Aside from the King in Yellow Mythos, Chambers’ most notable contribution to weird fiction is the following story. “The Maker of Moons” is typical of most of the Chambers’ weird fiction in that it collates a variety of genres into a marketable pop hit that is at parts forgettable and at others blazingly original. “The Maker of Moons” is seemingly equal parts horror, romance, fantasy, mystery, farce (in the style of P. G. Wodehouse), and science fiction.
However, the story is primarily grounded in the regrettable genre of Yellow Peril fiction: anti-Chinese suspense novels whose suspense stems from the threats posed by insidious Chinese sorcerers, aristocrats, and super villains to unsuspecting Western culture. These criminal masterminds infiltrated American and European society covertly, often with plots to upend the Western economy, enslave white women, or cause wars between rival empires. These stories were also, like “Maker of Moons,” typically a mélange of genres: horror, spy fiction, fantasy, suspense, romance, and detective stories. The most notable example of this is Sax Rohmer’s “Fu Manchu” series, which followed the exploits of Nyland Smith and Dr. Petrie in their fight to prevent the eponymous super villain from conquering Western society.
“The Maker of Moons” starts out like a typical spy story, then takes a turn towards romance, before landing squarely in yellow peril when a sinister Chinese face is seen peering through some branches in rural New York of all places. But as the story plows on – and it is a remarkably good story, I might add, in spite of its racism and clunky plot missteps – we recognize unmistakable prefigurations of H. P. Lovecraft. Indeed, “The Maker of Moons” was a profound influence on Lovecraft, especially on two of his most famous masterpieces, “The Call of Cthulhu” and – more obviously – “The Whisperer in the Darkness.” In fact, before you have read the first three pages you will encounter the impossible-to-miss prototype for Lovecraft’s crablike Mi-go, and by the end of the story you will be confronted by a formless, “nameless” monster of truly Lovecraftian proportions.
II.
“The Maker of Moons” may have revoltingly racist undertones, but its namesake and mythological basis is founded in genuine Chinese mythology, namely the god of marriage and so-called “Moon Maker,” Yue-Laou, a cupid-like deity who takes the shape of a bent, old man, always seen standing under the moon, who acts as a supernatural matchmaker – binding intended lovers together by the waist with a silk rope. This is a benevolent guardian of romance – the perfect character for one of Chambers’ sappy love stories – but our sometimes-wayward writer makes the uncharacteristic decision to blend such a sentimental figure with a heavy dose of vague malevolence and sinister ambiguity: this Maker of Moons ties his lovers together by their throats and leers at them from the shadows with a glower.
Chambers introduces here yet another mythical kingdom – one which obviously influenced Lovecraft’s Dream Cycle – in the vein of Ys, Atlantis, Xanadu, or Shangri-La: the other dimensional realm of Yian, a paradise accessible to China, but belonging to an otherworldly dimension of space. Like Lovecraft’s dream world kingdoms, this one is both alluring and sinister, like a poisonous flower. It is a world where the music of silver bells fills the air, one watered by a river spanned by a thousand bridges – a world where lilies gibber and quiver, where the intoxicating perfume of flowers fills the air. And yet it is a also a goblin-haunted realm – one where headless dogs hunt their prey in packs, one swarming with hellish, scorpion-like gremlins, and lorded over by the bloated, faceless demon, Xin, who casts its shadow over the lilies and causes men to lose their minds.
Largely influenced by Poe, but forward-thinking enough to be termed visionary for its time, Chambers’ multi-layered novella capably bridges the gap between 19th and 20th century weird fiction. It is a fascinating story, warts and all, which deserves far more attention from readers and critics alike.
SUMMARY
Roy, our protagonist, opens the story with a declaration that he desires to reveal all he knows of the insidious Yue-Laou and the Xin. Proceeding with the story, he describes how he encountered his friend Godfrey at a jewelers where he is admiring an intricately crafted golden snake which Godfrey claims was found in upstate New York in the Cardinal Woods. Lost in conversation, Roy suddenly notices the aforementioned scorpion-like creature scuttle into Godfrey’s pocket. As if lost in a Kafka play, Roy is stunned by Godfrey’s casual disinterest in the otherworldly monster -- which he claims to have been found with the golden snake -- and the conversation ends as they are joined by Barris, a government agent.
Tying these stories together, Barris informs them that Chinese alchemists have found the secret to producing gold from crude matter, and are working on a plot to destroy the world economy from the wilds of upstate New York. Intrigued, the three depart New York City together for the Cardinal Woods near Starlit Lake, where the golden snake and alien crab/scorpion/caterpillar were discovered. Barris heads off into the woods (seeking the leaders of the conspiring alchemists) while Roy heads out on a hunt.
There, by Starlit Lake, he encounters an enchanting woman named Ysonde, who claims to be visiting from the otherworldly city of Yian, and is drawn to him because of a crescent-shaped birthmark on his forehead which she recognizes from her homeland. She is surrounded by intricate sculptures of her making, and Roy wonders if she made the gold snake. He finds himself entranced by their conversation, but when she suddenly disappears, he chalks it up to a hallucination and continues hunting. Later, Barris confirms that he has made in-roads into his investigation, and Roy tells him that he saw an out-of place Chinese man in flowing robes while on his hunt. The next day Roy meets Ysonde again and learns more details of the fantastical city of Yian.
After this fleeting encounter he mentions the city to Barris who – after much prodding – confesses that he has heard of the place: a city “where the great river winds under the thousand bridges – where the gardens are sweet scented, and the air is filled with the music of silver bells … across the seven oceans and the river which is longer than from the earth to the moon…” Yian, as it turns out, is the base of the alchemists and their leader, Yue-Laou, the Chinese sorcerer known as the Maker of Moons. In fact, as Barris admits, he once resided in Yian and fell in love with one of its residents before she was taken from him.
Roy, who suspects that Ysonde may be the elder Barris’ love child, seeks her in the woods that night. The elements seem disturbed: animals flee in herds from the surrounding woods, driven by a ravenous horde of the yellow, crablike monsters, who seem to be poisoning the air and heralding the arrival of great evil. Terrified, Roy and Ysonde finally meet -- evading both the panicked woodland creatures and the scuttling crabs of Yian -- where she warns him of the approaching pack of headless Yeth-hounds (the hellish spirits of murdered children).
Overwhelmed by the horrors around him, Roy suddenly notices that the sky has become flooded with rising moons which seem to be rising from the Starlit Lake. They find the Maker of Moons creating the glowing satelites by blowing them off of a glowing sphere in his bony hand, causing the tides to surge and the world to spin into chaos. Locked in an embrace, the lovers are horrified as Yue-Laou summons the Lovecraftian monster Xin – a mind-crushing precursor to Cthulhu, a shapeless, worm-like mass – but is interrupted by Barris, who empties his pistol into the Maker of Moons just before he is attacked by Xin. Suddenly, Roy awakens from his memories with Ysonde bending over him at his writing desk, chiding him for writing such silliness, and causing us to wonder if she is being sarcastic, if Roy made it all up, or if he is insane.
ANALYSIS
“The Maker of Moons” is filled with fascinating cliffhangers, unanswered questions, and clues to deeper meanings and broader webs. Perhaps most notable among these is its controversial ending, which has led many, if not most, readers to conclude that the whole story was a fantasy written about a normal man and his normal wife – a little roleplaying exercise, maybe. Most scholars, however, have disagreed with this interpretation. Indeed, there are a variety of far more appealing possibilities which make far more sense.
At the forefront, we must acknowledge a core mystery: Ysonde has either entirely forgotten her past and is therefore an unreliable character, or we are led to believe that Roy is unsure of the veracity of his experiences and, as the sole witness to the wonders he saw, finds himself unable to decide whether his impressions were genuine or not. I find absolutely no reason to believe that he is writing a fun little romance during a boring afternoon. He appears to genuinely believe what he has seen, and his friends certainly seem to be downstairs with loaded guns ready to sally forth into the woods.
If we accept this premise, the primary questions we now have are: 1. Did Roy hallucinate what he saw, or was it real, and 2. Has Ysonde since had her memory erased in the process of being married to him (possibly through the machinations of the Maker of Moons)? There is also a third theory, I should mention, that views this perplexing final moment as Ysonde trying to gaslight her husband to prevent his certainly doomed expedition. Such an interpretation is also perfectly valid.
With its dreamlike atmosphere, strange love story, and the morally grey characters, “The Maker of Moons” has a clear lineage to Edgar Allan Poe, specifically his stories “The Gold Bug” and “Silence,” and the poem “Ulalume.” Like “The Gold-Bug,” the adventure begins when a golden creature is discovered in the woods, followed by a puzzling discovery (Poe’s is a treasure map; Chambers’ is Ysonde) that redirects the aimless protagonist’s efforts. Both also conclude with a group of friends heading out to the woods on a treasure hunt.
“Ulalume” and “Silence” influenced the unique imagery and language that Chambers uses: gibbering, pulsing lilies, the placename “Weir,” the motif of crying out the name of a lover and being led on a dazed nocturnal hike to discover her in the countryside, the significant presence of the full moon, the unsettling gaze of a lynx, and the ambiguous reality of a lover.
II.
“The Maker of Moons” never enjoyed the popular acclaim of The King in Yellow. Within a few years of its publication, it seemed destined for the same obscurity to which nearly all of Chambers’ romances were bound. But the story found new life when it was discovered by H. P. Lovecraft, for whom it proved significantly influential to several of his most highly regarded stories.
For instance, “The Call of Cthulhu” also concerns an ancient, pagan cult known for practicing hideous rites under the noses of the general public in the American woodlands. Furthermore, this sleeper cell is also worshipping an other-dimensional god who dwells in an alien city which can be accessed on earth. Many of the “Dream Cycle” tales also have clear connections to “The Maker of Moons”: “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath,” “The White Ship,” “The Silver Key,” and “The Strange High House in the Mist” each refer to Yian-like worlds that have a blended nature – simultaneously sublime and sinister. “The Silver Key” and “The Dream-Quest” are even stalked by a Xin-like monster called the Dohle (“Below him the ground was festering with gigantic Dholes, and even as he looked, one reared up several hundred feet and leveled a bleached, viscous end at him”).
The greatest influence of all, however, was on “The Whisperer in the Darkness,” which concerns the increasingly terrifying misadventures of a rugged loner as he encounters alien lifeforms in the northeastern woodlands. Specifically, he discovers a force of bristly, crablike invaders who may or may not have plans to overtake the earth, and works with his friend in the city to investigate their plans and infiltrate them. It does not, however, go remotely as well for him in Lovecraft’s far more disturbing story.
III.
Within its historical context, and based on its unique and imaginative scope, “The Maker of Moons” is a memorable and effective weird tale. It certainly has weaknesses – slow parts, untidy explanations, and elements that we can’t help but wish Chambers had expanded on – but it is also one of the first American stories to hint at the existence of immense and horrible alternate dimensions without going into too much gratuitous detail. Like Bierce’s “The Damned Thing,” we know just enough about Yian and the Xin and the Yeth Hounds to be completely engaged, but – also like Bierce – Chambers demonstrates rare self-restraint by offering us peeks without any clear views.
The actual motives behind Yue-Laou, the actual nature of Ysonde (is she really good or was her strange way of being bound to Roy by the throat an intentionally sinister coupling), the actual significance of Roy’s birth mark, the actual fate of Barris, the actual aims of the alchemists, their actual relationship to the Kuen-Yuin, and the actual meaning of Ysonde’s final words are all left up to our imagination. “The Maker of Moons” showcases Chambers’ vision and discipline, the skills which made him a genuinely gifted writer, and has earned a place – alongside the King in Yellow Mythos – among the great works of early American fantasy.