and Gogol, but by now in the middle of the second decade of the 20th century the style’s as indebted to modernity and advertising as the usual fare in Weird Tales.

Still, something of that old world horror remains even if the resemblance is superficial.    

The Woman With No Nose” by Georgy Peskov/Yelena Deisha (1927)

Our narrator is a scared man. There is typhus in the city and he needs to get away. So he’s at the train station trying to leave on one of the few remaining trains. Meanwhile there’s this horrible woman with no nose he keeps seeing wherever he goes. And then the story splits and we get the two threads of the narrator’s life presented almost simultaneously.

There’s the over-story of the man taking his seat on the train while he keeps seeing the woman with no nose: his thoughts and actions and fears. Then there’s the other story that’s taking place back at the hospital. There the man is being evacuated as the typhus outbreak emerges and of course he has the disease. So the delirium of the over-story is the manifestation of his fevered state, and as the train takes off the other passengers realize he is sick, but the man doesn’t care because the woman with no nose is with him now:

“And the woman with no nose hides in the dark corner under the seats and, from there, keeps watch over all of us.”

The End.

This one’s good. I know I harp on which of these stories would have sat alongside anything in Weird Tales, but I think there’s some value in framing them that way. A lot of these stories aren’t part of any genre tradition in the Anglosphere and that’s a shame. This story would sit comfortably alongside Poe and Everil Worrell. Plus, I’m a sucker for that fevered narrator whispering hot and heavy in your ear while the plot drives like a freight train to its inevitable conclusion. 

Next week, the other kind of Weird Tale… that’s right. It’s time to bust out the soul juicer!

Only this time… Soviet style! 

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