19) “Unseen—Un[f]eared” by Francis Stevens
Before I proceed, I would like to offer a few content warnings, specifically about suicide and some racially and ethnically insensitive elements of the story. About the latter: the narrator is ill and not himself, so it could reflect a paranoid, altered state of mind. Or he may just be a racist snob.
Plot:
Our hero, Blaisdell, tells of meeting his “ever-interesting” friend, Mark Jenkins, by chance at a little Italian restaurant near South Street in a large city. Jenkins is a detective with juicy stories.
When Blaisdell mentions something he saw in the morning papers, Jenkins laughs and says, “Poor old ‘Doc’ Holt! Fascinating old codger.” He also mentions saving a young assistant of Doc’s from a false accusation of poisoning.
“Why are you so sure he couldn’t have been implicated?” Blaisdell asks.
Jenkins shakes his head and says he has his grounds. “But the only reason he was suspected at all is the superstitious dread of these ignorant people around him.” He offers Blaisdell a cigar, which the other man gratefully accepts.
Careful, dude. Those things will kill you, ya know.
Jenkins makes his apologies. He has to leave for another appointment.
Blaisdell stays for a while, then leaves. Outside, the atmosphere feels oppressive. The people he passes on the street seem evil, almost bestial. He soon feels ill and blames the cheap wine they drank with dinner. He decides to tough it out.
Pausing outside a drugstore, he notes a sign:
SEE THE GREAT UNSEEN!
Come in! This Means You!
FREE TO ALL!
Well, why not? The man in charge of the exhibit at first doesn’t seem to see Blaisdell. He’s surprised that anyone wants to see his exhibit, goes back into his apartment ahead of him, and closes the door. Finally, he comes back out and asks Blaisdell if he’s coming or not. Blaisdell follows.
At first, all he gets is an interminable lecture on photography. Then the strange man turns off the lights.
Blaisdell is horrified—terrified at what he sees. He passes out.
When he wakes, the strange man is gone.
Thoughts:
This is a bizarre little tale framed in a detective story. Poor Blaisdell spends a horrifying evening, finally coming to doubt the nature of human beings to the point of convincing himself to do away with himself so he’ll never have to suffer the company of such detestable beings again. He recalls the unrelenting hostility from a passing Italian man who turned to him the evening before. The neighborhood is “unsavory,” full of Jews, Italians, and (in the parlance of the day) “negroes.” All this sets our hero on edge.
Interestingly enough, Blaisdell receives a rational explanation for his adventures, but he and his friend Jenkins agree to destroy the evidence. And questions linger.
The anthology I found this in had a typo in the title and the Table of Contents, titling this story “Unseen—Ungeared.” I wondered about it, since it made no sense. It also posed a challenge when trying to find any information about the story. It is, nevertheless, correctly “Unseen—Unfeared.”
This story was an intriguing little ride. I liked the way it played with reality. None of these positives overcame its negatives for me, however. Unfortunately, it is a product of its time, so it’s difficult to recommend. If going in forewarned, the reader may enjoy the LSD-trip-like little yarn. Or, the reader may wish to avoid the racist crap altogether.
This story can be read here:
This story can be listened to here: (45:11)
Bio: Francis Stevens (legal name Gertrude Mabel Barrows Bennett) (1883-1948) was an American author of fantasy and science fiction short fiction and novels. Most of Bennett’s writing was published between 1917 and 1920. She made her living as a stenographer and turned to writing to supplement her income while caring for her ill, widowed mother. After her mother’s death, she gave up on writing and returned to stenography.
Title: “Unseen—Un[f]eared”
Author: Francis Stevens (legal name Gertrude Mabel Barrows Bennett) (1883-1948)
First published: People’s Favorite Magazine, February 10, 1919
Length: short story
