Tales from the White Hart (original 1957; edition 1957)

These stories don't strike me as real "science fiction" -- mainly because we know that the source of the stories, Harry Purvis, is full of blarney. The individual stories also aren't very creative, relying as they do each on some individual comic twist-ending.

What makes this collection outstanding is the narrative voice, the pub setting, and the humor that derives not so much from the twist-endings but from the narrative voice itself.

Almost all of the stories were originally published for other publications, according to Tales from the White Hart's Wikipedia entry, but they cohere in this anthology because of the narrative voice of Charles Willis (as stand-in for Clarke himself) and the unifying figure of Harry Purvis as the source of the tales. The humor and whimsy come from the contrast between the narrative voice and Harry's stories themselves.

Inspired by Lord Dunsany, the anthology structure and the whole tone of Clarke's narrative voice somehow reminds my of Dickens' Master Humphrey's Clock -- probably, though, because I've never read anything by Lord Dunsany. ( )

Absolutely outstanding. I hadn't re-read this book for at least twenty years. Somehow it had gotten pigeonholed in my memory as a bit boring and dull.

But it's anything but dull or boring! Classic and funny science fiction stories using the classic bar-story format. Over and over I found myself coming across phrases and ideas which I'd incorporated into my personal lexicon, only to forget where they'd come from. "Oh, so this is where I first read that!" I kept saying.

It's a pity that Clarke wrote so few of these stories. They're wonderful. ( )

I found this a charmer--it grew on me--a sum more than its parts. This isn't the usual collection of stand-alone stories. In his Preface Clarke wrote that the tales came out of, "a long unfelt want--for what might be called the "tall" science-fiction story. By this I mean stories that are intentionally unbelievable; not, as is too often the case, unintentionally so. At the same time, I should hate to say exactly where the Great Divide of plausibility comes in these tales, which range from the perfectly plausible to the totally improbable."

Oh, but that's what makes this set of stories fun. These "tall tales" are told at the White Hart--a London pub in sight of the Thames river near Fleet Street. There can be found writers, scientists, and hybrids who are both--including Arthur C. Clarke, who is apparently addressed in one of the stories--he seems to be the first person narrator. He's not the storyteller though--that (almost always) is "Mr. Harry Purvis, B.Sc. (at least), Ph.D. (probably) F.R.S. (personally I don't think so, though it has been rumored.)"

Another thing that's rather fun about these stories written from 1953 to 1956 are the allusions to the times--the cold war, McCarthyism, the beginnings of the sexual revolution. Even though not graphic, I was startled at how risque was "Patent Pending." I'm positive I first read this book as a child under ten years old. I can't remember my reaction, and wondered just how much went over my head. Also fun was, well, how these books gave Clarke some scope to show his diverse interests and knowledge. The "Edward England" mentioned in "Silence Please" has to be Benjamin Britten. Orwell's 1984 gets a mention only a few years after it was first published. There's some sharp (but mostly gentle) satire, some black humor--nothing laugh-out-loud funny, but consistently amusing. And even though these tales were written separately, I think they benefit from being read together. I don't think any one tale should rank among Clarke's best short stories. I'm really fond of "Moving Spirit" and "The Reluctant Orchid" but I wouldn't list it up there with "Rescue Party" "The Star" or "The Nine Billion Names of God." But these are fun. ( )

Oh, just read it, it's marron glace- candy but with meat ( )

Arthur C. Clarke

Tales from the White Hart

Sidgwick and Jackson, Paperback, 1972.
12mo. 156 pp. Preface by Arthur Clarke dated ''New York, May 1969'' [pp. 5-6]. A short biographical note titled ''About Arthur C. Clarke'', signed identically and consisting almost entirely of quotations [pp. 156-57, unnumbered].

First published, 1957.

Contents*

Preface
Silence, Please! [1950]
Big Game Hunt [1956]
Patent Pending [1956]
Armaments Race [1954]
Critical Mass [1949]
The Ultimate Melody [1957]
The Pacifist [1956]
The Next Tenants [1957]
Moving Spirit [1957]
The Man Who Ploughed the Sea [1957]
The Reluctant Orchid [1956]
Cold War [1957]
What Goes Up [1956]
Sleeping Beauty [1957]
The Defenestration of Ermintrude Inch [1957]

About Arthur C. Clarke

* In square brackets: the year of first publication, usually in a magazine.

=======================================

This is Arthur Clarke's third short story collection - and certainly the most unusual one he ever published. It is important to establish immediately that this is the only case where Clarke deliberately wrote fantasy, or scientific "tall tales" as he charmingly calls them. Naturally, too, the prime purpose of such tales is pure and uninhibited entertainment.

The ''White Hart" must be one of the most famous pubs in fiction, a most amazing place where scientists, publishers and science fiction writers (what a combination!) get together every Wednesday evening. Then, in between chess games and cryptic publishing deals, enormous amounts of beer change barrels and fantastic (literally, remember) stories are told - at least until the barman Drew announces that it's time to close and kicks everybody out in the "cold hard world" .

By far the most remarkable raconteur in the ''White Hart" is one Harry Purvis, by way of being scientist himself, with endless list of acquaintances and relatives, one crazier than the other, and having the most annoying habit of pausing to "refuel" his glass exactly when the climax of a story is swiftly approaching. Nobody really believes him, but everybody enjoys his meticulously crafted, and even better researched, tales (surely no one can have the cheek to make that up?) and everybody is genuinely sorry when one day he suddenly disappears from the pub.

It might be worth noting that among the regular clients of the "White Hart" are subjects like John Wyndham and Charlie Willis, the former is in need of no introduction but the latter is "the most promising author I know (he has been promising for more than twenty-five years)". Quite the most charming self-pun I have ever seen that, for "Charlie Willis" is the pseudonym under which Clarke published some of his early short stories. It is probably significant that Charlie is also "one of Harry's most implacable critics".

Well, in fact, Harry is such a colourful character himself, that all other die-hard White-Hart aficionados make only very occasional appearances. He is such a masterful story-teller, however, that the only tale ("Big Game Hunt") which is not told by him, or is not based on his bizarre adventures, is by far the weakest in the book. Together with the mysterious pub, Mr Purvis is introduced in the first story and bids his farewell, figuratively speaking, in the last one, but otherwise the pieces are completely independent from one another, few mild cross-references notwithstanding.

Now let's try to have a more serious look - a very difficult thing when discussing such decidedly and deliberately flippant fiction - at the strengths and weaknesses of this marvellous collection.

As a matter of fact, most of these stories are surprisingly serious. The fact that they are pretty improbable does not prevent Clarke from putting most of them on very firm scientific foundations. Just by the way, as a special bonus, you can learn a lot about interference ("Silence, Please"), the mysterious and so elusive force called antigravity ("What Goes Up") or the stupendous source of metals and minerals that sea water may prove to be in the future ("The Man Who Ploughed the Sea"). Most of these matters Clarke has discussed thoroughly in his non-fiction writings (see Profiles of the Future, for instance) but his adroitness to turn them into highly amusing fiction in which there is nothing dry or academic is something to marvel at. Indeed, sometimes it is quite a challenge to find out where is the end of the scientific fact and the beginning of the science fiction. So my labelling all of these pieces as fantasy in the beginning is a trifle wide of the mark.

Even more fascinating is the fact that many stories, though definitely tongue-in-cheek in tone, actually have quite a few serious overtones. For instance, "Armaments Race" is a thinly veiled satire of the ridiculous space operas (isn't that a little prescient for the mid-1950s?) and "Patent Pending" has some shrewd remarks that may not be enjoyed by publishers and reviewers. And sometimes these tales can be very serious indeed. "The Ultimate Melody" is positively heart-rending and it does give me a pause to reflect upon the utterly mysterious - perhaps scientifically unknowable - phenomenon of the influence of music upon many people. The story also has a haunting opening:

Have you ever noticed that, when there are twenty or thirty people talking together in a room, there are occasional moments when everybody becomes suddenly silent, so that for a second there's a sudden, vibrating emptiness that seem to swallow up all sound? I don't know how it affects other people, but when it happens it makes me feel cold all over. Of course, the whole thing's merely caused by the laws of probability, but somehow it seems more than mere coinciding of conversational pauses. It's almost as if everybody is listening to something - they don't know what.

Of the stories with a strong streak of seriousness, my personal favourite is "The Next Tenants". In this extraordinary tale some wild extrapolations about a human-guided evolution of termites make a rather chilling read. Decades later, using ants instead, Bernard Werber would write some of the most shattering works I have ever encountered. There is no better way to teach oneself some humility and to better appreciate the miracle of life in all of its multitudinous forms than asking the not-so-easy-as-it-seems question "Are we really masters of this world?" Going down in scale, but going up in numbers and collective intelligence, while reading "The Next Tenants" might give you some startlingly disturbing notions to consider.

Similarly serious, though in a very different field, is "The Man Who Ploughed the Sea". Here the monstrous question that looms large is "What kind of job are we doing as masters of this world?" Just imagine, for the sake of the argument, what would happen if the technology for "mining the sea" described in the story really did become reality in the future. Overfishing and using the sea as a garbage container would seem trivial in comparison.

But dwelling too much on the serious sides of these stories is definitely missing the point. Most of these tales are unabashed fun, deliberately and deliciously ridiculous. Perhaps my personal winner here is "Moving Spirit", a perfectly wacky tale about one of Harry's more eccentric relatives who tried to make whiskey illegally but discovered something quite different. "Cold War" is a hilarious story about some very unexpected side effects of the rivalry between California and Florida which is the sunniest state in the States. I don't think anybody could read "The Reluctant Orchid", a parody of horror and crime fiction if there ever was one, keeping straight face, either. The bizarrely titled "The Defenestration of Ermintrude Inch" and the ludicrous "Sleeping Beauty" are other memorable examples, the former having a poignant reference to Harry himself which feminists would surely love - indeed, the latter would probably appeal to this aberration of the female psyche even more.

We will do Arthur Clarke a great injustice if we neglect to mention that, in such light stories, the insight into his characters is as sharp as ever. If you think I am making this up, here are some examples taken from here and there:

[Here is another candy for the feminists; from "Sleeping Beauty".]
Henrietta, rightly despising men as the weaker sex, had never married. However, for some reason she took an avuncular (yes, that is definitely the right word) interest in Hercules, and called to see him almost every weekend. It was a curious kind of relationship: probably Henrietta found that Hercules bolstered up her feelings of superiority. If he was a good example of the male sex, then they were certainly a pretty sorry lot. Yet, if this was Henrietta's motivation, she was unconscious of it and seemed genuinely fond of her nephew. She was patronizing, but never unkind.

[Very perceptive observation about the unequal distribution of wealth and its effects on human beings.]
It is rather amusing, Harry told us, to notice the subtle social distinctions which differences of wealth can produce even in the most democratic country. By Harry's standards, George was a very rich man [...] But Dr Romano was in another price range altogether, and had to be treated accordingly with a kind of friendly respect which had nothing to do with obsequiousness. On his side, the Doctor was perfectly free and easy; there was nothing about him that gave any impression of wealth, if one ignored such trivia as hundred-and-fifty-foot ocean-going yachts.

[Last but not least, Clarke's penetrating gaze can sum up surroundings as well, particularly the "White Hart" itself.]
A great deal of business also goes on in the obscurer corners of the pub. Copies of antique books and magazines frequently change hands at astronomical prices, and on almost any Wednesday at least three well-known dealers may be seen smoking large cigars as they lean over the bar, swapping stories with Drew. From time to time, a vast guffaw announces the denouement of some anecdote and provokes a flood of anxious enquiries from patrons who are afraid they may have missed something. But, alas, delicacy forbids that I should repeat any of these interesting tales here. Unlike most things in this island, they are not for export....

So why only four stars? As a light and fantastic entertainment - all this collection was intended to be - Tales from the White Hart delivers the goods splendidly; besides, there are more than enough poignancy and pathos just below the surface. It is true that the collection does lack any of Clarke's trademark themes (space exploration, the first contact, etc.), but the great number and variety of mad scientists (some out to conquer the world, others not) more than compensates for this. The fact of catching Clarke in so unusual a field for him is refreshing in itself.

The main drawback of the collection is the usual one for Clarke: rather uneven quality. "Big Game Hunt", which might have been spared publication, was mentioned, and here I may add "Armaments Race", "Patent Pending" and "The Pacifist" to those stories which do entertain, but certainly lack the wry humour and perfect completeness so typical for Clarke. Many of the endings are open, which in itself is a fine method, but most of these, including the three stories just mentioned, are rather anti-climactic and thus unsatisfactory. And there is at least one case ("Critical Mass") where a fine twist in the end cannot compensate for rather dull story otherwise. All these tales fall rather short of the standards set by the other pieces in the same collection.

There is one other thing, too, that detracts from Tales from the White Hart as a whole. This is a certain kind of monotony. With one unfortunate and already mentioned exception, all stories are either told by Harry Purvis himself or based on his experiences but paraphrased by the narrator (called "Arthur" by Harry in "What Goes Up") who is even more amusing than his colleague. Yet the usual variety of narrative techniques, characters and locales so characteristic for Clarke's collections is missing here; indeed, the ''mad scientist'' concept is a little too often encountered. But the exchange between "Harry" and "Arthur" is worth quoting:

Harry turned to me and said: 'There's an analogy I'd like to borrow from one of your books, Arthur, that puts across the point I'm trying to make. You know - comparing the fight against Earth's gravity to climbing out of a deep pit.'
'You're welcome,' I said. 'I pinched it from Doc Richardson, anyway.'
'Oh,' replied Harry. 'I thought it was too good to be original.'

The book in question is Clarke's first published one, the technical yet absorbing Interplanetary Flight (1950), and the analogy does occur there, even though "Doc Richardson" remains elusive. Was he given indirect credit in fiction? Perhaps. One of the many charming nuances of the collection are the numerous references to real people, works of art or historical events - from Wells to Wilde and from Sibelius' Second Symphony to the battle of Gettysburg - which both demonstrate Clarke's impressive erudition and stimulate in the reader the game "find out the facts behind the fiction", or the better one "learn more history about your favourite fiction". As any great writer, pretty much everything Clarke wrote was firmly based on reality. So, indeed, was the "White Hart" as acknowledged in the preface. Who was the prototype of Harry Purvis, and how much of him was fact and how much fiction, is anybody's guess.

At any rate, Tales from the White Hart is a most entertaining collection of short stories, adroitly mixing the serious and the scientific with the flippant and the ludicrous. Uneven and monotonous as it may be, it demonstrates Clarke's considerable powers to have fun, even though in his other collections there are many more memorable examples such as "Trouble with the Natives", "Loophole" and "No Morning After".

The book is essential reading for Clarke aficionados, of course, but due to its limited scope, it is not a really good introduction for Clarke neophytes. ( )