ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF PHILIP JOSÉ FARMER

We’re back into the saddle with a huge Wold Newtonian Special. Not Yorkshire myths this time, but details of a treasure house of books and articles on the writings of Philip José Farmer (1918 – 2009) – including a special interview with Michael Croteau, publisher/editor for the massive PJF Centennial Collection, recent publications and comments on his fiction themes, his Wold Newton universe, non-fiction writing, and so much more.

Dave Brzeski, one of our intrepid reviewers, dared to travel up the River, across the Tiers and grasp the Flesh of it all (which is a pointless set of references unless you read PJF, but there you go)…


ONE HUNDRED YEARS OF PHILIP JOSÉ FARMER

by Dave Brzeski

I have recently been accused of being a bit too fanboyish in my book reviews. It’s a fair comment I think. I have no particular interest in writing scathing hatchet job reviews of books I really dislike. If I can’t find anything much positive to say, I’d honestly prefer to say nothing. Thus, I only tend to review books and authors I know I’ll enjoy. I’ve been a huge Philip José Farmer fan since the early to mid seventies, so I make no apology for the overwhelmingly positive nature of the words that follow.

THE PHILIP JOSÉ FARMER CENTENNIAL COLLECTION (METEOR HOUSE)

I had an opening in mind for this piece, even before opening the book. The thing is, Joe R. Lansdale somehow conspired to say exactly the same thing in his introduction, so I’m simply going to quote him…

“Philip José Farmer is my favorite science fiction writer, but to brand him with that moniker, would eliminate so many things that he wrote that weren’t truly science fiction. Still, in Phil’s case, I think calling him a science fiction writer, and seeing him as one of its true geniuses, is not altogether incorrect. He worked best with those tools.”

I’ve reviewed a few books over the last few years by Farmer, and/or those who have followed him, so I was very pleased to be presented with an advance pdf copy of this huge book. Pleased and somewhat daunted if I’m honest. Normally, when reviewing a collection, anthology or magazine I would read each and every story, making notes as I go. Clearly this would not really work for a 940 page collection of previously published material. I would imagine that most of the purchasers of this mighty tome will be established fans and will likely have already read a good part of the material contained within, albeit I certainly hope that more than a few interested PJF virgins might take the plunge and use it as a starting point for an inevitable Philip José Farmer book collection.

It occurred to me that it might pay dividends to ask the publisher/editor, Michael Croteau some (im)pertinent questions about how the book came to be…

MICHAEL CROTEAU INTERVIEWED

philip josé farmer

brzeski: Firstly, please tell me a little about how you discovered PJF’s work…

croteau: My mother is a voracious reader, and she had a pretty large Farmer collection when I was a kid. The first book of his I read, in middle school I believe, was the Science Fiction Book Club omnibus, The World of Tiers Volume 1, with the great Boris Vallejo cover. I followed that up with Volume 2 of course, Time’s Last Gift, The Stone God Awakens, and The Fabulous Riverboat (yes, I read the first two Riverworld novels out of order, I didn’t know any better at the time!).

brzeski: When/where did you first meet PJF?

croteau: In September 1995 Phil was the guest of honor at RiverCon XX in Louisville, Kentucky. I traveled there from Atlanta, Georgia, to get my collection of books signed. Since there was a long line of fans we could each only get two books signed at a time. I went through the line over and over again with my box of hardcovers, until I was the only one left. I managed to get all my hardcovers signed, but alas, my box of paperbacks was still up in my hotel room.

The following year, after trying to contact Phil through several publishers, I finally called him on the phone and told him I had created this thing called a “webpage” about him on this other thing called the “internet.” I printed it out and mailed it to him asking if I had missed any of his books or stories (I had, but he didn’t answer that question). Instead, to my chagrin, he sent the printout back to me covered in red pen corrections! Not the most auspicious introduction.

brzeski:  But things got better from there?

croteau: Yes, I kept in touch with him as I added to the website. In 1997 I visited him at his home in Peoria, Illinois, along with another fan, Craig Kimber, and we interviewed him for the site. In 1998 I visited again to scan book covers from his collection and he and his wife Bette invited me to spend the night at their home.

brzeski: How did you get started as a contributor to works about PJF and how did Meteor House come about?

croteau: As I continued to visit him, he let me look through his files and I found a lot of material that had never been published. Many of these stories we were able to finally publish in the huge collection of rarities, Pearls From Peoria (Paul Spiteri, Ed.), but I kept finding more material each time I went through the files (thus we named it the “Magic Filing Cabinet”).

So I started the fanzine, Farmerphile: the Magazine of Philip José Farmer with the help of Paul Spiteri, Christopher Paul Carey, Win Scott Eckert, and Keith Howell. Each issue included previously unpublished fiction and non-fiction by Phil, as well as articles about him by his fans and fellow science fiction writers. We even serialized the novel, Up From the Bottomless Pit across the first ten issues.

Farmerphile ran from July 2005 through January 2009, ending just before Phil passed away in February of that year. After a year had passed we started to get restless and in 2010 we launched Meteor House with our first book, The Worlds of Philip José Farmer, Volume 1. The main difference between Farmerphile, and the Worlds series, is that we were now authorized to publish new fiction set in Phil’s worlds and using his characters. We’ve done four volumes in the series, reprinted several of Phil’s novels, and published new novellas set in his worlds by other writers.

brzeski: It’s hardly surprising that The Philip José Farmer Centennial Collection is a huge book, not much under 1000 pages. It can’t have been easy deciding what to include and what to leave out. How did you go about making your selections?

croteau: It was a very long process. I started working on this book about two years ago, trying to decide what to include and even how to order the contents.

brzeski: Is there anything you’d dearly love to have included, but couldn’t for some reason?

croteau: Throughout Phil’s career several short excerpts from his longer works have been published. Two of the better-known ones are “Sexual Implications of the Charge of the Light Brigade” (from “Riders of the Purple Wage”), and “My Father the Ripper” (from A Feast Unknown). With these as inspiration I wanted to showcase some work from Phil’s novels in this collection and have included three new excerpts: “Kickaha’s Escape” from A Private Cosmos, “Plane Talking” from A Barnstormer in Oz, and “Casting Turtles” from Nothing Burns in Hell. I wish we could have chosen excerpts from many more of his novels.

brzeski: There was obviously limited scope for collecting material that the long-standing PJF fan hadn’t previously seen, especially regarding the fiction. How did you balance showcasing PJF at his very best with the possibility of including stuff many fans will not have read before?

croteau: Since Pearls From Peoria already collects most of his rarest works, and last year we published the rather large collection, The Best of Farmerphile, which included more rare material, we felt it unnecessary to worry about works that fans may not have seen before. Meteor House looked at this collection as a career retrospective and we tried to show as many different facets of his work as possible. That’s why, along with his very best fiction, you will also find articles he wrote for fanzines, speeches he gave at conventions, and even stories that sat in the Magic Filing Cabinet for decades before we published them in Farmerphile

philip josé farmer
the paperback version

Many thanks to Michael Croteau for joining us on greydogtales.


The Centennial Collection is usefully divided into sections for each decade, from the 1940s, through to the 2000s, with an informative intro by Michael Croteau for each section.

The 1940s actually includes within its introduction, young Philip Farmer’s first published short story, written at the tender age of ten. His early journalistic ambitions are amply illustrated with a report on the trip he made on behalf of his school, Bradley Polytechnical Institute in Peoria, to present bandleader, Fred Waring with a ceremonial Cherokee headdress, as a thank-you for writing the fight song for the Bradley Braves. “Bradley Brave Sees New York” was published in The Bradley Tech school paper.

We get to the real meat of this section, though, with his first professional sale, a story which would have sold to the Saturday Evening Post, but for his refusal to compromise over their requested removal of a specific scene, which led to him selling it to the lower-paying Adventure magazine instead. “O’Brien and Obrenov” is as classic an example of the trademark PJF humour as you’ll find anywhere. I couldn’t help but agree with Farmer about the Saturday Evening Post’s requested change. It would have ruined the story.

The 1950s: Since that first sale in 1946, Philip José Farmer didn’t make another sale until 1952. In fact he hadn’t even attempted to sell any science fiction yet. His first story in the genre was “The Lovers”, which first appeared in the August 1952 issue of Startling Stories. Familiar as I was with “The Lovers”, and the impact it made on the genre, I was a bit taken aback here—“The Lovers” was his very first attempt at science fiction? Of course, the version I, and I suspect most others are familiar with is the expanded book version, which was first published in 1961. I was certainly aware of the original novella, but don’t think I’d ever taken the time to read it before, so this, at least was something new to me.

The decision to go for Farmer’s best and most important work is illustrated by the inclusion of stories like “Sail On! Sail On!”, which is one of his most reprinted stories. There’s a good reason for that; it’s a true classic. As well as other ground breaking fiction, we have some of the articles Farmer wrote for the fanzines, including “The Tin Woodman Slams the Door” which was the very piece that was responsible for my picking up and reading L. Frank Baum’s OZ books. This was to be a common element of my relationship with Philip José Farmer—all the other books he caused me to purchase.

Sadly, we also get the story of how an unscrupulous publisher cost Farmer his house and the world the novel, Owe for the Flesh—at least in that version.

philip jose farmer
a classic ace cover, from the copy we still have in the magic loft

The 1960s was a huge decade for Farmer. Classic series such as Riverworld and The World of Tiers had their beginnings, and both are represented here. Classic shorter works include the Hugo Award winning “Riders of the Purple Wage” and “The Jungle Rot Kid on the Nod”, which was Farmer’s idea of what the Tarzan stories would have been like, had they been written by William Burroughs rather than Edgar Rice Burroughs. The latter was one of many sales Farmer made to adult magazines. Another excerpt, “My Father the Ripper”, taken from A Feast Unknown is a further example of this more “adult” work Farmer was quickly becoming known for.

There’s less non-fiction in this section than in the previous, but we do get an amusing report Farmer wrote of his visit to the 1969 International Film Festival in Rio. This rueful opening paragraph from the piece will, I’m sure, reflect the experience of many authors as to their place in the media pecking order…

“The Rio airport is hot, sticky, and noisy. We’re standing in line, waiting to board the plane for New York, wondering if this evening, a nightmare (though comic at times), will ever end. Brazilians crowd around Jonathan Harris, the Mr. Smith of Lost in Space to worship and to get his autograph. Behind the worshippers are Bester, Clarke, Ellison, Farmer, Harrison, Moskowitz, and Van Vogt, none of whom are recognized. So people do knot themselves around the lead character in a sillyass space opera. This is natural, I tell myself. One picture worth ten thousand words.”

The 1970s continued to provide us with lots of Farmerian riches. More Riverworld, more World of Tiers… and no less than three books that owed much to Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan. The short story, “The Sliced-Crosswise Only-On-Tuesday World” which began the critically acclaimed Dayworld series is also to be found here.

Few people would claim writer’s block could ever be a positive thing, but in Farmer’s case it was that very problem that led to his re-imaginings of so many classic characters not of his own creation. An integral part of these excursions into the worlds of other authors was The Wold Newton Family. Beginning with a number of articles on Tarzan, including an “interview” with the real Lord Greystoke, which is reprinted in this section, Farmer began his influential fictional biographies – Tarzan Alive and Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life, alongside which came “Wold Newton” stories and novels. One such is the classic “After King Kong Fell”, a long time favourite of mine which I was very happy to see in this collection. Also included are non-fiction pieces on “Writing Doc’s Biography” and Sherlock Holmes, not to mention an interesting story featuring A.J. Raffles and the Great Detective himself.

Another idea Farmer loved to play with was that of fictional authors and their works. “Osiris on Crutches,” which Farmer originally credited as having been co-written with Leo Queequeg Tincrowdor is one example included here. Farmer finally conquered his writer’s block in the latter part of the decade and this is represented by the inclusion of a rare horror story—“The Freshman”.

The final offering for this decade is an interesting and valuable essay on “Creating Artificial Worlds”, which I suspect will still be as useful to budding and experienced authors alike as it was when it was first published.

The 1980s is where pickings get a little slimmer for this collection. Farmer was concentrating on novels, which left fewer short stories to make selections from. A few classics are included, however, such as “The Long Wet Dream of Rip van Winkle”. We have an excerpt from the novel, A Barnstormer in Oz, which represented something of a dream come true for Farmer, as he’d always wanted to write an Oz novel. There’s more non-fiction in the shape of essays and convention speeches, which are actually some of the more interesting reads in this collection for someone, like myself, who is perhaps a little over-familiar with much of the content.

We are also told of yet another case of Hollywood’s lack of regards for writers, in the case of Farmer’s having wasted two years working on an unused treatment for a sequel to Fantastic Voyage.

The 1990s again offers only a handful of short stories. Amongst others this collection includes “Evil, Be My Good”, which was Farmer’s take on the Frankenstein concept. We have another novel excerpt—this time from Farmer’s first and only attempt at a noir crime novel, Nothing Burns in Hell. Non fiction includes “Why I Write” and an interesting piece on his friendship with Robert Bloch.

The 2000s was always going to be even sparser than the previous two decades, as Farmer officially retired from writing in 1999—that’s what I’m guessing most people would assume in any case. I’m pleased to report that this is, in fact, not the case. You will remember that Michael Croteau, in his interview above, made mention of the “Magic Filing Cabinet”, a treasure trove of previously unseen, unpublished material from Farmer’s files. This was the main source of Pearls From Peoria, a huge collection of rarities, published by Subterranean Press in 2006. Not only that, as more material came to light, it became the genesis of the fifteen issue run of the fanzine, Farmerphile: the Magazine of Philip José Farmer. This final section contains no less than eight of those rarities.

Finally, the book is completed with an extensive bibliography of Farmer’s works by Zacharias L.A. Nuninga.

If I have one complaint about this collection—and it’s obviously not a serious one—it’s in the sheer number of times a mention of a particular work in one of Michael Croteau’s intros made me look for that particular story in the contents page, only to find that one wasn’t in the book. Thankfully, I had every one of them somewhere else, but others may wonder if this was an intentional move on Mr Croteau’s part to encourage readers to seek out and purchase the books in question.

Due out in July 2018, Meteor House is taking preorders for the trade paperback, hardcover, or both here: http://meteorhousepress.com/2018/01/26/were-celebrating-philip-jose-farmers-100th-birthday/


So, That Farmerphile Thing…

THE BEST OF FARMERPHILE: THE MAGAZINE OF PHILIP JOSÉ FARMER (METEOR HOUSE)

This book has actually been out about a year now, but it’s important enough a collection to be worth talking about here. It’s exactly what it says on the tin—a collection of the best material from the 15 issue run of the fanzine, Farmerphile: The Magazine of Philip José Farmer. It’s a pretty big book, albeit at a “mere” 580 pages or so, it’s nowhere near as huge as the Philip José Farmer Centennial Collection.

There is, it can’t be denied, some small crossover of material between the two books, mainly in the selection of rare Farmer fiction, but I wouldn’t consider there to be enough duplication to seriously worry most potential purchasers.

The first thing that struck me was the material that wasn’t included. The first ten Issues of the magazine serialised the unpublished novel Up From the Bottomless Pit, which would obviously have made this a much bigger book. Apart from the greatly increased page count, I suspect the publication of Up From the Bottomless Pit and Other Stories by Subterranean Press in 2007 had some bearing on the matter. Sadly that book is now out of print and the Kindle edition is unavailable outside the USA.

Bette Farmer had a regular column in the fanzine and all of her entertaining reminiscences are reprinted in the first section, “Nonfiction by Regular Contributors”, under the blanket title of “The Roller Coaster Ride With Phil Farmer”. Fascinating anecdotes told in a warm, humorous style, they are a genuine pleasure to read. It rather led me to wonder if there is anyone in Farmer’s immediate family who isn’t a talented writer.

I would have been truly astonished had Win Scott Eckert’s Creative Mythology essays not been heavily represented here, and of course they are. I can’t deny that when I read these pieces I sometimes feel the need for paper & pencil to construct some sort of flow chart to get all the genealogical information, and various alternate identities of various characters a bit clearer in my head. I wonder if anyone has ever considered approaching Pete Frame with the idea of trying to create one of those family trees like the ones he so famously made to chart the history of various rock bands? I could imagine it as a huge wall poster. I’d certainly buy a copy!

Win Scott Eckert is by no means the only creative mythographer to have essays collected in this book. Dennis E. Power, Paul Spiteri and Christopher Paul Carey all have material in this section, along with a few pieces by Farmer’s nephew, Danny Adams—another member of the clan with serious writing chops! There’s certainly enough scholarly material here to make this book an essential companion to Myths for the Modern Age: Philip Jose Farmer’s Wold Newton Universe (2005), edited by Win Scott Eckert.

The second section of the book is given over to “Nonfiction by Philip José Farmer”. Here we have his Guest of Honour speeches from various conventions, lectures, correspondence etc. Farmer writes equally knowledgeably and entertainingly about subjects as diverse as Edgar Rice Burroughs, Kipling’s Mowgli, Sherlock Holmes, the many varied aspects of his own work and writing in general. I can’t emphasise enough just how informative and downright readable Farmer’s essays and speeches are.

In addition to the regular contributors, there’s an abundance of material by other authors in “Nonfiction by Guest Contributors”. Here we find in depth essays on Farmer and his work from friends and colleagues. There are some familiar names here. Will Murray, Joe R. Lansdale, Spider Robinson, Howard Waldrop and many others. There’s even a contribution from “Leo Queequeg Tincrowdor”. It’s particularly fascinating to read the tales of how meeting and getting to know Farmer affected the lives of so many people.

For many readers, there’s no getting away from the fact that the section entitled “Fiction by Philip José Farmer” will be where much of their interest lies. No less than thirteen stories by Philip José Farmer that hadn’t seen the light of day until they were published in Farmerphile: The Magazine of Philip José Farmer are included in this volume. Not only that, there’s a fourteenth tale, “Getting Ready to Write”, which serves to add Paul Spiteri to that list of very special authors who somehow managed to seamlessly complete an unfinished story of Farmer’s, from his fragments and notes.

Some of the non-fiction pieces in this collection were revised and expanded for inclusion in various of the Titan Books Philip José Farmer reissues. In those cases this book collects those more recent versions in preference to the originals.

As with the Philip José Farmer Centennial Collection, this is another book I’m reviewing without first reading it from cover to cover. Obviously, having picked up all the issues of Farmerphile as they were published, not to mention all of the Titan Books Farmer reissues, much of the material was familiar to me. I will absolutely be reading various pieces from this collection again and again over the years to come.

Both the trade paperback and hardcover versions of The Best of Farmerphile are available to order here: http://meteorhousepress.com/the-best-of-farmerphile/


If, dear reader, you’re naively thinking that’s all I have to bring to your attention regarding the centennial of one of the greatest Grand Masters of science fiction—well, you’d be wrong. Published just a few days ago (July 2nd) I couldn’t possibly not mention…

THE GRANDEST ADVENTURE: WRITINGS ON PHILIP JOSÉ FARMER by CHRISTOPHER PAUL CAREY (LEAKY BOOT PRESS)

Christopher Paul Carey has written quite a lot about Philip José Farmer over the years, so rest assured that, though this book does indeed include a few short pieces that also feature in The Best of Farmerphile, they represent just a small fraction of the treasure trove of material in this collection. In fact the majority of the material that originally appeared in that now out of print fanzine is now only available here. The material collected ranges from 1996 to 2018 and originally saw print in such diverse publications as The Bronze Gazette (Doc Savage fanzine), Farmerphile: The Magazine of Philip José Farmer, Locus, The Burroughs Bulletin, SF Signal, The Worlds of Philip José Farmer and a Farmercon Convention Program. We also get assorted forewords, afterwords, prefaces etc. from specific editions of Farmer’s books, some of which are now seriously hard to get hold of and a good number of pieces previously only available on assorted websites.

To be found here are, as one would expect, several pieces of in-depth Wold Newton research, alongside detailed examinations of some of Farmer’s greatest works with much focus on the underlying themes that drove them. Subjects covered here include Doc Savage, Sufism, Fictional, Authors and Edgar Rice Burroughs. It will come as no surprise to those that have read my somewhat enthusiastic reviews of Christopher Paul Carey’s continuations of Farmer’s Khokarsa books that my favourites here were the personal reminiscences of Carey’s meetings with Farmer and working alongside him on the final part of the Khokarsa trilogy. Song of Kwasin, along with a number of detailed, informative essays on the world of Khokarsa.

Few, if any, can rival Christopher Paul Carey in his in depth knowledge of Farmer and his work, and this is a truly exemplary collection of pieces that brings us so much closer to the Grand master himself. The book is heavily illustrated throughout with relevant photographs and book covers. Christopher Paul Carey can be found talking about The Grandest Adventure on his vlog on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LSRSCxO0DQ0&feature=youtu.be

The book may be ordered from Amazon, the Book Depositry, and others. Here’s the publisher’s link:

  http://www.leakyboot.com/index.php/component/content/article/85-books/nonfiction2/141-the-grandest-adventure


THE BEAST AND OTHER SECRET HISTORIES by JOHN ALLEN SMALL (ETHAN BOOKS)

This is the point at which I had assumed I’d be done with talking about books celebrating 100 years of Philip José Farmer. But just as I was working on my first draft of this blog post, another member of the New Wold Newton Meteorics Society—John Allen Small—announced the publication of The Beast and Other Secret Histories, yet another collection of writings about Philip José Farmer. At under 150 pages, this is shorter than all the other books under discussion here, but it is no less interesting for that.

As with Carey’s book, the pieces found herein originally appeared in various outlets, both in print and online, including Glimmerglass: The Creative Writer’s Journal, Myths for the Modern Age, and Encyclopedia Galactica. I rather suspect that two of those are going to be pretty hard to find these days. Also in this book, we have an opportunity to witness exactly how the various members of the New Wold Newton Meteorics Society worked together, in the form of emails that Small exchanged with Win Scott Eckert.

In this case, the book is pretty much all about Wold Newton Family research. Subjects covered include, the true history of King Kong, James Phelps and the Impossible Missions Force, Louis L’Amour’s Sackett family saga, Lilith: the First Vampire, the Eugenics War, the Questor File and early super-heroes. John Allen Small’s writing tends to have a lighter, more conversational tone than that of his fellow creative mythographers, which is by no means a criticism.

Finally, Small treats us to an actual story, “The Bright Heart of Eternity”, where a man named Phil meets a man named Ed in another world. Short and sweet, it sent a shiver down my spine.

I think this one is an Amazon exclusive. Here are the links for the USA:

https://www.amazon.com/Beast-Other-Secret-Histories-Writings/dp/197408812X

and the UK:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Beast-Other-Secret-Histories-Writings/dp/197408812X


It occurred to me, while putting together this feature on Philip José Farmer, that there are many interesting parallels between PJF and another cult author who is often simply referred to by his three initials alone.

H.P. Lovecraft, and Philip José Farmer both had a group of—disciples is probably not too strong a word—who followed and supported his work. (I think the New Wold Newton Meteorics Society is a much cooler name than the Lovecraft Circle, but I suspect the latter was applied to HPL’s group after the fact, whereas PJF’s chose their own). In both cases—August Derleth’s Arkham House for HPL and Michael Croteau’s Meteor House for PJF—one of these friends and followers created a publishing imprint with the specific purpose of promoting the master’s work, which proved to have a wider scope than that laudable ambition alone would have suggested. Both HPL and PJF created a mythos of sorts that their immediate circle would contribute to—and which would go on to inspire and be added to by many, many authors beyond that circle. In both cases, there would eventually be material produced that is considered by serious scholars to be of a lesser quality—that endless multitude of authors who considered name-dropping an ancient tome, or Great Old One in their fiction was enough to make it Lovecraftian, and those who were so enamoured with the Wold-Newton Family concept that they would attempt to shoehorn in their favourite characters via the flimsiest of reasoning.

Of course the differences were even more marked than the similarities. For one thing, Farmer doesn’t come with the baggage of personal views Lovecraft held that many now find abhorrent. Farmer also, thankfully, lived an awful lot longer than Lovecraft, who died at just 37 years old. Farmer’s Wold Newton Mythos actually embraced and encompassed Lovecraft’s Cthulhu Mythos, along with so much more. Similarly, his writing was of a much broader scope. Lovecraft didn’t really deal with sex, sexuality or race much in his writing—for which we should possibly be thankful considering some of his views. One couldn’t deny that religion played a part in Lovecraft’s stories—in that he invented one—but he never dealt with the concept in as realistic and intelligent a manner as Farmer, who broke taboos and opened up the worlds of science fiction, horror and fantasy to concepts that had previously been avoided.


I could go on, and on, and on about how Philip José Farmer and the New Wold Newton Meteorics Society have kept my reading list full for so many years—how they’ve cost me a fortune trying to keep up with Farmer’s work, their work and all the work of the countless authors who weren’t even aware that they were writing about Wold Newton Family members at the time. I look back with fond memories at the hours I used to spend sitting on the floor in a local second hand bookshop searching through heap after heap of books, gradually building up a pile that featured characters I had only became aware of by reading Tarzan Alive and Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life.

While my bank account may regard you with some little antipathy, I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Phil*, for the all the books and the friends, both real and fictional, who I may never have met had it not been for you.

The Official Philip José Farmer Web Page can be found here: http://www.pjfarmer.com

* I never had the pleasure of meeting, nor corresponding with you myself, and you were likely never even aware of my existence, but I’d like to think you’d forgive me that one instance of familiarity.

 

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BRIGHT THEY WERE, AND NEWLY PUBLISHED

Time for another quick round-up of strange books, which are, we cannot deny, the cornerstone of what we do here when we’re not out with the dogs. A word from author and designer Matt Bright, news of recent publications from Amanda DeWees and others, and all that salamagundi (a hodgepodge of everything you can find, if you needed to know). Yep, it’s signpost time for many different tastes…

We read a lot. The Editor-in-Chief reads books by the kilo, old greydog does his best, and our contributors do their share. Even Chilli chews on some of the larger hardbacks. Django, we admit, is not very bookish. At the moment, the recent John Connolly has been marked as a jolly good read, but not going as far as it might. E-in-C thought it could have been even better with a clearer direction. Nadia Bulkin’s She Said Destroy collection seems to be excellent, and Enid Blyton’s Magic Faraway Tree series is as bonkers as we remember it. But here are a few examples of new and forthcoming stuff.



First of all, Occult Detective Quarterly #4 is on the shelves, with a most magnificent cover by Argentinian artist Sebastian Cabrol. Within you will find ten stories from lots of great folk, and this issue is spearheaded by a folk-horror novelette by British writer Simon Avery, ‘Songs for Dwindled Gods’. As ever the tales range across time and space, from Roman centurions in ancient Alexandria to a druidic detective in contemporary America.

You can also read an interview with Simon Avery, who reveals that his excellent folk horror novelette in ODQ #4 is part of a planned loosely-connected series. http://www.angelaslatter.com/the-teardrop-method-simon-avery/

The full fiction line-up:

  • Songs for Dwindled Gods by Simon Avery
  • Black Frog and Black Scarab by Davide Mana
  • Charms by Sarah Hans
  • The Bascomb Rug by Josh Reynolds
  • The Burning Pile by Justin Guleserian
  • The Case of the Black Lodge by Aaron Vlek
  • The French Lieutenant’s Gurning by Rhys Hughes
  • Those Who Live in Shadow by Paul M. Feeney
  • Abduction in Ash by Dale W. Glaser
  • Yellow Light District by Aaron Besson
  • Faultlines by Sam Gafford

And Sebastian’s widely-acclaimed cover has been featured in his exhibition in Argentina.

ODQ can be picked up here:

http://amzn.eu/5jnoZnz

http://a.co/hs5WkMZ

You can check out more about ODQ on this site, or visit the new website, which has links to ODQ merchandise:

https://occultdetectivequarterly.com/



A SYBIL SPEAKS

Entirely by accident, this brings us neatly to a new book by Amanda DeWees, A Haunting Reprise, which is the third book in the Sybil Ingram Victorian Mystery series. ODQ #1 had the pleasure of presenting a short story in Amanda’s series, ‘When Soft Voices Die’ (http://amzn.eu/2dSASpF) and an excellent novelette will be in the forthcoming anthology ODQ Presents, from Ulthar Press.

As for the premise of A Haunting Reprise

“…Actress-turned-medium Sybil Ingram is enjoying life in Paris in 1873 with her new husband, violinist Roderick Brooke, when her past suddenly catches up with her in the form of her pushy little sister. Polly wants Sybil to help her become an actress–which means getting the blessing of their father, who is near death.

“Back in London, Sybil’s homecoming is chilly. Even worse is her reunion with her former mentor, Gerhardt Atherton, who is still falsely claiming that Sybil embezzled from the theater troupe. When Atherton is found dead, his business partner, Ivor Treherne, is arrested for murder. But Sybil isn’t satisfied that the police have unearthed the whole story.

“Matters reach a crisis when the drama in her family takes a supernatural form. As she turns to a fellow medium to help her banish a poltergeist and determine who really killed Atherton, Sybil soon realizes that someone is trying to silence her…perhaps for good.”

https://www.books2read.com/AHauntingReprise



This Autumn/Fall will see the release of the tenth volume in the Wilde Stories series of the Year’s Best Gay Speculative Fiction, from Lethe Press.

matt bright

Matt Bright, writer, designer and editor, has one of his most outstanding tales therein, ‘The Library of Lost Things’, which we read as a Tor.com story and really enjoyed. He kindly shared a few personal words with us about his inclusion:

“A couple of years, after I sold my first pro story to Queers Destroy Horror, I wrote a writer bucket list. The first three entries were:
– Make a second pro sale.
– Get a story into Wilde Stories.
– Sell a story to Tor.

“The first is self-explanatory. That’s the bit that proves it wasn’t a fluke to sell your first. As for the second: at the beginning of my twenties I was pretty busy being buried under Life Stuff, and both writing and reading had become things I thought of myself as doing, but didn’t. Then I discovered the Wilde Stories collections, and they were a gateway not only into queer stories, as you might expect, but into the world of speculative fiction again. I resolved that I wanted to get into the books long before I ever had any notable friendship with their editor, Steve Berman.

“On to the third: The Library of Lost Things. I wrote this story as a birthday present for Steve. At the time he was constantly starting and then abandoning novels, and my fictional library was invented as the place where those novels ended up. In an early draft, one of the Indexers looks at a pile of Steve Berman novels and says ‘Lord, we’ve got a whole bookcase of these.’ I sent him it on his birthday, and in true Steve style he rang me up the next day to give me editorial notes because, in his words, ‘this could be your Tor story’. And he was right (even though he was wrong about cutting the talking rats. I held firm on that.) – I submitted it through slush and 19 months later (yes, 19!) got an acceptance.

“And now here it is in Wilde Stories. (And lest you think any favouritism is at play there, Steve has turned down every single other story I’ve ever sent him for it, not that I’m still sour about that, oh no.) But it’s bittersweet, because this Wilde Stories will be the last edition. I’m proud to now be able to call some of the authors from earlier volumes friends and acquintances, and I’m even prouder that I managed to tick this off my bucket list and be a part of the final volume.

“Now, on to the rest of that list, I guess.”

On a sadder note, Steve Berman, ace supremo of Lethe Press and a talented author in his own right, believes this will the final volume of Wilde Stories. The line-up is:

  • Serving Fish by Christopher Caldwell
  • Some Kind of Wonderland by Richard Bowes
  • Pan and Hook by Adam McOmber
  • The Summer Mask by Karin Lowachee
  • The Library of Lost Things by Matthew Bright
  • Making the Magic Lightning Strike Me by John Chu
  • Salamander Six-Guns by Martin Cahill
  • Cracks by Xen
  • The Future of Hunger in the Age of Programmable Matter
    by Sam J. Miller
  • Uncanny Valley by Greg Egan
    Love Pressed in Vinyl by Devon Wong
  • There Used to Be Olive Trees by Rich Larson
  • The Secret of Flight by A.C. Wise
  • A Bouquet of Wonder and Marvel by Sean Eads

Pre-order Link:

matt bright

https://www.lethepressbooks.com/store/p542/Wilde_Stories_2018.html



SCARY STUFF

A regular visitor to greydogtales, Willie Meikle has just had another of his thrilling scary adventure novels, Operation: Siberia released by Severed Press:

“When Captain John Banks and his squad are sent to investigate a zoo in Siberia, he expects to find tigers, bears, maybe elk But there is something there that is new, yet very, very old. Beasts that haven’t walked the Earth since the last Ice Age have been cloned, revived, and set loose to roam free.

“And some of them are very hungry.”

We gather that Willie has also nearly finished a further collection of his cracking Carnacki the Ghost Finder stories, so we look forward to that.

http://a.co/7zRlhbK


For a strange and darker read, we’ve been told that Farah Rose Smith’s The Almanac of Dust, recently out from Wraith Press, is an interesting one, but we haven’t got to it yet.

“A scholar and metaphysical naturalist cares for his ailing wife as he studies The Almanac of Dust, a cryptic text that documents the presence of unusual manifestations of dust around the world.”

http://www.lulu.com/shop/farah-rose-smith/the-almanac-of-dust/paperback/product-23609188.html


But we are writing, frantically, so there we stop. Back in a couple of days…

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GETTING PUBLISHED BEFORE THAT TRUCK HITS YOU

Do you want to be an award-winning published author? Do you want to get paid for it, as well? You do? Well, you’re in luck. Here’s an exclusive no-win no-fee guide, which has worked EVERY TIME for our major client group. Yes, ONE HUNDRED PERCENT of John Linwood Grants have succeeded in selling their writing using this tried and trusted method.

getting published

And here is what you need to do:

  • STEP ONE: Write large, complex drafts of novels which no one but you will ever understand. Don’t even send most of them anywhere.
  • STEP TWO: If anyone does show interest, plead having to earn a living as an excuse not to do anything further about it. Lose most of the manuscripts.
  • STEP THREE: Realise that you’re fifty eight years old, falling apart, and that the first two steps didn’t really help.
  • STEP FOUR: Write short stories, novelettes and novellas instead.
  • STEP FIVE: Decide in advance that exposure doesn’t pay for dog food, so hurl the stories at paying markets instead, and wait. Rinse and repeat.

There you go. If you doubt the value of this approach, then you only have to look at our splendid testimonials:

“Thanks to your guide, I’m anxious, overworked, and afraid to answer the telephone. Well done, greydogtales!” J Linwood Grant

“My partner throws plates at me when I fail to cover the gas and electricity bills – but now I can afford a second-hand protective helmet,” John L Grant

“Maybe I should have finished those novels after all. Bugger!” JLG

But those are just the usual whingers. What they won’t tell you, because they’re shy, unassuming authors, is that they have been published, have produced a tolerable body of work by sticking to our advice, and have more in the pipeline. What do they expect – a living wage?

getting published
the author contemplates his vast wealth

Because nobody ever believes us, here’s a presentation which shows graphically what YOU can achieve with only a couple of years of mind-numbing hard work. It would have been in PowerPoint, but that’s too expensive, so we did a list instead.

A VAGUE BIBLIOGRAPHY

Due to the complex, quantum-encoded nature of Mr Linwood Grant’s record-keeping, this list is not complete, but it is at least in roughly the right order.

The Last Edwardian Cycle – Late Victorian to the 1940s

Tales of murder, madness and often the supernatural, inhabiting the same timeline in one way or another, and occasionally interconnecting. Includes non-occult stories of Sherlock Holmes and Mr Edwin Dry, as well as out-and-out weird tales of psychics, horrors and Mamma Lucy, the 1920s hoodoo-woman.

weirdbook

  • A Study in Grey (novella), 18thWall Productions 2016
  • The Meeting, in Carnacki: The Lost Cases, Ulthar Press 2016
  • The Dark Trade, in Carnacki: The Lost Cases, Ulthar Press 2016
  • Grey Dog, in Carnacki: The Lost Cases, Ulthar Press 2016
  • The Jessamine Garden, in Beneath the Surface, Parsec Ink 2016
  • The Dragoman’s Son, in Holmes away from Home, Belanger 2016
  • The Jessamine Touch, in His Seed, Lethe Press 2017
  • A Persistence of Geraniums, in collection of the same name, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • His Heart Shall Speak No More, in Geraniums, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • A Word with Mr Dry, in Geraniums, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • The Workman & His Hire, in Geraniums, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • The Intrusion, in Geraniums, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • A Loss of Angels, in Geraniums, Electric Pentacle 2017
  • On Ullins Bank, in Fearful Fathoms, Scarlet Galleon 2017
  • Hoodoo-man, in Speakeasies & Spiritualists, 18thWall 2017
  • The Witch of Pender, in Weirdbook: Witches, Weird Book 2017
  • Affair of the Red Opium, in Holmes in the Realms of H G Wells, Belanger 2017
  • The Second Life of Jabez Salt, in Eliminate the Impossible, MX Publishing 2017
  • Where All is Night, and Starless, in Chthonic, Martian Migraine 2018
  • Mr Aloysius Clay, in March Hare-Raisers, 2018
  • The Musgrave Burden, coming in Holmes: Canonical Sequels, Belanger 2018
  • Death Among the Marigolds, coming in Silver Screen Sleuths, 18thWall 2018
  • The Assassin’s Coin (novel), coming from IDF Publishing 2018
  • Songs of the Burning Men, coming from 18thWall 2018
  • Whiskey, Beans & Dust, tba, 2018

Strange Tales from the 1970s to the Future

Everything from contemporary dark weird and Lovecraftian fiction to tongue in cheek folk horror such as St Botolph-in-the-Wolds.

  • Hungery, in Giants & Ogres, Cbaybooks 2016
  • Messages, in Cthulhusattva, Martian Migraine Press 2016
  • Stranger Passing Through, in Blood, Sweat & Fears, Nosetouch Press 2016
  • Something Annoying This Way Comes, on greydogtales.com 2016
  • The St Valentine’s Day Mascarpone, on greydogtales.com 2016
  • The Horse Road, in Lackington’s Magazine, 2016
  • Preacher, in Ravenwood Magazine, Electric Pentacle Press 2016
  • A Midwinter Night’s Carol on greydogtales.com 2016
  • The Age of Reason, in The Stars at My Door, April Moon Books 2017
  • With the Dark & Storm, in Equal Opportunities Madness, Otter Libris 2017
  • Cinnamon and Magic, in The Monster in Your Closet, Cbaybooks 2017
  • Cinderella and the Seven Penguins, on greydogtales.com 2017
  • Horseplay, on greydogtales.com 2018
  • On Abydos, Dreaming, coming in Survivors, Lethe Press 2018
  • Hour of the Pale Dog, coming in Skelos Magazine 2018
  • Those Who Stay, coming in Voices in the Darkness, Ulthar Press 2018
  • Sanctuary, coming in Weirdbook 2018

Finally, as a taster, here’s an extract from the start of ‘Where All is Night, and Starless’, published this year by Martian Migraine Press in their anthology Chthonic.

WHERE ALL IS NIGHT, AND STARLESS

Illo © Fufu Fruenwahl/Martian Migraine

 

March, 1919, Inner Hebrides

The agent tells me that the house is built on solid bedrock. It has three rooms, with bare stone walls forming a kitchen, a bedroom and a parlour. A failed farmhouse for a failed farm. The last owner died in the war, childless, and his wife soon after, in 1918. The agent has no record of how or why. He has a florid, anxious face – a Lowland Scot, desperate to please and yet ill-informed about the Western Isles. I have neighbours on the other side of the island, a handful of crofters, but he knows little about them. A boat brings supplies once a week.

Nae so fine a place for a lassie.” He shakes his head, a sudden burst of conscience, perhaps. “And if your faither takes bad…”

I take out my cheque book, and let my pen speak for us. He swallows his doubts.

Aye, well, there’s nae a snib on the isle, I’ll wager.”

I stare until he realises.

No locks, Miss Allen. So I dinna have a key to gae ye.”

Our business done, he trudges to the small jetty. The sky is turning dark with promised rain, and he’s eager to be away. My father sits in his wheelchair, waiting for me.

Inside, then,” I say. There is grass, wiry grass, under the wheels of his chair, but the soil is thin. I make him comfortable in the parlour, which will be his.

Soon,” my father mutters.

I have waited almost two years, and seen him through four hospitals and recuperation homes. The urgent need I once had has been mellowed, and now I can wait. I can feel that his story is coming, the words which have been trapped inside him since the blast which shook the spires of half of Europe.

We settle, and for a week I let him inspect our new home. He pronounces that we are on granitic gneiss, which seems to reassure him. The term means little to me, but I notice a change in him. He walks, only a few steps, but it is heartening.

Lieutenant Robert Allen, thirty nine years old, of the 183rd Tunnelling Company in Belgium. A tall, slim figure, easily missed in a crowd – except for the way his head cocks at any unexpected noise. Like a dog, a dog which cannot settle.

When they dragged him from the remains of a tunnel-mouth, they did not know what they had. He was recovered alone and in a state of exhaustion, raving, covered in blood. Those fingernails which he retained were ragged and torn. They had no explanation for me.

His commanding officer wrote a letter which betrayed more than I think he intended. “In the finest tradition of the Army,” and “Work vital to our efforts,” – brown ink on cream paper – but in between, curious phrases concerning sudden action and “necessary haste”. By which I have come to believe that a mine was blown before its due time, and that my father and the sappers were still at work when it was done.

They call his condition shell shock. He himself denied this when I sat by him in the early months. He promised to tell me the truth, one day, when he could. This lonely isle, I believe, is what he has been seeking.

A James McAllister calls, to enquire if we need seaweed for our vegetable garden.

He takes a nip of whisky, and offers to bring a hand-cart full of it over, and my father nods, accepts. Outside, McAllister turns to me.

Hit bad, thon?”

Flanders. But he’s getting better.”

Aye. Mony a soul lost; mony a guid man broken.”

He explains, haltingly, that he was on the fishing fleets, keeping the country fed. I praise his efforts, and am rid of him at last.

Father no longer drinks, but he holds up McAllister’s empty glass, watching it glint in the morning light.

Is this the day, Emma?”

I seat myself on the window-bench, watching his scarred hands re-arrange the cheap plaid rug over his knees. He might be one hundred and thirty seven, from the look in his narrow eyes.

Only if you wish.”

I take up the blank journal which has been ready since June 1917. I had it when I first sat by his hospital bed, and it has always been to hand. I had always wanted a record, from his own lips.

He puts the glass down.

I… I think so.”

Bending back the spine of the journal, I lift my pen…

© John Linwood Grant 2018

Amazon UK link: http://amzn.eu/0dMzvau

Amazon US link: http://a.co/6Kf2CdJ

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William Hope Hodgson: The Unuttered Word

Fancy a poem or ten? Don’t look at us like that – they’re jolly interesting ones, for today we consider the poetry of William Hope Hodgson, as part of our remembrance on this, the centenary year of his death. We don’t poet, ourselves, so we’re most grateful to have writer, poet and poetic scholar Frank Coffman to help us along our way. Not only does Frank offer us a commentary on, and analysis of, some of Hope Hodgson’s verse, but he has dug out more of WHH’s poems for the event (see second section below).

The Unuttered Word”

Some Thoughts on the Poetry of William Hope Hodgson

by Frank Coffman

 

There are worlds of foam that I have known
And the songs of wild, young children blown
Make music in the glittering spray
In that strange world where I was grown
Where the light is not the light of day
Where the breath of life in the stounding breeze
Is at play on the foaming seas

William Hope Hodgson

The great majority of enthusiastic readers of the work of William Hope Hodgson know him from his weird and speculative fiction. Almost all know him from his novels such as The Night Land, The House on the Borderland, The Boats of the “Glen Carrig,” and The Ghost Pirates; and collections of similarly-themed short stories in Sargasso Seas Stories and others. Some have discovered Hodgson through the few stories on his intriguing occult detective, Carnacki, the Ghost Finder. But Hodgson’s poetry has remained in general obscurity.

But in 2005, Tartarus Press did a very limited 150 copy run of The Lost Poetry of William Hope Hodgson, edited and introduced by Jane Frank that has since become more widely available in a Kindle and other editions. This book is a most welcome addition to the Hodgson corpus, and gives a fine overview of one side of the man relatively unknown prior to its publication.

As might be expected from Hodgson’s life, the theme of The Sea— with all of its mysteries, its pull upon the imagination, its contemplation-worthy immenseness, its beauties and its dangers, its place in his soul—is predominant. Jane Frank notes:

Hodgson’s long-time friend, A. St John Adcock, editor of The Bookman, wrote in his introduction to The Calling of the Sea: “in his poems, as in his prose, it is the mystery, the strength, the cruelty, the grimness and sadness of the sea that most potently appeal to him.”

But other themes like Death and the Question of Immortality, Love, Faith, Patriotism, the Pain of Loss, and the big one—The Meaning of Life—are all touched upon to various degrees. Hodgson’s overall poetic work can be seen as decidedly influenced by the later Romantics and the more Romantic of the Victorians, which should not be at all surprising. Even rebellious artists can’t help but be influenced by the cultural and artistic atmosphere of their own and the immediately previous era—if for no other reason that they ought to understand fully what they rebel against.

But Hodgson was no rebel. Frank calls his verse, “…largely of his time: mannered, grandiloquent, and oblique.” She also notes that “Sam Moskowitz blamed Hodgson’s clergyman father for Hope’s stylistic affectations, but… keep in mind the romantic, elegiac Victorian poetry Hodgson was striving to emulate, in which Biblical and archaic English forms were the norm” (“Introduction”). Some few of the poems display some maudlin sentimentality. One example of this would be “Little Garments” about a mother mourning the loss of a child, reminded that the “little garments” were the only physical things now left to her. Some few other poems do hypothetical, it seems, moanings over the loss of a loved one, death being preferable to the pain of loss and other such overdone sentiments.

As far as direct poetic influences to, Hodgson admired the works of Poe, Machen, and Blackwood, with Poe being, perhaps the (or one of the) primary poetic influences. He even parodies “The Raven” in a letter of complaint about the frequency of rejection letters to his friend, Coulson Kernahan (December 1905), he wrote:

Every morning for a fortnight have I pondered weak and weary
O’er letters still unanswered that are scattered round your floor
While I’ve pondered nearly napping, sometimes there has come a tapping
As of someone gently rapping, rapping on my outer door
Tis the Postman,’ I have muttered, ‘dropping MSS through the door—
Only that and nothing more’
Then my soul has leapt up stronger, and I’ve stayed in bed no longer;
For a glad idea has whispered that the Post is at the door,
And that all that gentle tapping which has stirred me in my napping
Is the postman dropping billet doux from C.K. on the floor
And at the thought (loud cheering) have I galloped to the door—
REFUSALS”—nothing more.

All writers who have sought acceptance of their efforts and publication can relate to the sentiments in this parody. And, regarding, poetry, Hodgson clearly experienced the sad dearth of markets that has seemingly always been the case with work in that mode. Fiction is hard enough to publish, but the market for poetry has always been scantier. What Hodgson [and other writers clearly in love with the poetic mode, such as Robert E. Howard] experienced was that poetry is damned hard to get accepted and, beyond that—it doesn’t “pay the rent,” even if published.

Hodgson bundled many of his poems early in his career into three separate collections, presented in Lost Poems for the first time. These were: Mors Deorum [Death of the Gods] and Other Poems, Through Enchantments and other Poems on Death, and Spume. Each of these begins with a long musing monologue, the first two on Life and Death and the question of Immortality, the third—as the title suggests—mostly regarding the Sea, some in this latter collection perhaps derived from specific experiences, some seemingly based upon incidents in his journals and logs.

But most of the poetry is strong and striking in imagery, and some of it is distinctly metrically experimental. This in that Hodgson wrote very few poems in what we might call “fixed forms.” The rhyme and meter are there, but not in standard tetrameters and pentameters and often varied and randomly rhymed with some use of slant rhyme.

Most of Hodgson’s poetry seems to have been written between his retirement from the Merchant Marine in 1899 and about 1906. He was somewhat frustrated by the lack of good markets for his verse, but—as with all of his literary work—was tenacious to the point of obsession in keeping it in circulation, following each rejection immediately with a resubmission to another market.

As noted, the Sea and the effect it had on the young writer predominates. A sense of his poetic style and urge for distinctness can be seen in the opening section of “Song of the Ship”:

And I toss the blue from left to right,
And I leap the driving surge,
And the tall seas follow close behind,
And ever the moaning of the wind
Wails softly a solemn dirge

This pentastich (five-line section) is, essentially an expansion on the meter of the literary ballad from a four-line to a five line form, including an extra four-accent line in the fourth line, altering the normal 4-3-4-3 to 4-3-4-4-3 accents. The normal rhyme of ABAB or ABCB (with the even-numbered short lines always rhyming) is also changed to ABC[slant rhyme with C]B. Following this section the other two sections of the poem are 8 and 11 lines long, respectively.

Here and elsewhere, one distinctive feature of Hodgson’s verse is that it seems to flow organically and is not preconceived to be a sonnet, a ballad, or any traditional form. For him, traditional iambic metrics (with anapestic variety quite often) are kept, but often with a variety of line lengths [similar to what Matthew Arnold did in his most famous poem, “Dover Beach”]. And the poems rhyme, but often randomly, with the echoes close enough to be noticeable, but following no strict pattern. To those degrees, Hodgson’s poetry is at least formally atypical—if not distinctive.

Several poems are on Hodgson’s clear interest in Life, Death, and what, perhaps, lies beyond. The poem “Farewell,” evidently written around the time of his leaving the merchant navy in 1899—or certainly regarding that occasion—is brief enough to include in its entirety:

FAREWELL

And, now it is farewell,
Forever, O great Sea!
Yet in some distant world, my soul
Shall dream of thee.
For now, a far-off toll, I hear—
It is my knell
Rung out by solemn waves on mist-bound shores,
While overhead, the groan
Of opening, monstrous doors
Comes echoing down to me,
And streams of awful light
Shine o’er thy tumult, Sea,
As I pass up across the night
Into the great Unknown.

Here again we have Hodgson’s personally common (but for his period and the precedent traditions uncommon) “mix” of meter and rhyme. Essentially iambic, the line lengths ramble with various feet: 3-3-4-2-4-2-5-3-3-3-3-3-4-3. Thus, in effect, the poem is a most unusual sonnet with the required 14 lines, but with highly irregular and brief line lengths (except in the pentameter of line 7). My guess is that became a sonnet “accidentally” and, again, organically driven rather than being preconceived, but we can’t be sure.

The rhyme scheme [using a lower case letter to indicate a “slant” or “near” rhyme] is: ABaBCADEDBFBFE. This is most irregular, but it displays Hodgson’s organicism of poetic creation. The poem “evolves” and rolls on like the varied waves and moods of the sea. The distance of six lines between the E rhymes almost loses the echoing effect, and the lack of any echo for C is also unusual. The third line slant rhyme of “soul,” partly echoing “farewell,” is actually “picked up” in a full cross rhyme into line five with “toll.” The musical effects are there. The poet is not eschewing rhyme and meter, but he is using them in a distinctive way.

Hodgson was also interested in the theme of artistic inspiration itself. This can be seen in the poem aptly entitled, “Inspiration”:

INSPIRATION

Thou pursuest thy lonely way
‘Midst tortuous paths of brooding thought
Lit by no gleam of earthly day
Till, in a while, thy soul has caught,
Despite of flutterings to escape,
A formless thing of light —unwrought;
A misty, glowing spirit-flake,
Waiting thy fire, thy forge, to make
It into some great glorious shape.

All in all, a fine brief lyric, containing the loneliness, the “brooding thought,” the capture by the “soul” of that “fluttering” and fleeting thing, always threatening to “escape” —the essence of inspiration, the “thing of light” as yet “unwrought”—the spark that through the poet’s soul of “fire” and the “forge” of mind and imagination might, just might, become a “great and glorious” thing.

Perhaps the most poignant theme to be found in Hodgson is the same as that expressed by Keats in his famous sonnet, “When I Have Fears”: that of the artist who is aware of his own genius and fears that the potential creative work that might yet be—will never be done:

When I have fears that I may cease to be
Before my pen has glean’d my teeming brain,
Before high-piled books, in charactery,
Hold like rich garners the full ripen’d grain;
When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,
And think that I may never live to trace
Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;…

We see this also in Hemingway, in his masterful short story, “The Snows of Kilimanjaro.” The character of Harry, dying of gangrene, thinks:

Now he would never write the things that he had saved to write until he knew enough to write them well. Well, he would not have to fail at trying to write them either. Maybe you could never write them, and that was why you put them off and delayed the starting. Well he would never know, now.

And in Hodgson’s important poem, “The Death Cry of Young Genius,” sub-titled, [In understanding of G’s feelings, as he lay dying, speechless; his message undelivered—his personality unexpressed. WHH] we find the same somber theme in its opening:

I am here for a little time;
I came from the great Unknown;
Life leaps from birth to death,
And then I am alone
In some unremembered clime,
Wondering—Without breath.
I am here, and when I go
I would leave some mark behind,
But I must haste, or I am lost
And wandering outward, blind,
Forgetting, ere scarce I know,
The gain of life for the cost.…

(emphases added)

And in its conclusion:

But overtopping much
Agony’s drearest goal
Is the agony now hurled.
Genius smothered unheard,
Ere the soul-tale is expressed,
Is the greatest terror the world hath known,
A double terror unguessed,
For with such dies the unuttered Word –
The genius dies not alone.

(emphases added)

Alas, William Hope Hodgson was not allowed to finish the tale of his soul; the amazing and wondrous works of both prose and poetry that might have been must remain forever unheard. And that dreaded thing—“the unuttered word”—must always be the plight of us all. But we know today that Hodgson’s genius was not truly “smothered.” No author or poet or artist in any art has ever succeeded in “[gleaning their] teeming brain.” There is not world enough or time. What we have in the compilation of the work of this young genius, including his little-known poetic output must suffice. And most believe it does.

Frank Coffman is a published poet, story writer and college professor


TEN POEMS

A Selection of Poems by William Hope Hodgson

Selected and edited by Frank Coffman

william hope hodgson
william hope hodgson

THE NIGHT WIND

O, thou sad wind, drear and inscrutable,

I hear thy speech among dark mountain crests –
(Above their faces, calm and immutable,)
Sinking at whiles to rests
Like the slumbering creep of foam on quiet sands,
Or sleeping of mists and rain o’er silent lands,
Rising anon to speech which seems to sound
Out of the throat of some undreamt-of Pain –
Rising and rising, till the whole world round
Gives back an echo of thy mournful strain,
Till the mysterious deeps that lurk in space
Receive the sound in their engulphant maws;
And further off, where through tremendous doors
God peers, strangely it passes o’er
His face, Meaning of worlds in pain.

INSPIRATION

Thou pursuest thy lonely way
‘Midst tortuous paths of brooding thought
Lit by no gleam of earthly day
Till, in a while, thy soul has caught,
Despite of flutterings to escape,
A formless thing of light —unwrought;
A misty, glowing spirit-flake,
Waiting thy fire, thy forge, to make
It into some great glorious shape.

GONE

Thou hast gone on before me
Into the grave’s strange gloom.
Would that I could have gone with thee
To share thy tomb!
To share thy tomb, and thy waking,
If waking there be from death;
If not, it were joy forsaking
This life and the torture of breath
And the pain of my old heart breaking
And the fear of the years yet to roll
With their terror of loneliness aching
Within my hungering soul!

LOVE SONG TO THE DEAD

I stand upon the rim of death, and sing my song,
E’er I, stepping, pass along
Where the lonesome shadows throng
In the silent Underneath.
Whether I may come to thee
Who shall tell me? I go blind.
Just my life, a useless thing!
To the lone abyss I fling
Chance that, dying, I may find
Thee, who art all hope for me.
If I find thee not, then I,
Wand’ring ‘neath some awful sky,
Shall sup doom with every breath,
Past the easeful touch of death. . . .
Just a shape of agony
Craving for one sight of thee.
I stand upon the rim of death, and sing my song,
E’er I, stepping, pass along
Where the lonesome shadows throng
In the silent Underneath.

SPUME

A loud wind screams;
A sea-horse rushes past,
A form of raging water filled with gleams,
Hurling before the blast.

SONG OF THE SHIP

And I toss the blue from left to right,
And I leap the driving surge,
And the tall seas follow close behind,
And ever the moaning of the wind
Wails softly a solemn dirge

Through the lofty heights
Whence the tender lights
Of evening take their flight.
And the night comes down in gloomy waves,
And the growling thunders rise,
Till their booming echoes fill the night,
And the lightning throws its livid light
Across the murmuring skies:

Whilst mountainous steeps
And muttering deeps
Shape in the blast that raves.
And the light flies up across the waves,
And the dark gives place to dawn,
And I see the whirling clouds of spray
Break over half of the coming day
In the luridness of morn,
That lifts and flies
Far across the skies
Lighting a thousand graves.

THOU AND I

O Sea, in days Long past, thy bosom bore
My little craft upon thine endless ways,
From shore ‘cross thee, and back again to shore.
Thy solitude I shared with thee when thou
Didst sink to some great stillness, there to brood;
And loneliness lay coldly on thy brow.
Sad, solemn notes Chimed softly o’er thy breadths,
As though some secret rite in thy remotes
Wafted its harmony from slumberous depths.
And this poor shape I would commend to thee;
Treat it with tenderness—hide it, and drape
It with thy beauties submarine, O Sea.

CONQUEST

I saw the cold dawn stride across the East,
A ghostly light –a livid Shade, that stept
With quick’ning strides from the abyss of night.
Higher it strode and flashed a sword of flame,
Shearing the murky clouds of night in twain,
A riven gap that reached from sea to heaven.
And then a thousand glittering darts it flung
Of blazing rays that flamed across the void
And pierced the heart of night with quivering wounds
That bled a sombre glory o’er the wave.
Then o’er the dim sea’s edge I saw the targe
Of day—the Sun—loom grandly through the mists;
And night expired beneath the feet of day.

THY WANDERING SOUL

Thy spray-dewed soul o’er many a sea has ridden,
Borne unseen through the spume where tempests ever call;
Where seas in shuddering mountains, tortured, driven,
Heave smokily along, while over all
The deep continuous boomings and the moanings
Of some vast storm’s reverberating sound,
Fills the whole sky with screamings and with groanings
Rising above the shouting seas around.

Anon, the grim and murky night is riven
With some green serpent flaming from the vast,
With some cruel glitter lighting up the wildness,
Lighting the night-tide of that overcast;
One moment showing all that has been hidden—
Deep quaking valleys gaping ‘neath the blast,
Mad screeching fountains shooting through the darkness,
Leaping sea-horses roaming masterless.

And there, where spray, in foaming pillars forming,
Reaching the sky its canopy upholds—
Whitening towers of surge to save it falling,
Seen in the flash of some weird lightning’s glow—
There midst the din, the tumult and the storming,
Comes to thy soul the well-known, tortured cry,
Comes the wild scream of some poor sailor calling,
Calling for help beneath a lonely sky—

While through the wrack there drive up ghosts unbidden,
Even as thou art—driving through the surge,
Joining their eldritch cries to ocean’s weeping,
Joining their voices to that thunder-dirge;
Dirging for one, who sinking to his sleeping,
Sinking is gone where mystery unfolds;
Sinking, has passed until death shall awaken
From that sad sleep far in the deeps below.

FAREWELL

And, now it is farewell,
Forever, O great Sea!
Yet in some distant world, my soul
Shall dream of thee.
For now, a far-off toll, I hear—
It is my knell
Rung out by solemn waves on mist-bound shores,
While overhead, the groan
Of opening, monstrous doors
Comes echoing down to me,
And streams of awful light
Shine o’er thy tumult, Sea,
As I pass up across the night
Into the great Unknown.


Works Cited

Frank, Jane. “Introduction.” The Lost Poetry of William Hope Hodgson. Tartarus Press, 2005.

Hemingway, Ernest. “The Snows of Kilimanjaro” — pick any edition or online source.

Hodgson, William Hope. The Lost Poetry of William Hope Hodgson. Ed. Jane Frank. PS Publishing & Tartarus Press. Kindle Edition.

Keats, John. “When I Have Fears” — pick any edition or online source.

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Literature, lurchers and life