In the town of Abalone, Arizona, an ad in the local newspaper informs the populace that later that day a circus will be ready to entertain them. A parade through the town will give them a taste of the upcoming wonders, whereafter they can make their way to the circus staging grounds where they can acquaint themselves with the individual freaks and creatures before moving on to the main circus tent proper, for the beginning of the main show itself.
With skepticism, doubt and curiosity the cynical and occasionally hopeful citizens make their way to the circus, determined to either have fun or not be taken in by the obvious chicanery that these establishments provide. When the day is done, will the citizens of Abalone abandon their cynicism and appreciate the wonders that Doctor Lao's circus is capable of showing them?
Then a gong clanged and brazenly shattered the hot silence. Its metallic screams rolled out in waves of irritating sound. Heat waves scorched the skin. Dust waves seared the eyes. sound waves blasted the ears. The gong clanged and banged and rang; and one of the tents opened and a platform was thrust out and a Chinaman hopped on the platform and the gong's noise stopped and the man started to harrangue the people; and the circus of Doctor Lao was on..."
At a 154 pages, the book is pretty short, including the 20 page catalogue at the back of the book which shouldn't be skipped as it's a tongue-in-cheek look at some of the elements present in the book and definitely the source for alot of laughs. It gives a little more information, mostly humorous, about characters, creatures, items and even a list of foodstuffs present in the story; whether that is stuff that is actually supposed to be eaten or not... There's also a list of questions that are asked that will draw your attention to some of the contradictions and unresolved plotlines from the book. Calling them plotlines is a bit much though, as the book is very economically structured and there's almost no time for anything outside of the main event. And when we hit the climax, the book ends abruptly. This niggles a bit, but the catalogue section is supposed to alleviate the sudden end and actually fills in some plot that takes place after the book's ending. You could say it's integral.
Nevertheless, despite this limiting structure , we get a good sketch of the inhabitants of the town and it's easy to see them epitomize alot of the reactions that mankind would have to actual magic. Here, it's mostly cynicism; a suspicion that they're being made fun of and thereby unwilling to give in to the magic of the circus or even a sort of embarrassed and wilful denial because of an inflated sense of self-worth; holding on to their preconceptions they can't let their bubble be burst and in irritation they vanish from the scene.
There's a few characters that give in to the wonder, although their responses are extremely restricted and have to be either read in between the lines or in the Catalogue section at the back of the book. Though even there, not alot is said. Charles Finney didn't have a good opinion of mankind at the time when he wrote the book and it's pretty obvious, as he tends to focus on the negative side of things.
This day and age you can't look past it, I suppose; there are, at face value, some elements of racism present. But in my opinion it never becomes overbearing and needs to be taken into context.
Living in Tucson, Arizona (on which the town of Abalone is based), Finney drew on his own experiences in Tientsin, china, during his 2 years in the army, and it seems to bring an informed sensitivity to his apprach; despite the period-accurate slang and nomenclature he decries the shortsighted townsfolk of Abalone for their limited worldviews and ideologies and brings an admirable depth to the character of Dr Lao himself, who switches effortlesly between the stereotypical clichéd, chinaman with a thick accent, and a well-spoken, cultured philosopher ,depending on his audience. Figures of authority, raucous youths and other disrespectful citizens get brushed off with the cliché. The general curiosity seekers and the ones most open to the magic of the circus get a pleasant, rambling discourse from a well-traveled cynic. An interesting character; alarming how he seemed to be present everywhere, though.
What I personally had some reservations about, actually, was how this man that seemed to love his menagerie and stable of mythical beasties was so indifferent and dismissive of these same sentient creatures' wishes to be released and of their yearning for freedom. It showed a cold and dark side to his nature, belying his general benevolent depiction in the rest of the tale.
At one point he calls the sea serpent his nemesis. Whereas that beast mostly just wants his freedom, Doctor Lao sees some self-aggrandizing theme in that beast's existence.
The circus of Doctor Lao, because of its relative short length , large doses of ironic humor and general cynical approach to humanity is one of the more enjoyable fantasy masterworks I've read.
And I'd recommend it to most people ,with the caveat of reading this more with an eye towards the fun rather than the underlying ideas. Those can get a little bleak.
And now, a lengthy appreciation and some sexy spoilers for a few minor scenes in the book.
The scene where miss Agnes Birdsong enters the tent of the satyr is a comedic highpoint in the book.
Both in how unexpectedly out of the blue it is and in the way how it's presented. It reminded me of some random movie I have seen somewhere . I'm not sure which movie, what type or what it's even about. But it has some bearing on how I viewed this scene.
When the parade is coming through town, miss Birdsong catches sight of what is undeniably a satyr riding in front of one of the carts. Lean and bare-chested, with ramhorns and grass-stained cloven hoofs, he smells of goat. She proceeds to stare and wonder at this impossible creature. The satyr, seeing her looking, responds with his own lustful gaze and keeps eye-contact until she is out of sight.
Reassuring herself that she is a calm and intelligent girl, miss Agnes Birdsong sets out towards the circus to make sure that she did not in fact just see Pan in the middle of town.
Once arrived at the circus she questions where Pan can be found and though dr Lao says that Pan isn't to be found at their circus he does point her to where their satyr resides. She pays dr Lao ten cents entry fee and enters the Satyr's tent.
...He lay scratching himself on a rack of grapevines, his thin, wispy beard all messy with wine lees.
His hoofs were incrusted with manure, and his hands were bony, gnarled and twisted, brown and rough and long-nailed.
Between his horns was a bald spot surrounded by greying curly hair.
His ears were sharp-pointed, and lean, thin muscles crawled over his arms.
The goat hair hid the muscles of his legs.
His ribs stuck out.
His shoulders hunched about his ears.
He grinned at miss Agnes, took up his syrinx, and started to play.
Thin reedy piping music danced in the dull air in the dark tent.
He arose and danced to his own music, his goat tail jerking shortly, prodding stiffly, wagging and snapping.
His feet did a jig, the clicking hoofs keeping time to his piping, pounding the dirt floor,
clacking, clicking, clucking.
clacking, clicking, clucking.
The goaty smell grew stronger.
Miss Agnes stood there reassuring herself she was a calm, intelligent girl.
The Satyr capered around her, tossing his pipes, tossing his head, wriggling his hips, waggling his elbows. The syrinx peep, peep, peepled.
The door of the tent fell shut.
Around miss Agnes the aged goat man galloped.
His petulant piping screeched in her ears like the beating of tinny bells; it brought a nervousness that shook her and made her blood pump.
Her veins jumping with racing blood, she trembled as Grecian nymphs had trembled when the same satyr, twenty centuries younger, had danced and played for them.
She shook and watched him.
And the syrinx peep, peep, peepled.
He danced closer, his whirling elbows touching with their points her fair, bare arms, his shaggy thighs brushing against her dress.
Behind his horns little musk sacs swelled and opened, thick oily scented stuff oozing out -
a prelude to the rut.
He trod on her toe with one hoof; the pain welled up to her eyes, and tears came.
He pinched her thigh as he scampered around her.
The pinch hurt, but she found that pain and passion were akin.
To smell of him was maddening.
The tent reeked with his musk.
She knew that she was sweating, that globules of sweat ran down from under her arms and dampened her bodice. She knew that her legs were shiny with sweat.
The satyr danced on stiff legs about her, his bony chest swelling and collapsing with his blowing.
He bounded on stiff legs; he threw the syrinx away in a far corner; and then he seized her. He bit her shoulders, and his nails dug into her thighs.
The spitle on his lips mingled with the perspiration around her mouth, and she felt that she was yielding, dropping, swooning,
that the world was spinning slower and slower,
that gravity was weakening,
that life was beginning.
Then the door of the tent opened and Doctor Lao came in.
"The satyr," he said, "is perhaps the most charming figure in the old Greek polytheistic mythology.
Combining the forms of both man and goat, its make-up suggests fertility, inasmuch as both men and..."
What follows is a rambling information dump concerning satyrs in general and some particular information concerning the satyr that travels with the circus itself. This scene also has a rather awesome line:Behind his horns little musk sacs swelled and opened, thick oily scented stuff oozing out -
a prelude to the rut.
He trod on her toe with one hoof; the pain welled up to her eyes, and tears came.
He pinched her thigh as he scampered around her.
The pinch hurt, but she found that pain and passion were akin.
To smell of him was maddening.
The tent reeked with his musk.
She knew that she was sweating, that globules of sweat ran down from under her arms and dampened her bodice. She knew that her legs were shiny with sweat.
The satyr danced on stiff legs about her, his bony chest swelling and collapsing with his blowing.
He bounded on stiff legs; he threw the syrinx away in a far corner; and then he seized her. He bit her shoulders, and his nails dug into her thighs.
The spitle on his lips mingled with the perspiration around her mouth, and she felt that she was yielding, dropping, swooning,
that the world was spinning slower and slower,
that gravity was weakening,
that life was beginning.
Then the door of the tent opened and Doctor Lao came in.
"The satyr," he said, "is perhaps the most charming figure in the old Greek polytheistic mythology.
Combining the forms of both man and goat, its make-up suggests fertility, inasmuch as both men and..."
"Hey, the forlorn, lost demigod."
Anyway; not regaining focus on whatever miss Agnes and the satyr are or aren't doing the good Doctor rambles on for a while and then finishes off with:
"... and by and by a nymph comes shyly to peep through the vines...
But that was a long time ago, and this is an old, old satyr.
I doubt if he could do anything like that now.
Let us go on to the next tent and see the sea serpent.
This way, please."
But that was a long time ago, and this is an old, old satyr.
I doubt if he could do anything like that now.
Let us go on to the next tent and see the sea serpent.
This way, please."
You could read this part in two ways, either the way wherein it seems natural that both the satyr and miss Agnes leave off fondling eachother the second Doctor Lao comes in and that he then adresses miss Agnes and leaves of commenting on whatever was going on when he entered.
Or you could take it the other way; as if he adresses us, the readers, directly.
When Dr Lao steps in, we immediately stop seeing whatever is going on inside the tent. As if the camera literally shifts from whatever happens between the satyr and miss Agnes and focuses on the entrance where Dr Lao enters and without pause or prompt starts his guide-spiel commentary.
It's a scene that is positively meta. as if the duo carries on while Lao takes the spotlight and censors the scene with his presence while regaling us with random tidbits and the facts of life of a satyr. We don't see him gesticulate or walk or do anything other than giving his monologue but I like to imagine him occasionaly punctuating his speech, whenever it touches on the circus' satyr, with some finger-pointing at the same satyr offscreen.
It isn't farfetched to approach this scene in its meta form this way as there are other unconventional approaches to several different scenes throughout the book. Most notably the scene between the sea-serpent and mister Etaoin which is, because mister Etaoin is a reporter, depicted as an interview.
Either way, the rest of the book is shy about what happened in the tent and never directly alludes to it again.
In fact, there's only one scene in the story itself, later on in the finale, where we see miss Agnes again, where someone adresses her but as she doesn't respond, isn't described in her reactions, description or manner, she has stopped being a real participant.
In the catalogue section at the back however, it is stated that:
... The boys all said she was damned good company after she learned to smoke and drink.
Doctor Lao's circus broadened her outlook, gave her things to think about when sleepless she tossed on her couch at nights,
when bored she listened to her students botch syntax of days."
Doctor Lao's circus broadened her outlook, gave her things to think about when sleepless she tossed on her couch at nights,
when bored she listened to her students botch syntax of days."
She's altered by her experience then. Lending credence to the reading of the scene as meta.
That was my two cents.
I had a higly enjoyable reading experience.
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