The King in Yellow

By Robert W. Chambers

For fans of HBO’s True Detective, here is the complete, original text of The King in Yellow, a collection of ten Victorian-era short stories that includes some of the most important and defining works in the genre of weird fiction.

Along the shore the cloud waves break,
The twin suns sink behind the lake,
The shadows lengthen
In Carcosa

With these opening lines, Robert W. Chambers introduces readers to The King in Yellow, a fictional play referred to but never fully seen in four of the stories included here: The Repairer of Reputations, The Mask, In the Court of the Dragon, and The Yellow Sign. Set in the dark and sinister world of Carcosa, the play drives all who encounter it to madness and despair, though we, as readers, only glimpse its unspeakable horrors.

This seminal collection of short stories has captured the imaginations of generations of readers, including H. P. Lovecraft, who used The King in Yellow as inspiration for the Necronomicon, the fiction-within-a-fiction at the heart of his own genre-defining Cthulu Mythos. More than a century later, The King in Yellow continues to wield remarkable influence in popular culture, and has experienced a resurgence in popularity as a key literary reference in HBO’s hit dramatic series True Detective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Atria Books
• Release date: Mar 18, 2014
• ISBN: 9781476788685

Robert W. Chambers

Robert W. Chambers (1865–1933) was an American author and painter best known for his short story collection The King in Yellow (1895). Born in Brooklyn, Chambers studied art in Paris and was a professional illustrator before he turned to writing. In addition to The King in Yellow, his supernatural tales include The Maker of Moons (1896) and The Mystery of Choice (1897). Later in his career, Chambers wrote bestselling romances and historical novels. 

Book preview

THE REPAIRER OF REPUTATIONS

I

Ne raillons pas les fous; leur folie dure plus longtemps que la nôtre.… Voila toute la différence.

Toward the end of the year 1920 the Government of the United States had practically completed the programme, adopted during the last months of President Winthrop’s administration. The country was apparently tranquil. Everybody knows how the Tariff and Labour questions were settled. The war with Germany, incident on that country’s seizure of the Samoan Islands, had left no visible scars upon the republic, and the temporary occupation of Norfolk by the invading army had been forgotten in the joy over repeated naval victories, and the subsequent ridiculous plight of General Von Gartenlaube’s forces in the State of New Jersey. The Cuban and Hawaiian investments had paid one hundred per cent and the territory of Samoa was well worth its cost as a coaling station. The country was in a superb state of defence. Every coast city had been well supplied with land fortifications; the army under the parental eye of the General Staff, organized according to the Prussian system, had been increased to 300,000 men, with a territorial reserve of a million; and six magnificent squadrons of cruisers and battle-ships patrolled the six stations of the navigable seas, leaving a steam reserve amply fitted to control home waters. The gentlemen from the West had at last been constrained to acknowledge that a college for the training of diplomats was as necessary as law schools are for the training of barristers; consequently we were no longer represented abroad by incompetent patriots. The nation was prosperous; Chicago, for a moment paralyzed after a second great fire, had risen from its ruins, white and imperial, and more beautiful than the white city which had been built for its plaything in 1893. Everywhere good architecture was replacing bad, and even in New York, a sudden craving for decency had swept away a great portion of the existing horrors. Streets had been widened, properly paved and lighted, trees had been planted, squares laid out, elevated structures demolished and underground roads built to replace them. The new government buildings and barracks were fine bits of architecture, and the long system of stone quays which completely surrounded the island had been turned into parks which proved a god-send to the population. The subsidizing of the state theatre and state opera brought its own reward. The United States National Academy of Design was much like European institutions of the same kind. Nobody envied the Secretary of Fine Arts, either his cabinet position or his portfolio. The Secretary of Forestry and Game Preservation had a much easier time, thanks to the new system of National Mounted Police. We had profited well by the latest treaties with France and England; the exclusion of foreign-born Jews as a measure of self-preservation, the settlement of the new independent negro state of Suanee, the checking of immigration, the new laws concerning naturalization, and the gradual centralization of power in the executive all contributed to national calm and prosperity. When the Government solved the Indian problem and squadrons of Indian cavalry scouts in native costume were substituted for the pitiable organizations tacked on to the tail of skeletonized regiments by a former Secretary of War, the nation drew a long sigh of relief. When, after the colossal Congress of Religions, bigotry and intolerance were laid in their graves and kindness and charity began to draw warring sects together, many thought the millennium had arrived, at least in the new world which after all is a world by itself.

But self-preservation is the first law, and the United States had to look on in helpless sorrow as Germany, Italy, Spain and Belgium writhed in the throes of Anarchy, while Russia, watching from the Caucasus, stooped and bound them one by one.

In the city of New York the summer of 1899 was signalized by the dismantling of the Elevated Railroads. The summer of 1900 will live in the memories of New York people for many a cycle; the Dodge Statue was removed in that year. In the following winter began that agitation for the repeal of the laws prohibiting suicide which bore its final fruit in the month of April, 1920, when the first Government Lethal Chamber was opened on Washington Square.

I had walked down that day from Dr. Archer’s house on Madison Avenue, where I had been as a mere formality. Ever since that fall from my horse, four years before, I had been troubled at times with pains in the back of my head and neck, but now for months they had been absent, and the doctor sent me away that day saying there was nothing more to be cured in me. It was hardly worth his fee to be told that; I knew it myself. Still I did not grudge him the money. What I minded was the mistake which he made at first. When they picked me up from the pavement where I lay unconscious, and somebody had mercifully sent a bullet through my horse’s head, I was carried to Dr. Archer, and he, pronouncing my brain affected, placed me in his private asylum where I was obliged to endure treatment for insanity. At last he decided that I was well, and I, knowing that my mind had always been as sound as his, if not sounder, paid my tuition as he jokingly called it, and left. I told him, smiling, that I would get even with him for his mistake, and he laughed heartily, and asked me to call once in a while. I did so, hoping for a chance to even up accounts, but he gave me none, and I told him I would wait.

The fall from my horse had fortunately left no evil results; on the contrary it had changed my whole character for the better. From a lazy young man about town, I had become active, energetic, temperate, and above all—oh, above all else—ambitious. There was only one thing which troubled me, I laughed at my own uneasiness, and yet it troubled me.

During my convalescence I had bought and read for the first time, The King in Yellow. I remember after finishing the first act that it occurred to me that I had better stop. I started up and flung the book into the fireplace; the volume struck the barred grate and fell open on the hearth in the firelight. If I had not caught a glimpse of the opening words in the second act I should never have finished it, but as I stooped to pick it up, my eyes became riveted to the open page, and with a cry of terror, or perhaps it was of joy so poignant that I suffered in every nerve, I snatched the thing out of the coals and crept shaking to my bedroom, where I read it and reread it, and wept and laughed and trembled with a horror which at times assails me yet. This is the thing that troubles me, for I cannot forget Carcosa where black stars hang in the heavens; where the shadows of men’s thoughts lengthen in the afternoon, when the twin suns sink into the lake of Hali; and my mind will bear for ever the memory of the Pallid Mask. I pray God will curse the writer, as the writer has cursed the world with this beautiful, stupendous creation, terrible in its simplicity, irresistible in its truth—a world which now trembles before the King in Yellow. When the French Government seized the translated copies which had just arrived in Paris, London, of course, became eager to read it. It is well known how the book spread like an infectious disease, from city to city, from continent to continent, barred out here, confiscated there, denounced by Press and pulpit, censured even by the most advanced of literary anarchists. No definite principles had been violated in those wicked pages, no doctrine promulgated, no convictions outraged. It could not be judged by any known standard, yet, although it was acknowledged that the supreme note of art had been struck in The King in Yellow, all felt that human nature could not bear the strain, nor thrive on words in which the essence of purest poison lurked. The very banality and innocence of the first act only allowed the blow to fall afterward with more awful effect.

It was, I remember, the 13th day of April, 1920, that the first Government Lethal Chamber was established on the south side of Washington Square, between Wooster Street and South Fifth Avenue. The block which had formerly consisted of a lot of shabby old buildings, used as cafés and restaurants for foreigners, had been acquired by the Government in the winter of 1898. The French and Italian cafés and restaurants were torn down; the whole block was enclosed by a gilded iron railing, and converted into a lovely garden with lawns, flowers and fountains. In the centre of the garden stood a small, white building, severely classical in architecture, and surrounded by thickets of flowers. Six Ionic columns supported the roof, and the single door was of bronze. A splendid marble group of the Fates stood before the door, the work of a young American sculptor, Boris Yvain, who had died in Paris when only twenty-three years old.

The inauguration ceremonies were in progress as I crossed University Place and entered the square. I threaded my way through the silent throng of spectators, but was stopped at Fourth Street by a cordon of police. A regiment of United States lancers were drawn up in a hollow square round the Lethal Chamber. On a raised tribune facing Washington Park stood the Governor of New York, and behind him were grouped the Mayor of New York and Brooklyn, the Inspector-General of Police, the Commandant of the state troops, Colonel Livingston, military aid to the President of the United States, General Blount, commanding at Governor’s Island, Major-General Hamilton, commanding the garrison of New York and Brooklyn, Admiral Buffby of the fleet in the North River, Surgeon-General Lanceford, the staff of the National Free Hospital, Senators Wyse and Franklin of New York, and the Commissioner of Public Works. The tribune was surrounded by a squadron of hussars of the National Guard.

The Governor was finishing his reply to the short speech of the Surgeon-General. I heard him say: The laws prohibiting suicide and providing punishment for any attempt at self-destruction have been repealed. The Government has seen fit to acknowledge the right of man to end an existence which may have become intolerable to him, through physical suffering or mental despair. It is believed that the community will be benefited by the removal of such people from their midst. Since the passage of this law, the number of suicides in the United States has not increased. Now the Government has determined to establish a Lethal Chamber in every city, town and village in the country, it remains to be seen whether or not that class of human creatures from whose desponding ranks new victims of self-destruction fall daily will accept the relief thus provided. He paused, and turned to the white Lethal Chamber. The silence in the street was absolute. There a painless death awaits him who can no longer bear the sorrows of this life. If death is welcome let him seek it there. Then quickly turning to the military aid of the President’s household, he said, I declare the Lethal Chamber open, and again facing the vast crowd he cried in a clear voice: Citizens of New York and of the United States of America, through me the Government declares the Lethal Chamber to be open.

The solemn hush was broken by a sharp cry of command, the squadron of hussars filed after the Governor’s carriage, the lancers wheeled and formed along Fifth Avenue to wait for the commandant of the garrison, and the mounted police followed them. I left the crowd to gape and stare at the white marble Death Chamber, and, crossing South Fifth Avenue, walked along the western side of that thoroughfare to Bleecker Street. Then I turned to the right and stopped before a dingy shop which bore the sign:

HAWBERK, ARMOURER.

I glanced in at the doorway and saw Hawberk busy in his little shop at the end of the hall. He looked up, and catching sight of me cried in his deep, hearty voice, Come in, Mr. Castaigne! Constance, his daughter, rose to meet me as I crossed the threshold, and held out her pretty hand, but I saw the blush of disappointment on her cheeks, and knew that it was another Castaigne she had expected, my cousin Louis. I smiled at her confusion and complimented her on the banner she was embroidering from a coloured plate. Old Hawberk sat riveting the worn greaves of some ancient suit of armour, and the ting! ting! ting! of his little hammer sounded pleasantly in the quaint shop. Presently he dropped his hammer, and fussed about for a moment with a tiny wrench. The soft clash of the mail sent a thrill of pleasure through me. I loved to hear the music of steel brushing against steel, the mellow shock of the mallet on thigh pieces, and the jingle of chain armour. That was the only reason I went to see Hawberk. He had never interested me personally, nor did Constance, except for the fact of her being in love with Louis. This did occupy my attention, and sometimes even kept me awake at night. But I knew in my heart that all would come right, and that I should arrange their future as I expected to arrange that of my kind doctor, John Archer. However, I should never have troubled myself about visiting them just then, had it not been, as I say, that the music of the tinkling hammer had for me this strong fascination. I would sit for hours, listening and listening, and when a stray sunbeam struck the inlaid steel, the sensation it gave me was almost too keen to endure. My eyes would become fixed, dilating with a pleasure that stretched every nerve almost to breaking, until some movement of the old armourer cut off the ray of sunlight, then, still thrilling secretly, I leaned back and listened again to the sound of the polishing rag, swish! swish! rubbing rust from the rivets.

Constance worked with the embroidery over her knees, now and then pausing to examine more closely the pattern in the coloured plate from the Metropolitan Museum.

Who is this for? I asked.

Hawberk explained, that in addition to the treasures of armour in the Metropolitan Museum of which he had been appointed armourer, he also had charge of several collections belonging to rich amateurs. This was the missing greave of a famous suit which a client of his had traced to a little shop in Paris on the Quai d’Orsay. He, Hawberk, had negotiated for and secured the greave, and now the suit was complete. He laid down his hammer and read me the history of the suit, traced since 1450 from owner to owner until it was acquired by Thomas Stainbridge. When his superb collection was sold, this client of Hawberk’s bought the suit, and since then the search for the missing greave had been pushed until it was, almost by accident, located in Paris.

Did you continue the search so persistently without any certainty of the greave being still in existence? I demanded.

Of course, he replied coolly.

Then for the first time I took a personal interest in Hawberk.

It was worth something to you, I ventured.

No, he replied, laughing, my pleasure in finding it was my reward.

Have you no ambition to be rich? I asked, smiling.

My one ambition is to be the best armourer in the world, he answered gravely.

Constance asked me if I had seen the ceremonies at the Lethal Chamber. She herself had noticed cavalry passing up Broadway that morning, and had wished to see the inauguration, but her father wanted the banner finished, and she had stayed at his request.

Did you see your cousin, Mr. Castaigne, there? she asked, with the slightest tremor of her soft eyelashes.

No, I replied carelessly. Louis’ regiment is manœuvring out in Westchester County. I rose and picked up my hat and cane.

Are you going upstairs to see the lunatic again? laughed old Hawberk. If Hawberk knew how I loathe that word lunatic, he would never use it in my presence. It rouses certain feelings within me which I do not care to explain. However, I answered him quietly: I think I shall drop in and see Mr. Wilde for a moment or two.

Poor fellow, said Constance, with a shake of the head, it must be hard to live alone year after year poor, crippled and almost demented. It is very good of you, Mr. Castaigne, to visit him as often as you do.

I think he is vicious, observed Hawberk, beginning again with his hammer. I listened to the golden tinkle on the greave plates; when he had finished I replied:

No, he is not vicious, nor is he in the least demented. His mind is a wonder chamber, from which he can extract treasures that you and I would give years of our life to acquire.’

Hawberk laughed.

I continued a little impatiently: He knows history as no one else could know it. Nothing, however trivial, escapes his search, and his memory is so absolute, so precise in details, that were it known in New York that such a man existed, the people could not honour him enough.

Nonsense, muttered Hawberk, searching on the floor for a fallen rivet.

Is it nonsense, I asked, managing to suppress what I felt, is it nonsense when he says that the tassets and cuissards of the enamelled suit of armour commonly known as the ‘Prince’s Emblazoned’ can be found among a mass of rusty theatrical properties, broken stoves and ragpicker’s refuse in a garret in Pell Street?

Hawberk’s hammer fell to the ground, but he picked it up and asked, with a great deal of calm, how I knew that the tassets and left cuissard were missing from the Prince’s Emblazoned.

I did not know until Mr. Wilde mentioned it to me the other day. He said they were in the garret of 998 Pell Street.

Nonsense, he cried, but I noticed his hand trembling under his leathern apron.

Is this nonsense too? I asked pleasantly, is it nonsense when Mr. Wilde continually speaks of you as the Marquis of Avonshire and of Miss Constance—

I did not finish, for Constance had started to her feet with terror written on every feature. Hawberk looked at me and slowly smoothed his leathern apron.

That is impossible, he observed, Mr. Wilde may know a great many things—

About armour, for instance, and the ‘Prince’s Emblazoned,’ I interposed, smiling.

Yes, he continued, slowly, about armour also—may be—but he is wrong in regard to the Marquis of Avonshire, who, as you know, killed his wife’s traducer years ago, and went to Australia where he did not long survive his wife.

Mr. Wilde is wrong, murmured Constance. Her lips were blanched, but her voice was sweet and calm.

Let us agree, if you please, that in this one circumstance Mr. Wilde is wrong, I said.

II

I climbed the three dilapidated flights of stairs, which I had so often climbed before, and knocked at a small door at the end of the corridor. Mr. Wilde opened the door and I walked in.

When he had double-locked the door and pushed a heavy chest against it, he came and sat down beside me, peering up into my face with his little light-coloured eyes. Half a dozen new scratches covered his nose and cheeks, and the silver wires which supported his artificial ears had become displaced. I thought I had never seen him so hideously fascinating. He had no ears. The artificial ones, which now stood out at an angle from the fine wire, were his one weakness. They were made of wax and painted a shell pink, but the rest of his face was yellow. He might better have revelled in the luxury of some artificial fingers for his left hand, which was absolutely fingerless, but it seemed to cause him no inconvenience, and he was satisfied with his wax ears. He was very small, scarcely higher than a child of ten, but his arms were magnificently developed, and his thighs as thick as any athlete’s. Still, the most remarkable thing about Mr. Wilde was that a man of his marvellous intelligence and knowledge should have such a head. It was flat and pointed, like the heads of many of those unfortunates whom people imprison in asylums for the weak-minded. Many called him insane, but I knew him to be as sane as I was.

I do not deny that he was eccentric; the mania he had for keeping that cat and teasing her until she flew at his face like a demon, was certainly eccentric. I never could understand why he kept the creature, nor what pleasure he found in shutting himself up in his room with this surly, vicious beast. I remember once, glancing up from the manuscript I was studying by the light of some tallow

Reviews for The King in Yellow

[keebrook · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

nice Lovecraftian atmospheric writing with the first few short stories. dark and somewhat twisted if a bit claustrophobic in style and prose. but the later stories evolved into 19th century romance and i found it hard to follow or keep my mind on what was going on. the writing was not bad, it was just dated and was not holding my attention since it was full of brash young soldiers and bold women who would not settle for mediocrity… at least, that’s the kind of rubbish my mind recalls.

once again, i’m wondering if i’ve missed something. perhaps the brilliance of the much longer last story was hidden in its mundanity much like the fellow who shows Somerset Maugham’s protagonist in the Razor’s Edge that washing dishes IS a religious act.

maybe i’ll try again another day.

[aadyer · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A very good annotated version of Chambers's work which makes it more accessible in many ways, but the sparse nature of the art, and the deft, yet pared back story line, makes me crave more detail. It's the only thing that I'd complain about, otherwise a very good collection & interpretation of Chambers's work. You can see how it inspired but didn't over power Lovecraft.

[objectid-5f871435fcf · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

The King in Yellow is a series of loosely related tales set against the backdrop of a monstrous and forbidden book whose reading is said to lead to madness and fear in its readers.

These stories, based on mysterious tragedies, have left me personally quite indifferent.

Of the nine stories contained in the book, only three have captivated me; some have bored me considerably, while others I found even tedious.

It is a strange book, a mix of dreams and alternative realities to everyday dimensions... a kind of madness that triggers horrific tragedies.

A book that speaks of distant pasts, terrible stories, fantastic cities, lost worlds, parallel tales to the real world, nightmares, traumas, chaos, and perdition.

Those who enjoy fantasy and mystery without much sense should get lost among its stories; just because I personally was not engaged by them does not mean they are poorly written, but some of the stories did seem “too much” to me. (Translated from Spanish)

[Miquele · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Brilliant, ahead of its time, original stories, and well told. (Translated from Spanish)

[YohansDark · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Tremendous collection of terrifying tales, rich in detail and suspense that fill you with repulsion, intrigue, horror, and a change in perspective (at least that happened to me with the short story about the crown, totally disturbing and unexpected alike).
I have always been very curious about Hastur and these myths extended in games, other writings, movies, etc... So it has been a thorough and much-desired reading; it may not be a book for everyone, that is true, but it has totally been worth it. Would I recommend it? Maybe to those who enjoy this type of reading, but I prefer to keep the experience to myself because I enjoyed it immensely. (Translated from Spanish)

[MarioM · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Five stories related to a strange book, which drives those who read it to madness or death due to strange occurrences. Each tale contributes something about the content of that book: the king in yellow: Carcosa, Hastur, that inhospitable island, etc. It sounds good, but the author doesn't fully capitalize on its potential. Out of the five stories, only three are worth it: the yellow sign, the mask, and the dragon's court; which better utilize the atmosphere of unease and supernatural elements. (Translated from Spanish)

[mipedtor · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Finally, I decided to read the original author who inspired a multitude of derivative works by other recognized authors, as well as films, series, comics, games... Robert W. Chambers created a collection of macabre stories that served as a foundation and recognition for none other than H.P. Lovecraft, and many identify The King in Yellow and the entity Hastur within the Cthulhu mythos.

The truth is that this compilation of short stories, very well chosen by the Valdemar publishing house, includes other tales published by the same author in independent works. They display a very peculiar and accessible style, with plenty of dialogue (quite different from Lovecraft's style) and elements bridging gothic horror and the foundations that form the current genre: with scares, nightmares, confusion between dreams and reality, madness, and twist endings…

It is true that sometimes Chambers indulges in deeply describing landscapes, flora and fauna, scenes almost like postcards that slow down the narrative. However, on the other hand, he possesses that "freshness" of not delving deeply into the characters but rather showing their situation, their insecurities in the moment, and how the scene will sweep them away. Therefore, we may not remember much about the characters, but we will remember what they did and how they felt in the face of the events.

On the other hand, as is often the case in these kinds of story compilations, the quality is uneven. There are magnificent stories and others that go unnoticed. Even some, which are more macabre than terrifying, are truly exemplary. For example, "The Mask." Within them, he includes elements that Lovecraft and his circle would greatly exploit to create their imaginative world: forbidden books that provoke madness, places from another planet, beings and entities from other planes that exceed our mundane understanding… Many of these elements serve as a common thread, relationship, or nod between his stories. In several of them, the book "The King in Yellow" appears, which brings misfortune to the characters who dare to approach its reading. The fearsome city of Carcosa. Or Hastur himself, whose terrifying presence will lead to the self-destruction of the protagonists. Sometimes, those same characters reappear in other stories.

An interesting book whose style, on some occasions, I have come to like more than some of Lovecraft's own works. (Translated from Spanish)

[MilenaHrz · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I took a long time to read this anthology; at first, I've had a reading block for over four months, but I think I'm nearing the end of it?.

I must say that this anthology is more than amazing; I was completely absorbed in each story, it has a very gloomy atmosphere, even though some start off nicely. I read it with gothic ambient music, and I felt the complete experience.

I loved many stories, and among my favorites, I would say are:

"The Mask," a story that will leave you speechless.

"In the Dragon's Passage," a story that made me feel nervous. Who wouldn't be scared to be watched and followed all the way home, ultimately being cornered by a dark being that radiates evil? A story that will keep you awake on a Sunday morning.

"The Purple Emperor," an eternal fight between two collectors and insect experts, one known for hunting and possessing a live Purple Emperor butterfly and the other for hunting and possessing a Red Admiral. The jealousy of one and the selfishness of the other lead to a catastrophic ending to be told by the fire of a fireplace that will drive you straight to the insane asylum.

"The Messenger," a story set a couple of years later for the characters from "The Purple Emperor." A group of people finds 38 skulls out of 39 that belong to their ancestors and an ancient story of the village. One of them wants to abandon the search for the 39th because it seems to belong to the traitor who caused these 38 deaths, who cursed the village because they would execute him and everyone who disturbs his remains. An annoyed skeptic kicks the ground, and something white rolls out. Something lurks in the darkness; it's better for a priest to bless your house at night... or maybe not.

If anyone has read this anthology, you'll understand the nonsense I'm saying about each story; I wanted to add a few hints because the truth is, I don't know how to summarize a story without spoiling it. (Translated from Spanish)

[westwest-3 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The fame of this book rests, deservedly so, on the first four stories. Their mysterious and oppresive atmosphere has inspired multiple authors of horror and weird fiction, most notably, H.P. Lovecraft. The fifth story seems perfect for a Twilight Zone episode. The other stories only interest resides in their portrayal of the life of Art students in XIX century fin-de-siecle Paris. The stories are well written and have internal consistency. I was pleasantly surprised to discover an author I had never read before.

The Arc Dreams Publishing edition is beautifully bound, and has many useful annotations. It is illustrated by Paraguayan artist Samuel Araya. My only minor complaint is that the illustration for the story "The Yellow Sign" is a knock off from Arnold Böcklin's "Toteninsel" and there is no attribution. Böcklin made five versions of his painting so I see no problem in Araya's beautiful and haunting interpretation, only that one of the notes should have pointed this out.

[amandrake_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An erratic collection published in 1885, ranging from "flavor of life" pieces about contemporary art students in France to war and romance to the truly weird. They also range from the mediocre, to the effective, to the masterful, but never descend to the truly bad. Worth reading even without the acknowledged place of Chanbers as someone who influenced later authors of horror. "The Repairer of Reputations" is an exceptional story.
Also contains an Introduction by S.T. Joshi, some sparse endnotes, and some reprints of critics on Chamber's work, including contemporary reviews and an excerpt from Lovecraft's "Supernatural Horror in Literature".

[michael5rimmer · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This book is chiefly known for its opening quartet of stories of eldritch horrors and macabre dystopias. Some works contain only those four, which may well satisfy the majority of readers who (like myself) are drawn to it due to the thread it weaves through the works of others, most famously H.P. Lovecraft. However that does the author a disservice. Chambers collected these stories together and intended them to be read as a complete work.

Doing that, you appreciate the arc he takes from the futurist dystopia of The Repairer of Reputations, with its claustrophobic feeling of paranoia, through the subsequent alchemical and supernatural tales, onto the fifth story, a folkloric fairytale, a short set of Gibran-like (though simultaneously unlike) prose poems, and so gradually into the historical world of everyday reality, with its wars and romance, comedy and pathos. An expert writer who deserves recognition for more than horror.

[isabelx_21 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

DESTINY
I came to the bridge which few may pass.
"Pass!" cried the keeper, but I laughed, saying, "There is time;" and he smiled and shut the gates.
To the bridge which few may pass came young and old. All were refused. Idly I stood and counted them, until, wearied of their noise and lamentations, I came again to the bridge which few may pass.
Those in the throng about the gates shrieked out, "He comes too late!" But I laughed, saying, "There is time."
"Pass!" cried the keeper as I entered; then smiled and shut the gates.

I have wanted to read this book of short stories for a long time, as I have heard it mentioned as a good example of weird fiction.

There are three types of story in this book. Stories which refer to the notorious play called The King in Yellow, which send anyone who reads it mad, stories that are like snippets of dreams, and stories of American art students living in Paris (as the author himself did) and falling in love with various unsuitable women. These are mostly more realistic, but there is some overlap with the weird fiction of the first few stories.

The first story, The Restorer of Reputations, gets the book off to a strong start and is the only one that I had read before. I might have given it four stars if not for the art student stories, but it's a 3.5 star book for me overall.

[.monkey.-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A bit conflicted on this title. Another reviewer called the collection "uneven" and that says it pretty well.

Of the four actual "King in Yellow" stories, I thought two were pretty good, one wasn't bad, and one was not great. There is also a three page "story" filled with repetition that forced me to skim half the lines because holy crap irritating.
The other five stories are all romances, to one degree or another. Frankly, I think Lovecraft and the editor of my edition are both idiots when they claim Chambers a failure by taking the "easy route" of writing romances after not achieving the same sort of success in supernatural/horror after this work. Personally I found the romances to be better written than most of the rest in here. I am a huge horror fan; I do not read romances. But it was his romances that engaged me more and kept me intrigued. Therefore I would say he made the wise choice to do what he had the better talent for.

All in all, I'm glad to see what provided a big chunk of Lovecraft's inspiration, but I would hesitate to recommend this to a casual reader.

[jhudsui_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I couldn't find the particular print of this that I have because it's Powell's specific. This thing is public domain and too obscure to be in print by a mainstream publisher so there a lot of different little POD type versions floating around.

Most people's entry point to this is going to be knowing of it being referenced from Lovecraft. In fact, it's notable for being the originator of the Lovecraftian device of the "obscure grimoire" which is described obliquely, has its contents only hinted at, and which per motif of harmful sensation drives its readers insane. The eponymous fictional book itself sounds very Lovecraftian, taking place in a decadent civilization on a foreign planet and centering around a semi-divine figure of obscure horror. However the rest of the horror stories that feature that book are much more conventional ghost stories in their other respects. With the possible exception of Repairer of Reputations which is my favorite of the lot due to its use of an elaborate alternate timeline setting that has absolutely nothing to do with the plot and exists only for ornamental or obfuscatory purposes (kind of like Ada's).

Only half of the stories in the book are even horror stories though. The other half don't mention the King in Yellow at all, have no real horror elements and are more slice of life picaresques about bohemian expatriate American artists living in 1900s - 1910s Paris. They're actually pretty charming and I think I like them better than Chamber's horror stories to be honest. They don't quite reach the level of Wodehousian but the better ones edge near it.

[xuebi-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Chambers is the forgotten member of the pantheon of weird fiction, whose story The Repairer of Reputations, was praised by Lovecraft. That and The Mask, The Court of the Dragon and The Yellow Sign all fit together in a loose mythology concerning the dreaded play The King in Yellow and the bizarre events the follow it. The remaining stories are a mixed collection that range from passable ghost stories to clichéd romance. Lovecraft was right in calling Chambers a fallen titan since it's clear that much of his talent for weird fiction was wasted in the more profitable field of romance genre fiction.

[simondyda · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

The first four stories are macabre in tone, centering on characters that are often artists or decadents, and involve a fictional two-act play of the same title as the book, a play that is as accursed to those who possess it as the Necronomicon would later be. The first story "The Repairer of Reputations", is set in an imagined future 1920s America (and as such the book can be considered to fall into the Sci-Fi genre). The next three are set in Paris at the same time.

The color yellow signifies the decadent and aesthetic attitudes that were fashionable at the end of the 19th century, typified by such publications as The Yellow Book, a literary journal associated with Oscar Wilde and Aubrey Beardsley. It has also been suggested that the color yellow represents quarantine — an allusion to decay, disease, and specifically mental illness. For instance, the famous short story "The Yellow Wallpaper", involving a bedridden woman's descent into madness, was published shortly before Chambers' book.

The other stories in the book do not quite follow the same macabre theme of the first four, or their connection to the fictional Yellow King, although some are linked to the preceding stories via their Parisien setting and artistic protagonists. What they all have in common however is the underlying theme of obsession.

This is not only an historic work of American fiction, but an unique work of literature that in my view surpasses in excellence and originality any of the works it later inspired (eg the works of HP Lovecraft).

[Jotunheimer · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

It is not difficult to imagine what attracted Lovecraft to this story. A cursed book. Fantastic creatures that evade death and belong to other planes. A baroque language, even for the time of its composition. All elements that Lovecraft would make his own - with a personal and unique touch - in his writings.
In turn, the story had its partial recreation in the intertextuality proposed by the brilliant series "True Detective," in which the danger represented by the Yellow King takes on a new dimension. From the most traditional gothic to southern gothic, the Yellow King continues to exert its influence on all planes of consciousness. (Translated from Spanish)

[Paco Garrido · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

"The sun rises; they gather and lie in their lairs."

The popular and masterful series TRUE DETECTIVE brought back into the spotlight this work by Robert W. Chambers, as it partially drew from that kind of hell on earth, mythological, enigmatic, of the lost city of Carcosa, connected with the ragged king, filled with mysterious connections and inexplicable events through a book and the color yellow present symbolically.

This work translates into a compendium of ten independent stories whose common link is the mentioned book, somewhat irregular but with a prose that responds to the sensations and experiences of an era, wrapped in an aura of mystery where love and death predominate, the sacred myth of romanticism submerged in an atmosphere of lurking terror. It implies and shows; Chambers digs into the voids of mundane existentiality and also dares to touch on more fantastic aspects.

The King in Yellow is a book born of its time; it may overly bear the brunt of tropes and romantic conventions. What weighs on it the most is the difference in interest and quality among some stories; while "The Yellow Sign," "The Mask," or "The Street of the Dragon," which are directly related to the mystical Carcosa, are extraordinary, others like "The Creator of Moons" or "A Pleasant Evening" do not reach the level we know they can offer.

The sensation that emanates from this work is that Chambers possessed a great imagination, good ideas, and a unique mythology that laid foundations in the genre of gothic literature and has influenced generations to come. On the other hand, we have outstanding stories that coexist with others that become slow and unsatisfactory. For those interested in knowing the origins of 'The King in Yellow,' this work is essential reading; it is not a masterpiece but its concepts are powerful. (Translated from Spanish)

[Danicho · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

April 24, 2020 - July 13, 2020

"I would have told a thousand lies worse than that one to see the look of relief I perceived on her face."

"Certainty is better than uncertainty." (Translated from Spanish)

[Jovi · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Good stories that captivate us and take us to worlds where anything is possible... interesting. One of the great influences on many later writers such as HP Lovecraft. (Translated from Spanish)

[meznir-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Chambers has a nice narrator's voice, but he is so busy explaining everything around the main characters that the scary stuff that happens sort of evaporates in the waterfall of words that he uses. That diminishes the horror effect of the King in Yellow and the Yellow Sign when used in the stories. Funny that the stories in which the King is merely referenced, worked better for me than the ones in which the actual presence of King, Play or Sign featured.

[joligula · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

What an interesting group of stories. It is easy to see how these stories influenced so many great writers. The tales are witty, intelligent and well written. Some of them are down right creepy. Highly recommended.

[Edd62 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A series of stories based on a book as the connecting thread, well-used as a resource, sometimes being read, sometimes as a simple object, sometimes unveiling a mystery or pointing to the valuable aspects of its content... by the way, an non-existent and terrifying book... (Translated from Spanish)

[JavierGV · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

W. Chambers invites you to his home and everything is very nice: you are comfortable, relaxed, in good company, but it only takes a moment for something to change. As each story unfolds, the atmosphere becomes tense and everything changes, thanks to a mysterious book. (Translated from Spanish)

[trile1000 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The first four stories (The Repairer of Reputations, The Mask, In the Court of the Dragon, The Yellow Sign) of this book are great horror pieces. I can see where Lovecraft gets inspiration from Chambers. The rest are not quite of the same nature and thusly, I did not enjoy them as much.

[regularguy5mb · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Finally reading this one, the book that inspired H.P. Lovecraft in his story creation of pushing the weird and horrible, especially in the way that Chambers keeps the horror within the speculative, leaving the audience to picture just how horrible the effects of reading "The King in Yellow" actually are.

My only problem with this book is that not every story continues the title's influence. While the argument could be made that the stories are all interconnected through the artist characters (either through location or names mentioned in previous tales that connect them to later characters and places), but the sudden switch in tone is a bit off-putting, especially when Chambers starts with such a powerful story in "The Repairer of Reputations." And while he does arrange the stories thematically, with "The Demoiselle D'Ys" and "The Prophet's Paradise" bridging the gap between the supernatural tales and the straight-up romances ("The Demoiselle D'Ys" being both supernatural and romance), the overall effect can leave the reader underwhelmed.

Still, overall an enjoyable read, and the stories within what has come to be called "The Yellow Mythos" are truly horrifying in their telling.

[kalessinastarno · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I don't know what to think. I liked most of the stories but there is no real 'whole' about this book. Some of the stories touch each other, but throwing all of these together seems rather random.

[shimmin_1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

One of those books that's always discussed in spec fic circles, so I wanted to try it.

It's a decent read, but inconsistent. The main thing is that the nature of the stories changes considerably over the course of the book, and as such, will probably appeal to different people.

The first four are deeply weird stories. They combine alternative history, a very sinister supernatural, and lyrical writing, with excellent results. All are macabre and intriguing.

The Repairer of Reputations is a really effective tale of the unreliable narrator, which paints a fascinating and alarming picture of madness. It's not until right at the end that you can begin to unravel the complex delusions that intertwine, and find the very foundations of the story are shifting sand. This is already one of my favourite weird tales.

The titular King in Yellow features in The Yellow Sign. It's actually a much less strange story, essentially just a twist of the supernatural curse. However, it's very well-executed, with compelling writing that really sells the repulsiveness of the watchman, and the dogged thoughts that will not leave our protagonist alone. I confess, though, that all the build-up this story has elsewhere had led me to expect a far weirder tale.

The Court of the Dragon, The Mask and The Damoiselle d'Ys are less striking, though all of them are solid supernatural tales. There's a little flavour of the weird to Court, which I liked a great deal, and all are well-written and drew me along easily.

Beyond this, the collection moves into essentially historical writing, with the odd supernatural touch. The stories are a little grim, centring on Bohemian lives of poverty and hardship, even while the rich and idle move amongst them. One is a war story of Paris under siege. They aren't without interest, and the writing remains good, but having come for weirdness I found little to appeal in them. In particular, the several tales of Bohemian artists of them felt like style over substance, for very little seemed to happen, either in plot or in character development. That being said, they do evoke their atmosphere very effectively. Personally I found them of limited interest and was glad to finish them.

On the whole, this feels like a slightly odd collection that's neither one thing nor t'other. I would recommend the first few tales to those interested in weird fiction, and the last few to literary types.

[stahl2ricco · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

An uneven collection, starting out with tales of occult, then diving into stories of romance. The 4 stories revolving around Carcosa and the madness inducing play "The King in Yellow" are pretty creepy, a la Edgar Allen Poe. The romances? Not my cup of tea.

[dirac_2 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Decent collection of short stories. Seemed to lose some steam in the later stories.