August 2025 Reading Summary

E C Tubb works within a formula, one that produces gems nearly every time.  In Classical era music, Sonata Form was used thousands of times by composers, and while essentially the form is the same in each piece, it still amazes us today what some of those composers could do with it.  Understand the form and you will understand the music.  Take F J Haydn, for example.  104 symphonies, dozens of string quartets, trios, etc.  He wrote hundreds of sonata form movements in his life, each one different from the rest, and each one successfully tackling a new problem.  He never seemed to tire of it, and good listeners will always be impressed by what he did accomplish.  Is E C Tubb the Haydn of the pulp SF novel?  You bet he is!

 

Planet of Dread is from 1974 and is a skimpy 126 pages long (many Haydn Symphonies are quite short).  Cap Kennedy and his crew are the Doc Savage gang of outer space.  In each novel they are given one major problem to solve, which usually breaks down into several smaller ones.  The writing is so fast paced and the novel so short that there is usually no time for a coda; this book ends about one second after the climax.  When paid by the word, Tubb made certain he did not write beyond the limit.  I doubt Haydn would have been so strict, but then he is an artist, albeit one with a very strong work ethic.  Had Tubb been paid for another page of writing he likely would have ended the novel in a less breathless fashion. 

Cap is on hand for the signing of a contract between a newly adopted planet and the Earth syndicate.  An assassination attempt goes wrong and one of Cap's men is injured to near death.  Known medicine cannot help him, and Cap decides to transport him to the planet of the title.  There, almost anything can be cured, but there is a catch.  Cap must undergo something similar to the trials of Hercules in order to help his friend receive the care he needs.  This takes up a large part of the novel, after which we finally get back to the problem at hand; namely, why was an assassination attempt made and who made it.  The final part of the book deals with the original problem, and it is a slam bang finish to an action-packed story.  I'm not certain if this is Tubb at his best, but it's head and shoulders above so many other pulp writers.  I would love to have discovered what he could have done with a longer novel.  Perhaps, like Haydn, he preferred to be terse, leaving the epics for the Beethovens and Mahlers of the world.

 

I have seldom been disappointed by the Dray Prescott series written by Kenneth Bulmer.  However, this novel managed to do it.  From 1985, Werewolves of Kregen is well named.  It lasts for 127 pages, much shorter than most in this series.  I was so relieved when several volumes ago an all-powerful evil wizard, who could do anything to anybody anytime he wanted, was finally killed off.  It was no use.  Now his even more evil son and mother are at work.  I certainly don't mind seeing wizards (and witches) in heroic fantasy, but to make them able to do just about anything to the good guys, while their own wizards watch helplessly, gets very tiresome very quickly.  And so, in the first of what will likely be several novels, it begins.  The evil ones turn Dray Prescott's private guards into werewolves.  I won't bother to explain the elaborate process which causes such a thing, as it is much too far-fetched.  It's easier to simply believe in werewolves than in the method chosen by the evil ones.  Werewolves run around killing girls (mostly) and eating them.  This happens again and again until the dimwitted good guys figure out a way to stop them.  For the first time in a while I am not looking forward to the next book in this series. 

 

On to the Delphi Classics collection.  Next up was Enid Blyton's Five Run Away Together, from 1944.  Being a child in southern England during the blitz could not have been much fun.  Enid did her part by writing several stories to help take young minds off the realities of bombs falling where they lived.  Many children were shipped north, either to relatives or families willing to take them in during the war.  C. S. Lewis built his entire Narnia series around a group of children escaping London during the war, escaping into Narnia through an old wardrobe.  Blyton's young heroes and heroines have no war to contend with.  But their summer holiday is nearly ruined when George's mother gets very ill suddenly and is taken to hospital.  They are left in the care of an evil housekeeper, her husband, their halfwit son and a smelly dog.  Things don't go well.  Blyton allows the oldest boy, Julian, to stand up to the cruelties heaped upon the children and their dog.  George, whose house it is, decides to run away until her mother returns home.  The others agree to go with her.  They return to the little island where their first adventure took place (this is their third).  George/Georgina is an interesting character, one familiar to anyone who grew up with a lot of friends.  She is a girl who wants to be a boy.  She dresses like one, acts like one, and hates anyone who calls her Georgina.  I wonder if Blyton knew what she was doing here, and how she would have felt about allowing her character to trans to a male?  It is exactly what the many Georgina/Georges of the world need to do.  Knowing a bit about the author, she would have been horrified with the very thought.  Instead, she more likely believed it was cute in a young girl and that she would outgrow such feelings and eventually welcome motherhood and all the rest.  But her mistake was in making George such a strong character; there is no mother to be in George.  Her teen and adult life will always be one of conflict, self-doubt, and likely great emotional upheaval.  Poor George.

 

Original cover art. 

 

Ernest Bramah's The Secret of the League is from 1907 and is a very lengthy read.  It is a political thriller likely of no interest to anyone anymore and might be better off forgotten.  Or perhaps not.  In a make believe England sometime after the millenium (1900), the socialist party in power have given away nearly everything to the lower working classes, who only continue to support them as long as they keep receiving.  This is quickly impoverishing the nation, and the capitalist party wishes to end things and get the country back on its own two feet.  Much of the novel is about how they went about preparing, planning and executing their large scale derring do take over.  While this is fun to read and fascinating itself, what the book really accomplishes for a more modern reader (say about the year 2025) is to instruct him in socialism's beginnings in England, how it spread like a disease, and why it needs to be tempered with some form of reality.  While most of us know that today's capitalism not only exploits many workers, it is also destroying the very planet itself.  Any form of lifestyle that depends for its very existence on continuous growth is bound to eventually hit a wall; a big impenetrable one.  By the end of Brahma's book a thoughtful reader will be doing a lot of thinking.  Communism is a dead end, as is capitalism (though at least with the latter we can all die with champagne in our glasses).  Trying to find the workable balance somewhere between the extremes is the only way to survive our own greed, stupidity and arrogance.  One little SF note: in Bramah's England flight is just getting off the ground.  Not with airplanes, mind you, but with wings!  A nice little twist indeed.

 

The hero arrives to save the girl after a brutal wintry flight. From Bramah.

 

Thuvia, Maid of Mars is Edgar Rice Burroughs' fourth Martian novel.  It is from 1920.  Thuvia, a maid of Mars (and, of course, a princess), gets kidnapped by a bad guy who lusts after her.  John Carter's son (a prince, by chance) goes after him, as he is in love with Thuvia.  It's the oldest story ever told, and Burroughs gives it the works.  If you ever have a bad day, try comparing yours to that of Carthoris, John Carter's son (always put the horis ahead of the Cart).  First his princess is kidnapped.  Then suspicion falls on him.  He rushes off to save her, but someone has sabotaged his airboat.  He has to walk really far, fight some monsters, outwit two magicians, fight some more monsters, find the princess, lose her again, fight some six-armed huge green warriors.  All this before breakfast.  Edgar Rice Burroughs opened the door to so many different authors of SF and fantasy that his influence on future writers can be no less than that of Tolkien.  The Dray Prescott series by Kenneth Bulmer (see above) is one example.  Michael Moorcock's Martian trilogy is another.  I will always love reading Burroughs, even if all his heroines act exactly the same way (they are haughty and somewhat cruel to the good guy who loves her), and even if all his heroes are pretty similar, too.  Bring on #5, The Chessmen of Mars!

 

Cover of 1969 edition by Bob Abbett. There are about a thousand covers of this title, one of Burrough's most popular stories.  I own the edition above, but read it on Delphi Classics. As can be seen, there is not a lot of need for clothing on Mars.  Boxer shorts for him, and a bikini with fetching cape for her.  Add weapons for him and jewellery for her.

 

 We now take a hard right turn.  Sir Richard Burton's Personal Pilgrimage to Al Madinah and Meccah was first published in three volumes in 1855.  I am reading the fourth edition, with updated forewords, in the Delphi Classics collection.  Burton undertook the Haj in 1853.  The first book mostly deals with the time he spent in Cairo, Suez and Al Medinah.  At nearly 500 pages, I will wait for another time to continue the journey.  Try to imagine a non-believer British white man trying to pass himself off as an Arabic-speaking believer making the great pilgrimage to Mecca.  For one thing he would have to be awfully good with the language.  For another, his skin would have to be rather tanned.  If the truth had ever come out on the journey, he likely would have been stoned and beaten to death.  But he pulled it off.  Arriving first in Alexandria, he takes the persona of a Persian doctor.  By the time he has arrived in Cairo (on the little steamer "The Little Asthmatic") his friends have convinced him to try something else, as Persians were treated badly by Arabs and Egyptians.  So he changes into an Afghani doctor (more language skills necessary).  We get wonderful descriptions all along the journey of people and places, and the many small situations that arise.  Finally departing for Suez we cross the Sinai and spend time at the dismal settlement (pre-canal days).  From there we move on to Al Medinah, where a considerable part of the first book (about half) takes place.  It is fun comparing his stops with modern day Google Earth and Maps, to see how much things have changed (highways for one thing, instead of camel routes).  Places he visited on excursions from Al-Medinah, for example, are now well within the city.  I found the book quite fascinating, and look forward to reading its continuation in the future.

 

Finally, one of the most enjoyable books I have read in a long time came along, rather unexpectedly.  Heart's Desire is from 1905 and is one of Emmerson Hough's least known and appreciated works.  The title refers to the name of a tiny settlement in New Mexico, years after the Civil War.  The real town was White Oaks, now a mining ghost town.   The settlement is portrayed as Eden, a paradise with no need of doctors, lawmen, the railroad (which is coming soon), or even women.  It's a community of men who escaped from the East, usually because of female troubles.  The book is filled with cowboy wisdom and cowboy folly, and many of the speech mannerisms are quite priceless.  For instance, from one of the characters: "Somethin' better git did, and it better git did blame soon."  Each chapter is often its own story within the main story arc.  Much of the time not much happens.  It's like everyone is asleep, and it will take the intrusion of the railroad to awaken them.  Hough lived in White Oaks for a time, and is a fascinating character himself, easily worth a major biography.  He was a conservationist, among other things, and instrumental in getting the National Park system started, as well as making poaching in the park illegal.  This is American West storytelling at its finest.  Moments of this novel will stay with me a very long time.

 

Mapman Mike 

 

 

 

May 2023 Books Read

It was the beginning of June 2016 that I began my massive Avon/Equinox SF Rediscovery Series project, reading and reviewing in a companion blog not only the 27 books in the 1970s series, but all or most of the books written by those authors.  It was a crazy idea, but ultimately it has been very rewarding.  I am now beginning my 8th year of the project, down to five authors from 24 (6 this month, due to a Jack Williamson book ordered back in February finally arriving).  A few of the authors had written very few books, so they were wrapped up (too) quickly.  But others, such as Robert Silverberg, happily go on and on.  The only author I gave up on was Piers Anthony, who wrote some of the best books among the 24 authors, but who ultimately became very tiresome and trivial.  By his own admission he writes mostly light fantasy, and he does it for the money.  So I eventually abandoned him.  It shows.  So who is left?  Read on.

 

May began with the usual book by Silverberg.  This one was a novella, published separately in book form, called Thebes of the Hundred Gates. Silverberg was also a popular historian who wrote many non fiction books, and here it seems that he has taken his passion once again into the field of time travel, this time back to Thebes in its heyday.  A man is sent back in time to rescue two time travellers who were mistakenly sent to the wrong time and location.  However, when he finds them, they do not want rescuing.  The novel really gets into the sights and sounds of the city, and will be treasured by lovers of ancient Egypt.

 

Cover of the month.  Jim Effler and AIR Studios.
 

Next came Bladesman of Antares, the next Dray Prescott adventure by Kenneth Bulmer, writing as Alan Burt Akers.  Prescott is a direct rip off of E. R. Burroughs' John Carter of Mars, and the stories are pretty similar, too.  Written in 1975, Dray becomes a spy in the midst of the enemy camp in this very engaging story.  He becomes a sort of Zorro figure, imitating a fop as his main disguise.  This brings forth a lot of humour from Bulmer.  This turned into a very enjoyable entry in the on-going series. 

 

E. C. Tubb's Dumarest saga continues with volume 8 in the series, Veruchia, from 1973.  Whereas Bulmer's series is mostly sword and sandal, Tubb's is pure SF, as Dumarest searches for Earth, a planet no one has heard of.  Each episode we get to visit at least one new planet.  The present story is quite a bit different from the others, despite there being an arena fight starring Dumarest, and the usual assortment of bad guys.  This time he gets to use the secret knowledge from his ring for something useful; this is knowledge that the Cyclans, a human/cyborg race, are after.  And another possible clue to finding Earth is uncovered.  But surprise of surprises, at the end of the book he decides to stay awhile with Veruchia (surprise of surprises, the girl he loves does not die [yet]).  A very good entry in the series.

 

A book of early stories by Jack Williamson, long overdue in the mail, finally arrived this month.  The volume, The Early Williamson, was published in 1975, and contains 11 stories and two essays by the author.  In addition, Jack introduces each story at the end of the previous one.  It is 268 pages long.  Unable to afford any more of the hardcover editions, I found this paperback one on line.  I have already read and reviewed most of the stories it contains, but it does have The Metal Man, which is a pretty good story, the first of his to be published (back in 1928).  I did read all the introductions, even to the stories previously read. 

 

Elric: To Rescue Tanelorn was my Michael Moorcock selection for last month.  There are fifteen stories, five of which I had previously read in other collections.  The highlight story The Black Blade's Song is from 1994 and is 32 pages long.  This is a top notch tale as Elric meets up with Von Bek as they witness the surreal destruction of Chaos.  Elric is offered a unique choice.  As good as anything Leiber ever wrote. 

 

Lastly came On Account of Darkness, short SF tales by Barry Malzberg and Bill Pronzini.  The volume contains 25 stories and an intro by the authors.  My favourite story was Shakespeare MCMLXXXV from 1982, and is 8 pages long.  Shakespeare tries to earn a living as a writer in 20th C. New York.  He doesn't have much luck.  Many of today's writers know the feeling.

 

Turning now to books off the shelf and on Kindle, unrelated to the above series, I managed to read 5 novels.  The first was a SF double (counted as one book due to short length), one novella by Theodore Sturgeon and one novelette by Isaac Asimov.  Sturgeon's The Widget, The Wadget, and Boff is from 1955, about aliens observing a typical (American) Earth family.  It's related to a whole series of type novels about the lives of people living and interacting in a boarding house, though this one is SF.  Some fun characters and situations, and a good read.  The Ugly Little Boy by Asimov is from 1958, about a prehistoric boy brought through time to be observed by doctors and scientists.  He has no hope of ever being released, and so must remain a captive all his life.  However, his nurse has different ideas for his future, and hers.  Again this is a worthwhile read, a blast from the past by another one of the greats.

 

Max Carrados is a blind private investigator, invented by author Ernest Bramah.  Bramah is represented in the Ballantine Adult Fantasy series by two fabulous Orientalist novels.  But he also wrote many short tales about a blind detective who is called in from time to time by the experts. His lack of sight does not seem to impede his detection skills in the least.  This first volume contains 8 stories published in 1914, each of them as good as a Sherlock Holmes tale, and about the same length.  The Tillling Shaw Mystery was my favourite of the bunch, though none of them are bad in any way.  The story can be read for free on-line.  But I strongly suggest getting the Delphi Classics complete works of Bramah for Kindle.

 

My classic literary book of the month was another 600 page super epic.  The Invisible Man was published in 1952, and is Barry Malzberg's choice for best fiction of the 1950s.  Written by Ralph Ellison, the story is about a young black man attending a black college in the south who is kicked out for an unintentional indiscretion.  He makes his way to New York, where he eventually becomes a speaker for the communist party there.  The book rambles a lot, and parts of it seem to have no real purpose.  I enjoyed the first part of the book a lot, but the narrative slows down often for introspection once in New York.  However, it picks up steam again, and ends in a blaze of rioting and mayhem in Harlem, with the hero quite changed by his many experiences.  For this novel I would read 75 pages or so, then read a Max Carrados story by Bramah, thus reading both in turn.  The story is invaluable for teaching how blacks were/are treated by whites, and as far as walking a mile in another person's shoes, this book certainly provides a very rich experience.

 

Needing a break from such severe reality, I read The Gods of Mars, E. R. Burroughs' 2nd Martian novel featuring John Carter.  Published in 1914, the book begins in a really great way, with good writing, a massive comment on religion and false hopes, and enough action to please the pulp fans.  Carter finds himself in a real, live hell, which pilgrims believed to be a holy place to come for rest, never to return to the outside world.  But the facts versus the belief are very different, even though to say otherwise is to blaspheme and be condemned to death (sound familiar?).  There are layers on layers here, a rich ground for some fine writing.  However, the 2nd half of the book becomes a straight forward pulp adventure, with some very poor writing, as Carter tires to rescue Dejah Thoris, his Martian wife.  The book actually ends with a cliff hanger, and readers won't know what really happens to the woman until book 3 is read.

 

I finished up with another masterpiece by James Branch Cabell.  The Line of Love was first written in 1905, and spruced up a bit in 1921.  My Delphi edition of the complete works of this astounding writer includes a foreword to the newer edition by H L Mencken, as well as ten beautiful full colour illustrations by Howard Pyle.  This volume consists of nine novelettes, each one loosely connected by someone from the next generation related to someone in the previous story.  One of my favourites features a love story from the life of Falstaff; another takes part of the life of Francois Villon and gives us a dramatic glimpse into his character and why he was the rogue that he was.  There is even a very touching one about Christopher Marlowe.  Each story is a tiny jewel about marriage, often humourous, sometimes wistful, and other times just very sad.  My first exposure to Cabell was through Lin Carter in the Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series, though my first attempts when a younger reader were unsuccessful.  Later, when I committed to reading and blogging about the entire Ballantine series, I reread his books and fell completely in love with them.

 

One of ten illustrations for Cabell's book, included with the Kindle Delphi edition. 

 

And now some statistics for the reading year, June 2022 through May 2023.  I read 85 books by authors included in the Avon/Equinox SF Rediscovery series, and an additional 56 books by other varied authors, for a total of 141 books since last June 1st.  That brings my total since beginning in 2016 to 769 Avon/Equinox authors' books read and 166 other books.  This upcoming year should be the first year that "other" books will outnumber those from the 24 SF authors from the Avon/Equinox series.  And I do have another SF reading project planned should this one ever finish!  Happy reading.

Mapman Mike

 

March Reading, Part 2

 My first book after reading my monthly allotment of Avon/Equinox authors' works was one from my miscellaneous shelf.  It was called Changing Planes, by Ursula Le Guinn, a book Deb appropriately purchased at the Detroit airport on one of our excursions.  It is a volume of short stories, mostly anthropological in nature, about various other planes of existence.  One can learn to get to these planes only after being stranded many times in airports.  Acquiring the knack is worthwhile, as it alleviates the boredom of such places by allowing the traveller to visit other places and other cultures.  It is a very funny and witty book, and well worth seeking out.  Don't look for deep plots or depth of character.  It seems like a type of Hitchhiker's Guide To The Galaxy, only more restrained and informative.

Next came my introduction to the writings of Algernon Blackwood, one of my Delphi Classics purchases for Kindle.  Blackwood's ghost stories influenced writers such as Lord Dunsany, H P Lovecraft, and William Hope Hodgson.  I read his first collection of tales, called The Empty House and Other Ghost Stories, from 1906.  While several of the stories are pretty standard haunted house yarns (a murder was once committed there, therefore an evil presence still lingers), a few are really quite surprising and good.  "Keeping The Promise" is a plausible tale of two students who made a pledge in blood when they were younger that the first to die would come back to see the other one.  Other unusual and worthwhile stories are "Wood of the Dead;" "Smith, An Episode In A Lodging House;" and "The Strange Adventures of a Private Secretary in NY."  I am really looking forward to more by this influential author.

One of the more difficult things about undertaking the collecting and reading of (and blogging about) the Ballantine Adult Fantasy Series, was not going into further depth with some of the incredible writers I encountered.  I was focussed on the series only, and not reading beyond it at the time.  Fortunately, a few authors had several volumes of their works published in that series, but some did not.  Now, as I come towards the end of my Avon Equinox project, I find I have time and inclination to go back and read more of the Ballantine authors.  One of the authors whose writing I fell in love with was Ernest Brahma.  Lin Carter published 2 of his Kai Ling books, as well as a Kai Ling novella and another short story.  Kai Lung is a Chinese story teller from long ago, and he could be found unrolling his mat under a mulberry tree in various towns and cities throughout the season.  He passes a wooden donation bowl around, then sets out to tell a tale.  This month I read the first such volume, called The Wallet of Kai Lung, from 1900.  The very first story is called "The Transmutation of Ling", and was the novella that Carter published in the Ballantine series.  I reread it joyfully, as it is one of the best of the author's stories.  He writes about a China that never was, an ancient China that he conjured up in his imagination.  The many Kai-Lung stories that he wrote are highly imaginative, very witty, and sometimes brilliant in their messages.  Somehow, the stories are never racist or condescending, and can be read easily today.  This first volume, overall, is not up to the same level of sophistication as his later books in the series (from the 1920s), except for the novella, though there are a few stories that make reading the volume highly worthwhile.

An early edition. 

Next up, I finally returned to the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs!  Between the ages of about 12-16, I collected and read everything available at the time by this author, who greatly influenced me growing up.  Tarzan was a special hero of mine, and drew my mind towards the rain forest, and on to such works as Hudson's Green Mansions, among many others.  Though I read virtually all of the author's books, I did skip out on some of the later Tarzan novels (there were 24 in all), and I never read the Mars series, for some strange reason, even though I collected it.  Anyway, I started with his first published work, A Princess of Mars, which was serialized beginning in 1912, and finally published in book form in 1917.  Just after reading it, the SF lectures series I am watching discussed this book at length!  It combines SF and fantasy, mixes in the style of western pulp stories (of which Burroughs wrote several), and leads readers into a new world from which SF would never be the same.  Using what was known about Mars in 1912 (almost nothing), Burroughs takes us on an unforgettable adventure to a dying planet filled with monstrous alien beings, animals, ruined ancient cities, and people very much like humans.  Because everything is so new, there is a lot of explanation in the story, especially the first third or so.  But once things get going, the action is non-stop.  Having enjoyed Michael Moorcock's version of Burroughs' Mars stories, it's time now for the real thing.  Great fun from the earliest days of SF pulp writing.

 

 

The first cover, art by Schooner, is included in my Kindle edition.

Song of the Lion, by Anne Hillerman, marked my second female author project for this month.  Anne is Tony Hillerman's daughter, and she has carried on his Navajo mystery series, with the same characters and locations, but focusing more on a female officer introduced by Tony but not developed.  She takes that character and runs with it, and I'm sure her father would be proud of her accomplishments.  Though we have been to NM 38 times, we have not been to Shiprock, the area where many of the tales take place.  But readers learn a lot about Navajo life by reading the books.  This story takes place in and around Tuba City, AZ, and the Grand Canyon.  An easy read, it was my choice for my day of recuperation last month from a minor medical procedure I had undergone.  I finished it in one day.

Another fabulous Ballantine author whose writing I fell in love with was James Branch Cabell.  Thanks to Delphi Classics, I now have all his works on Kindle, with original covers and interior art work.  I read his very first novel, The Eagle's Shadow, which sounds a bit like a Navajo mystery story.  It isn't.  It is a drawing room comedy, with such subtle and delightful humour and turns of phrase, that from the outset Cabell was obviously a very fine writer.  The silly plot reminded me of a book by Wodehouse I read not long ago, and would make a fine comparison between the two works (the first Jeeves book).  Both authors are very good at storytelling, and both are hilarious.  But Cabell is so sly and subtle, his prose so low key and unintrusive, and his characters so finely carved, that there can be no mistaking the two writers.  Both are essential reading, but Cabell will be a major revelation to someone who has never encountered him before.  Before being published as a book in 1904, it was serialized in The Saturday Evening Post.

Last up for March was another book from the shelf, one I've had for many years awaiting its turn.  The Necropolis Railway, by Andrew Martin, is a murder mystery story set in London in 1903, specifically in and around Waterloo Station.  It follows the exploits of a young Yorkshire lad who wants to drive trains, fast ones, and gets hired on as a cleaner in London, the first step to becoming a driver.  He cleans engines that are used to run funerals out to Brookwood Cemetery, southwest of the city.  The book gives vivid descriptions of working class life in London at the time (gruesome), and a lot about the funeral railway.  In fact, this book sparked renewed interest in the history of that railway.  A fun read, though mostly for the environment of the time.

Before leaving off, I will include a few more pictures from our summer of /82 trip to Spain.  these next images are all from Segovia.  One of my favourite pics from that trip was the one of the aqueduct.  The other two are what I call "here and there" photos.  First, from the Alcazar looking out towards a Norman church, then back to the Alcazar from the inside of the church.

Roman aqueduct, downtown Segovia, Spain.

 

Looking towards a very old church from the Alcazar.

Looking back to the Alcazar from the church interior.  

Signing off for now.  Looking forward to a visit from Jenn G. on Monday.  There will be ale tasting with snacks, and some fun conversation.

Mapman Mike