Above: That’s Brad Hamlin with Ray Bradbury in the lower right corner, from the collection of Bradley Mason Hamlin . Collage by Bill Ectric.
In memory of the incomparable Ray Bradbury, here’s something I posted at Bill Ectric’s Place on August 9, 2008:
It so happens that three writers I greatly admire live in California. Two of them know me. They are Brad Hamlin and Jay “jota” Mejia. As far as I know, those two have never met one another, but they have, on separate occaisions, met the third and most famous of the trio: Mr. Ray Bradbury.
Bradley Mason Hamlin says, “I was able to tell Ray at that convention how much his story I See You Never means to me. He said, ‘What? Really?’ I could tell it meant something to him. He wasn’t above feeling good about getting positive criticism for his lesser known work. He had never been told that before, about that particular story. A magical moment, for sure. I was able to give him something very small in exchange for the giant gift he has given me and countless others.”
Jay Mejia says, “I told Ray my intention was to someday give up reporting and turn full-time to writing. ‘You already are, just write for yourself.’ That made me laugh and I told him about all the editors and journalism professors and English teachers who had drilled and admonished me to think first of the audience. ‘Ho, ho!’ Uncle Ray hooted. ‘No, you are your own best audience. Write for yourself. Get up out of bed and get to it. Listen to the stories and the voices in your morning head and bring them to life.’ ”
And Brad Hamlin has given me permission to reprint his Facebook tribute to Mr. Bradbury in its entirity, here:
M is for Magic
by Bradley Mason Hamlin
Above: Brad Hamlin and Ray Bradbury, photo courtesy of Brad Hamlin
When I was a teenager in high school, feeling misplaced, stupid, and alone, I would go visit my friend in the library. Ironically, at the time, I didn’t know that this person I called friend was a huge library fan himself. Sure, I’m speaking of this friend metaphorically and using the term loosely since he didn’t know I existed. Yet, I took comfort in the fact that he was always there for me.
Teenagers mostly read at school, begrudgingly, what they have to read, what they’re forced to read, great old books like A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens or Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. I wasn’t ready for that foreign territory. I wanted to start at home on American soil, and I wanted someone who understood California to be my tour guide so I wouldn’t continue feeling lost. I started consuming Jack London and John Steinbeck, and would continue to do so, but as a kid I needed to go farther out. I needed weird adventure. I needed a rocket. I needed space.
So I would sneak off to the library. You don’t tell your friends you’re going to the library. That would sound weak, better to sneak off and explore on your own. You could take a ride on a Mississippi river raft with Huck Finn or swing a dead cat over a grave with Tom Sawyer. Travel 20,000 leagues under the sea with Captain Nemo or, if you felt really ambitious, hunt the white whale with Captain Ahab. However, my preference was to strap into a ship headed for the stars …
My two favorite short story collections at the time were Ray Bradbury’s: R is for Rocket and S is for Space. Some people think the simplicity of those on-the-nose titles sound silly, but I have to disagree. Bradbury has never been one of those heavy-handed or pretentious scientific genius guys. Sure, there’s room for those guys in the supernatural library too, but Ray has always written straight from the gut and therefore the heart. His work speaks to people, their wild desires, and most importantly their imaginations with all of the potential terrors and tribulations that go along within the mind’s eye.
Ray Bradbury often gets pigeon-holed as a “science fiction” or “fantasy” writer, unfortunately, only because of the limitations implied, when clearly Bradbury has no limits. However, no shame in the title of science fiction writer, good science fiction or fantasy is hard to write. Yet, if you read any of Bradbury’s short story volumes you will find that they exist as multi-genre explosions from a man that writes from no preconceived or limited viewpoint.
Now, aside from the fact that Ray Bradbury has a unique ability to take you for a fantastic ride, it must be noted how well that ride is constructed. Bradbury’s language flows with an internal poetry and passion, and most importantly, a clarity that is sometimes alarming. I have to stop and re-read a line and just say, “Damn, that’s good stuff.”
Well, I’ve often told people, if you really admire somebody famous – try not to meet them. Stay away from them, because when you do meet them, they’re assholes, and their art is forever tainted. I’m happy to say, Ray Bradbury breaks that cliché as well. I’ve seen him speak at various forums on a variety of subjects. Whether speaking at the “Clean Air” convention in Sacramento or to college students at UCLA or at Palm Springs and Santa Barbera where he gives advice to writers or his appearances at the San Diego Comic-Cons where he talks about his life in the fantasy arts and his love for science fiction and comic books – he has always come across as one of the nicest and most genuine people you’ll ever meet. I’ve met him several times during many of these adventures but was able to speak with him the most at Palm Springs. We argued a little about poetry and that was a good thing. He was real, a real person with real opinions and not just some guy who writes books.
I should also mention that out of all the times I’ve seen Ray Bradbury speak, the greatest and most impassioned and relevant speech he gave occurred at the Santa Barbera Writer’s Conference. Ray, sitting in a wheel chair, over 80 years old, cussing, sometimes screaming with a fervor at the writers – told us exactly how it is, told the truth, and shared the magic.
I was able to tell Ray at that convention how much his story “I See You Never” means to me. He said, “What? Really?” I could tell it meant something to him. He wasn’t above feeling good about getting positive criticism for his lesser known work. He told me no one had ever said that before about that particular story. A magical moment, for sure. I was able to give him something very small in exchange for the giant gift he has given me and countless others.
Well, Ray, you are deeply loved for sharing that magic. I wrote this while you were still alive and I’m sorry I didn’t send you this love letter. However, as long as there is an Earth and people on it, you will be remembered. You have more bastard offspring than you could ever have known. The libraries may be an endangered animal in 2012, but they’re not all dead yet. Somewhere, in some half-forgotten room, there is a kid taking down a volume, opening the pages, and learning how to travel throughout time and space. The rocket is waiting, the destinations unknown, mysterious, and limitless.
– Bradley Mason Hamlin
By the early 1960s, Alfred Hitchcock was riding an enormous wave of popularity. His television program, Alfred Hitchcock Presents (1955 – 1962), had made the director a household name. 1960 saw the release of his highest grossing and arguably most famous film, Psycho, followed sensationally in 1963 by The Birds. I’m a “baby boomer.” Watching and discussing Hitchcock with my parents helped us to relate, to bridge the generation gap. I suspect it was this way in many homes.
Hitchcock lent his name to two book series marketed by Random House as “books for young people.” One series, The Three Investigators, was similar to the Hardy Boys adventures, but with three young sleuths instead of two. Created by Robert Arthur, Jr., who also wrote some of the books and suggested story lines for others, always featured a final chapter in which the three boys conferred with Alfred Hitchcock, going over the clues that helped them solve the mystery. The other series was a succession of theme-based anthologies: Alfred Hitchcock’s Haunted Houseful (1961), Ghostly Gallery (1962), Solve-Them-Them-Yourself Mysteries (1963), Monster Museum (1965), Sinister Spies (1966), and Spellbinders in Suspense (1967). My cool Uncle Bob gave me one of these books for Christmas every year. They were large books with eye-catching colorful covers and dust jackets, and at least one illustration per story. I decided to revisit these mementos of my youth on a recent trip to my mother’s house.
Upon pulling these volumes down from my childhood bookshelf and perusing the tables of contents, I noticed that many of the stories were interchangeable with those found in any anthology, not necessarily intended for children only. This is either because kids had higher reading levels back in those days, or because many of the stories originally appeared in pulp magazines, which generally aimed for a wide variety of readers.
At the risk of over-simplifying, I’ve separated the authors into three groups:
- The usual suspects from the pantheon of “weird Fiction” writers, such as Algernon Blackwood, Henry Kuttner, and Lord Dunsany
- The venerable classic writers, including Mark Twain, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Arthur Conan Doyle
- Popular contemporary writers like Ray Bradbury, Jerome Bixby, and Robert Bloch
Special mention must be made of Robert Arthur, Jr., the real star behind these books. Hitchcock did little more than license his name and likeness to the book series. Arthur edited the books and wrote the introductions and liner notes in that famous droll deadpan Hitchcock delivery. Anyone familiar with the Alfred Hitchcock TV show can almost hear the director’s voice when reading the introductions. This is because Robert Arthur also wrote most, if not all, of the scripts Hitchcock used when speaking to the audience at the beginning and end of each show, and leading up to commercial breaks.
In the 1930s, Arthur wrote for the pulp magazines, including Unknown Worlds, Amazing Stories, Detective Fiction Weekly, Collier’s, Argosy, and others. He created and edited Pocket Detective Magazine for Street and Smith, the first pocket-sized all-fiction magazine.
In 1940, he studied writing for radio at Columbia University and eventually teamed up with David Kogan to write and produce a radio show called The Mysterious Traveler for the Mutual Broadcasting System. The Mysterious Traveler ran from 1944 until 1953. They received the Edgar Allen Poe Award for Best Mystery Radio Show from the Mystery Writers of America.
Arthur moved to Hollywood in 1959, where he wrote scripts for The Twilight Zone and Alfred Hitchcock Presents, so he was the natural choice to edit and write additional material for the Hitchcock books.
A more thorough biography of Robert Arthur can be found here, at the web site of his daughter, writer Elizabeth Arthur.
Since I’ve already mentioned that some of the stories in these books transcend the genre of “children’s books,” I also remember that a few of the tales disappointed me even at age eleven or twelve, due to their generic, fairy tale nature. Case in point, Alfred Hitchcock’s Monster Museum includes a story written in 1950 called The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles, written by Margaret St. Clair (1911 – 1995) writing under the pseudonym Idris Seabright. I should add that Margaret St. Clair is a very intriguing author who deserves further discussion, sometime in the near future, here at Bill Ectric’s Place, as her interests included witchcraft, nudism, and feminism, and her novel, Sign of the Labrys (1963) is notable for its Wicca theme. Maybe by the time I read her Gnoles story, I was already jaded by movies like Psycho, Revenge of Frankenstein, and 2000 Maniacs. I recently found out that the same story appears in The Fantasy Hall of Fame, Edited by Robert Silverberg (Harper Prism, 1998) chosen by a vote of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America association. This made me curious, so I clicked through a series of links, trying to understand why the Fantasy Hall-of-Famer’s have such high regard for the story.
The classic role-playing game, Dungeons & Dragons, includes gnolls (notice the alternate spelling from gnole) among its many denizens. Gary Gargax, who co-created Dungeons & Dragons with Dave Arneson, credits the idea to Lords Dunsany. He describes the gnoll as part gnome, part troll, even though Dunsany doesn’t specifically state this in his story. Perhaps Dunsany assumed we would get it.
The term was first used by Lord Dunsany in a short story called How Nuth Would Have Practised His Art Upon the Gnoles, one of fourteen stories by Dunsany in his The Book of Wonder (1912). Writers who have named Lord Dunsany as an influence include J. R. R. Tolkien, Ursula K. Le Guin, Neil Gaiman, and Michael Moorcock. I think now I see the reason for my disappointment. I was looking for stories that would scare me; whereas, the “Gnole” stories were an extension of the fantasy tradition, which can sometimes be scary, but mainly strives to elicit the sensation of wonder.
Margaret St. Clair’s The Man Who Sold Rope to the Gnoles can be seen as an homage to the earlier story by Dunsany. In both stories, someone tries to “get over” on the Gnoles and it backfires on them. Dunsany’s character, Nuth, is a skillful burglar. Stealing valuables from ordinary houses has become so effortless, he decides to practice his “art” on the Gnoles, who dwell in a dark forest and are known to keep large emeralds in their premises. In St. Clair’s updated tale, the interloper is a salesman, a rope merchant, well-versed in all the sales techniques that were proliferating in countless business manuals in the booming American economy after World War II. In this light, I see how the relationship between these two stories would have appealed to the Fantasy Hall of Fame crowd.
For the second installment of Bill’s Bookshelf, I’ve chosen another anthology, The Devil’s Generation (1973, Lancer Books, Inc.), edited by Vic Ghidalia. Each story involves kids, from an unborn baby to teenage punks and everything in between, but the book contains few, if any, actual stories about the devil. Satan was having a heyday in popular culture during the late 60s and early 70s, so the title was probably a way to cash in on that.
Hollywood was going through a phase in which they thought Frankenstein and Dracula were no longer scary, but that audiences could still be freaked out by Satanic themes. When Rosemary’s Baby came out in 1968, most of us knew Roman Polanski directed it, but the movie studio play down the fact that William Castle produced it, due to Castle’s past association with cheap, gimmicky films like The Tingler (1959) and Thirteen Ghosts (1960). I had just seen The Exorcist when I bought The Devil’s Generation, and I assumed Lancer Books was also cashing in on that blockbuster. But maybe not. The copyright date of Devil’s Generation is 1973. The Exorcist was released in December 1973. Maybe there was inside information, maybe not. Too close to call.
By far, the best story in this collection is Call Him Demon, by Henry Kuttner, followed by The Other Wing, by Algernon Blackwood. I’ll save my commentary on those two tales until the end.
The book features a number of authors who had become celebrities by 1973, but their stories here seem like knock-offs. For example, in 1971, Robert Silverberg won the Nebula Award for his novel, A Time of Change. His story in The Devil’s Generation anthology, Hole In the Air, first appeared in the January 1956 issue of Amazing and is no more than a variation on To Serve Man by Damon Knight, which first appeared in the November 1956 issue of Galaxy Science Fiction and became a well-known Twilight Zone episode in 1962.
The Richard Matheson also wrote a famous Twilight Zone episode, Nightmare At 20,000 Feet (the one about the Gremlin on the airplane wing with William Shatner). The Matheson selection in The Devil’s Generation is called Mother By Protest. It shares a few similarities with Rosemary’s Baby, but not as scary, and the pregnant woman discovers that she is carrying the baby of a space alien instead of Satan’s child.
There isn’t much to say about Ray Bradbury’s story, Black Ferris, except for ‘How did it serve the story’s plot to have one of the kids sneak out of his house naked? Did the editor order up a carnival, a skeleton, and some nudity?’
Robert Bloch’s tale, Floral Arrangement, is about a mother and son who live in a house overlooking a cemetery. It first appeared in Weird Tales, eleven years before his more famous story about a mother and son living among taxidermied birds in the Bates Motel.
In The Place In the Woods, August Derleth attempts to do what M. R. James did much better in An Episode of Cathedral History; that is, use a mythological creature as the basis for a supernatural tale.
Day of Truce, by Clifford D. Simak, begins promisingly and really held my attention with a build-up of suspense, but at the end, it fizzled out and didn’t go anywhere. It ended up as just one more meditation on man’s penchant for war.
I saved the best for last. Henry Kuttner’s Call Him Demon struck a chord in me as the most original and enjoyable of all the stories, allowing for suspension of disbelief and total immersion into the secret world of kids. These kids are aware that one of the adults in the house is not really what he seems, and his presence is somehow connected to a horrible meat-eating monster in another dimension, which can only be accessed through the dark, dusky attic.
About Henry Kuttner, Wikipedia tells us:
Marion Zimmer Bradley is among many authors who have cited Kuttner as an influence. Her novel The Bloody Sun is dedicated to him. Roger Zelazny has talked about the influence of The Dark World on his Amber series.
Kuttner’s friend Richard Matheson dedicated his 1954 novel I Am Legend to Kuttner, with thanks for his help and encouragement. Ray Bradbury likewise dedicated Dark Carnival, his first book, to him, calling him one of his hardest-working and most patient teachers; Bradbury has said that Kuttner actually wrote the last 300 words of Bradbury’s first horror story, “The Candle” (Weird Tales, November 1942). Bradbury has referred to Kuttner as a neglected master and a “pomegranate writer: popping with seeds — full of ideas”.
Finally, Algernon Blackwood’s The Other Wing is not scary, but it is such a nicely crafted, classic ghost story that I must give it a thumbs up.
Lower right: Bradbury and Hamlin, from the collection of Bradley Mason Hamlin
It so happens that three writers I greatly admire live in California. Two of them know me. They are Brad Hamlin and Jay “jota” Mejia. As far as I know, those two have never met one another, but they have, on separate occaisions, met the third and most famous of the trio – Ray Bradbury.
Bradley Mason Hamlin says, “I was able to tell Ray at that convention how much his story I See You Never means to me. He said, ‘What? Really?’ I could tell it meant something to him. He wasn’t above feeling good about getting positive criticism for his lesser known work. He had never been told that before, about that particular story. A magical moment, for sure. I was able to give him something very small in exchange for the giant gift he has given me and countless others.” Read more of this “Ray story” on Brad’s blog, The Sun Will Explode.
Jay Mejia says, “I told him my intention was to someday give up reporting and turn full-time to writing. ‘You already are, just write for yourself.’ That made me laugh and I told him about all the editors and journalism professors and English teachers who had drilled and admonished me to think first of the audience. ‘Ho, ho!’ Uncle Ray hooted. ‘No, you are your own best audience. Write for yourself. Get up out of bed and get to it. Listen to the stories and the voices in your morning head and bring them to life. Read More of Jay’s Ray story on Literary Kicks