The Big Book of Classic Fantasy

by The Big Book of Classic Fantasy (retail) (epub)

  * * *

  —

  The Browning (Robert). So was called the giant whose one leg was much shorter than the other. This made his gait eccentric, the more so as he walked like a real Englishman, which he was. Not like the dwarf Tennyson, who had of a giant the one gigantic leg, and always took himself seriously, but whom our giant just considered stubborn, which he was.

  * * *

  —

  The Burte (Hermann). This is a Black Forest hart, and a solitude lover. He is endowed with an inordinate number of antlers, which are interlocked like crosses. His own strength impresses him greatly. His voice is so powerful the can make his own echo resound no less than seven times.

  * * *

  —

  The Chesterton (G. K.) uses its legs only when he thinks nobody is paying attention. In public, the Chesterton makes a point of always standing on its head, and has perfected this position to a virtuosity that allows the beast to run at any pace whilst on the head: the Chesterton can stroll, walk, stagger, swagger, march, bounce, jump, run—any possible gait—on its head. To the faithful’s great distress, the Chesterton, la tête terrible not la bête terrible, loves to display its nimbleness on all occasions, particularly in churches during worship. The Chesterton believes its particular on-the-head position offers the irrefutable proof of God’s existence.

  * * *

  —

  Cabell (James Branch). This is the victory scream of a magical American horse. Its soul is limitless and its thought encompasses the entire horizon. Even though its body gleams like malleable silver, its hardness surpasses that of steel. Inconsequentially, our springy horse’s cry sounds like laughter. Perhaps the Cabell was the same Centaur that swam across the ocean two-thousand years ago, and then happened upon the land where houses are as tall as forests. The nation where the Great Pan was resurrected as Whitman—oh, yes, Cabell is that Centaur.

  * * *

  —

  Conrad (Michael Georg). The Conrad belongs to Paleontology as it is long extinct and only a few bone fragments remain. The items displayed in the Munich museum confirm the assumption that this creature was a microcephalic dwarf bull, with a wooly, flax-yellow mane sprouting around its ears. German-nationalistic associations used its horns to fabricate drinking horns, but these proved to be useless, because as soon as any beverage touched these recipients, the liquid vaporized into foaming bubbles.

  * * *

  —

  The Courthsmahler (Hedwig) is a louse that lays a million eggs in a second. She prefers to do this in cinema booths, where she is sure to find protection and sustenance for her numerous offspring. In department stores, the oldest shopwomen spread Courthsmahler’s eggs on slices of bread as a caviar ersatz.

  * * *

  —

  The Däubler (Theodor) is a robust jellyfish that lives in the Adriatic Sea and is predominantly silver gray, but can also change color at will. The organization of its intestinal threads is extremely intricate. Often, this creature does not know itself and becomes too involved in efforts to unravel its own complexity. In doing so, the Daübler ends up trapped in the folds of its own bowels, forever losing the ability to change colors.

  * * *

  —

  The Döblin (Alfred). This is the name of an admirable and magnificently built beast, which stands and strides firmly upon its four legs. He has the peculiar habit—which manifests itself on a few occasions, and always for a short duration—of standing on his left front paw, placing his head between his legs, to gaze at the world upside down. This position gives him the impression that the world is extremely filthy, either because it is so, or only because of the proximity of our animal’s nether regions. The Döblin quickly rectifies this position on his left paw because it does not suit his temperament, and if we can then see this creature for what it really is, as he strolls happily down his good, straightforward path: a strong, enduring, excellent animal.

  * * *

  —

  The Einstein (Albert) is part of the study of comets, inasmuch as the Einstein is a tailed celestial object or wandering star in the metaphysical heaven, from which, at times, in an inexplicable manner—as its path is unpredictable—it strays into the earth’s atmosphere. Here it ignites with sparks and roars. Its appearance above our planet is catastrophic for bourgeois brains, the mushy substance of which boils with anger upon spotting the Einstein so near to Earth. The Einstein is therefore forced to continue its metaphysical course, whose trajectory is unknown, even by his sharpest observer Rowohlt.

  * * *

  —

  The Paulernst is the name of a persistent type of tapeworm, which still continues to be expelled by the corpse of the well-known, long dead Friedrich Hebbel. The tapeworm’s droppings are perfectly harmless, but if someone happens to see one of them, she may be seized by horripilation of an inconceivable intensity, which is expressed in spasmodic yawning. To demonstrate the complete harmlessness of these excretions, the well-known Munich zoologist Georg Mueller collected a few samples. But he could not cure anyone from their delusion. Perhaps this will only happen when the complete collection of the Paulernst’s droppings becomes available, but this may not be possible, for our Paulernst is a very long tapeworm.

  * * *

  —

  The Eulenberg (Herbert), or “the Owls’ Mountain.” The Eulenberg is a wretched jinxed bird of the owl family. This bird has tried to build its artistic nest in the ruins of baroque, rococo, or Biedermeier palaces, or other castle styles. But since it has always been discovered and driven out, it has renounced the project of building a nest of his own, and since then it has been living inside the limits of other birds’ shadows. Permission was granted to him to live in this place, even though there is no one in the sun, and he is also allowed on occasion to defile his refuge within someone else’s shadow in an abominable manner.

  * * *

  —

  The Eucken (Rudolf Christoph). This enigmatic word can be found engraved on all the cowbells of German Ideal-Idealism. The ringing of these engraved bells is recognizable by a hollow, beautiful sound. The animals adorned with these Euckens are designated in the Austrian butchers’ lingo as “little knuckels,” meaning that their flesh is very lean and can be eaten without roasting.

  * * *

  —

  The Fackelkraus (Karl Kraus), or “Kinky Torch,” has a nature contrary to Nature, as this beast is born from the waste of the enemies it wants to destroy. Because of its unclean birth, the Fackelkraus is always having fits of rage. The F. is distinguished by its ability to imitate people’s voices, in various ways: it imitates the voices of prophets and poets to feel their equal and to be taken for one of them, but other people can be impersonated, too, to mock and destroy them. Before the (Frank) Wedekind’s extinction, our Kinky Torch was its friend and stood on a raised podium to observe the Wedekind’s mating rituals and also its bodily excretions. The F. then applauded with thunderlike noises in order to be heard. When it explodes in fury, this beast becomes extremely malicious, to the point of toxicity, whenever it suspects that others could be heard in its stead. This the beast can’t abide. In order to prevent others from being heard, our creature either praises its competitors, or it derides them. In both cases the F. uses a high-pitched, sonorous screeching voice, to make sure everyone can hear. It must be remembered that the Kinky Torch has no nature intrinsic to itself, for it is nothing but a voice, and as a consequence only exists for as long as someone listens. Knowing this and fearing death, like every living creature does, it has skillfully practiced so that its voice will be heard for long periods of time. In anger, the F.’s voice is particularly elaborate, because, for fear of being ignored, the animal screams at new, never-heard-before octaves. If it realizes that someone is listening, the F. becomes very proud of itself and starts all over again. Fashioned out of its enemies’ excrements, the b
reath of a Kinky Torch offends every nose. But because the creature believes that by destroying bodily waste it can destroy enemies, it angrily eats enormous amounts of turds. That is why the Kinky Torch is a useful animal, even though only people born without olfaction can endure its vicinity, because the outstanding Fackelkraus can destroy vast amounts of excrement.

  * * *

  —

  The Frank (Leonhard). The Frank is a shellfish without a shell, despite the fact that the harsh environment the Frank lives in should require a shell to protect its very soft, delicate body. Unfortunately, the softness extends to the Frank’s mind, and does not allow our beast to form a firm shell by exuding a hard substance, of which it is in theory capable. All that the Frank can do is to gaze with dove eyes at the encroaching and punishing surroundings, and pray that they may become as beneficent as the Frank is. One must believe that the Lord is pleased to have created a Saint Francis of the Beasts.

  * * *

  —

  The Friedell (Egon). Not to be confused with the Ferret [Frettchen], as our beast is more akin to the archaic Enu, a Megatherium from the group of Polisponges. Feeds mainly on Chesterton, Kierkegaard, Shaw, Hegel, Nietzsche and other herbs. With its great head, the F. digests everything perfectly; the noises emitted by this creature during digestion are widely feared, as from a distance they can be mistaken for humor.

  * * *

  —

  Hackel (Eduard). This is the name of the god on whom the freethinker takes oaths. For here a human being has truly become God, by grace of nothing outside his insistence on telling the German what Darwin made damn sure not to tell the English, that the human is descended from a monkey. An enthusiastic German humankind climbed on the tree of such knowledge and applauded with all four legs. After some time of this awe-inspiring spectacle, some meaning had to come into the matter. And so the human ape invented Monism. And because this was happening in Protestant countries, monistic Sunday preachers soon appeared—naturally from the Land of Saxony. The monists recognize one another by the well-displayed genealogical tree.

  * * *

  —

  The Hamsun (Knut), the most beautiful of the living Saurians, is a perfect music-box mechanism created by Nature. Despite the alligator size and the apparent awkwardness of the limbs, and despite the Hamsun’s predilection for brooding in a state of pensive tranquility, this beast possesses an incredible and improbable agility. Very shy, he lives hidden among the rocks. As it is told, it was actually only a single researcher who discovered this species when a stone quarry was blown up, and the Hamsun stood in a cloud of dust and steam. The legend was born that our animal was in reality a simple, honest, and fair-looking person skilled in geometry, with sparks of almost feminine genius. But this legend is likely to have been invented in a big city. Not even a Nobel prize succeeded in luring the Hamsun out of its cave. The beast has too large a mouth, which makes him suffer. It is an organ which, in the case of reptiles, allows these creatures to survive in different elements, but in any case it is developed in the shape of a pharynx. Since the Hamsun is shy, humble and modest, its large mouth mortifies it a great deal. For just at the moment when one cannot deny this animal’s beauty…the gaze lingers on the disproportionate maw.

  * * *

  —

  The Gehauptmann (Gerhart Hauptmann). The Gehauptmann is the most corpulent quadruped of the German fauna, with an exceptionally small head, which grows smaller as the beast ages, while the body grows larger. The original form of this body can no longer be recognized. It is astonishing that four feet can bear all these humps, bulges, valleys, excesses, bumps, and tumors. In some parts of this body small feathers sprout, in others there are hairs; elsewhere, the skin is completely bare; in yet other places, it has sunken, or is petrified. The irregularity of our animal’s surface probably explains the fact that in some parts of his body debris have accumulated, which he carries patiently, and in another place a small meadow grows. Yes, there has been a tiny coal miners’ village for a time. But the Gehaupt. is so monstrous that its brain does not even notice what’s going on. Our beast only eats vegetables, in astronomical quantities. Meat makes it sick. Its little head often remains entirely invisible; often it abstains from performing any function. The above might explain the tremendous growth and the uncertain, fluctuating gait of our Gehauptmann.

  * * *

  —

  The Hesse (Hermann). This is a lovely forest turtledove that cannot be found in her natural habitat any longer. Thanks to her gracious appearance, she has become a favorite caged bird, charming the beholder by the way she behaves, as if she still lived freely in her forest. In this way she gives to the city-dweller the impression of being in the wilderness, and the illusion is increased by tiny odoriferous glands, from which our Hesse secretes a smell that gently recalls the coniferous resinous scent.

  * * *

  —

  The Hofmannsthal (Hugo von). This gazelle-like animal with beautiful fur, exceptionally spindle-shanked—solely created for the reason of having him parade proudly—is the product of an interesting cross-breed between an Italian greyhound bitch (from the breeder d’Annunzio) and a dog of the English Northumberland variety Swinburne. His birth was saluted with such amazement that—to use an expression usually applied to humans—he was compared to a wonder boy, which he remained as he aged, by virtue of this exceptional admiration, and even at eighty years of age, until death took him. This very precious, fragile species can breathe only artificial air, which is why every specimen has a subtly exquisite scent. The Hofmannsthal’s taste is so refined, given the fragility of his crossbred stomach, that he often eats nothing at all for months, so as not to bring to the most delicate intestines the danger of constipation, which is his secret pain. At such times he takes to lamenting from his silver terrace in a plaintive voice on the melancholy of a Sunday afternoon in July. Sometimes the Hofmannsthal expresses the desire for a trip to a rural hay meadow, where he can take a few humorous jumps, which makes the bystanders tear up with sadness, while the Hofmannsthal finds this frolicking very funny, even though he soon becomes exhausted. Back in the time the ladies called him Cherub, and this graceful beast still responds to this name, on the one hand, out of amiability, on the other from melancholy. It is one of our most beautiful animals.

  * * *

  —

  Ibsen (Henrik). He was an apothecary apprentice. Pinching and turning the tablets between his fingertips, he became pensive, pondering about the people who ingested his preparations. And he was amazed at the fact that the customers gobbled down those tablets. So he began to sell his own recipes, the labels of which he received from the Parisian company Dumas Fils. The French company was well established in the small town, and granted credit to the little pharmacist who had created his own business. The raw materials of his remedies he procured in many ways, but especially from England. When his shipments remained stored in the small windowless warehouse of his northern town for too long, the tablets were covered in a thin coat of mildew, which however tasted just right to the Germans, to which he exclusively exported for some time. At first, secretly, then more boldly, and finally very ostentatiously, any German woman who was more or less misunderstood took Nora—or Heddapills. This trend made the fortune of a Swedish exporter who was able to sell tablets of better quality, which caused the little Norwegian pharmacist to fall out of fashion. The Ibsen considered this matter in his little shop, and came to the conclusion: nosce te Ibsen. And he quietly began to unravel the fraud he had perpetrated.

  * * *

  —

  The Kafka (Franz). The Kafka is a very rarely seen, magnificent moon-blue mouse that does not eat meat, but feeds on bitter herbs. Its gaze is entrancing, because this mouse has human eyes.

  * * *

  —

  Kipling (Rudyard). Thus was named the great cannon that was for the first time fired over the Queen�
�s tomb, and the echo of which was heard by the Boers as well as the Hindus, the Canadians, and the Australians. Finally, in 1914, the Kipling tore at everybody’s eardrums in every sense of the word. The fact that a little child from Lissau pissed his pants out of fear did not help the Kipling’s cause.

  * * *

  —

  The Maupassant (Guy de). A Diver bird of the Gaviidae family, which brings pearls from the depths with infinite grace. These depths, however, must not be deeper than the profondeurs du cœur, or depths of the heart, as they were fathomed in Paris, 1880.

  * * *

  —

  The Mallarmé (Stéphane). A fragile insect of amethyst-blue color, with spiritual features. It is enclosed in a piece of glass-transparent amber, which is unique given its crystalline structure. The amazing thing is that an insect would survive in such airtight, confined space.

  * * *

  —

  The Meyrink (Gustav). The Meyrink is the only mooncalf that fell to the earth and was captured alive. Exhibitions were initially forbidden as the frightful sight provoked a few premature births, but today the Meyrink is temporarily put on display by his catcher and pregnant women are now allowed to see the exhibit. In the meantime, the women have grown accustomed to the horrific shape, so that they can endure the view, even with a smile of satisfaction. Austrian-Hungarian officers and National-German deputies wanted to ban the public exhibition of the Meyrink altogether, claiming that the one big eye distorted their reflection, as they put it. The owner of the specimen, however, proved that the reflection was not distorted at all, but those particular objects distorted the Meyrink’s eye. The number of visitors has diminished since many lunar calves have been spotted running about. We cannot be certain that those specimens fell from the moon, but they surely have fallen on their heads.