Saturday, February 18, 2017

Zombies, Liches, Corpses, and the Undead

So far, February has been Zombie Month at Tellers of Weird Tales. I guess I'll keep it up for a while, beginning with all of the covers of Weird Tales showing zombies, liches, corpses, and the undead, plus a couple of creatures that look like they could be from among the undead. I count more than a dozen of these covers. One thing I noticed in pulling them together is that many of the undead seem to have lost their pupils, like Little Orphan Annie. If the eyes are a window upon the soul, I guess that makes sense. Anyway, the first cover is for a story by Arthur J. Burks, who may be the forgotten father of the zombie in America. I don't know for a fact that the taller of the two figures is a zombie, but once I learned a little something about Burks, the cover made sense: in front appears to be a bokor, houngan, or mambo, and in the rear, a zombie? I plan to read this story soon. When I do, I'll let you know for sure.

Weird Tales, August 1925. Cover story: "Black Medicine" by Arthur J. Burks. Cover art by Andrew Brosnatch.

Weird Tales, April 1930. Cover story: "The Dust of Egypt" by Seabury Quinn. Cover art by Hugh Rankin. The creature in the middle looks like one of the undead, plus he doesn't have any pupils. You have seen this cover before in the categories of Egypt and of the reaching hand, but I think it has a place here, too.

Weird Tales, January 1931. Cover story "The Lost Lady" by Seabury Quinn. Cover art by C.C. Senf. Another reaching hand, and in the rear, a zomboid creature. Or maybe he's a ghoul.

Weird Tales, August 1932. Cover story: "Bride of the Peacock" by E. Hoffman Price. Cover art by T. Wyatt Nelson. More than a skeleton, less than alive. In my book, that makes for one of the undead.

Weird Tales, October 1936. Cover story: "Isle of the Undead" by Lloyd Arthur Eshbach. Cover art by J. Allen St. John. There's no doubt about this cover.

Weird Tales, February 1937. Cover story: "The Globe of Memories" by Seabury Quinn. Cover art by Virgil Finlay.

Weird Tales, October 1937. Cover story: "Tiger Cat" by David H. Keller. Cover art by Margaret Brundage. I don't know that the men in the picture are of the undead, but their eyes are blunked out, as MAD magazine put it in its parody of Pogo, so here they are. Update (Feb. 18, 2017): I have just read this story. You can read it, too, by going to this issue of Weird Tales at the website pulpmags.org, here. As it turns out, the men in the story are not undead, and though the woman is defending herself from them, the whole situation is not what you might think. Just read for yourself. I think you'll like the story.

Weird Tales, July 1938. Cover story: "Spawn of Dagon" by Henry Kuttner. Cover art by Virgil Finlay. More missing pupils, plus the short guy in front is pretty green and seems to be past his expiration date.

How did Virgil Finlay see the future so well?

Weird Tales, November 1939. Cover story: "Towers of Death" by Henry Kuttner. Cover art by Virgil Finlay. This is a rare cover and one we haven't seen before (if I remember right).

Weird Tales, July 1940. Cover story: "An Adventure of a Professional Corpse" by H. Bedford-Jones. Cover art by Margaret Brundage. This guy wins the prize for the spiffiest corpse so far.

Weird Tales, Canadian edition, November 1943. Cover story: Uncertain. Cover art by an unknown artist. The Canadian edition of Weird Tales had its own look. You would barely know that it was the same magazine as the American edition. And some of the Canadian covers were superior to their American counterparts.

Weird Tales, Canadian edition, March 1944. Cover story: "The Valley of the Assassins" by Edmond Hamilton [?]. Cover art by an unknown artist. More blunked-out eyes. Are these men undead?

Weird Tales, July 1947. Cover story: "Weirdisms: The Vampire" by E. Crosby Michel. Cover art by Lee Brown Coye. This is actually a vampire cover, but Coye's vampire looks more like what we think of as a zombie. Coye tended to draw and paint decrepit people, but I think that with his artist's keen vision, he saw and depicted the true nature of the vampire as an evil and depraved being. People who think of vampires as cute and sexy have forgotten or overlooked that. Why do they have to be reminded that vampires are here to kill us all?

Weird Tales, November 1949. Cover story: "The Underbody" by Allison V. Harding. Cover art by Matt Fox.

Text and captions copyright 2017 Terence E. Hanley

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

The Secret Origin of Zombies-Part Six

A Wrapping for Zombies

From their origins in Africa to their transplantation to the Caribbean to their arrival in American popular culture, zombi(e)s remained supernatural creatures. They were first in print in English in the work of a British Romantic, Robert Southey (1774-1843). (1) They came to America during a period of Gothic and Romantic literature. (2) And they remained within the realm of the Gothic and Romantic into the pulp fiction era of the early to mid twentieth century. Gothicism and Romanticism trade in the supernatural, the magical, the mystical, and the irrational. For as long as zombi(e)s were supernatural and within the realm of the Gothic and Romantic, they were not politicized. Only after zombi(e)s had passed from the realm of the supernatural into that of science and materialism did they become politicized. I have not found any evidence for or example of a politicized supernatural zombie except those made in retrospect.

Zombies as we know them today are not only explained by scientific or materialistic means, they are also characterized by their moving in hordes or masses. The first scientific zombie horde that I know of was in I Am Legend (1954), Richard Matheson's novel about a mass of what he called "vampires" infected with disease. Matheson's vampires are, to be sure, only loosely zombies. They effectively became zombies by way of the inspiration they provided moviemaker George Romero, who identified his creatures as zombies and expanded on the idea that zombies are caused by disease and that they move in mindless masses. That creature, the Matheson-Romero zombie, is the one that haunts the popular culture of today. There are, as far as I know, no longer any mythological, folkloric, supernatural, or magical zombies. The zombie of today has slain all of his competitors. 

Reanimated by disease and acting as one of a mass, the Matheson-Romero zombie is the zombie that has become politicized. My guess is that--Bob Hope's quip in The Ghost Breakers (1940) aside--zombies were not and could not have been politicized until they became scientified. Again, for as long as zombi(e)s were treated in Gothic and Romantic genres, they were not political. The politicization of zombies came only after there was a scientific or materialistic explanation for their existence. This only makes sense, as Gothic and Romantic writers are generally apolitical, or at most, anti-political in their writing. (3) Once zombies were given a scientific explanation, they passed into the realm of science fiction, a genre that leans towards the political.

In their original form, zombi(e)s were solitary creatures or beings that existed on the fringes of the physical world. Even in William Seabrook's version, they were individual slaves made by one man's magic. That's not how we think of zombies today, however. Today zombies are not individuals. They are masses or hordes. They are part or can be seen as part of a social, economic, or political system. That dichotomy--the individual vs. the masses--is essentially a political idea. It gets to the heart of the argument between conservatism, which emphasizes the individual, and progressivism, which emphasizes the masses, or synonymously by its formulation, society or "the system." Here's an illustrative quote attributed to the socialist Che Guevara:

Youth should learn to think and act as a mass. It is criminal to think as individuals! 

The individual zombie is not a political unit. A mass of zombies easily can become one in the right hands. It seems clear to me that, just as zombies were not politicized until they were given a scientific explanation, so they were not politicized until they had become a mass.

There is at least one more reason why zombies have become politicized. In popular culture, the outbreak of a disease that causes zombie-ism always results in a pandemic of zombie-ism. I can't think of a single instance where the infected zombie does not infect other people, nor where one zombie does not become a horde of zombies. This is in contrast to other science-fictional diseases in popular culture. For instance, in The Shrinking Man by Richard Matheson (1956), one man is afflicted and one man shrinks. Why not a whole population of shrinking people? Why not a shrinking disease that spreads throughout the world? I can't say except that in a world where some people are shrunken and some aren't there isn't much opportunity for conflict. Anyway, in the case of the Matheson-Romero zombie, there is always an apocalypse. Despite the religious origins of the word, the apocalyptic or post-apocalyptic story is a science-fictional genre. I'll say it one more time: science fiction, being about the future, tends to become political.

In getting to the heart of the matter, I think that zombies have become politicized because of academia and its interests. Historically, high culture, including academia, did not treat popular culture, which would have been considered vulgar and unworthy of study. At some point, probably in the 1960s, that changed (although Gilbert Seldes, a respected critic, wrote about American pop culture in The Seven Lively Arts, published in 1924). Only after comic books, science fiction, pulp magazines, and similar subjects became of academic interest did university professors begin looking at zombies. And because academics--especially academics in the liberal arts--tend to be leftist in orientation, zombies have been spun to the left. They may be of special interest to people who subscribe to critical theory. Stephen Olbrys Gencarella appears to be one of that group.

The assertion that zombi(e)s were somehow political--i.e., representative of the relationship between the capitalist and the proletariat or between the colonial master and the colonial laborer--as early as 1900 doesn't make much sense to me, and I haven't found any evidence to that effect. Zombi(e)s were at that time still within the realm of the Gothic or Romantic. They were in fact more powerful than human beings and not inferior in status at all. Not many people--maybe no one at all--in academia, politics, or science had any interest in them. Likewise they would not have been of any interest to authors in the schools of Realism or Naturalism. (4) And the people who were interested in them--Lafcadio Hearn (1850-1904) and George Washington Cable (1844-1925), for example--tended to be from outside the worlds of academia, politics, and science. You might instead call them amateur ethnologists and collectors of folklore. William B. Seabrook (1884-1945) carried on in that way, as did writers and investigators after him, including Zora Neale Hurston (1891-1960), a folklorist and anthropologist, who traveled to Haiti and investigated its folklore (5). As for short stories and novels that mentioned zombi(e)s before and during the pulp fiction era: all that I have found so far are in the Gothic or Romantic genres of historical romance, fantasy, ghost stories, weird fiction, and so on.

Through my research, I have started to understand that zombies may actually have something to do with a historical force far older and far more powerful in the human imagination than American capitalism, colonialism, or imperialism. (Although I'll concede that zombies probably came to this country during the occupation of Haiti in 1915-1934.) Instead, I think zombies--more specifically the fear of zombie-ism--dates (proximally) from the French colonial period in Haiti and that it represents the simultaneous fears of being enslaved and of being held as a slave without end. Deeper than that, it represents the fear that, because a zombie does not die, the person who is made into a zombie will never escape slavery and will never be released into the afterlife. If that's the case, then the fear of becoming a zombie is not material or political at all but psychological, if not spiritual and existential. If that's the case, too, then zombie-ism predates American capitalism, colonialism, and imperialism, circa 1900. It actually comes (proximally) from the period of the French Revolution when leftist revolutionaries in France claimed rights and freedoms for themselves while still trying to hold black Haitians in slavery. If Dr. Gencarella wants to find a historical context for the phenomenon of zombie-ism, he should forget about knee-jerk leftism and begin there. Beyond that, he should look deep into human history and pre-history, for that's where slavery and the fear of becoming enslaved almost certainly began.

* * *

People on the left sympathize and identify with the zombies and/or dislike the human characters in The Walking Dead. That seems clear to me. If they imagine that "[t]he zombie trope" in America originated in a time of capitalism and colonialism or imperialism in America, or if they imagine that the human beings in the show are fascist, do they believe that by sympathizing or identifying with zombies, they also sympathize or identify with some kind of "people's" cause? And what if zombi(e)s are not connected somehow to American capitalism, colonialism, or imperialism, or with fascism, which seems to be the case? If zombies as we know them today entered American popular culture not at the turn of the twentieth century but a generation later, what then? Even if they came from the pulp fiction era, the zombies of 1929 or 1932 or 1943 (when I Walked with a Zombie was released) were not the zombies of today. Between 1929 and 1954 or 1968 or 1978 (when Dawn of the Dead was released) and before the scientific age of zombies, they were isolated human beings reduced to slavery by force of magic. They were without mind or will, and they were subservient to their masters. They were not out-of-control masses of shambling undead seeking to rip people apart, devour their brains, and slaver over their entrails. They certainly weren't brought about by material means, i.e., by the effects of a pathogen or, as in The Serpent and the Rainbow (1985), by natural, biological toxins. (6) Finally, they weren't a social, political, or economic unit waiting to be politicized.

The zombies of today are a different kind of creature. The emergence of the politicized zombie or the zombie as a political symbol coincides with the revolutions of the 1960s and '70s, not with the capitalism and colonialism/imperialism of around 1900 or even around 1929. It seems to me that academics are looking past three developments that took place in the 1960s and '70s and projecting the emergence of the politicized zombie into the historical past. The three developments in my mind are these: 1) Academia began to take an interest in popular culture in the 1960s and '70s; 2) Academia, especially the liberal arts, became increasingly leftist in orientation during the same period; and 3) Because of that, they applied leftist interpretations to everything before them, including popular culture. Have they ever considered the possibility that the mark they see is not on history? That it may actually be on the lens through which they view history?

* * *

I think that one of the reasons that so many people on the left dislike the human beings in The Walking Dead is that they see them as a bunch of gun-totin', Trump-votin', Bible-verse-quotin' deplorables. They're bitter clingers who lack college educations and live in horrifying wastelands like Indiana, Kentucky, and Alabama. In The Walking Dead, the zombies outnumber the humans. They have won the popular vote. Yet the humans resist the imposition of the zombie imperative to take away everything that is most sacred to them--their individual human identity, their autonomy, their rights, their freedom, their lives. In other words, they resist literal dehumanization and a kind of metaphorical slavery. Zombies want to overwhelm humanity. Humans use guns to kill them and build walls to keep them out. They also live under a hierarchical--and arguably more traditional--social structure and resist the anarchic or nihilistic society of the zombie mob. And they recognize the truth about human existence, that we are in our nature fallen, and that in the absence of civilizing influences, we revert to savagery--that we must revert to savagery if we are to survive. The leftist, rightfully in his mind, may ask: "How dare they?"

Maybe, too, the leftist's dislike for The Walking Dead comes from its implicit refutation of leftist ideals: That human beings are fundamentally good and that they are corrupted by society (i.e., by civilization); that once traditional (or conservative or reactionary) institutions, including civilization, are overthrown, we will be ushered into a golden age in which our natural selves and relationships will be expressed; that in a state of nature, because of our natural goodness, we will enjoy great happiness and harmony with each other; and that, ultimately, the future will be golden age, a Utopia, and not a nightmarish post-apocalypse. And maybe leftists don't like the idea of an apocalypse at all because of its religious--more specifically, Christian--overtones. As I have written, the Haitian fear of becoming a zombie includes the fear that the zombie-slave is forever denied release into the afterlife and will never be permitted to return to the Haitian's own version of Utopia, Lan Guinée, the African homeland of his imagination. So maybe there is a religious or theological aspect to zombie-ism, an aspect which the leftist--being a thoroughgoing materialist or atheist--is entirely too squeamish and ill-equipped to consider. (7)

Here's another maybe for us all to think about, me included: Maybe The Walking Dead and the zombie story in general are just stories.

Notes
(1) Significantly, Southey's use of the word was in his recounting of a slave revolt in South America.
(2) As an illustration, "The Unknown Painter" first appeared in American newspapers in 1838, the same year in which "Ligeia" by Edgar Allan Poe was published. "Ligeia" is of course a tale of a bodily revenant. Some people consider it a zombie story. Although he wrote proto-science fiction, Poe was essentially an author of Gothic and Romantic works. Weird Tales, which published some of the first zombi(e) stories of the pulp era, was cast in Poe's mold. H.P. Lovecraft, the leading author for Weird Tales, was a great admirer of Poe. He, too, is said to have authored zombie stories, especially in his series on Herbert West, Reanimator. I would say that if zombie and revenant or the undead are synonyms, then maybe. Otherwise, Poe and Lovecraft wrote about two of the oldest fears we have: of death and of the return of the dead. It's worth noting that both Poe and Lovecraft used scientific or quasi-scientific methods to raise or fix life in their deadmen: mesmerism in "The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar" (1845) and injections of a serum in the Herbert West series.
(3) Romanticism and Gothicism, as reactions against the Age of Reason and the French Revolution, are especially in opposition to progressive, leftist, and rationalist ideas.
(4) Theodore Dreiser, a Naturalist author, is supposed to have snubbed William Seabrook, though not because of his subject matter but because of his personality and reputation. That's interesting in that Seabrook was essentially a Fortean, though maybe not formally. Dreiser, too, was a Fortean. He was also one of Charles Fort's best friends, if not his only friend.
(5) She was, by the way, a conservative Republican. There are stories that Harriet Tubman was a Republican, too. That may or may not make much sense, as even as a free woman she would not have been able to vote or hold public office. In any case, Harriet packed a pistol to defend herself and others from the depredations of the slaveholder and slave-hunter. So if you want to close a circle of: human beings as prey to masses of vampires (Matheson) to human beings as prey to masses of zombies (Romero) to the phenomenon of the supernatural zombie-slave based on a memory of real-world slavery (Seabrook) to real-world slave rebellions or revolutions to end slavery (the Haitian Revolution and the American Civil War) to enslaved human beings as prey to masses of slaveholding vampires, then look to Seth Grahame-Smith's novel (more accurately, gothic romance) Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter from 2010.
(6) In The Serpent and the Rainbow (1985), zombies were given an alternative scientific explanation: they are caused by the use of natural, biological toxins of the pufferfish and of Datura, commonly called jimsonweed or thornapple. I have written about jimsonweed and its connection to weird fiction before (link here). I didn't mention in that article the part jimsonweed plays in the 1979 horror movie NightwingAnyway, it's not that far to go from Herbert West's serum to a cocktail of toxins as in The Serpent and the Rainbow.
Speaking of cocktails, there is a cocktail called the Zombie. It was invented in 1934 by Donn Beach, also the inventor of the postwar tiki craze. The Zombie has several ingredients, one of which is rum, which was one side of the triangular slave trade and the drink enjoyed by the rebelling zombie-slaves in "Salt Is Not for Slaves."
(7) Remember the question put to the people of the Caribbean: What is a zombi(e)? The rational Westerner was incapable of comprehending the answer because the answer is not rational. The leftist, materialist, or atheist academic of today is even more ill-equipped to understand the nature and meaning of zombi(e)s. He asks the question of himself and can come up only with a materialist explanation, more narrowly, an explanation tainted by Marxism and its relentless criticism of capitalism. In other words, to the critical theorist, zombies must have something to do with capitalism, especially American capitalism, because everything has something to do with capitalism. Here's a question to consider on the other side: What is an academic? Too often, the answer seems to be that he is an obtuse navel-gazer, a person with his mind full of theories and empty of imagination.

Poe's Ligeia in an illustration by British artist Byam Shaw (1872-1919), who died of Spanish Influenza in 1919, that pivotal year in the history of the twentieth century and of the pre-history of Weird Tales.

Text copyright 2017 Terence E. Hanley

Sunday, February 12, 2017

The Secret Origin of Zombies-Part Five

Why Zombies?

I can't say that I have answered the question of when zombies as we know them today came into American popular culture, but it seems like the Internet has it right: it was in the period 1929-1932 (actually 1928-1932). One alternative to that conclusion is that there were zombi(e)s in pulp magazines before 1928, specifically in the period 1910 or 1915 to 1927. If there were, I think Weird Tales in the years 1923 to 1927 is the place to begin looking. Unfortunately, I don't have any issues of Weird Tales from the 1920s, nor do I have reprints of most of the potential zombi(e) stories. (1) I would add that if zombies came from Haiti in the 1920s, and if they represent anything in the real world, then they almost certainly represent slavery--not that the slaves themselves are zombies but that zombie-ism represents the institution of slavery and--to Haitians--the fear of being enslaved. I think that's an important distinction to make.

Everything about which I have written in this series raises other questions: Why zombies? Why are zombies so popular? Why do they seem to have some meaning deeper than that of mere monsters? Why are they so widely studied and interpreted, especially by academics? Why have they become politicized? And why do discussions of zombies raise the hackles of so many people?

I'll start with what I think is the most basic question: What might zombies represent? (An echo of the question--What is a zombie?--posed to so many Caribbean people from the 1800s into the 1900s.) The simplest explanation seems to be that zombies represent the fear of death, perhaps also the fear of the unknown, the unexplained, and whatever it is that lurks beyond the edge of the firelight. These are elemental fears. In the end, maybe all of them are apprehensions of a single mystery, that of life, death, our purpose on earth, and our place in the universe. 

On the next level, the fear of zombies may represent the fear that the dead are restless and that they will come back. That fear places zombies in the same category as ghosts, vampires, and ambulatory mummies, revenants all. It is an atavistic fear and a fear of the supernatural: I Am LegendNight of the Living DeadWorld War Z, and The Walking Dead, despite their science-fictional veneer, are fantasies that tap into ancient fears. That may help to explain their power and popularity.

The idea that the dead will come back resonates. Christianity is based on a defeat of death: Jesus Christ came back to rescue us from death, and His promise is that He will come back yet again. Pagans, too, believe in the coming-back of the dead. The pyramids and tombs of Egypt are storehouses for their return to life in some form. Even atheists must imagine a coming-back or some kind of survival beyond death. The mummified remains of their masters--Lenin and Mao--attest to the hope that they have not died. As for the people who lived under them: theirs is the selfsame fear. Religion . . . atheism . . . communism . . . politics is beginning to rear its head.

Zombies were once caused by magic. We don't have to fear magic anymore because the supernatural has been defeated by science. However, science can also cause zombies, and the fear of them today coincides with a fear of contagion, disease, plague, and pandemic. Those, too, are ancient--and reasonable--fears, and they are alive in us despite our advanced medicine. As for the political angle: science as a replacement for the supernatural can become a political idea. However, I don't think it's enough to tip the discussion of zombies into the realm of politics. I think it takes something more than that. I think it takes seeing zombies not as spirits, monsters, revenants, or people stricken with some hypothetical disease. Instead, I think it takes seeing them, the human beings who oppose them, and their collective milieu as real people in the real world of today. Now we're getting closer to the politicized zombie.

A pandemic is of course a disaster. A large enough pandemic threatens a collapse of civilization. A fear of zombies may represent a fear of the great masses of people who would be on the loose if civilization were to collapse or in the event of a global disaster or apocalypse. (A post-apocalyptic world is a positive fantasy for some and something to fear for others.) This may be the political heart of the matter, for in the event of an apocalypse, some few people will have, while great masses of people will have not, a situation approximating how some people see the real world of today. If some people have, then they can be interpreted as the so-called winners in the lottery of life. They are the few. They are the slaveholders, capitalists, fascists, first-worlders, and one-percenters, in short, the oppressors. And if some people have not, then they are the slaves, the proletariat, the oppressed, the downtrodden, the deprived, and the forgotten. More to the point, they are the many. (2)

An apocalyptic future is a political idea, too, because in the current age every future is a political idea. That's because people of certain political persuasions see the future as theirs. Here I think is their thinking: History is a science. Therefore the future is predictable, and not just predictable but foreordained. It is an extension of history and will prove a simple unwinding of history (once the opposition is removed). Because history is necessarily a history of progress, the future will be a culmination of the pageant of historical progress. It will be a grand and glorious Utopia (again, once the opposition is removed). And because of all that, the future belongs exclusively to those who believe in history. (3, 4) An apocalyptic future--especially a future in which only a few people have anything and the masses are somehow deprived--is an affront to people who believe in history and progress and who make exclusive claims to the future. It's also, of course, an affront to those who believe in material equality. That's another way that the zombie story can be--and has become--politicized, I think.

The zombie apocalypse may represent a fear of or resistance to oppression or to a loss of freedom. Leftists fear the oppression of a ruling economic class or of what they call "fascists." (We're seeing a lot of that right now.) And because leftists tend to see "freedom" as "freedom from," then material want (or envy)--the fact that one person has something and other people don't--stokes in them not fear so much as outrage. Conservatives, on the other hand, tend to fear the oppression of political tyranny, whatever form that might take. They especially fear it in the form of a mob or of governments that come to power because of mobs (as in the French Revolution) or mass movements (as in the Russian Revolution). Mobs and mass movements are destroyers. Before the world can be remade and thrust into the glorious future, it--meaning civilization, its traditions, and its institutions--must be destroyed. Because conservatives see "freedom" as "freedom to," they fear mobs, the majority, and mass movements because of the offenses against order, tradition, natural rights, etc., those forces represent. Once again, these fears--from both sides of the spectrum--are represented in the zombie story, thus making it more readily politicized.

Finally, the fear of zombies may represent the fear of a loss of humanity. If you're a human being alive after the zombie apocalypse, you actually have three fears of this kind. First, obviously, is the fear of death. Second is the fear that you will become a zombie. That's a fear worse than the fear of death, because you will still live, yet you will be a mindless and soulless monster. (5) Third, you fear that the conditions of your existence will ultimately dehumanize you: that you might still be a person with a mind and a soul, and at the same time an amoral monster, just so you might live. (My sister, who loves The Walking Dead, tells me that the title of the show can actually be interpreted as referring to the human beings in the story.) Fears of dehumanization and of recruitment into a mass of men are fears that easily become political. In fact, political movements of the most monstrous kind--especially mass movements--seek those two things: to recruit everyone they can into their movement and to dehumanize and ultimately destroy everyone who resists. The institution of slavery is similar: it dehumanizes the enslaved people and always seeks more slaves.

I don't have to tell you: There is much to fear when it comes to zombies.

To be continued . . .

Notes
(1) I have nothing by Arthur J. Burks, who might prove to be the father of zombies in America. I have read "Jumbee" by Henry S. Whitehead (1926), though. At most, that story might be called a proto-zombie story. It's interesting to note that it was published in the same year that H.P. Lovecraft wrote "The Call of Cthulhu."
(2) I sense that one of the reasons why people on the left end of the spectrum (Population A) don't like the human beings in The Walking Dead (Population B) is that Population A believe that they, Population A, are being cast or characterized as zombies against their will. I can't blame them for being upset about that. I wouldn't want to be cast as a zombie, either. Maybe Population A's discomfort comes from a sense that there is an imbalance of power at work: That Population B, standing in for the creators of the show, perhaps also for the population at large, have the power to cast Population A in that role and there isn't anything that Population A can do about it. It's like when you're a kid playing a pretend game: the older kids get to be whoever they want to be, and they force the younger kids to be the less likable or interesting characters.
So Population A is upset about all of this, hence things like Sean T. Collins' article "The Shameful Fascism of The Walking Dead," posted about halfway between election day and inauguration day. He makes some interesting points about the marketing of Donald Trump to viewers of The Walking Dead. That's evidence. That's what I like to see. But then his argument loses its focus and his article ends up being about gender roles or some other thing. I know he was upset about how things turned out. I have friends who feel that way, too, and I have sympathy for them. I don't like it that they feel so sad or depressed. I would like to offer them some comfort by saying, "It will be okay." I know also that Mr. Collins and people like him see that their little Obamatopia is coming to an end after they were told that it would go on forever. They are upset and angry, and many of them throw fits, as we have seen since inauguration day. They also call names, as Mr. Collins does, not realizing that the word fascist is old. Old and worn out. They have used that word so often for so many things that it doesn't mean anything anymore. My advice: find better words, sharpen your arguments, and act like adults.
(3) One of my favorite moments in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold [1965] is when Richard Burton laughs derisively at Claire Bloom, a communist, for her belief in "history."
(4) How many times have we heard that so-and-so is "on the wrong side of history"? How is there a "wrong side of history"? How does anyone know what is "the right side" and what is "the wrong side"? What kind of arrogance does that take to say that anyone at all knows the direction history will take or what its inevitable result will be? And what is the implication, that history will reach an end point? That, as in the book We, there will be no more revolutions? That human society will reach stasis? If so, isn't stasis ultimately conservative, if not reactionary? Isn't it actually beyond conservative or reactionary? Who then is the true revolutionary in human history? Isn't it the person who believes in freedom over stasis?
(5) This seems to be the fear of the Haitian people, who have zombies in their folklore. For Haitians, added to the fear of becoming a zombie is the fear that they will remain zombies and that they will never be released into the afterlife. They will instead be chained to their bodies-in-slavery forever. One of the ways to be released from zombie-slavery is for the zombie-slave to eat salt. Once he eats salt, he remembers that he is dead and returns to his grave.
In reference to that and the caption of the image below: If you want to find a direct link between zombies and the Haitian Revolution, read "Salt Is Not for Slaves" by G.W. Hutter, a pseudonym of Garnett Weston (1894-1948), who wrote the screenplay for White Zombie (1932). (Hutter's/Weston's story was originally in Ghost Stories for August 1931, making it one of the first zombie--zombie with an -e--stories in the pulps.) Admittedly, Hutter/Weston was a twentieth-century writer and presumably white. His story may not have been taken from life. But it has power, I think, and truth in it. It still lives eighty-five years after its first publication.
In her book The Transatlantic Zombie: Slavery, Rebellion, and Living Death (2015), author Sarah J. Lauro interprets the outcome of "Salt Is Not for Slaves" as a perceived failure of the Haitian Revolution and ties it to the American occupation of 1915-1934. Fair enough. I think you can interpret the story in a different way, namely as a kind of Garden of Eden story in which the zombie-slaves are forbidden salt (equivalent to the knowledge of good and evil), and that when they rebel and partake of it, they become aware of their situation and are freed from their condition of servitude. The irony here is that, unlike Adam and Eve, they are released from earthly toil and returned to Paradise. 

A zombie horde ripping apart a human being? No, a mob of revolutionaries in an illustration from Charles Dickens' novel A Tale of Two Cities (1859). If you're looking for coincidence and associations in the history of zombi(e)s, why not look at the French Revolution and its Haitian counterpart? Zombies as we know them today seem to have come from Haitian folklore. Between 1791 and 1803, Haitian slaves revolted against their French colonial masters. But wasn't the French Revolution in place by 1791 or so? Wasn't feudalism abolished in 1789? Was there not a Declaration of the Rights of Man in that same year? Was not the king deposed, then executed in 1793? If so, why were Haitian slaves not freed? Why did the French revolutionaries and after them Napoleon try to suppress the Haitian Revolution and keep black people in slavery? Why did the French, good leftists that they were, try to keep Haitians as metaphorical zombies? If the Haitian fear of becoming a zombie or of being kept as a zombie is a fear of slavery, isn't it then a fear of either a leftist/statist regime or the fear of ancient and feudal institutions of servitude? If you're going to lay zombies at the feet of a political idea or a political party in America, just whose feet are they? Would they not be those of the leftist/statist party or the party of slavery? Are those parties in America not the same party? And which party is that?

As a thin piece of anecdotal evidence: There were violent and destructive protests at UC Berkeley earlier this month. They were carried out by a leftist mob in a successful attempt to suppress free (and dissenting) speech. Among the mob was a man who said: "The cops shot me with pepper balls," adding, "It hurt." (Now there's a guy with a college education.) The people in the mob hid their identities, using instead pseudonyms--noms de protest, I guess. This man called himself Zombie.

You can read the story, "UC Berkeley Cancels Right-Wing Provocateur’s Talk Amid Violent Protest" by Michael Bodley and Nanette Asimov, dated February 2, 2017, on the website of the San Francisco Chronicle, here. While you're there, take an especially long, hard look at the chicken-s--t headline that suggests that the protest was somehow caused by a "right-wing provocateur" and not by a leftwing mob and their ideology of intolerance, hatred, violence, and suppression of dissent.

Text copyright 2017 Terence E. Hanley

Thursday, February 9, 2017

The Secret Origin of Zombies-Part Four

A Zombie Taxonomy

At the beginning of January, I wrote an article in this space called "A Retreat of the Totalitarian Monster." In it, I quoted Dr. Stephen Olbrys Gencarella of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst as follows:
The zombie trope in the United States emerged with the zombie-as-slave phenomenon around the turn of the 20th century, when American capitalism and colonialism led to ethical conflicts about labor and human rights.
I dismissed what Dr. Gencarella said about "American capitalism and colonialism" as "typical leftist claptrap." I confess that I haven't read his original paper, "Thunder without Rain: Fascist Masculinity in AMC's The Walking Dead" in Horror Studies from 2016 (7 [1], pp. 125-146). I would like to. But unless I see some evidence that "[t]he zombie trope" came into American popular culture around 1900, moreover that there is actual evidence in the texts of that time of some connection between zombies and capitalism/colonialism, I will stick by what I wrote: It's all a bunch of leftist claptrap, unsupported by evidence, based on a confirmation bias, and spoken from a position of authority.

So when did zombi(e)s come into American popular culture? I'll do some hypostulatin' here and say that it happened at least four times and possibly five (or maybe four and a half).
  1. Li (or Le) Grand Zombi--Zombi(e)s probably first arrived in America as Li (or Le) Grand Zombi, the serpent spirit or serpent god of Voodoo. The place would appear to be Louisiana, in which case the time was probably the eighteenth century, when Louisiana was a French colony and as black slaves were imported from the West Indies. It's interesting that the zombi(e) in the Western hemisphere, brought here from Africa, is a creature of colonies that were largely Catholic and largely French: Haiti, Martinique, Louisiana. African slaves were of course imported into British colonies as well, but zombi(e)s seem not to have gained a foothold here. Catholicism has its aspects of mysticism and has historically tolerated and eventually assimilated pagan beliefs. The British in America were Protestants, however, some of them pretty harsh and strict. I don't think they trucked with that kind of thing, so no zombi(e)s in the Colonies. (One place to test that theory is Maryland, a colony settled by Catholics but which was also a slave colony and a slave state. My guess is that there aren't or weren't any zombi(e)s in the folklore of Maryland: the Catholic influence may have been too minor or short-lived and there probably wasn't a large enough African/Caribbean community to have given rise to them, plus Maryland was not an island or "island." To that point, I can put forth the idea that the different versions of zombi(e)s developed on different islands or "islands" of African/Caribbean culture--the slave-zombie in Haiti, the spirit-zombi in Martinique, and Li Grande Zombi in Louisiana--something like speciation in the Darwinian scheme of evolution.)
  2. The Zombi as Spirit--The word zombi came into American popular culture in 1838 with the publication in American newspapers of "The Unknown Painter." The zombi in that story (who is only mentioned and never makes an appearance) is a spirit, and zombis remained spirits--evil spirits--throughout the nineteenth and into the twentieth century. Lafcadio Hearn was the most prominent author to write about zombis, but there were others, including authors of popular novels and short stories after 1900.
  3. The Zombie as Slave--Zombies with an -e arrived in 1928 with William B. Seabrook's dispatches from Haiti, which were collected in book form in The Magic Island in 1929. The book was a sensation and led to a stage play, more stories and novels, and a number of zombie movies, beginning with White Zombie in 1932. There is no evidence that zombies first arrived in America around 1900, nor that they had anything to do with American capitalism, colonialism, or imperialism, except that Americans in Haiti sent back or carried back stories of zombies to their native country. It's more likely that the slave-zombie dates to the French colonial period and that, as a representation of slavery, zombie-ism is far more ancient than any capitalist institution. It's worth noting that if the first zombie-as-slave in literature was in The Magic Island, then that slave was a black man who was the slave of a black man. If we can believe Seabrook, zombie slavery was an affair for black men, and as Lamercie, a black woman in his book, says, "Z'affai' nèg pas z'affai' blanc'." (Roughly, "The affairs of blacks are not the affairs of whites.") As I have pointed out, slavery is not a capitalist institution. It predates capitalism and is in fact anathema to capitalism. Slavery and related forms of servitude are ancient and medieval institutions. Capitalism is a later development, an invention of free and prosperous people, and one that thrives on free and prosperous people and free exchanges of goods, services, labor, etc. Further still, to say that zombies came to America around 1900 and that they are related to capitalism and colonialism/imperialism may be to suggest that they are also related somehow to the Republican Party. (There were Republican presidents from 1896 to 1912, the period "around the turn of the 20th century.") We should remember that the Republican Party was founded explicitly as an anti-slavery party; that the Republican Party was the driving force behind emancipation and the passage of the anti-slavery amendments to the Constitution; that the Democratic Party was historically the party of slavery and other ancient or medieval institutions of servitude; and that the majority of Democratic presidents from Thomas Jefferson (1800-1808) to Woodrow Wilson (1912-1920) were either slaveholders or the sons of slaveholders (including, strangely enough, Martin Van Buren). In any case, zombie slaves, or at the very least, zombies as "dead bodies walking, without minds or souls," as William Seabrook described them, seem to have been the predominant version of the zombie from 1928 into the 1950s or 1960s, possibly into the 1970s or '80s. (Let's call him the Seabrook zombie.)
  4. The Zombie as One of a Mass of Scientific Anthropophages, aka the Matheson-Romero Zombie--Okay, that first label is really long and cumbersome, so I'll offer an alternative, a label after the two men who gave us our current version of zombies: Richard Matheson in I Am Legend (1954) and George Romero in Night of the Living Dead (1968) and its sequels (1978-2010). If my hypostulatin' is right, then the zombie-as-slave or soulless automaton faded away sometime during the late 1950s to the late 1970s or early 1980s and was replaced by the Matheson-Romero zombie that we have today. That zombie has two distinguishing characteristics: 1) It is one of a mass or horde; and 2) It is explained by scientific or materialistic means. The Matheson-Romero zombie is also an anthropophage, a fancy word for cannibal (except that zombies aren't people anymore, so they can't really be cannibals). And because of those three characteristics--because they are hordes of cannibals who carry a virulent disease--zombies went from being harmless slaves to being things to fear. It's as if the slaves were in revolt except that they are never released from their zombie-state. There are two other things to consider here regarding the Matheson-Romero zombie: 1) It was the version of the zombie current when popular culture became a legitimate subject of academic or scholarly inquiry, that is, during the 1960s and '70s; and 2) It is the version that has become politicized. The second development probably has a lot to do with the first, as the academics who came up at the same time as the Matheson-Romero zombie tended to be--and still tend to be--leftists, and they tend to see things through the badly cracked and very foggy lens of either: a) The old left, meaning Marxism; or b) The New Left, especially critical theory. As evidence, I'll offer these tidbits from Stephen Olbrys Gencarella's description of his interests and list of publications: "intersection," "critical folklore studies," "activist," "social injustice," "excluded," "democratic," "anti-democratic," "fascist," "commodification," and the kicker, "Gramsci, Good Sense, and Critical Folklore Studies." If you feel like rolling around in your mouth some nonsensical leftist/academic verbal stew, read the abstract of that paper here. (For those who don't know much about him [I don't], Gramsci was a Marxist theorist. In other words, he theorized about how he could take from you the things that are yours.)
  5. The Missing Zombie--There's a gap in my chronology of zombies. The gap is between 1910 or so--when the zombi-as-spirit was still the predominant version--and 1928--when William Seabrook first wrote about zombies in American newspapers. What was in that gap? Well, there were some stories about Voodoo and related subjects in pulp magazines, especially in Weird Tales. Were there zombi(e)s in those stories? Yes, at least in a couple. What kind of zombi(e)s were they? Well, at least a couple of them were the old spirit zombis. But was there a new kind of zombi(e), too, a zombie out of Haiti, like the Seabrook zombie? I don't know, and that's what we ought to find out.
To be continued . . .

An illustration for "The Challenge of the Snake" by Meigs O. Frost, a zombi story reprinted in newspapers in 1926 after having first appeared in Short Stories for February 25, 1924. Frost's story is set in Louisiana. The villain is Zombi Le Veau, a powerful Voodoo man who has named himself after Le Gran' Zombi, the snake-god. The story was published long before Short Stories, Inc., acquired Weird Tales. The artist's signature looks like Machamer; there was an artist, Jefferson Machamer (1900-1960), who worked as an illustrator and cartoonist and was active at that time. He's probably our man. In any case, the fact that this story was published in 1924 shows, I think, that the spirit zombi or serpent-god zombi was still the version known by readers of popular fiction. And that was only four years away from Seabrook's jaunt in Haiti.

Text copyright 2017 Terence E. Hanley

Monday, February 6, 2017

The Secret Origin of Zombies-Part Three

The Missing Piece: Zombi(e) Stories in Weird Tales

U.S. Marines went into Haiti on July 28, 1915, and came back out again on August 15, 1934. That nineteen-year-long episode is almost forgotten in the United States today. It's probably better remembered in Haiti. The invasion force that Americans remember came from the opposite direction, for sometime during the occupation of Haiti, zombies arrived on our shores. They have never left.

 I have an article from 1932 that asks the question: Do zombies really exist? 
Rumors have been seeping in for years [the article reads] from the island of Haiti about dead bodies being exhumed and, through a process of sorcery, put to work in the fields and mills, but is there any truth in the rumors? (1)
If there were rumors seeping in from Haiti, they must have come from Americans on the island. William B. Seabrook (1884-1945) was one of them. In 1928, he returned dispatches to an American syndicate for publication in the nation's newspapers. These were reports on zombies, men who had been enslaved and put to work in the sugar cane fields of Haiti. Seabrook published his reporting in a book, The Magic Island, in 1929. The book proved a sensation and led to a stage play, Zombie, in early 1932 and a far more successful film, White Zombie, released on July 28, 1932 (the seventeenth anniversary of the marine landing at Port-au-Prince). You might call William Seabrook the father of zombies in America, except that there was another American writer in Haiti in the 1920s who wrote stories of the island nation and its folklore. And he was sent there as an officer in the U.S Marine Corps. So not so fast, William Seabrook.

Arthur J. Burks (1898-1974) was born in Waterville, Washington, and served in the U.S. Marine Corps from 1917 to 1927. In the early 1920s, he was stationed in what one newspaper article described as "the unknown fastnesses of Santo Domingo," from which "he mailed story after story to the States." These were returned to him, but after taking a correspondence course in short-story writing and returning to the United States in 1924, "he sold scores of short stories and novelettes" and even a novel. (2) One of those stories was "Thus Spake the Prophetess: A Tale of Haiti," published in Weird Tales in November 1924 under the byline Estil Critchie. It was Burks' first story in "The Unique Magazine" and the first of several set in Haiti and on the island of Santo Domingo or Hispaniola. Many if not all of these stories were reprinted in the book Black Medicine in 1966. (3)

There was yet another American writer in the West Indies during the 1920s. This was Henry S. Whitehead (1882-1932), a native of Elizabeth, New Jersey, a graduate of Harvard University (where Franklin D. Roosevelt was one of his classmates), and an Episcopal priest. From 1921 to 1929, Whitehead was acting archdeacon of the U.S. Virgin Islands. (4) Like Arthur J. Burks, Whitehead collected tales of West Indian folklore, turning them into short stories for the pulp magazine market in America. His first story for Weird Tales was "Tea Leaves" for the triple May/June/July 1924 issue.  His story "Jumbee," from the September 1926 issue, is the first in Weird Tales that I know of to use the word zombi. That's only in passing, though. The main part of the story is about a jumbee, a West Indian spirit of another type, although the derivation of the word is almost certainly the same. (5) Sadly, Whitehead died young, at age fifty. His death in 1932 was perhaps the first great loss suffered by readers and fans of Weird Tales. August W. Derleth remembered him with Jumbee and Other Uncanny Tales, published by Derleth's Arkham House in 1944.

The key words in the previous paragraph are "that I know of." I don't have access to most of Henry S. Whitehead's stories, and I have never read anything by Arthur J. Burks. My suspicion is that the word zombi, and possibly zombie (William Seabrook's spelling), appeared in Weird Tales between 1923 and 1928 (other than in "Jumbee"). It's also possible that Seabrook's version of the zombie as a mindless, soulless slave--a walking deadman--is in Weird Tales. On the other hand, maybe the Seabrook zombie was not in Weird Tales before 1928. Whatever the case may be, this is something we should know for sure. So with that in mind, I would like to offer a list of stories, poems, and articles about zombi(e)s and voodoo from Weird Tales, and I would like to ask everyone who cares to do it to begin searching for the occurrence of zombi(e)s in those stories. I hope we can meet with some success.

Stories, Poems, and Articles about Zombies and Voodoo in Weird Tales, 1923-1939
Plus a Few Maybes and Probably Including Some Stories That Shouldn't Be Here and Probably Missing Some That Should Be
  • "Voodooism" by Bill Nelson (article, July/Aug. 1923)
  • "Thus Spake the Prophetess: A Tale of Haiti" by Estil Critchie (Arthur J. Burks) (Nov. 1924)
  • "Death-Waters" by Frank Belknap Long (Dec. 1924; reprinted Sept. 1933)--I have read this story, and there are no zombi(e)s. However, there is a black sorcerer who has power over serpents, perhaps like those in the cult of Li Grand Zombi.
  • "Voodoo" by Estil Critchie (Arthur J. Burks) (Dec. 1924)
  • "Luisma's Return" by Arthur J. Burks (Jan. 1925)
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: 1. A Broken Lamp-Chimney" by Arthur J. Burks (Feb. 1925)
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: 2. Desert of the Dead" by Arthur J. Burks (Mar. 1925)
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: 3. Daylight Shadows" by Arthur J. Burks (Apr. 1925)
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: 4. The Sorrowful Sisterhood" by Arthur J. Burks (May. 1925)
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: 5. The Phantom Chibo" by Arthur J. Burks (June 1925)
  • "The Return of the Undead" by Arthur Leeds (Nov. 1925)
  • "Ti Michel" by W.J. Stamper (June 1926)
  • "Jumbee" by Henry S. Whitehead (Sept. 1926; reprinted Feb. 1938)--Mentions the word zombi, but focuses on the spirit of the title. A weird and creepy tale well worth reading.
  • "Strange Tales from Santo Domingo: Faces" by Arthur J. Burks (Apr. 1927)
The Magic Island by William B. Seabrook published, January 1929
  • "Le Revenant" by Charles Beaudelaire (poem, May 1929)--This is a poem about a ghost rather than a zombi(e) or the undead.
  • "Black Tancrede" by Henry S. Whitehead (June 1929)
  • "The Corpse-Master" by Seabury Quinn (July 1929)
  • "The Drums of Damballah" by Seabury Quinn (Mar. 1930)
  • "Voodoo" by A. Leslie (poem, Apr. 1930)
  • "Hill Drums" by Henry S. Whitehead (June/July 1931)
  • "The Venus of Azombeii" by Clark Ashton Smith (June/July 1931)--The Azombeii of the title is a fictional place in Africa. The people of Azombeii are described as "a pagan tribe of unusual ferocity, who were still suspected of cannibalism and human sacrifice." I have not read this story all the way through, but the word Azombeii seems to be a combination of Zombie and Pompeii, and is almost certainly meant to evoke images or awareness of zombies.
  • "Placide's Wife" by Kirk Mashburn (Nov. 1931)
White Zombie released, July 28, 1932
  • "The Last of Placide's Wife" by Kirk Mashburn (Sept. 1932)
  • "In Memoriam: Henry St. Clair Whitehead" [by H.P. Lovecraft] (article, Mar. 1933)
  • "Voodoo Song" by Mary Elizabeth Counselman (poem, July 1933)
  • "Dead Men Walk" by Harold Ward (Aug. 1933)
  • "Voodoo Vengeance" by Kirk Mashburn (Nov. 1934)
  • "Isle of the Undead" by Lloyd Arthur Eshbach (Oct. 1936)
  • "Pigeons from Hell" by Robert E. Howard (May 1938; reprinted Nov. 1951)
  • "While Zombies Walked" by Thorp McClusky (Sept. 1939)--This is the first story in Weird Tales with the word zombie(s) in the title. It is set in the South. The zombies are slaves of a white zombie-master who has learned his craft from a black Voodoo man. The zombie-master uses Voodoo dolls to control people.
By the way, the first short story chronologically in the Internet Speculative Fiction Database with the word zombie(s) in the title was "White Zombie" by Vivian Meik from his collection Devils' Drums (1933). The first serial in a magazine was "Z Is for Zombie" by Theodore Roscoe in Argosy, February 6-March 13, 1937. And the first short story in a magazine was "Zombies Never Die" by Richard Tooker in Thrilling Mystery, November 1937.

To be continued . . . 

Notes
(1) From "At the Elwood" in The Call-Leader, Elwood, Indiana, Dec. 23, 1932, p. 6.
(2) From "Marine Officer, Rising Author, Finds Pen Mightier Than the Sword" in the Monroe News-Star, Monroe, Louisiana, July 23, 1925, p. 10.
(3) Black Medicine was issued by August Derleth's Arkham House with a cover design by Lee Brown Coye. See the image below.
(4) The United States acquired the Virgin Islands from Denmark in 1917 during the administration of Woodrow Wilson. If you're still looking for connections between American colonialism/imperialism and zombies, you're right back at Woodrow Wilson. Yeah, a Democrat and a Progressive. Sorry. The date, by the way, was March 31, 1917, so we're nearing the centennial of the U.S. Virgin Islands.
(5) The title in Italian is, tellingly, "Zumbi": the Italian alphabet lacks the letter j.
Finally, the subject of zombies and the U.S. Marine Corps gives new meaning to our most recent ex-president's pronunciation "corpseman." He's the smartest man in the room, you know. Probably one of the smartest presidents ever. Just ask people who speak the Austrian language or who live on the Maldive Islands in the South Atlantic.

Black Medicine by Arthur J. Burks (Arkham House, 1966), a collection of his stories for Weird Tales. Cover art by Lee Brown Coye.

Jumbee and Other Uncanny Tales by Henry S. Whitehead (Arkham House, 1944), a posthumous collection of his stories, including the proto-zombie story "Jumbee." Cover art by Charles Frank Wakefield.

Text copyright 2017 Terence E. Hanley