The Man Who Wrote Lafferties: More than Melchisedech

As an e-Book, 2015

More than Melchisedech was the last novel of R.A.Lafferty to be published. It is the third part of The Devil is Dead trilogy. It was not published as such: it appeared as three hardback novels entitled, respectively, ‘Tales of Chicago’, ‘Tales of Midnight’ and ‘Argo’. But it is, nonetheless, More than Melchisedech and, unless and subject to the publication of those novels listed in the by now infamous Archipelago checklist, it is the last.
Hope then, for Esteban, for Mantis, for Iron Tongue of Midnight, for When All The World was Young, for Dark Shine, and those books already mentioned, of the Coscuin Chronicles and In a Green Tree, and hope for the chance one day and soon to add to this series of blogs.
But this is where the story ends.
More than Melchisedech is about Melchisedech Duffey, the Boy King, the Boy Magician. It’s closer in tone and content to Archipelago than to The Devil is Dead, since the latter is a Finnegan novel, and a fantasia in its way, whilst Finnegan is merely primus inter pares amongst the Dirty Five, and the others of whom Duffy is by some means a creator.
The original Melchisedech appears in the book of Genesis where he makes a brief appearance as King of Salem. Lafferty equates Duffey, who is basically Irish, with the King of Salem but basically presents him as a character without parents or birth, at the beginning of what will be a circular life that breaks down into three phases, each represented in the three books published.
‘Tales of Chicago’ deals with Duffey’s childhood and schooling, the latter to a far greater extent, since Duffey’s childhood is indefinite, and far too extensive, spent with too many pseudo-relatives, to have any fixed existence or narrative. He is pursued by three slant-faced killers, older boys with knives whose intention is to kill him, a task they will eventually accomplish when the story has moved far beyond any earthly confines represented in this or the second phase. Duffey becomes part of a group of friends, one of whom is a magician whereas Duffey is magic, able to produce gold by banging his hands together, and aided by invisible giant hands that he can call upon to do his bidding.
And yet this is a realistic phase, realistic so far as the grand Tall Tales tradition is concerned. Duffey’s coterie is a precocious group of boys and girls entirely reminiscent, though more far-fetched, of the children of My Heart Leaps Up.
Beyond Duffey’s schooling, at age sixteen, he arrives in Chicago and makes his first, and overwhelming business, a multifarious affair of impossible successes, dazzling in its ease and speed, and which brings him into contact with people to whom he gives talismans, talismans fated to be given to their children, amongst whom are the Dirty Five and the women who love them.
‘Tales of Midnight’ moves us into the realm of Archipelago, using Vincent Stranahan’s wedding to Theresa ‘Showboat’ Piccone as the catalyst to bring Duffey among the Duffeys in St Louis, to translate Duffey’s career to that town and the printing house that is the home of the Pelican Press in its mission to fight the Church’s fight against Casey Symansky’s The Crock.
It’s also the foreground of the battle for the world as Lafferty re-introduces the belief that the Devil was imprisoned for a thousand years, and that that imprisonment ended in 1945, when in an occasion of ceremony he was released from his cell at Yalta, to resume his place in the world.
But it is in ‘Argo’ that Lafferty moves beyond any mundane ties, taking Duffey beyond his earthly time, through Seven Contingent Years that he has already, seemingly, lived in non-consecutive fashion earlier in the book, and seven possible worlds in which fates symbolic of what Lafferty saw as the world in which he and we lived are played out, before he steps (again) into the boat that sails through time, correcting and directing.
This is the Argo, a central point in Lafferty’s thoughts, beliefs and writings. The Argo is a thing of myth but it is also the Church, and many are Argo Masters in their time. For now, and in this time, these are three: Melchisedech Duffey, Biloxi Brannagan (who we met in The Devil is Dead) and Kasmir Gorshak, who is Casey and who is the Antichrist.
‘Argo’ takes the book out beyond all anchors, gliding and eliding. We have gone beyond anything in the mundane world, though the Argo moves into and out of the world in which intervention is required to maintain the course, but it does so from beyond. Duffey has been unreal in the real and now he is outside it. He is killed, his flesh hacked off and burnt to ashes, ashes he has carried in a cigar case for much of the story, but just as his story has no beginning, it also has no end save return to the beginning, to renew the cycle.
There are, in fact, two endings, each with their similarities, distinguished by different fonts, and an afterword from the author which in his last published book becomes a farewell word to his readers, readers of the unfinished and encompassing ‘A Ghost Story’ that was all of R.A. Lafferty’s work.
More than Melchisedech cannot be described in ordinary writings without repeating its every event and moment. Its waters are deep yet shine clear. In the end, it was Raphael Aloysius Lafferty writing for himself to explain what he saw, and not all of what he saw is what we ourselves can see.

The Man Who Wrote Lafferties: The Devil is Dead

When first I discovered R.A.Lafferty, in Fourth Mansions, my thought was to read as much of his other works as I could get my hands on, and the first place to which I turned was the library. In this, I was in a time of fortune, for there was a British publisher of science fiction books, Dobson Books, who had great belief in Lafferty, and there were books to borrow, and re-read, and relish for a good while longer in the Seventies.
Looking at the other authors listed on the back of the dustjacket, one has to ask why? Dobsons billed themselves as publishing fantasy and SF, but The Devil is Dead was neither, or if it was it was some amalgam whose proportions had hitherto never been mixed in this degree, but the names we read are Anderson, Campbell, Laumer, Pohl, Harrison, Vance, Asimov, and these are not writers whose works sit easily on the same shelf as Ray Lafferty.
Of those I could borrow in that first glorious period, The Devil is Dead is second only to Fourth Mansions in terms of ease of reading. It is of structure a thriller, a thriller constructed around a conspiracy and the planned thwarting thereof, in which respect it is more conventional than other of Lafferty’s works. But it is only a thriller as to half its length, after which it drifts, it eddies, it meanders, deliberately so, and ends in a dramatic manner, on a half-finished line, with nothing resolved yet everything satisfactory.
How else could it end? It begins with a Prologue, or Promantia, forewarning of what things lie within in terms that mystify as much as they intrigue and yet which are no more that an accurate depiction of its contents, with a reference to Richard Burton (the explorer, not the Welsh actor), and with some strange suggestions. It describes the story as a do-it-yourself thriller or nightmare, to be arranged as you will. It cautions that, having put the nightmare together, if you do not wake up screaming, you have not put it together well.
And it admits: Is that not an odd introduction? I don’t understand it at all. We are not even on the third page by now.
It begins with Finnegan, who is bugle-nosed and not necessarily of human beings, who is sometimes called Count Finnegan, and whose real name is John (Giovanni) Solli. He has an upper life with other friends but this is Finnegan in his lower life. He wakes to find himself drinking with an eccentric millionaire, Saxon X. Seaworthy. He cannot remember, not yet, how they have met or what they have done together, though it comes to him later that they have buried a dead body together, and that the body of Papadiabolus, who is the Devil, and who walks along the street the morning after his burial. It is not always serious to die, the first time it happens.
(If you have not, by this point, begun craving to read this book, turn away: it is not for you. If you have, start saving your pennies: it may be had for as little as £39.37, but not in many places.)
Seaworthy is setting out on a cruise, in his yacht, and Finnegan, who is also an artist, is to go aboard as one of his seamen, though really it is his double or fetch, Dopey the Seaman, Doppio del Pinne, who is to go aboard and Finnegan be killed but in some manner about which no-one is certain something slips, and it is Dopey who disappears, or dies, or doesn’t.
But by being aboard, Finnegan becomes part of a band himself, opponents to Seaworthy and those he surrounds himself with. The voyage is long and winding, calling at all ports and shore-towns and moving on, and all such ports and shore-towns erupt in riots and murder two to three days later. There is the echo of the Red Revolution in the Coscuin Chronicles, transplanted a century forward in time (the period is given only as some years ago, but the inference is of the early Fifties).
There are games being played, and not all who die remain dead, so much so that Finnegan will complain of it as tiresome. Something is being implanted that is set to overturn the world, and its proponents are Seaworthy and other, including his captain, Orestes Gonof. This should number Papa D, but this is not the real Papadiabolus. Finnegan ‘sees’ his real face and paints it into a mural, but no-one recognises the face until the man is dead.
For the raid that is coming, that attempts to end this voyage of the damned, is a failure, and all die, including Anastasia Demetriades, who is cousin to Finnegan in a manner older than he thinks, and love and solace. There is a scene in this book, that I had read times before in other works but did not recognise for what it is until reading The Devil is Dead, which inspired me to write an equivalent in my own, then, first novel. I call it One Last Golden Afternoon, that final time that two people have to simply enjoy being two people in their world, with no cares other than the afternoon, before it all goes wrong for ever.
The failed raid, the deaths of Anastasia, of the second Papadiabolus and the loose and louche raiding party mark the end of the thriller, the end of the plot-driven story. Finnegan survives, but from then on he is hunted, he and Mr X, who is known to all as Mr X, and also Dolores ‘Doll’ Delancey, a human girl who comes into the middle of this with no seeming part, but who becomes one of the three journeyers, as Lafferty consciously denies his story any further momentum without yet rendering it tedious or static.
They separate, for a year, during which time Finnegan spends a considerable period in the Terrestrial Paradise, of which Lafferty gives the exact co-ordinates, in latitude and longitude.
The final scene is the meeting of these three, in a graveyard. Here is explained the relationship of Papadiabolus to Papadiabolus and how one cannot die three times. Here we learn the name under which the Devil is buried, a name that we recognise from The Flame is Green, but not I, twenty years before I read the latter. And here Doll speaks doggerel, reciting of the events we have read and ending abruptly.
I would have read The Devil is Dead in or about 1974, and had my own copy later that decade. It would be almost another decade before I learned that it was not a stand-alone book, but rather a part of the ‘Devil is Dead’ Trilogy, and not even the first part but the second. And it would be nearly thirty years after that that I would learn that the book is not complete. That there is a final chapter, in which Finnegan is called out by Seaworthy, which was excluded from the book because it apparently arrived too late at the printers (I find this explanation must suspicious and difficult to believe except that this is Lafferty, in which everything is believable, especially if outlandish).
This final piece, titled ‘Apochryphal Passage of the Last Night of Count Finnegan On Galveston Island (Unaccountably Omitted from the Standard Version of The Devil is Dead‘) saw print in the 1990 United Mythologies chapbook Episodes of the Argo (335 copies, of which mine is numbered 73.) This is the first time I have read it as part of the text, but it is a physically severed part of the text, as well as a late interloper. A non-standard version is required.
We shall encounter the other two books in this once-unsuspected Trilogy, but they too are distant in time and space. We will need to be patient.