The Cats of Ulthar on The Literary Catcast Podcast (15 minute full episode)
Description
Read MoreVocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
even when Little Atoll, the innkeeper's son, vowed that he had a twilight seen all the cats of old thar in that accursed yard under the trees, pacing very slowly and solemnly in a circle around the cottage two abreast, as if in performance of some unheard of right of beasts. That's a quote from the cuts of both are by H. P. Lovecraft. That would be Howard Phillips. Lovecraft, born 18 90 Died 1937. Welcome to the literary cat Cast a podcast that brings you vintage books that feature cats as main characters in the writing I'm your host, Phoebe Phillips. Lovecraft was in almost Rick loose that specialized in the McCobb with tales of science fiction, horror and the Gothic. He wrote his first story at the age of 14. It has been written that he seemed to have taken greater pleasure in the company of cats than of humans. He referred to cats, is cool, live cynical and an unconquered lord of the House tops. He believed that cats in Nate Lee possess but human beings black. The cats of Lothar tells the story of how a law forbidding the killing of cats came to be in a town called Youth Are. Lovecraft outlined the plot of the story in May 1920 wrote the short story June 15th 1920 and here 100 years later, I Get to present It to you in a podcast. The exact way the story took form in his head is unclear, but it does have influences from a writer friend. He admired the Anglo English lord dunce any. And, of course, it was also influenced by cats in ancient Egypt. One of the main characters in this story, the young boy Meanies, shares his name with Meanies, the mythical founder of the ancient city of Memphis, Egypt. As in both are the ancient Egyptians were admires of cats and made it a crime to kill our export. Any cat meanies was an orphan to the plague. His only comfort. A small black kitten when the kitten goes missing and meanies here's of the possibility of its cruel death by a mean curmudgeon old couple that killed cats. He begins a meditation that gives way into prayer, meditation and prayer so strong it reshapes the clouds in the sky and changes the cats, the people and the town of both are forever. This story is very short and since it has now fallen into public domain, I'll read the whole story. And now there's my teeth. Kettle, it's time for a hot cup of tea, a cat in your lab and a story here on the cat cast you. It is said that an old thar which lies beyond the river sky no man may kill a cat. And this I can verily believe, as I gaze upon him who sit of purring before the fire for the caddis, cryptic and close to strange things which men cannot see. Hey is the soul of antique Egypt, ISS and bearer of tales from for gotten cities in marrow we and a fear. He is the kin of the jungles lords and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin and a speaks her language, but he is more ancient than this things and remembers that which she have for gotten in all thaw before ever. The burgesses forbade the killing of cats. There dwelt in Old Cotter in his wife, who delighted to trap in sleigh cats of their neighbors why they did this. I do not know. Save that many. Hate the voice of the cat in the night and take it ill. That cat should run stealthily about yards and gardens at twilight. But whatever the reason, this old man and woman took pleasure in trapping and slaying every cat which came near their hovel and from some of the sounds heard after dark. Many Villagers fancied that the manner of slaying was exceedingly peculiar. But the Villagers did not discuss such things with the old man and his wife because of the habitual expression on the withered faces of the to and because their cottage was so small and so darkly hidden under spreading oaks and at the back of a neglected yard. In truth, much as the owners of cats hated these odd folk, they feared them more. And instead of parading them as brutal, assassins merely took care that no cherished pet or mouse or should, straight towards the remote hovel under the dark trees. When, through some unavoidable oversight, a cat was missing in sounds were heard after dark, the loser would lament impotently or console himself by thanking fate that it was not one of his Children, who had thus vanished. For the people of all thar were simple and new, not wince. It is all cats. First came one day a caravan of strange wanderers from the south enter the north cobbled streets of both our dark wanderers. They were, and unlike the other roving folk that passed through the village twice each year in the marketplace, they told fortunes for silver and bought *** beads from the merchants. What was the land of thes wanderers? None could tell, but it was seen that they were given to strange prayers and that they painted on the sides of their wagons. Strange figures with human bodies in the heads of cats, hawks, rams and lions and the leader of the caravan were a headdress with two horns and a curious disc between the horns. There was in this singular caravan, a little boy with no father or mother, but only a tiny black kitten to cherish. The plague had not been kind to him yet had left him this small, furry thing to mitigate its sorrow. And when one is very young, one can find great relief in the lively antics of a black kitten So the boy whom the dark people called meanies smiled more often than he wept as he set playing with his graceful kitten on the steps of an oddly painted wagon and on the third morning of the Wanderer, stay in both are meanies could not find his kitten. And as he sobbed aloud in the marketplace, certain Villagers told him of the old man in his wife and of sounds heard in the night. And when he heard these things, Hiss sobbing, gave place to meditation and finally prayer. He stretched out his arms toward the sun and prayed in a tongue No Villager could understand, though Indeed, the Villagers did not try very hard to understand, since their attention was mostly taken up by the sky and the odd shapes, the clouds were assuming it was very peculiar. But as the little boy uttered, his petition there seemed to form overhead the shadowy, nebulous figures of exotic things of hybrid creatures crowned with horn flanked disks. Nature is full of such illusions to impress the imaginative. That night the Wanderers left all thar and were never seen again, and the householders were troubled when they noticed that in all the village. There was not a cat to be found from each hearth. The familiar cat had vanished. Cats large and small, black, gray, striped yellow and white. Old crane on the burgomaster swore that the dark folks had taken the cats away in revenge for the killing of Minnie's kitten and cursed the caravan and the little boy. But nous, the lean notary, declared that the old Qatar and his wife were more likely persons to suspect for their hatred of cats was notorious and increasingly bold. Still no one, Durst complained to the sinister couple, even when Little, a tall the innkeeper son vowed that he had a twilight seen all the cats of all thar in that accursed yard under the trees, pacing very slowly and solemnly in a circle around the cottage, two abreast as if and performance of some unheard of right of beasts. The Villagers did not know how much to believe from so small a boy, and though they feared that the evil pair had charmed the cats to their death, they preferred not to chide the old Qatar till they met him outside his dark and repellent yard. So author went to sleep in vain anger, and when the people awakened it, dawn, behold, every cat was back at his accustomed tarth, large and small, black, grey, striped yellow and white. None was missing. Very sleek and fat. Did the cats appear and so onerous with purring content. The citizens talked with one another of the affair and marveled, not a little bold. Crane on again insisted that it was the dark full could taken them, since cats did not return alive from the cottage of the ancient man and his wife. But all agreed on one thing. That the refusal of the cats to eat their portions of made our drink their saucers of milk waas exceedingly curious. And for two whole days, the sleek, lazy cats of all far would touch no food but only does by the fire or in the sun. It was fully a week before the Villagers noticed that no lights were appearing at dusk in the windows of the cottage under the trees, Then the lane. Neth remarked that no one had seen the old man or his wife since the night the cats were away. In another week, the burgomaster decided to overcome his fears and call at the strangely silent dwelling as a matter of duty, though in so doing he was careful to take with him. Xiang, the blacksmith and tall the cutter of stone, has witnesses, and when they had broken down the frail door, they found only this to cleanly picked human skeletons on the earth and floor and a number of singular beetles crawling in the shadowy corners. There was subsequently much talk among the Burgess ease of both our Zapf, the corner disputed at length with nous the lean notary and crane on, and Xiang and Tell were overwhelmed with questions, even the little a tall, the innkeeper son was closely questioned and given a sweetmeat as a reward. They talked of the old Qatar and his wife of a caravan of dark wanderers, of small meanies and his black kitten of the prayer of minis and of the sky. During that prayer of the doings of the cats on the knife, the caravan left and of what was later found in the cottage under the dark trees in the repellent yard, and in the end, the burgesses passed that remarkable law, which is told by traders in half EC and discussed by travelers in near namely that in Also, no man may kill a cat. The literary cat cast is dedicated to preserving vintage books and writings with cats as main characters, bringing their awareness into the modern form of a podcast. Episodes are recorded in my Holland Avenue studio here in Dallas, Texas. We can stay in touch in several ways. Our website page and our Facebook page, the literary cat cast podcast. Or you can follow all the cats that me out in per story transitions on instagram at the literary cat cast Podcast underscore Cats for special gifts. Look me up on T public. That's t e P U B L I c t public dot com. Just type in my name Phoebe into the search bar. You'll find merchandise with cats but also vintage gardens. Now stay till the final meal. The cat on this episode is Tillie Sue. She's about 13 months old, and she got in our tea in our trap in late August and had kittens a few days later here in the studio. Yes, be foster kittens and all of her kittens got terrific comes You may see her on Instagram. I'm Phoebe Phillips. Thanks for listening. I'll see you next time