Mentally Packing

It’s a busy, busy time here.

After just finishing up this week’s newspaper, I now have two work days to write a substantial portion of next week’s edition. Everything that can get done in advance — everything that’s not, you know, news — has to be done by tomorrow afternoon.

Why the scramble? We’re leaving Saturday for vacation. A full week in Chicago. Our first real getaway since a trip to New York City in the summer of 2005.

I should be doing some things at home to get ready. Packing would be a good start. But I’ll have to settle for making mental lists of things to take and save the part where you actually find the items and put them into a suitcase for later — most likely Saturday morning, about an hour before we leave.

See you from the road. I’ll try to post a nice picture or two!

Tags: Chicago, Family, Vacation, Work

Old Stuff II

Someone who saw my last post asked if I had ever actually met Manly Wade Wellman, to which I was proud to answer, “You bet.” As a matter of fact, I was the young writer referred to in the old Hellnotes essay, the one who received some words of encouragement during a brief break in an otherwise hectic World Fantasy Convention — New Haven, 1982, I think.

I was lucky enough to attend quite a few of the earlier WFCs, starting with the fifth, which was the first one to return to Providence, Rhode Island, the convention’s birthplace. One of the best things about those gatherings, besides the giddy enthusiasm they always instilled, the contact high that didn’t wear off for weeks afterwards, was the opportunity to rub shoulders, even just briefly, with some of the old pulp masters.

I remember chatting with Manly, getting autographs from the likes of Frank Belknap Long and J. Vernon Shea, and having a pleasant conversation with Robert Bloch while he patiently signed my inordinately large stack of books. I also had things signed by Hugh B. Cave, who years later subscribed to my magazine and years after that became a Hellnotes reader — how cool was that?

One day our group found itself in the buffet line with H. Warner Munn, who ended up sharing our table and regaling us with tales of writing “The Werewolf of Ponkert,” his memories of Lovecraft and his vast knowledge of the Roman Empire, the subject of his then-new historical novel, The Lost Legion.

One of the best memories of all was riding in an uncomfortable yellow school bus with 60 or 70 fans and one very special guest to the site of Poe’s grave, where the guest — the great Fritz Leiber — laid a wreath and provided a stunning, chill-inducing midnight reading of “The Conqueror Worm.” That trip was the subject of another early Hellnotes essay, which I would reprint here … except I can’t find it at the moment.

Those were good times, rare opportunities to meet a generation that even then was slipping away from us. For a few short moments, we actually got to mingle with the same giants whose shoulders we were trying so hard to stand upon.

They’re gone now, of course, but their ghosts linger and their books and stories remain a constant source of joy.

Tags: Frank Belknap Long, Fritz Leiber, H. Warner Munn, Hellnotes, Hugh B. Cave, J. Vernon Shea, Manly Wade Wellman, Pulp Masters, Robert Bloch, World Fantasy Convention, Writing

Old Stuff

You never know what you’re going to find when you’re clicking here and there, cruising around the Internet.

The other day, I stumbled across this old essay of mine — one of the first pieces I did for Hellnotes, back in the earliest days, when Dave and I were still trying to figure out exactly what the newsletter was going to be. I hadn’t yet started writing weekly editorials. Instead, I was putting together semi-regular pieces like “The Roots of Horror,” trying to say a lot in a very few words, which has never been especially easy for me.

I remember writing the piece on Wellman and giving permission for it to be reused. I even remember seeing it not long after it had been posted. But I was a little bit startled to discover that it’s still out there, all these years later.

Re-reading the piece now makes me wish I’d said a few more things, or at least said these particular things a little better. But Manly Wade Wellman was a nice guy and a great writer, and I suppose nothing you say about people like that is ever really enough.

As for the Wellman tribute site itself, it seems to be in a “lingering” phase, without any recent updates. I hope it sticks around. Manly deserves all the ink — virtual and real — that he can get.

Tags: Hellnotes, Manly Wade Wellman, Writing

Proud Daddy

It seems like forever since my daughters, Ingrid and Amanda, started the college application process.

After quickly being accepted at four perfectly fine “second choices,” they waited and waited and waited, and waited and waited, and waited some more, and waited a little bit longer, and waited another little bit after that to hear from their top choice, the school they’ve always wanted to attend.

Yesterday, they got the word.

They’re official members of the Class of 2011 at the University of Michigan.

Congratulations, girls!

P.S. You can breathe again now.

Tags: Amanda, Busting Buttons, Family, Ingrid, University of Michigan

A Top Tale

I’m usually fairly reluctant to recommend books.

Some of that must stem from my time working in bookstores, where I was called on to make 20 or 30 recommendations every day. As any bookstore clerk will tell you, that’s a painstaking, often unpleasant procedure that involves prompting the customer for clues as to what they like to read, authors they have enjoyed in the past, and so forth. The answers you receive are usually pretty vague and not very helpful, especially if the customer is shopping for a casual friend or distant family member.

“And what kinds of books does your Uncle Edgar like?”

“I’m not sure. I saw him reading something when I was over there at Christmas. I don’t remember the title, but I think it had a green cover.”

Part of it, too, is a general reluctance to tell someone else what they should be doing with their precious, probably far-too-short reading time. When I was younger I didn’t have a problem forcing my literary tastes on others. These days, it feels a bit presumptuous. In the end, I’m just glad to see people reading. I honestly don’t care what they read.

Funny, then, that I find myself recommending books all over the place lately. Not long ago, over at the olsonandsilva site, I offered a rave for The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon.

Today I’m going to recommend that you check out Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale.

I’ve seen some mixed reviews on this one, and I’ll admit that I had mixed feelings myself at first, partially because I was slow to warm to the main characters, partially because I was skeptical that Setterfield’s premise would be able to pay off in equal measure to the build-up she was giving it.

I can happily say that I was wrong all the way around.

Though I wanted to strangle the narrator on several occasions, she ultimately affected me quite deeply. Her power over me grew as the pages turned, as did the emotional impact of the book itself, which left me feeling just the way I want to feel when I finish a novel — a wreck in all the right ways, physically drained, mentally agitated, a bit teary-eyed and utterly satisfied.

Did Setterfield pay off? No question about it.

Looking back at my praise for Shadow of the Wind, I sense a theme. Like that book, The Thirteenth Tale is a dark sort of tribute to literature and the power of stories to enthrall, enrapture, carry you away, heal you, perhaps even keep you alive. In particular, it’s a salute to gothic literature, including well-loved classics such as Jane Eyre, a book that just happens to play a key role in Setterfield’s novel. It’s also got fog-swept moors, a once-great home fallen into decrepitude, unspeakable family secrets, truths kept hidden and truths unknown. And yes, it even has a ghost.

I don’t want to tell you what to read or anything, but …umm … you really ought to give this one a try.

Tags: Books, Carlos Ruiz Zafon, Diane Setterfield, olsonandsilva, Recommended Reading, Shadow of the Wind, Thirteenth Tale

A Snowy Day

Like most of the Upper Midwest (and much of the country, it seems), our little town got hit hard by last week’s snowstorm. Below are some pictures I took as editor of the local newspaper. You can click on any of the pictures for a slightly larger view.

The building where I work on the right, as the first wave of snow was just starting to fall on Thursday afternoon

The same location the following morning.

50 miles of state highway that connects our town to the next nearest city was closed for about 10 hours during the height of the blizzard. This is it the next morning, open for business but still deserted. This is the view looking west.

And the same highway, at the same time, looking east.

Just a typical residential street in our town.

Tags: Manistique, Photos, Snow Storm, Work