I ordered this book through my Elementary School’s Scholastic Book Club in 1965. I recall vividly studying the copyright page. Originally published in 1940, I wondered then as I do now what ever happened to Caroline D. Emerson? This is a time travel story and I read it about the same time as The Time Machine by H.G. Wells. The Magic Tunnel is an easy book to read and I was captivated by peg-legged Peter Stuyvesant. The plot is simple enough: Sarah and John take a subway ride and suddenly find themselves transported to 1664 when New York was New Amsterdam. Books like this for young readers offered a dash of history and a dash of suspense. With illustrations by Jerry Robinson, I also wonder why Scholastic Books doesn’t keep great titles like this in print. Sarah and John’s effort to return to their own time is mingled expertly with a capsule history lesson as Peter Stuyvesant makes a crucial decision when the English take New Amsterdam from the Dutch. The history isn’t forced down your throat and the story mixes fact and fiction for an enjoyable read. A favorite from my childhood, The Magic Tunnel still retains its power to captivate and entertain.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Reading David Bret’s homosexual fantasy about Clark Gable is equivalent to listening to a dance hall girl sing a bawdy tune out of key. She bellows like a donkey giving birth whilst suffering her death throes, but the entire spectacle is too unseemly for any civilized person to tolerate, and ultimately the only solution is to drag the fat and blemished queen from the stage, stick a gag in her mouth, and kick her out of town.
But let’s examine the facts: The ability to construct a readable sentence does not necessarily qualify the author as a professional writer. David Bret has published many books, and this fantasy about Clark Gable proves that he is not a writer. He is certainly also not much of a researcher. The facts? There are no discernible facts in Clark Gable: Tormented Star. However, Bret does manage to spell Clark Gable’s name correctly. This is a small victory for a hack well known for his misspellings, falsified chronology, undocumented quotes and preference for gossip and fantasy. This is not a scholarly work. Its audience will be well deserved; i.e.; those readers at the lower rung of the evolutionary scale who thrive on sexual perversion and smarmy innuendo.
David Bret has made a career writing ugly books about beautiful people. Perhaps he’s fascinated by them because they represent something that he’ll never become – creative and exciting and beautiful. Keep in mind that I am not opposed to homosexuality – to each his own – but I am opposed to re-writing history in order to justify a lifestyle preference. In any event, there are no laws preventing Bret from publishing his gay fantasy about a dead actor and passing it off on an unsuspecting public as “fact.” He has the right to make money from such profitable ventures. What he has forgotten is this: frauds are always unmasked, and the society that allows him his malicious career will also hold him accountable for his lies. David Bret is welcome to his dirty money and his dirty little career. He’s earned every penny. And I am holding him publicly accountable for creating malicious lies and pawning them off to an unsuspecting public. David Bret has performed a lobotomy on research techniques and left its brain-damaged husk behind for someone else to clean up. This book reads like something created by a juvenile fantasizing about his hero, but if only his hero were a homosexual. The end result leaves me feeling that I have encountered a con-man in a zoot suit, and after breezing into my room, he slips out into the darkness with my last dollar in his sweaty little palm. I want my money back.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
I picked up the Berkley-Medallion paperback of Harry Harrison’s The Stainless Steel Rat in July, 1971. The book cost me 75 cents and it was worth every penny. Here was an irreverent and charming character that was a cross between Johnston McCulley’s Zorro and Baroness Emmuska Orczy’s Scarlet Pimpernel. Slippery Jim diGriz could change personalities in a flash, rob any bank he desired, and spew witticisms faster than William Shatner with a bad script in his hand. At 160 pages, The Stainless Steel Rat is short by today’s standards; but, frankly, most of the hardcore science fiction on the market today is inflated both in content and price. The Stainless Steel Rat is a short novel that is vastly superior in construction than most (but admittedly, not all) of the titles being published by Baen or other big name groups. This is a novel that can be enjoyed for what it is; or it can be studied as an example of character development through a first-person narrative structure. Basically, it’s just a lot of fun. The larcenous Slippery Jim diGriz is recruited by The Special Corps, sort of an intergalactic police unit. When the former crook becomes a cop, things heat up and the pulp fiction slams into high gear. Harrison lays on the satire and action in equal doses. Harrison went on to write many other Stainless Steel Rat adventures, but this first one is still my favorite. Of the books that followed, I own The Stainless Steel Rat Saves the World, The Stainless Steel Rat is Born, The Stainless Steel Rat Wants You!, and The Stainless Steel Rat Goes to Hell. One day I do intend on tracking down copies of The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus, The Stainless Steel Rat Sings the Blues, The Stainless Steel Rat For President and The Stainless Steel Rat Gets Drafted. I can only guess at the quality at those latter titles, published after Harrison had enjoyed mass market success. Incidentally, I have been told that at least one of these books was published in Esperanto, the first modern constructed language. Kie oni parolas Esperanton? Well, Forest J. Ackerman told me years ago that more people are learning to speak Esperanto every year. Esperanto speakers are legion. Even Slippery Jim diGriz speaks Esperanto. Ni nomigas la mondon de la Esperanto parolantoj “Esperantio.” Nuff said.
Monday, May 6, 2013
Twenty Fathoms Down is another reminder that our vast cultural history should be preserved for future generations. This nifty pulp tale was published in 1934 in Five Novels magazine. In many ways it is typical of the pulp era; a short novelette with a romantic angle and a stalwart hero; but it also features some fine writing by L. Ron Hubbard whose work is receiving positive attention from scholars and pulp fans alike. These reprints of Hubbard’s work by Galaxy Press are themselves collectors items. In the recent batch of releases (The Devil-With Wings, Gunman’s Tally, Red Death Over China) I think this one is my favorite. Deep sea diver Hawk Ridley (I love that masculine, hardboiled name) has discovered a sunken Spanish galleon bearing millions in gold. But just before diving on the wreck Ridley and his crew discover a stowaway is aboard – Vick Stanton, daughter of his rival. Ridley isn’t convinced the girl’s sudden appearance isn’t part of a set-up to foil their plans, and the situation becomes deadly as they lose a crew member under mysterious circumstances. And the discovery of some rare emeralds suddenly turns this adventure into a deadly cat and mouse game with everything at stake. Hubbard’s natural talent as a writer is evident in the prose; and the flourishes he adds are a delight. For example, Both Ridley and Vick enjoy deep sea diving because it opens up another world; a world of mystery and beauty. “It’s the kick you get out of it.” Hawk tells Vick. “You know what I mean. It’s rather grand.” And Vick understands her man perfectly. “I know. It gets you.” She tells him. But the sea is also dangerous, and this is, after all, an adventure story. Peril awaits Hawk Ridley at every turn: “It was a strange world of blackness, where trees waved slowly and gently and unsuspected hillsides rose up and fell away with appalling suddenness.” Twenty Fathoms Down is a fine piece of adventure writing by L. Ron Hubbard. Galaxy Press is at about the halfway mark in this landmark reprint series and Twenty Fathoms Down is all the evidence I need to continue reading.