by Tony Fonseca

Huysmans, J. K.  La-Bas.  Trans. Brendan King.  UK: Dedalus Ltd., 2001.  329 p. (Distributed by SCB Distributors, Gardena, California; Includes Notes and Afterward)

La Bas (Down There, 1891) is Joris Karl Huysmans' singular contribution to supernatural literature, as it takes as its subject matter demonology, Satanism, the black arts, and The Black Mass. Interesting in itself as a novelty piece--a horror novel written by a canonized writer of Literature--La-Bas is a prime example of Huysmans' love of decadent prose. Of course, decadent descriptive prose in horror is nothing new to readers of this review, as most of us have been weaned on M. G. Lewis's The Monk, and have more than a passing familiarity with "splatterpunk" writers like Poppy Z. Brite, John Shirley, Michael Slade, and Charlee Jacob.

However, readers expecting a consistent gorefest will be disappointed. La-Bas, like one of my favorite horror texts, Bret Easton Ellis's American Psycho, contains very little violence. The violence that is there is extreme, and at times sickening, but it is never gratuitous or hackneyed. Nonetheless, like Ellis's maniac masterpiece, La-Bas was challenged by censors. Thus Huysmans released several versions of the novel, and as far as translations go, King's is the first to include some of the more horrific passages of the original.

Readers who enjoy the decadent prose of writers like Anne Rice will welcome this new edition of what should be considered a classic, despite the fact that the novel amounts to slightly more than a matter-of-fact dialogue between the protagonist, Durtal, his friend des Hermies (who is, like Durtal,  a naturalist author), the church bell ringer Carhaix, and Carhaix's wife. The four hold lively discussions on Satanism and its rituals, concentrating on specifics such as incubi, succubi, pacts with the devil, altar sacrifices, and the study of demonic texts.

Overall, La-Bas chronicles the research that Durtal is at the time conducting on Sir Gilles de Rais, a fifteenth century French marshal and contemporary of Joan D'Arc. The issue at hand is how a heroic religious man like de Rais could later in his life be arrested, convicted, and executed for committing grisly child murders, while performing Satanic rites. As such, La-Bas is historically important, for it is arguably the prototype for recent novels such as Barbara Michael's Houses of Stone (1994), J. G. Passarella's Wither (1999), Paul Moorcraft's Anchoress of Schere (2002), and Tom Piccirrili's Night Class (2003), all of which relate the tale of a scholar who becomes haunted or possessed, either supernaturally or psychologically, by the subject of his/her research.

As La-Bas continues, Durtal is given first-hand experience with a Black Mass when he persuades a local practitioner to introduce him to Canon Docre, a defrocked priest known for his dabbling in the occult. Also during his research, he finds disturbing details about the heinous qualities of de Rais' child killings. He also discovers (although he refutes the possibility) that de Rais is the model for the Bluebeard folktale. The intensity of these experiences causes Durtal to begin suffering from night terrors, and these are the best horror scenes in the novel.

La-Bas is more a treatise on occultism and Satanism than a horror novel per se, and it ends without much closure for Durtal, and with no first hand gore or terror (all the horror is related either second hand or in dream sequences) for the horror fan. And for those who wish to follow up on the writer as he evolves through several novels, Durtal reappears in two of Huysmans' conversion-to-Catholicism novels, En Route and L'oblat, unfortunately sans his interest in demonology and child murder.

Perhaps as fascinating as the novel itself is the story behind it: Huysmans was a thorough researcher when writing novels, and La-Bas was no exception. Huysmans began a relationship with Henrietta Maillat, a woman who claimed to have had experiences with incubi and succubi, and through her he met Berthe Courriere, Louis Van Haecke, and ultimately the famous occultist Joseph-Antoine Boullain. Boullain supplied Huysmans with rare documentation on rites, sexual rituals, and Satanic belief. After the publication of La-Bas, Huysmans worried for his own safety, firmly believing that the Rosicrucians, who were angered by his novel, were casting evil spells on him (Boullain had died around this time, playing further on Huysmans' paranoia).

Huysmans' biographers note instances of the wan-looking author huddled in corners of rooms, frantically drawing protective circles on the floor.

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