Gotta keep pushing — play this in your car sometime, it will improve your gas mileage . . .
I order a lot of books online and I’m always happy when they arrive, but rarely do I anticipate the delivery of one of them as keenly as I anticipated the delivery of this one.
Henry Kuttner was a fascinating figure. He wrote hundreds of novellas, novelettes and short stories for pulp magazines between 1936 and 1958, the year of his untimely death at the age of 42. Many of his works were written in collaboration with his wife C. L. Moore (seen with Kuttner above) — their friends said it was impossible to tell who contributed what to any particular tale.
He was an admirer of H. P. Lovecraft, and wrote a number of stories set within Lovecraft’s cthulhu mythos, He wrote in a wide variety of other forms, too — conventional horror, sword and sorcery, space opera, detective thriller. He had to be prolific, to write fast, in order to make a living at pulp fiction, which saved him from the sins of literary preciosity — his tales are punchy and lean, great fun to read. The horror tales are often extremely disturbing to read as well — he had a genuinely creepy and ghoulish imagination.
He was a mentor to or great influence upon many writers who are better known today than he is — Ray Bradbury and Richard Matheson among them.
The collection of his early tales pictured above, containing mostly horror fiction, published by the Haffner Press in a handsome edition with a sewn binding, is every bit as thrilling as I anticipated it would be.
Or as Abraham Lincoln once put it:
The mystic chords of memory, stretching from every battle-field, and patriot grave, to every living heart and hearthstone, all over this broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union, when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.
We can’t let this republic die, murdered by a tyrant. We just can’t.
Illustration by N. C. Wyeth.
Click on the image to enlarge.
One of my favorite Dylan recordings, and much on my mind when writing Missouri Green, a Gold Rush tale, which has a couple of references to the song . . .
It really doesn’t make sense anymore to refer to Barack Obama as the “President” of the United States of America. He has long since abandoned the duties and responsibilities of that office as outlined in the Constitution, instead assuming powers which that document was specifically designed to outlaw. He needs a new title — but what should it be? The Duke of Earl would work for me, conveying both the pretension and the absurdity of the role he is trying to play. As he walks through this world, nothing can stop him — because he’s the Duke of Earl. Or is that being unfair to a great and wonderfully witty rock and roll song?
Click on the image to enlarge.
It appears that Edward Snowden may not be in Russia, but if he is Putin should respond to America’s arrogant and self-righteous demands for extradition by proposing the following — if Obama will ensure that James Clapper is prosecuted for lying to Congress, Russia will return Snowden to America so he can be prosecuted for exposing Clapper’s lies. That seems fair doesn’t it?