The Death of Malygris

William L. Hahn cast his line wisely to snare those who, in their youth, drank deeply and without reservation of the heady wine that is the prose of Clark Ashton Smith. An acolyte of poet George Sterling, Smith actually argued with that famous Bohemian about the wisdom of writing prose at all. Sterling felt Smith would succeed him; but Smith saw the need to convert his writing efforts into much needed revenue . . . and the poetry just wasn't cutting it. But the magazines of the day paid by the word for short stories--spicy, adventurous, sorcerous yarns--there was an outlet for it, and more importantly, a customer base. Mr. Hahn, like a worthy, strong-backed dwarf, has delved and mined until he has emerged, dusty, but whole and hale, with gems worthy of the most scrupulous. I enjoyed his rendition of The Double Shadow a short while ago, and The Death of Malygris, another of Smith's Poseidonis yarns, is just as pleasing. Hahn, then, offers a rousing reading of a very cool CAS story--a very grim, dark and foreboding CAS story--that has always been a favorite of mine since, in my fanciful youth, while I whiled away hours along the Bluestone in bucolic bliss, I first discovered the bard of Auburn . . . that wonderful, mysterious, intriguing, and artsy Clark Ashton Smith.