DIY History | Transcribe | Hevelin Fanzines | Variant, v. 1, issue 3, September 1947

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Variant, v. 1, issue 3, September 1947

Page 47

Chastor: please to consider the possibilities inherent in his tone poem The Lepers' Lament at the Thought of Rain--remember the procession of these poor unfortunate folk, each with an umbrella tucked under his arm: how they hurried, to elude the threatening shower; how each umbrella is shifted to under the other arms as the first arm drops off. (Perhaps the theme is a trifle unpleasant, but mayn't we adult minds be weaned from saccahrine?) Or think if you prefer, of the sustained suspense of Ersatz Rubber, with its whimsical mongoloid, in the coal bin, tweeting on his little flute to amuse the friendly rats, to make them cavort and dance; and how this cute little idiot rubs coal dust into his nostrils and into his ears, because he is lonely and because envious of the security of his baby brother who has nothing to do but to float buoyantly from side to side of a jar of formaldehyde. If a youthful actor could be found with sufficient intelligence to portray this charming idiot with the personality Chastor gave him, a film made from this psychological story should have a long and brilliant run. Hollywood may have hesitated because love interest, with this item, might be difficult to insert, as mongolian idiots rarely give sex much play. This idiosyncracy, perhaps peculiar to the type, may be due to their custom of kicking the bucket at an age when most normal youngsters engage in a tentative and invariably progressive experimentation. Perhaps there are other reasons. It is possible that mongoloids just don't care.

Enough for speculation! Chastor must be judged by the work he left. It will suffice; for his was a skill at word play and a critical acumen second to that of none of our age! Yes, perhaps second to none of any age! Shakespear? Well, read Chastor... he was more modern, anyway. His touch was subtile, terse and true. What he wanted to do he did; and if he could not find anybody to do it with him, he did it by himself. Such is the character of genius.

When Chastor was a lad in primary school he was thought to be a bit silly. This reputation, still on the school's more private records, could be attributed to an outstanding difference between himself and his contemporaries, which difference, that thing about him which stood out, was conspicuous even in early youth.

It took Chastor longer than it takes most babies to learn how to talk. This was because he looked and listened a lot. The first word claimed to have been enunciated by him (whittled into a wooden wall placque by a doting parent) was -- neither da nor ma, as might have been expected: it was Pulp. This, in light of his later career, may seem to be significant.

To the best of my knowledge and I was close to Chastor on several occasions

(47)

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Chastor: please to consider the possibilities inherent in his tone poem The Lepers' Lament at the Thought of Rain--remember the procession of these poor unfortunate folk, each with an umbrella tucked under his arm: how they hurried, to elude the threatening shower; how each umbrella is shifted to under the other arms as the first arm drops off. (Perhaps the theme is a trifle unpleasant, but mayn't we adult minds be weaned from saccahrine?) Or think if you prefer, of the sustained suspense of Ersatz Rubber, with its whimsical mongoloid, in the coal bin, tweeting on his little flute to amuse the friendly rats, to make them cavort and dance; and how this cute little idiot rubs coal dust into his nostrils and into his ears, because he is lonely and because envious of the security of his baby brother who has nothing to do but to float buoyantly from side to side of a jar of formaldehyde. If a youthful actor could be found with sufficient intelligence to portray this charming idiot with the personality Chastor gave him, a film made from this psychological story should have a long and brilliant run. Hollywood may have hesitated because love interest, with this item, might be difficult to insert, as mongolian idiots rarely give sex much play. This idiosyncracy, perhaps peculiar to the type, may be due to their custom of kicking the bucket at an age when most normal youngsters engage in a tentative and invariably progressive experimentation. Perhaps there are other reasons. It is possible that mongoloids just don't care. Enough for speculation! Chastor must be judged by the work he left. It will suffice; for his was a skill at word play and a critical acumen second to that of none of our age! Yes, perhaps second to none of any age! Shakespear? Well, read Chastor... he was more modern, anyway. His touch was subtile, terse and true. What he wanted to do he did; and if he could not find anybody to do it with him, he did it by himself. Such is the character of genius. When Chastor was a lad in primary school he was thought to be a bit silly. This reputation, still on the school's more private records, could be attributed to an outstanding difference between himself and his contemporaries, which difference, that thing about him which stood out, was conspicuous even in early youth. It took Chastor longer than it takes most babies to learn how to talk. This was because he looked and listened a lot. The first word claimed to have been enunciated by him (whittled into a wooden wall placque by a doting parent) was -- neither da nor ma, as might have been expected: it was Pulp. This, in light of his later career, may seem to be significant. To the best of my knowledge and I was close to Chastor on several occasions (47)