Christmas Formula and other stories by Stella Benson (1932)

This is a limited edition volume published a year before this author's untimely death. It contains only three stories, but they are belters. Benson comes from the era, typified and personified slightly later by Katherine Anne Porter, when the ending of a story was considered a vital part of the art. The first and third stories here show mastery in that element, and indeed many others. The second, the title-story, is more impressive for its ideas. The first piece, Tchotl, concerns itself with a 'typical' American living in China in the twenties and thirties. Nielsen is full of egalitarian ideals, notions of the Great American Way, and various plans for the future betterment of humankind. He is, as was consonant with American nationality at that time, a salesman of these notions. Along comes Chin Yu-Ting, a local Chinese with an eager attitude toward intellectualism and with cosmopolitan leanings. Nielsen's sales pitch is fascinating for him, even though he feels slightly at sea with some of the American's malapropisms. Eventually he finds himself waylaid from his deepest interest in comparative theology, and enthused by the idea of a universal language as sold by Nielsen. It is the pet project of the moment of some of his friends back home. Tchotl will solve the world's ills and make brothers of us all. As he goes to retrieve a textbook (cost, only 5 dollars!) for Chin, Nielsen strays across the latest newspaper from home, and sees that his friends have given it up as a bad job through lack of take-up. Of course, he carries on and sells the textbook to Chin, still promoting away, but is secretly intrigued by his friends' latest idea - making food from dirt! The title story is a horrified squeal of worry over what was seen at the time as the inevitable downslide of culture into contentless emptiness. The narrator takes a preoccupied boatride home, so busy that they only vaguely notice that things don't seem quite right. It turns out that they've time-slipped into a nightmare future. As they arrive back in Britain it is Christmas time. But every point of celebration is fake - they are "kissed by Mother" on the gangplank off the boat by an official grey-haired lady with an armband, then shoved along the queue. Before moving on, they receive a drop of Mother's Tears from a little bottle on their foreheads. They're required to pay a Merry-Christmas-Present Levy, which doesn't go to the poor, rather to the Board of Salesmen. They need a Licence to Enjoy-Merry-Christmas. They are welcome to go to Peter Pan as a celebration. But, once there, they discover that no-one really knows what the origin of this old 'Peeting Up Ann' ritual really is, and the huge hall is empty of anything except huge infantile ads up on the screen. While leaving they receive a Merry-Christmas-Present from Auntie - 'to YOU' of a camera, which turns out to be a token made of paper and falls apart in their hands. Inside its crumbled mess is its only picture - of YOU. A skull grins out of the image threateningly. The narrator desperately skedaddles back to the boat, the only passenger on it back to the old world. The last story also has a sinister edge. A Dream is a recounting of as much as was possible of one that Benson had. A very nervous lady, Mrs Wander, is awaiting a medical procedure, and in a flap about it. Her friend Mary, the doctor and the nurse appear to be holding something back. She gets more and more frightened and worried as the anaesthetist draws near. She decides to escape, fearing they will operate on her brain, the idea of which traumatises her even further. She wrenches free and finds herself outside in a blasted valley, where amorphous sound booms down through the searing sky, and the bare ground is littered with cracked boulders and fried bushes. As she reaches the desperately desired skyline, hoping for better in the next valley, things do indeed change. She sees before her a green empty decline, and a leaden sky instead of a fiery one. Tucked in to one side is a tiny cottage with a higgledy garden which she half recognises. As she approaches the door, a memory returns. Her nurse Zillah lives here! Wonderful! Zillah opens the door and is initially welcoming to her 'lambie'. But soon she appears preoccupied and concerned and a little awkward. Mrs Wander realises that something is wrong. The shock hits as she realises the truth. This can't be right, because Zillah is long dead. She confronts the figure of her old nurse with this fact very directly, almost accusingly - "you're dead...". Zillah, in the very last line, responds equally directly - "So are you." These three are incredibly satisfying, and show Benson's mastery of this form with bright, concentrated colouring and powerful skill.