Reviewed by ANTHONY PERCONTI

Catherine Lucille (C.L.) Moore was a highly inventive pulp writer that contributed much to the bourgeoning genres of science fiction, swords and sorcery, as well as weird fiction. In particular, she was responsible for the creation of two highly memorable characters, Jirel of Joiry and Northwest Smith, whose fingerprints are evident in many genre characters that came after. In 1933, she sold her first story and it appeared in the November issue of Weird Tales. This tale was the opening act in her Northwest Smith sequence, in which a hard-bitten smuggler and outlaw Earthman has fantastic adventures in an exotic solar system (in fact, our solar system) teeming with alien life. “Shambleau” seamlessly blends golden age science fiction with cosmic horror, thereby producing a timeless piece of weird fiction that is just as entertaining today as it was when it debut, eight plus decades ago.

“Shambleau” opens in the frontier Martian city of Lakkdarol, where Smith (there on illicit business) by chance, has a run in with a bloodthirsty mob intent on killing a fleeing humanoid female. Her features (1.) are distinctly feline, berry brown skin, with clawed hands and feet, pointed teeth and green silted pupils. She is dressed in single piece of tattered scarlet leather, with a tight fitting turban of the same material on her head. Smith intervenes on her behalf, by drawing his blaster on the crowd and stating in no uncertain terms that the girl is with him. The mob disperses, all the while shooting disgusted looks at Smith and the girl, Shambleau.

They return to his quarters and he gives her a safe place to stay until things cool down in the city. Smith is incredulous that the mob wanted to kill this innocent seeming alien. When Smith leaves her behind in his rented room to go and conduct his shady dealings, he has no expectation of ever seeing her again. Much to his surprise when he returns that evening, full of Venusian segir, Shambleau is awaiting him. Smith goes to kiss her and of a sudden is simultaneously attracted and repulsed by her. He pushes her away, and a single strand of hair peeks out from beneath her turban. “He stared and shook his head dizzily and stared again, for it seemed to him that the thick lock of crimson had moved, squirmed of itself against her cheek.” The outlaw chalks up the visual hallucination to imbibing too much segir. During his sleep that night, Smith is haunted by a dream of something akin to a soft wet snake coiling about his throat; this sensation is deeply pleasurable and horrific.

As the days pass and Smith comes and goes from the city, conducting his business, while waiting for his crime partner to arrive from off planet, Moore starts ramping up the weirdness quotient. Shambleau requires no conventional food to speak of. Growing suspicious, Smith presses her; “What do you eat…Blood?” to which, she replies; “You think me-vampire, eh? No-I am Shambleau!” Moore continues to ratchet up the tension until finally, the true nature of the mysterious girl is revealed at the story’s denouement (that is highly reminiscent of the writings of H.P. Lovecraft). “She shook it out in a horrible travesty of a woman shaking out her hair-until the unspeakable tangle of it- twisting, writhing, obscenely scarlet-hung to her waist and beyond, and still lengthened, and endless mass of crawling horror that until now, somehow, impossibly, had been hidden under that tight bound turban. It was like a nest of blind, restless red worms…it was like naked entrails endowed with an unnatural aliveness, terrible beyond words.”

The entity known as Shambleau utilizes a sophisticated form of aggressive mimicry to lure in prey and absorb their life energies over a period of time. The creature’s victims are kept in a perpetual state of bliss during the absorption process. Smith’s partner, Yarol the Venusian, eventually tracks him to his domicile (after completely disappearing for three days). There, Yarol finds Smith entangled in a mound of writhing crimson tendrils, slowly being digested by the alien creature. The Venusian goes into full Perseus mode, through the use of a wall mirror; he is able to withstand the creature’s hypnotic gaze and dispatches it with his blaster. Although saved from death at the last minute, Smith is deeply traumatized by the experience. At the tale’s conclusion, Yarol recognizes in his partner (and Smith begrudgingly admits this as well) the incessant longing for the Gorgon’s kiss.

Moore (through Yarol’s pontification) makes the insinuation that the myth of the Gorgon is derived from a lost civilization of space-faring humans (a la Erich von Daniken’s ancient astronaut hypothesis) who made contact with these vampiric entities in Earth’s remote past. These alien encounters were passed down through the generations until they eventually faded into the realm of the mythological. It is absolutely fascinating that Moore posited this gonzo theory thirty five years prior to the publication of Chariots of the Gods. Although to be fair, Moore was a resourceful creator, whose imagination was firing on all cylinders.

“Shambleau” is a classic piece of pulp writing that deftly commingles multiple genres. Fans of Spaghetti westerns, hard boiled crime fiction, golden age sci-fi, the recent Solo: A Star Wars Story and cosmic horror should certainly check out the Northwest Smith tales of Catherine Lucille Moore (In fact, do yourself a favor and read her Jirel of Joiry sequence as well; they are well worth it). She was a highly talented and imaginative writer, whose influence is still felt in the present day landscape of fantastic fiction.

NOTE:

(1.) “Shambleau” was reprinted in the summer 1955 issue of (the French language) V-Magazine. It was illustrated by future Barbarella creator, Jean- Claude Forest. Note how Forest’s depiction of Shambleau is heavily inspired by the distinct and striking features of the international superstar, Sophia Loren.

Anthony Perconti lives and works in the hinterlands of New Jersey with his wife and kids. He enjoys well-crafted and engaging stories across a variety of genres and mediums. His articles have appeared in several online venues and can be found on Twitter at @AnthonyPerconti.

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