July was a fairly good month for reading. It was too hot and humid to do much outdoors, though I did get four wonderful nights of observing with the 12" scope. This took four nights away from my reading, but overall there were so many medical appointments between us that I got to read a lot in waiting rooms. I continue to give Moorcock's fiction a rest, so my Avon/Equinox SF Rediscovery project only features two authors now: E C Tubb with two on-going SF series, and Kenneth Bulmer with one Fantasy series.
Seg The Bowman is from 1984 and is 142 pages long, not including the final glossary. This completes the Pandahem Cycle Part 2 of the Dray Prescott series. In this story we get Seg's side of the story after he and Dray were separated at the end of Volume 29. 29, 30, and 32 detail Dray's adventures, while #32 tells Seg's story. Seg has rescued who he believes is the Queen's handmaiden, and pledges to deliver her safely back to her home. The King and Queen were killed in the cave adventure (#28). Seg's adventures pretty much mirror the kind of things that usually happen to Dray, and Seg is pretty much the same hero type as well. Other than his romantic interest in Tilsi, we could pretty much substitute Dray in this adventure. This is unfortunate. At least the volume about Deliah's adventures provided contrast to the adventure series. New characters are introduced, both good and bad. There are prisons, escapes, injustices, creatures and a battle. Two pygmy forest natives add some zest to the proceedings, as they wish to escape the jungle and assimilate into the outer world. A good entry in the series, but there is very little that is very new. Seg makes a landmark bow shot and marries Tilsi, who, it turns out, really was the Queen after all.
Jack of Swords
is #14 from the Dumarest series by E C Tubb. It is from 1976 and is
152 pages long. I am continually amazed at how pulp writers of Tubb's
quality can continually reinvent the Dumarest myth. Take the same
character, plunk him into similar situations and often facing the same
type of enemy, and make it a readable offering. Tubb and Bulmer both do
it over and over, and while the stories do vary somewhat in quality,
overall they maintain a high enough standard to make readers continue
buying the books. Having said that, I wish both series were over and I
could get on with more literary aspects of my reading and reviewing
project. But like a comfortable bed one returns to gladly night after
night, these stories continue to provide just enough interest and
quality to keep readers like me going.
In
the latest adventure Dumarest is hired on as bodyguard to a merchant
seeking out the Ghost Planet, called Balhadorha. A mythical world, it
offers those can find it the promise of untold riches. As a result, a
lot of rather greedy people go seeking this dangerous world. We end up
on a truly alien planet with a city that is seemingly unreachable from
without its walls. But our intrepid explorers, thanks to Dumarest's
help, manage to get inside. I love these kind of SF stories, where
strange uninhabited futuristic cities from a distant past lure the explorer and
reader ever deeper into its mysteries. This one doesn't disappoint, and
while it is true that a lot of what was promised could be delivered by this
strange world, in the end no one risks their life to find out if true
happiness ever would be achieved by partaking in the strange mist (a la
H. Rider Haggard) except for one old and very sick woman who has nothing
to lose. Another decent entry in the series, though Dumarest's goal of
finding out more about Earth's location comes to nothing.
I read the Kindle edition.
Once again I am giving Michael Moorcock a miss this month, so it's now on to the Delphi Classics! First up was Sherwood Anderson's 3rd novel, called Poor White. From 1920 it is a long and somewhat meandering look at the late coming industrial revolution to the quiet towns and byways of middle America. With the railroads well in place, industry was confined to the major cities for many years. Bidwell was a typical quiet Ohio town until Hugh McVey arrived. McVey grew up poor along the Mississippi River in Missouri south of St. Louis, with a drunk for a father. Hugh was a dreamer and destined to sleep his life away and become nothing more than another poor white without a dream to follow. But he is given a job at a small railroad depot and taken in by the husband and wife who manage it. The wife eventually educates Hugh so he can read and write, and instills in him a work ethic that goes against his nature. He struggles to keep focused on getting ahead. When the couple move away Hugh takes over the station, eventually moving on to Bidwell in the northeast of his home.
A newer long segment then introduces us to Clara Butterworth, whose father believes himself to be a big man in Bidwell. He and Clara do not get along and she eventually completes three years of college in Columbus, where her mind is expanded, especially by a female friend she makes there. When she returns to Bidwell things are stirring, and industry has finally arrived. Hugh has turned out to be an inventor, and his patents soon make him a wealthy man. His painful shyness, however, will not allow him to make any male friends, and he cannot even look at a woman, let along speak to her.
Later episodes deal with the strange marriage between Hugh and Clara, until at last she gains an understanding of him and he learns to trust her. More than anything this is a story of industry coming to sleepy parts of the Midwest. Farms and orchards disappear to make way for factories, and by the end of the novel there are motor cars speeding along the dirt roads. The author has a true grasp of the situation and how it affected small towns, turning them almost overnight into powerhouses of industry and innovation, with Ohio at the centre of much of it. The novel is a good read, despite the frustratingly shy and insecure character of Hugh. At least we get a break from him as Anderson explores many other characters in his story besides Hugh and Clara. America was just beginning its great love affair with "progress" and industry and power, at the cost of Nature and Humanity, as Anderson so deftly illustrates.
J K Bangs' Mr. Bonaparte of Corsica is from 1895. Try to imagine if Dave Barry or some such funny man had written a general biography of Napoleon. Bang's finds humour everywhere, and does historically cover all the main events of Bonaparte's very eventful life. While the humour is often dry and relies heavily on puns, it is still quite readable and seems very modern. I would not wish to use quotes in a scholarly paper, but it makes for fun history reading aimed at the general public. If one knew nothing about Napoleon before reading this book, one can come away with important dates and events secure, at least. The rest is pure stand up comedy.
J. M. Barrie's When A Man's Single was first published in 1888. All the ingredients of a late Victorian novel are here. A handsome and ambitious small village Scotsman wishes to become a reporter. Angus meets Mary and his life turns upside down. She is a sizable station above him in British class life. She loves Angus but is destined to marry a baronet whom she does not love. A wilful father will not have things turn out differently for his only daughter. Angus moves to London after hearing of Mary's engagement (which never happened), and after months of hard work gets himself a position in Fleet Street. Will Mary have him now? Will her father give way? Does anyone really care? Well, actually, yes. Barrie is fast becoming a very good writer, and his characters are often unique (Mary's older brother, for one). His pages have humour, despite a very tragic opening chapter (Mary's younger brother, for example). As it it is not a long novel (one volume instead of the expected three) I can recommend it. After reading the opening chapter I was reminded of a longer musical piece by The Chieftains called "The Lost Child." If you've never heard it, give it a listen.
Algernon Blackwood's The Education of Uncle Paul is from 1903. It comes close to being a truly great novel. Uncle Paul is a strange man, almost as strange as his young niece Nixie (she is 9 or 10). Together they explore a wonderful world of imagination, mostly through interactions with Nature. The book will immediately remind readers of the works of Arthur Machen, whom Blackwood greatly admired. Paul River is 44 years old, and left England at an early age, eventually becoming a person who scouts the deep woods of Minnesota and Canada for good hardwood trees to harvest. He has formed a deep bond with Nature, though the book never deals with how many trees he has caused to be exterminated. He is comfortable living off the land, and is often gone for weeks via canoe on his scouting missions.
When his sister's husband dies, who was also Paul's best friend back in England, he decides to return to England and spend some time with her. He takes a one year leave from his job and as his ship approaches the old world he realizes how unfit he is to live in such a modern world. The house is surrounded by a small woodland, however, and Paul soon immerses himself in the surrounding lands. His companion on his voyage of discovery is Nixie, oldest child of four in the household, and a kindred spirit to his own.
While some deep and penetrating discoveries are made, the book overdoes things somewhat in the final section, going a little bit too far into the realm of the unknown. While the ending is comforting and would appeal perhaps to older children, as this is mainly a novel for adults I find the final portion of the book too over the top. It no longer seems like a novel but someone's own spiritual experience embellished with a lot of tinkling laughter and dancing lights. However, I do recommend the book, as it is unique in my experience. One man's search for truth and enlightenment through Nature and childhood experience makes for reading that doesn't come around very often.
Damon Knight's In Search of Wonder (1956, 1967, 1996) is not only the best book of SF criticism I have ever read, but the best book of literary criticism I have ever read. He essentially founded SF criticism with this epic book, which is over 450 pages long. While it most thoroughly covers the 1950s, the updated editions bring things a little closer to most people's foggy remembrances of some of their first SF reading material. All the great writers are here, and they often get skewered nearly as much as the true junk writers. While there is a lot of things I disagree with, I find Knight so clear and concise and thorough that he is often hard to argue with.
This is the book of criticism that Michael Moorcock did such a hack job with, those his field was Fantasy. Often Moorcock's writing made no sense, and more often than not he did not present any sort of case. It wasn't a book of criticism, but a book of his likes and dislikes. Quite a different thing than Damon Knight's masterpiece here.
There are 33 chapters, and I think I found something to enjoy in each of them. The "Chuckleheads" chapters are priceless, as some of the writing being skewered is just so bad that it hurts. Besides tackling individual authors, I found his most fun chapters to be on Symbolism (a truly outrageous bit of writing!), and a chapter dealing really well with the question of What Is Science Fiction, Anyway? The book ends with a chapter on how to write SF. There is also an extensive bibliography. I should have read this book for the first time 40 years ago, but I'm glad I finally discovered it (thank you to James Blish). I cannot recommend this book highly enough to old school SF fans. It was a great way to finish off the month.
