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Friday, April 17, 2020

“The Goddess on the Street Corner” by Margaret St. Clair

First appeared in Beyond Fantasy Fiction, reprinted by David G. Hartwell

Summary:

Because a Greek goddess appears, you’d think the result would be humdrum. It isn’t. A man finds her on the street corner, takes her home and recognizes her as a goddess, feeling her transcendence in her touch. He treats with delicacy and brings color to her cheeks with liquor—liquor he won’t touch since she touched it. 

Commentary with Spoilers:

St. Clair holds off on the revelation of which goddess she is until the ending. This is something of a cheat if he’s known all along, but maybe she thought it might cheapen the theme had the reader known in advance that the mystery goddess is Aphrodite. His love for [worship of?] her leads to him spend all he has and sell his blood to keep her in expensive brandy he cannot afford. She rewards him with the gift of love, promising that women fall for him. He goes out and returns with amorous tales of his supposed conquests to please her of her power, but she still wanes, less and less substantial. She feigns the creation of flowers below his window and [he thinks?] he sees a single pink flower. He claims to see a whole street of them. She disappears. 

Is this story about gods? or about love? Possibly both. He despairs at her disappearance, worried who will take care of him, when plainly he was taking care of her. But in a psychological sense she had been taking care of him although the irony of his feeling remains palpable—simultaneously both true and untrue. My one complaint would be--if she is disappearing due to lack of believers--how did she live this long? If her meeting this gentleman makes him a strong adherent (and she's gone this long without adherents), why would she disappear now? 

Not a classic in terms of speculation, but a thought-provoking keeper to file among her best. Contrast this to her most famous tale, “The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles” (my first, briefer response to the story) which is the inverse: speculatively rich but not nearly so thought provoking.

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