Entry 72: Literary Atrocities - The Eye of Argon (Part 1)
Author: Professor Bartholomew Barrington III, Esq.
There are texts that are merely bad—products of amateur incompetence, youthful enthusiasm, or a fundamental misunderstanding of narrative structure. And then there are texts that transcend 'bad' to become something legendary. Something so structurally ruinous to the English language that they become foundational pillars of counter-culture.
Before My Immortal, before the Sonic the Hedgehog fanfiction archives, and long before the era of digital slush piles, there was The Eye of Argon.
Written in 1970 by a sixteen-year-old science fiction fan named Jim Theis, this sword-and-sorcery novella was originally published in the fanzine OSFAN #10. It quickly achieved a level of notoriety that most authors can only dream of—though certainly not for the reasons Theis intended. It became an infamous party game at science fiction conventions, where readers would challenge each other to read the prose aloud with a straight face.
Let us examine the opening paragraph, which sets the standard for the carnage to follow:
The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense from overhead, half way through its daily revolution. Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives. Dust sprayed over three heaving mounts in blinding clouds, while they bore the burdonsome cargoes of their struggling overseers.
Where does one even begin?
We have "dust racked climes" of a "baren land". We have hoof prints that are simultaneously "smothered by the sifting sands of time" and yet "shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth." If they are smothered, how do they shine? If they are made of dust, what exactly is shining?
We have a sun casting "parching rays of incandescense". And we have my personal favorite detail: "Small rodents scampered about, occupying themselves in the daily accomplishments of their dismal lives." An entire ecosystem of depressed hamsters, inserted solely to emphasize the utter bleakness of the Norgolian empire.
Then we are introduced to our protagonist, Grignr.
“Prepare to embrace your creators in the stygian haunts of hell, barbarian”, gasped the first soldier. “Only after you have kissed the fleeting stead of death, wretch!” returned Grignr.
"Kissed the fleeting stead of death."
A 'stead' is typically a place, or occasionally a reference to a horse (steed). One does not kiss a fleeing horse of death. One certainly does not say this while in the middle of a life-or-death struggle. But Grignr is no ordinary barbarian. Grignr is a vehicle for a sixteen-year-old's thesaurus.
The ensuing battle sequence is a masterpiece of anatomical impossibility and purple prose.
A sweeping blade of flashing steel riveted from the massive barbarians shield as his rippling right arm thrust upward, sending a steel shod blade ripping to the hilt into the soldiers vital organs.
A blade "riveted" from a shield. The verb 'to rivet' means to join or fasten with a metal pin. Theis seems to believe it means 'ricocheted' or 'rebounded'. Thus, we have a sword fastening itself to a shield, before Grignr's "rippling right arm" thrusts a "steel shod blade" into the enemy's vital organs. A 'shod' blade would be a blade wearing shoes.
And this is merely the first page.
In subsequent entries, we will follow the mighty Grignr as he encounters the titular Eye of Argon—a pulsating jelly-like mass with a leech-like maw—and explores a world where every adjective is agonizingly misplaced.
I must prepare myself. While The Eye of Argon lacks the immediate psychic shock of My Immortal's Hot Topic references, its relentless assault on syntax requires a steady constitution. I shall pour myself a scotch and return to the Norgolian empire shortly.