A New York man is delivered a mysterious carpet, wishes himself away on it, and wakes on a Mars of decayed cities, listless golden people who have forgotten everything, and a princess drawn away by the river of the dead. Arnold published this in 1905, seven years before Burroughs sent John Carter to Barsoom; it sold badly, he never wrote another, and readers have been arguing about what Burroughs owed him ever since. Fifty-four paintings by Turner and Friedrich, from evening seas to seven stars, give this dying Mars its proper twilight.
