“The Marathon Photograph”
Elsewhere
Book Hauls!
I’ve mentioned the gift to me of 23 Simak books, among which was
The Marathon Photograph, a Methuen paperback (1987), apparently a reprinting of a 1986 book from Severn. Dask hadn’t heard of the title story (pp. 77-147 of the present book). For the other stories in this book (“The Birch Clump Cylinder,” “The Whistling Well,” and “Grotto of the Dancing Deer”), previous publication information is provided, but “The Marathon Photograph” is simply listed as copyright 1974 by Simak. This suggests to me that the story hadn’t been published before it appeared in book form in this late story collection. I have some ideas about why.
Spoilers will appear in this posting.
I’m not sure when “Marathon” was written. Since it concerns a rural Wisconsin area without electricity, in which people write books on typewriters, etc., it might have been not just set, but written, in the 1950s or so. I wonder if Simak offered it for publication but it was turned down. (There are two reasons it might have been turned down, which I’ll get to in a moment.) Perhaps Simak himself had doubts about it and didn’t offer it for publication for many years until he used it to fill up a fairly slender collection to make a book.
The story concerns a geology professor, a scholar of Greek history, a sheriff, a general store proprietress, and, as we eventually learn without surprise, three visitors from the future. The latter use a spacious, remote lodge as a base of operations. Their civilization discovered one alien planet bearing signs of civilization. They hope by luck to run across artifacts from that world, which were sent into space in capsules that tick in order to draw attention if a reasonably intelligent life form approaches. They also investigate earth’s history. Stefan, one of their number, is regarded by the other two as a “psychopath” because he is interested in violent moments of history. This is, the story’s narrator is told, shown by his habit of taking three-dimensional photographic cubes, then stashing them where the others won’t find them. The three cubes mentioned in the story show the Battle of Marathon, the crowning of Charlemagne (violent?), and a crucifixion that the narrator (the geology professor, Thornton) assumes is the crucifixion of Christ. The image shows the Cross as shorter than it is usually depicted in art, there’s no crown of thorns, and the geology professor notices that the two crucified criminals of which the New Testament speaks aren’t there. He thinks that if this is the real historical event, it is regrettable that it wasn’t remembered, because then “Christianity might have built a greater strength than it has from all the trappings of imagined glory.” Simak doesn’t seem fully to have worked out why the one (an improved Christianity) might have followed from the other (a more accurate representation of Calvary in accordance with what the cube-photo showed).
This bit at the end is the climax about which the narrator has hinted in the opening pages, but nothing in the story’s themes actually prepares or justifies it specifically. Up till the last few paragraphs, “The Marathon Photograph” has been a leisurely-paced narrative about a mysterious death and mysterious objects, with some pleasant local color, etc. From a literary point of view, the Calvary scene seems introduced rather casually and not organically related to the story as a whole. When this bit comes along, there’s no sense that it is the element that pulls everything in the story together, or that brings everything into focus. (An easy and even sensational example of contrasting effectiveness is provided by Jackson’s “The Lottery.” I’m not saying that Simak should have written this story with a big shock at the end. I’m saying that if a story’s climax should relate artistically to the whole story and that I don’t think this one does very well.) If the story predates the 1970s or so, it may be that it was rejected for magazine publication as likely to be too controversial.
But editors might have objected to the craftsmanship of the story rather than being worried about controversy. The craftsmanship is not up to the standard that I associate with Simak.*
The narrator’s historian friend is also an outstanding photographer, which gives him a reason to be wandering around the countryside. He finds the body of a man who has been killed by a bear. So as not to mingle his tracks with those of the victim and the bear, the historian doesn’t approach too close – so that later in the story, when we learn that the historian took from the victim the photo-cube of the story’s title, it nags at us – how did he get close enough after all without leaving tracks? It doesn’t add up. Also, I wondered about the bear. The story isn’t set in Alaska – the bear wouldn’t have been a grizzly. The familiar black bear is highly unlikely to attack people. There’s a weakness of plotting here.
The historian and geologist-narrator examine the cube and quickly decide it could only be something created by time travelers. This was another plot weakness; they don’t even consider the idea that the cube could have been made in contemporary research facility, etc. The narrator’s friend happens to be an expert on Greek history and so is able to determine that the cube image
can only be an actual visual record of the battle of Marathon. Then they get on with their regular activities.
At one point, as the geologist-narrator looks at the sky, an airplane passes by and wobbles briefly. He notices something falling and goes to where it has landed. It’s a strange saddle with control buttons. He examines it and figures it is a traveling time machine – just why he would think so isn’t worked out clearly by the text. But he has his book to write. He puts the time machine in a closet and leaves it there, and that’s the last we see of it. Why had it been in the sky? Why did it fall? Why did it make the airplane wobble? Did the pilot notice anything? Apparently we are to infer, at the end of the story, that the narrator climbed on the time-saddle and operated it, and disappeared into another time and place, leaving behind his account. It seems to me rather lame to have the saddle just drop into the story as it does. It’s not well integrated into the plot.
The geologist meets the two other time travelers. One is Charles, the other Angela, a skinny blonde in yellow shorts and bra. She’s a tough-talking dame: “She gestured at Charles. ‘Ask the mastermind,’ she said. ‘He’s the one who figures it all out. …The past human race was a bunch of slimy bastards. …So you finally found it, you little son of a bitch. Now you can go home and lord it over everyone. You can live out your life as the little creep who finally found a capsule’” from the aliens, etc. The narrator has an ecstatic, more-than-sexual moment of union with her. Nothing really leads up to this or follows from it.
I’ve presented a negative assessment of the story. Since I’m a Christian, it might be thought that I was looking for reasons to criticize the story because the Calvary portion offended me. I don’t think so. I didn’t see coming the bit at the end about Christianity, but long before I got there I was dissatisfied with a number of aspects of the story. Apparently it wasn’t published till the 1980s, as (perhaps) a make-weight for a story collection. It is easy to see why it might have failed to be published when origianlyl written, whenever that was, due to the possible controversy over its handling of Christianity briefly at the very end, and certainly over concerns about inept plotting.
*Along with various short stories, I’ve read these Simak novels:
City, Way Station, Time Is the Simplest Thing, Time and Again, All Flesh Is Grass, and Ring Around the Sun.
