Just The Caffeine Talking

Lovecraft and Claptrap

This past weekend I attended (as a humble paying member) NecronomiCon 2019 in Providence, Rhode Island. If you know anything about horror fiction or games you can probably guess that NecronomiCon is a convention focused on the works of H.P. Lovecraft, the father of modern horror. I had a great time and plan to go back for the next iteration in 2021.

In connection with the con I decided to re-read Lovecraft's famous essay "Supernatural Horror in Literature." It's a good comprehensive survey of horror fiction up to HPL's time, with a fascinating introduction laying out his theory of what horror (or as he calls it, "weird fiction") should be.

As I was reading it, something struck me. Lovecraft knew a hell of a lot about horror fiction, and his analysis of it was quite thorough and profound. But when he touched on other subjects, I started to realize that he wasn't as erudite as his scholarly fictional characters — and probably not as erudite as he thought he was.

H.P. Lovecraft was mostly self-educated. He read widely and exhaustively. He really did know a lot.

BUT . . .

He had the problem common to many autodidacts: without any formal teaching, it's very hard to tell serious scholarship from bogus. So Howard evidently read, and uncritically swallowed, Madison Grant's The Passing of the Great Race. If you're hoping it's a "Shadow Out of Time" novelization, I'm sorry to disappoint you: it was a work of racist pseudoscience popular in the 1920s. It even gets a shout-out in The Great Gatsby, of all places. (F. Scott Fitzgerald is using it ironically, though: his vapid, decadent character Tom Buchanan is worried about the decline of the Nordic peoples.)

In "Supernatural Horror in Literature" Lovecraft refers to the grimoire "The Key of Solomon" as some immemorially ancient text, but by the 1920s serious medievalists knew it was no older than the 14th Century. He also makes reference to Margaret Murray's Witch-Cult theory as fact, though it was always controversial. He believed Charles Fort's accounts of paranormal events, even though (somewhat sadly) Fort's credibility suffers as soon as you start looking at the sources he cites. His views of the Middle Ages are the standard erroneous 19th-Century mix of Enlightenment anti-Catholicism and Victorian self-congratulation. And anyone who took high-school geometry can recognize that one of his favorite shuddersome adjectives, "Non-Euclidean," isn't quite as sanity-blastingly unnatural as he seems to think.

This is all quite ironic because of course HPL considered himself a great skeptic and materialist, and planned (unsuccessfully, alas) to write a series of "debunking" works with none other than Houdini himself!

Now, I'm not just making fun of a dead man's mistakes. As I mentioned, I think Lovecraft's self-education suffered from a lack of guidance. The only reason I can spot his errors is that I did have the benefit of many very good teachers, both in high school and in college. Without that advantage, he wound up siezing on authoritative-sounding works which were nevertheless wrong.

This is not a problem confined to people named Lovecraft in the early 20th Century. It is a HUGE problem today. We all probably know at least one person who has just read the One Book That Explains Everything. In past decades that book was usually either something by Noam Chomsky or something by Ayn Rand. More recent examples are left as an exercise for the reader.

There is a difference between ordinary "punditry" and the One Book That Explains Everything. It's hard to pin down precisely, but I think a key feature is that pundits — be they Rush Limbaugh or Rachel Maddow — make no secret that they are expressing their own opinions. They are making a case, attempting to persuade. Whereas the authors of the OBTEE genre simply assertthings as true, in a very authoritative way, with just enough evidence that only a real expert can spot the flaws.

This is where it gets good. I propose that not only did Lovecraft absorb some intellectual claptrap from writers like Grant and Murray, I think he also (perhaps unconsciously) learned from them how to convincingly put across his own made-up lore in the same way.

He's got all the tropes of bogus nonfiction in his fiction: the casual allusions to things as true (like the existence of "pre-human civilizations" or lost continents), the appeal to bogus authority (e.g. the Mad Arab Abdul Alhazred himself), selective use of quotations (Lovecraft mixes real occult bits with made-up lore of his own and makes extensive use of fictional newspaper clippings), and specific-sounding but vague details (we get directions to both Dunwich and Innsmouth, but you can't quite find them).

These are hugely effective ways to sell the reader on your story's background details in fiction (or in games). One reason we're still reading Lovecraft in a new century is the extremely convincing way he plants his fantastic horrors in a base of reality. Do likewise, and people may be organizing conventions in your honor in 2119.

Random Encounters: Lawless Martian City

The city stands at the junction of two great artificial canals bringing life-giving water to the dying seabeds of the Red Planet. Though ruled by an absolute monarch, the city is virtually lawless, as the tyrant cares about nothing beyond the walls of his palace and all his underlings are corrupt. Here, thieves from the lowland cities, bandits from the upland deserts, and smugglers from the blue planet Earth all meet to make deals, hatch plots, and boast of deeds they would kill to keep secret elsewhere.

 On this version of Mars, the air is as thin as that of Tibet, the temperatures are about as cold as central Alaska, and the climate is as dry as Upper Egypt. Even Martians have to wrap themselves in furs during the winter, but find the summers pleasantly hot. Space travelers from Earth dress properly in sheepskin-lined leather jackets and jodhpurs, with ray-blasters in quick-draw holsters. None of that nonsense about space suits. 

ENCOUNTERS IN A LAWLESS MARTIAN CITY

(Roll 1d10 if the adventuring party are stationary, 1d20 if they're moving about the city.)

1. Roll twice and combine
2. Plot advancing encounter: Someone or something related to whatever brought you to a lawless Martian city.
3. Ancient Inscription: On the floor of the room there's an ancient inscription and mysterious symbols. If deciphered, it may convey an important message.
4. Bloodsucking Flies: You're attacked by a swarm of deadly bloodsucking flies! Even a ray-blaster can only burn a few of them at a time. Did some enemy arrange for them to be released here?
5. Cave Martians: 1d6 dwarfish Cave Martians, wrapped up and hooded for protection from the sunlight, armed with knives and glass dart-launching pistols. There's a 10 percent chance one of them has an item of ancient Martian super-technology.
6. Martian Princess in Disguise: Wearing desert traveler's garb to hide her identity, though a perceptive observer could spot the regal way she moves. Roll 1d6. 1: Cave Martian Clan Princess (clever and secretive), 2: Hidden Imperial Dynasty Princess (courageous and determined), 3: Impostor (roll again), 4-5: Lowland City Princess (stoic but kind), 6: Upland Tribe Princess (fierce and passionate).
7. Sandstorm! Martian sandstorms last 1d20 days; during that time it's risky to even go out in the streets, and downright suicidal to venture beyond the city walls.
8. Savage Desert Apes! The red-furred apes of the desert combine near-human intelligence, superhuman strength, and diabolical ferocity. 1d6 Desert Apes armed with their own fangs and crude clubs.
9. Terran Space-Pirate: 1d6 space-tanned pirates from Earth. Male or female, the pirates are fast on the draw, stick their necks out for nobody, and lust after loot and adventure. There's a 10 percent chance this pirate is in league with your enemies.
10. Upland Martian Mercenaries: 2d4 tall Uplanders in leather cuirasses, armed with spears and glass dart-pistols.
11. Ambushed by Slavers! 2d4 desert bandits armed with black-market Terran rifles pop out of hiding on all sides. They're hoping to sell you to the Cave Martians or as fighters in the arena.
12. Ancient Crater: This section of the city was destroyed in the ancient wars which nearly destroyed Martian civilization. It's 1d100 yards across and still glows faintly at night. Have you taken your rad-pills this week?
13. Ancient Supertech: A mysterious device of the mighty Canal Builder civilization, seemingly intact but of unknown function. Dozens of fortunes have been made from investigating ancient supertech — and hundreds of lives lost.
14. Catacombs: An entrance to the ancient tunnels running under the city, and extending far into the desert. Their purposes are obscure, and now they hold all manner of strange beings.
15. Gang of Thugs! 2d6 Lowland Martian thieves armed with long knives are after you. There's a 10 percent chance that one of them has a smuggled ray-blaster pistol.
16. Low Dive: The inevitable hive of scum and villainy. They shamelessly water the smuggled Terran whiskey but the Martian wines are strong and spicy — and the grilled sand-hoppers are the best on two planets. The clientele includes Space-Pirates, Mercenaries, Slavers, and Thugs, with a 10 percent chance each of a Cave Martian or a Princess.
17. Noble Estate: A vast private garden and palace sprawls across this part of town. You'll either have to go around or risk cutting through a nobleman's residence.
18. Sand-spider! A vicious sand-spider has laid its web under the dust in this part of town. Anyone who steps into the web is suddenly caught as the strands contract. Then the spider approaches . . .
19. Tower of the Science Priests: This crystal tower is one of the fortress-libraries of the secretive Science Priests. Getting inside isn't easy or cheap — the Priests demand payment in many odd forms — but this place has the answers to almost any question involving Mars, its history, and the science of the ancients.
20. Tracks: Roll again to see what just passed by.

SITUATIONS IN A LAWLESS MARTIAN CITY

(Roll 1d6, then consult the table above to determine who A and B are.)

1. A desires B
2. A wants to capture B
3. A wants B dead
4. A wants to go somewhere
5. A wants to solve a mystery
6. A wants X

REACTION TABLE

(Roll 2d6, apply bonuses for personal charisma, intimidation value, desperation, and superior or inferior numbers.)

2-3: Immediate attack!

4-5: Unfriendly

6-8: Neutral

9-10: Friendly

11-12: Very Friendly

Boom!

All of a sudden it's Fall.

Gothic: The Hip New Trend

It's a common misconception that the Middle Ages were a time of regression, both intellectual and artistic. Anyone who actually knows something about the Middle Ages knows that's ridiculous, but unfortunately those people are a definite minority. And one piece of evidence often used to show the cultural "backwardness" of the Middle Ages is the difference between the polished, realistic art of the Classical era and the cruder-looking, heavily stylized work of the Gothic era.

What most people don't seem to get is that the Gothic style was a conscious artistic choice. It wasn't that Medieval sculptors lost the ability to carve realistic statues; they just didn't choose to. That wasn't what they were trying to do. And it's simply crazy to think that the builders of Chartres Cathedral built it because they couldn't build the Parthenon.

Let me give a more recent analogy. The late 19th Century was the apex of the hyper-realistic, "Academic" style in painting and sculpture in Europe and America. Artists were turning out works that rivaled the new technology of photography in detail and realism.

Twenty years later, we see the abstract and stylized art of the early Modernist period. Sculpture and architecture went from the Classical pastiche of the Beaux-Arts era to the almost Gothic-looking forms of Art Deco.  

Does this mean that the 1920s was a "regression" from the cultural heights of the 1890s? Doubtless some people at the time thought so, but you'd be hard-pressed to find any art historians of the past hundred years who would agree.

This is more than just a know-it-all saying gotcha. If you want to understand a work of art, it's always important to understand what the artist was trying to accomplish with it. Then you can decide if it's a success on its own terms.

Gothic art and architecture wasn't a failure to execute Classical forms, it was a new style. The people who built Gothic cathedrals and sculpted the images of that time were the cool guys, working in a hip new style that the old guard couldn't understand. All art begins as the cool new style, then becomes what everyone recognizes as art, and finally becomes the stodgy old school that the next cohort of hipsters are reacting against.

Random Encounters: Starbase Nineteen

The Starbase is a big space station in a distant system, serving as a command center and support base for the enterprising exploration ships of a federation of planets which are united. This is where velour-shirted or miniskirted starship crew relax before going where no man has yet gone.

Aboard the Starbase one can see a wide variety of different humanoid species from dozens of planets, including a few wary groups of visitors from hostile empires.  

RANDOM ENCOUNTERS ABOARD STARBASE NINETEEN

Roll 1d10 if you're staying in your quarters or aboard your ship; 1d20 if you're moving about the station.

1. Roll Twice and Combine
2. Plot Advancing Encounter: Someone or something connected to whatever brought you to Starbase Nineteen.
3. Alien Super-Intellect: It has taken human form, showing a quirky dress sense and an air of amused superiority, but its true form is an immaterial being which can ignore petty details like time, space, matter, and energy. It may decide to teach some randomly-chosen mortal (i.e., the player-characters) a ham-fisted moral lesson.
4. Fear Monster: It has psychic powers and lives by inspiring and absorbing the emotion of fear. In short, the starbase is haunted.
5. Replicating Swarm: Ancient alien repair drones have discovered the starbase and have gone into a frenzy of Von Neumann Machine self-replication. You can burn individuals with your energy pistols, but the swarm's numbers are increasing geometrically!
6. Shape-Shifter: It's a humanoid which can transform itself into exact replicas of other people. We assume this is a psychic ability to avoid explaining where it gets the clothes. Anyway, the Shape-Shifter is trying to deceive someone, probably one of the adventuring party.
7. Ion Storm: We call it a coronal mass ejection, but in the star fleet they've got a cooler name. The protective force fields around the base are at maximum power and nobody can arrive or leave for a day.
8. Spaceborne Pest: A small alien animal which embodies some contemporary social concern. Perhaps it reproduces too quickly, or eats too much, or perhaps it makes people suspicious of each other or hostile to new ideas. Or it could just lay eggs in your abdomen; that always works.
9. Starship Captain: Super-competent, morally grounded, and looking very sharp in uniform, the Captain can provide advice and some material help, but can't stay around to solve all your problems. Duty calls.
10. Time Weirdness: Some bizarre phenomenon is affecting the starbase and everyone on board. Maybe time is running backwards, or too fast, or is tied in a repeating loop; maybe beings from history or the far future are popping in; maybe people are being replaced by their doppelgangers from alternate timelines. Plenty of opportunity for personal drama while the scientists and engineers figure out how to fix the problem.
11. Abandoned Compartment: The optimistic Starbase designers included room for future expansion, so there are whole decks still dark and empty. This makes a great place for secret meetings, bug hunts, and dramatic confrontations.
12. Energy Field: It may be part of the base's normal systems, or it may be the result of a malfunction. Either way, this compartment is flooded with weird-colored "energy" that has some bizarre effect.
13. Mind Parasite: Small rubbery-looking creatures which can latch onto humanoids and control them. They strike from hiding and are very hard to get rid of without killing the host.
14. Pursuit! Roll again to see who's chasing you through the wide corridors.
15. Security Office: The crimson-shirted security officers are brave, stoic, and well-armed with energy pistols. Against monsters or powerful enemies they tend to die like mayflies. When there's a criminal case or other legal problem they're annoyingly literal-minded and always suspect the wrong person.
16. Sickbay: The doctors here can quickly patch up any injury that hasn't already killed you. Curing unknown alien plagues or the effects of Energy Fields, Mind Parasites, Spaceborne Pests, Time Weirdness, can take a little longer.
17. Sleazy Bar: Even the upright and forward-looking personnel of the starbase need to unwind, and this joint is run by a colorful civilian contractor who doesn't respect rules and regulations. He can offer contraband booze, wise aphorisms, and the occasional bit of illegal tech which either causes or solves problems. This is where one can meet rebels, smugglers, spies, and drunken spacers from hostile powers looking for a brawl.
18. Trader: A humanoid who may or may not resemble an ethnic stereotype from Earth history, this individual has things to sell — alien artifacts, contraband luxuries, maybe stolen goods. There's a 10 percent chance the Trader is really an Alien Super-Intellect and the goods for sale will turn out to be a test of character.
19. Trap: Agents of a hostile empire have laid an ambush for the heroes. They either want to assassinate, kidnap, or blackmail them as part of some larger scheme.
20. Tracks or Traces: Roll again to see what you find evidence of.

SITUATIONS ABOARD STARBASE NINETEEN

(Roll 1d6, then consult the table above to determine who A and B are.)

1. A desires B
2. A wants to capture B
3. A wants B dead
4. A wants to go somewhere
5. A wants to solve a mystery
6. A wants X

REACTION TABLE

Roll 2d6, modified for the situation and any personal qualities of the player-characters.

2-3: Immediate attack!

4-5: Unfriendly

6-8: Neutral

9-10: Friendly

11-12: Very Friendly

Random Encounters: On the Wine-Dark Sea

Sailing the Mediterranean in the Bronze Age was always an adventure, even if you didn't have to worry about angry gods. (And you always have to worry about angry gods.) Roll 1d20 each day when sailing, 1d10 when in port or beached.

1. Roll twice and combine
2. Plot-advancing encounter: Someone or something related to the purpose of this voyage.
3. Giant: He's big, strong, and has a particular sadistic way of murdering people. At sea he's got a boat and a gang of normal followers. Caution — he probably has divine parentage, so killing him may anger a god.
4. Helpful Friend: One of your friends from home turns up unexpectedly, with encouragement, sound advice, and helpful information. He may even give you a useful magical item. Later you learn he couldn't have been there.
5. Ketus: A huge sea monster, part fish, part serpent. It can crawl onto shore and destroy whole towns. Only a maiden sacrifice can appease it.
6. Pirates! A band of heavily-armed men in a galley with a charismatic leader, looking for treasure and loot. Totally different from the heroes.
7. Riddle: Roll again to see who poses the riddle. Typically, if you can't guess it, you'll be attacked or eaten.
8. Sorceress: She's part-divine, wholly attractive, and has magical powers few can match. At sea she's aboard a chariot drawn by serpents, on land she's got a palace and doesn't like guests. There's a 25 percent chance she'll fall in love with a visiting hero . . . and won't let him go.
9. Storm: Wind, rain, and lightning for 1d12 hours. If you've angered a god somehow, the storm is hurricane-strength and lasts for 1d6 days, landing you in unknown regions.
10. Stymphalian Birds: 3d6 man-eating birds as big as cranes, with bronze beaks and razor-sharp feathers. Each bird can launch a shower of feathers in a diving attack once per day.
11. Atlantean Ruin: Part of an ancient structure sticks up out of the water, and more is visible under the sea. There's a 50 percent chance the ruins are inhabited by mermen.
12. Charybdis: A sea monster which sucks in vast quantities of water, creating a destructive whirlpool. A skilful sailor may avoid the whirlpool, but nothing caught in it can escape.
13. Clashing Rocks: These rocks actively attack ships, trying to crush them. Only a superhumanly clever pilot — or one advised by a god — can get past the rocks.
14. Cretan Galley: A bireme of the Cretan navy, on patrol to drive off pirates, rival traders, and meddlesome heroes.
15. Divine Meddling: Some blatant and unsubtle meddling by a god. Roll 1d6. 1-2: Angry god trying to kill you, 3-4: Helpful god moving you along toward your goal, 5-6: Trickster god messing with you in a non-fatal way.
16. Friendly Island: A small island inhabited by peaceful, friendly people willing to help a boatload of strangers. They may have some supernatural protection against raiders, and they may have some custom which tempts the voyagers but risks angering the gods.
17. Moving Island: A small island with trees and wildlife, which moves around slowly. It's actually a huge sea creature and building a campfire drives it underwater.
18. Phoenician Galley: A bireme on a trading voyage. The crew don't like foreigners poking their noses into their exclusive economic zone.
19. Scylla: Another sea monster with six heads on long necks. From her perch on a rock she snatches people off passing ships.
20. Tracks or Traces: Roll again to see what recently passed, or is nearby.

SITUATIONS ON THE WINE-DARK SEA

1. A desires B
2. A wants to capture B
3. A wants B dead
4. A wants to go somewhere
5. A wants to solve a mystery
6. A wants X

Random Encounters: 1890s Manaus

In the late 19th Century, the industrialized world's demand for rubber shot up exponentially. Suddenly poor jungle regions had a valuable cash crop — and that quickly attracted ruthless men eager to cash in on the boom. Manaus, on the Amazon, grew from a remote outpost into one of Brazil's biggest cities. It was a place where fortunes were made and lost overnight, where adventurers and opportunists from around the world gathered, and where the primeval jungle was half an hour's walk  from a bustling modern city.

ENCOUNTERS IN 1890s MANAUS

(Roll 1d20 when you're out and about in town.)

1. Bruxa: A self-declared witch and magical healer. Most likely a fraud, but may know about strange effects produced by plants or animals unknown to science.
2. Con Man:He's got a sure-fire scheme that just needs a few hundred realsas seed money. Are you in?
3. Doctor:Idealistic, fresh from medical school in Rio de Janeiro, trying desperately to cope with street violence, insanitary conditions, and competition from frauds and folk-doctors.
4. Explorer: Just arrived from Europe, recruiting rowers and guards for an expedition into the interior. Won't say what the expedition is looking for — a lost civilization? Mineral riches? Or something more sinister?
5. Gambler:A master of games of chance, he doesn't even need to cheat. The laws of probability and the fact that half his opponents are drunk out of their minds on cane liquor make it unnecessary to cheat. He does keep a derringer in his fancy waistcoat to deal with sore losers.
6. Indians:1d6 natives of the Amazon basin, curious but unimpressed by this metropolis which has appeared out of nowhere.
7. Military Officer:He's trying to keep order and maintain Brazilian authority — not an easy job when his best men keep deserting to join the rubber collectors, while his worst men abuse their authority and take bribes.
8. Missionary:A sunburnt American Congregationalist trying to save souls. Roll 1d6 to see how long he's been out here. 1: Just off the boat, utterly naive; 2-5: Knows the ropes, has useful contacts; 6: Burned-out, lost his faith, drunk.
9. Plot-Advancing Encounter:Something connected with the reason the party has come to Manaus.
10. Remittance Man: A British gentleman who did something back home and now his family pay him to stay far away. He knows the place very well, and may be looking for the chance to redeem himself.
11. Rubber baron:One of the new-made tycoons who controls a significant part of the rubber trade. He got his fortune by being brave and ruthless, and he aims to keep it. He's armed, and has 1d6 goons close by.
12. Rubber collector:An underling who does the dirty work of terrorizing Indians, bullying tappers, and threatening rivals to meet the ever-increasing demand for latex. It's a job for men who are good at being brutal. There is a 60 percent chance that a collector in town is drunk.
13. Scientist: A savant from Rio or Sao Paulo, collecting and classifying the animals, plants, and mineral resources of the region. Everyone suspects he's looking for something valuable, or he's an informer for the government.
14. Secret Agent: A quiet British visitor, employed by the Royal Botanic Gardens at Kew near London. He's just here to gather some plant samples — rubber plants, to use in establishing plantations in British-controlled lands.
15. Steamboat Pilot: He's sailed the Amazon for decades and knows the river and its tributaries. He knows there are places outsiders shouldn't go, but if you pay him enough he'll take you there.
16. Thunderstorm:Heavy rain, strong winds, and lightning for the next 1d6 times 20 minutes.
17. Touring Opera Company:They're in town to perform Aida. Wealthy locals want to be seen at the performance, some youngsters may fall in love with singers, and the company manager is trying to locate a key set which has gone astray somewhere along a thousand miles of river.
18. Tracks or Traces:Roll again to see who you just missed.
19. Were-dolphin: The pink dolphins of the Amazon River are said to take on human form and come ashore to seduce mortals. In a non-magical game, this person is an expert swimmer who has the hots for one of the party.
20. Roll Twice and Combine.

SITUATIONS IN 1890s MANAUS

(Roll 1d6, then consult the table above to determine who A and B are.)

1. A desires B
2. A wants to capture B
3. A wants B dead
4. A wants to go somewhere
5. A wants to solve a mystery
6. A wants X

Vacation in Prague: Day 7

Over the past forty years of travel I've learned that one should always build in one or two unscheduled days when planning a trip. That way, if something's closed, or it's pouring rain, or someone gets a kidney stone, you have a little cushion so there's still time for all the things you wanted to do. And if there are no problems, then you've got a bonus day to spend as you wish.

Saturday the 20th was our bonus day.

In the morning Diane and I went out to a Farmers' Market, which was a bit disappointing. The food on display was lovely and impeccably clean, but all of it was obviously grown far from Bohemia, and it was all packaged for immediate consumption. No ingredients. I have no doubt that there is an actual farmers' market in Prague (probably several), but I expect it's out in the periphery someplace, easier for farm trucks to reach but probably much less scenic.

We did get some fruit for breakfast and took it back to the flat, along with some croissants from a bakery we passed along the way. After eating and showering the three of us set out a couple of hours later with two vague goals: find a thumb drive for Diane to use at the biology conference which was the whole reason we came to Prague, and possibly look in at the cinema museum.

Our course took us southeast, toward Wenceslaus Square (which is really a boulevard) and the more modern, trendy part of Prague. En route we stopped for lunch at a restaurant/pub called "Lokal" which has apparently been serving up the same hearty grub and beer since the 1920s (to judge by the decor). It has the "beloved and unchanging local institution" feel of a classic diner or a Southern cafeteria. Dumplings were had.

We gave up on the cinema museum, after determining that none of us was really enthusiastic about the plan. After that we just sort of wandered, looking for a thumb drive. In the U.S., one can find them for sale at most office-supply shops, department stores, and supermarkets, but apparently the Czechs only sell them at dedicated electronics stores. I don't know if there's not as much demand, or whether Czech computer users are more devoted to "cloud storage." It's not the sort of question one can ask easily.

We did see some lovely interwar department store buildings, with glass roofs and Art Deco sculptures. It appears that independence and the triumph of Modernism don't seem to have put a damper on Czech architects' love of putting statues on buildings, it just made the results more streamlined.

With a drive in hand we navigated homeward by dead reckoning, stopping along the way to get the gloppiest Prague treat: Trdelniks filled with ice cream. Trdelniks are a kind of cake or brioche wrapped around a cylinder and cooked over an open fire. I've found a couple of Web sites angrily asserting that they're not a traditional Czech dish but rather some rank imposture from Slovakia. Anyway, they're pretty good plain, and when filled with soft-serve they're . . . pretty messy. Imagine a giant ice-cream cone with a big hole in the bottom ineffectually plugged by a small cookie.

And that's about it for our trip. We spent the evening packing and getting checked in for our flight home. Robert and I handed all our spare Kroners to Diane to use during the week-long biology conference, and the next morning he and I got a cab to the airport. Sixteen hours later we were home.

Next Time: Impressions and Reflections.