Tagged: review

PJF’S PULP TRINITY as told by DENNIS E. POWER!

  • News
  • December 12, 2010
Philip José Farmer’s Pulp Trinity
By Dennis E. Power
Philip José Farmer’s fascination with the characters of Tarzan and Doc Savage are well known. He had after all written biographies of both characters and fulfilled his life long dream of writing both an authorized Doc Savage novel, Escape from Loki, and an authorized Tarzan novel, Dark Heart of Time. Additionally Tarzan and Doc Savage turned up in many of Farmer’s works, although often in disguise. What does not get as much attention however is Farmer’s fascination with another pulp figure, The Shadow, who also appeared in various guises in some of his works.
I believe that Farmer’s first Tarzan pastiche was also his first attempt at a “fictional author” piece. Jungle Rot Kid on the Nod was the story of Tarzan as it had been written by William S. Burroughs rather than Edgar Rice Burroughs.
The most obvious example is his pastiche, A Feast Unknown in which he fulfilled a fan’s dream of not only having Tarzan and Doc Savage meet but fight. Of course the novel was much more than just an extended piece of fan fiction. He used these two archetypes of pulp fiction to examine the connection between sex and violence, not simply because they were pulp conventions because of their pervasiveness
Farmer followed A Feast Unknown with Lord of the Trees and The Mad Goblin. These were separate adventures of Lord Grandrith, (Farmer’s Tarzan based character) and Doc Caliban, (Farmer’s Doc Savage based character). However these were more along the lines of pure pastiche and while entertaining did not have the visceral impact of A Feast Unknown. 
While A Feast Unknown dealt in part with the reality of the Tarzan character, demonstrating in a few effective passages how literally inhuman and “uncivilized” a man raised by apes in primitive Africa would be, that was not the main focus of the novel. It was however the focus of Lord Tyger which was published in 1970 the same year as Lord of the Tree/Mad Goblin. The novel is the story of Ras Tyger a boy raised by apes in primitive Africa and is told from his point of view although not in first person form. Farmer effectively demonstrates both the emotional and mental processes of a true feral man as Ras Tyger grows to manhood. While Lord Tyger is a tribute to the Tarzan epic of Edgar Rice Burroughs it also dissects Burroughs version of the Tarzan mythos for its plausibility. As is often the case when a myth is so closely examined, it falls apart. In Lord Tyger Philip José Farmer proves that Tarzan as written by Edgar Rice Burroughs could not have existed, and if the correct conditions to raise a feral child were created, the child would not be Tarzan. Ras Tyger has many of the same attributes as Tarzan, but he was not Tarzan.
Having proven that Tarzan could not have existed did not deter Philip José Farmer from writing Tarzan Alive, his biography of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ Tarzan. Tarzan Alive has been called a hoax biography of Tarzan, since it posited that Tarzan was a living person. Inspired by other fictional biographies such as W.S Baring-Gould’s Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street or C. Northcote Parkinson’s The Life and Times of Horatio Hornblower, Farmer wanted to do something along the same lines for Tarzan. He wanted to create a biography that would be realistic enough to convey plausibility. This meant arguing that Burroughs’ Tarzan biographies were not literal truth but exaggerated fiction based on true events. In Lord Tyger Farmer demonstrated why it would be nearly impossible for a feral child like Tarzan to exist. In Tarzan Alive Farmer used the same sort of logic but with the intent to make Burroughs as true as possible yet still seem plausible enough to be believable. Tarzan Alive would also be a vehicle by which he could disseminate the concept of an extended family consisting primarily of fictitious characters.
Concurrent with Tarzan Alive came another novel, Time’s Last Gift, which had a Tarzan like character in it. In this novel a group of scientists travel to 12,000 B.C. in the first time travel expedition.  The team’s medical doctor was named John Gribardsun. It is gradually revealed in the book that this man was Tarzan. When the H. G. Wells returned to the future, Gribardsun, who was immortal, stayed behind to experience the past. Some fans believe that the initials of Times Last Gift, TLG, actually refer to Tarzan, Lord Greystoke. Time’s Last Gift may have been written as a stand alone piece written around the same time as Tarzan Alive. The dates of Gribardsun’s birth and his back-story are different enough from those in of Tarzan in Tarzan Alive so that they may have been meant to two entirely separate works. Or it may have been that Farmer was just being canny enough to make the characters dissimilar enough to avoid of the ire of the Jungle Lord for having revealed his most deeply held secret.
Building on the concepts that he created in Tarzan Alive, Philip José Farmer’s next use of Tarzan was in another fictional author story. The Adventure of the Peerless Peer, wherein Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson met Tarzan. Although this was not an official Tarzan novel, Farmer had gotten permission from the Burroughs estate to use the name of Greystoke. When this permission was withdrawn later he rewrote the story as The Adventure of the Three Madmen and substituted Mowgli for Tarzan.
Also appearing in that 1974 was Hadon of Opar, the first of Philip José  Farmer projected series of Opar books. He planned to tell the history of Opar, the ruined city which plays so prominent a role in Burroughs’ Tarzan novels. Farmer additionally and unofficially planned to also tell the story of the lost African cities from H. Rider Haggard’s Quatermain and She series by creating writing the history of Khokarsa, a lost civilization that existed in Neolithic Africa. Tarzan also makes an appearance in Hadon of Opar, although entirely in the background. He is known as a god to the Khokarsans named Sahhindar. As explained in a previous article, Sahhindar is derived from Zantar, which was Burroughs first version of the Tarzan name. In the chronological appendix to Hadon of Opar specifically stated that the Tarzan like character from Time’s Last Gift was indeed Tarzan which is how Tarzan got to be in Hadon’s epoch. There was one further novel in the Opar series Flight to Opar before a variety of factors led to the series being discontinued.
Farmer wrote one more piece centering on Tarzan that came out in 1974 called Extracts from the Memoirs of “Lord Greystoke” This piece seems to have been an update of information previously discussed in Tarzan Alive but modified to coincide with “new information” posed by Time’s Last Gift and the Hadon series.
This was Tarzan’s last appearance in Farmer’s work until The Dark Heart of Time, which was an actual authorized Tarzan novel.
Philip José Farmer’s second favorite pulp character was Doc Savage. He appeared as Doc Caliban in Farmer’s A Feast Unknown and The Mad Goblin. However Farmer did not use Doc Savage to the same extent as he did Tarzan. Most of Doc’s appearances in Farmer’s work were limited to cameo roles rather than as central characters.
In 1973 Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life was published; this was Farmer’s biography of Doc Savage. While Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life continued with the conceits that Farmer had begun in Tarzan Alive, that Doc was a true living person and was part of a larger family tree of supposedly fictional people, the book was not as detailed in its approach. Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life seems a bit cursory when compared to Tarzan Alive but the fault lies more with the source material than with Philip José  Farmer. The Tarzan saga consists of 26 volumes; Doc Savage’s consists of 181. If Farmer had truly attempted a definitive biography based on all 181 sagas, it would have taken his entire life.
Doc Savage made a cameo in his short story After King Kong Fell which was also published in 1973.
His next appearance in a published work was a parody cameo in “Great Heart Silver in Showdown at Shootout” in Weird Heroes Volume 1. 1975. Doc Savage with his two aides Monk and Ham as very old men were among those who participated in the pulp/adventure hero armageddon that took place in Shootout. Every conceivable character from the pulps and adventure fiction under parodied names fought a giant showdown that left them all dead.
An allusion to Doc Savage was made in Farmer’s translation of J. H. Rosny’s Ironcastle when it was mentioned that Clark Savage senior had designed some guns for Ironcastle.
Doc Savage appeared in two more of Farmer’s published works in disguise. In The Savage Shadow Doc and his cohorts appear as the alcoholic inmates of a sanitarium; what we would call a rehab clinic today. Author Kenneth Robeson is the main character of the story. The story is one of Farmer’s fictional author series, this one purportedly written by Maxwell Grant, the writer of The Shadow series. The story is meant to be Grant’s joking version of how Robeson came up with the idea for Doc Savage and his fabulous five. Other stories were planned by which Robeson and Grant would use version of each others characters in a variety of ways. However this was the only one published.
A disguised version of Doc Savage appeared in Philip José Farmer’s A Barnstormer in Oz in which one of the diminutive inhabitants of Oz named Sharts the Shirtless was a physical look a like of Doc Savage. The same size as Dorothy’s son Hank Stover, Sharts was a physical giant compared to the rest of Oz. Like Doc, Sharts was also a genius although he did not possess Doc Savage’s sense of morality. Sharts earned his name because he could not wear the clothing that would fit most inhabitants of Oz. It was also a tribute to the Bama covers of the Bantam Doc Savage series wherein Doc Savage was shown with a ripped shirt. Sharts’ constant companion was Blogo the Rare Beast, an apish humanoid that seemed to be this Oz’ version of Monk Mayfair.
Why Doc Savage did not make more appearances in Farmer’s work I cannot say for certain. It may be that Farmer was saving Doc for some of his major works which unfortunately remained either unpublished or unfinished. He wrote Doc Savage and the Cult of the Blue God, a screenplay for the second Doc Savage film which never came to fruition since the first one had bombed. He also began Monster On Hold which was to be another Doc Caliban novel. Another Doc Savage inspired property which Farmer unfinished, but which was completed in collaboration with Win Scott Eckert was The Evil of Pemberley House and published in 2009. This novel is about Doc Savage’s daughter, or at least the one postulated in Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life.
The last member of Philip José Farmer’s pulp trinity was The Shadow. Like Doc Savage the Shadow’s appearances were for the most part actual cameos or disguised appearances. Farmer made the Shadow, or rather Kent Allard a member of the Wold Newton Family that included Tarzan and Doc Savage. However he at first claimed that the Shadow, The Spider and G-8 were all one person with a multiple personality disorder. Farmer altered that theory for Doc Savage His Apocalyptic Life so that these three individuals were brothers rather than the same man.
The first cameo appearance by the Shadow appears to have been in “After King Kong Fell”.

Margo Lane

and Kent Allard are among those who viewed the carcass of King Kong.

He makes a more substantial cameo in The Adventure of the Peerless Peer. As a WW I aviator he encountered and saved the lives of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. In the revised version of the novel, The Adventure of the Three Madmen, he is one of the madmen in question.
The Shadow makes a disguised appearance in “Greatheart Silver in Showdown at Shootout” as Phwombly an old detective who teaches Greatheart Silver. He is among those who travel to and perish at Shootout. The character of Phwombly also appears in The New York Review of Bird, a story written by Harlan Ellison which was in the same issue of Weird Heroes as “Greatheart Silver in Showdown at Shootout” This story bears mentioning because as Ellison explains in his after word to the story, Philip José Farmer had a lot of influence on story since Ellison based much of the back story on Farmer’s genealogies in Doc Savage: His Apocalyptic Life. Ellison’s version of Phwombly however had different version of the relationship between Margo and Kent Allard.
Although The Savage Shadow does not have a cameo by The Shadow, it was certainly influenced by him. Although it is a story about Kenneth Robeson as written by Maxwell Grant there is also a reference to the Shadow series with the female lead Burke being related to the Shadow’s agent Clyde Burke.
The last actual appearance of the Shadow in Farmer’s works was in a cameo in “The Long Wet Dream of Rip Van Winkle”. Van Winkle wakes up in the 1930’s and encounters

Margo Lane

.

The Shadow’s influence on Philip José Farmer was also evident by Farmer’s story “Skinburn”.  This introduced the private detective

Kent Lane

.

Kent Lane

was the son of Kent Allard, the Shadow and

Margo Lane

. Farmer intended to write a novel about

Kent Lane

entitled, Why Everybody Hates Me.  This, and the unwritten biographies of Sir William Clayton, Allan Quatermain and Fu Manchu, are among those works his fans most regret never came to fruition.

The Pulp Trinity Chronology of appearances
1968 “The Jungle Rot Kid on the Nod” 1968 (Tarzan)
1969 A Feast Unknown  (Doc Savage, Tarzan)
1970 Lord Tyger  (Tarzan)
1970 Lord of the Trees/Mad Goblin (Tarzan Doc Savage)
1972  Tarzan Alive (Tarzan, Doc Savage, Shadow)
1972 Times Last Gift (Tarzan )
1972 “Skinburn”  (Shadow)
1973 Doc Savage His Apocalyptic Life (Tarzan, Doc Savage, Shadow)
1973 “After King Kong Fell” (Doc Savage) Shadow and

Margo Lane

1974Adventure of the Peerless Peer (Tarzan, Shadow)
1974 Hadon of Ancient Opar (Tarzan)
1974 “Extracts from the Memoirs of “Lord Greystoke”
1975 Greatheart Silver (Shadow) (Doc Savage sort of)
1975 Ironcastle (Doc Savage, Shadow)
1976 Flight to Opar (Tarzan)
1977 “Savage Shadow” (Doc Savage) (Shadow”
1981 “Long Wet Dream of Rip Van Winkle” (Shadow)
1982 A Barnstormer in Oz  (Doc Savage and Monk)
1984 “Adventure of the Three Madmen”   (Shadow)
1991 Escape From Loki (Doc Savage – Tarzan reference)
1999 Dark Heart of Time (Tarzan)

Review: ‘Fantasia’ & ‘Fantasia 2000’

Walt Disney saw possibilities where others did not. He turned Mickey Mouse into an American icon and launched a bustling animation business, but wasn’t satisfied with his amusing shorts. Instead, he wanted more and defied the critics who thought a full-length animated feature would hurt viewers’ eyes and test their patience.[[[Snow White]]] proved them wrong. Emboldened, Disney spent the 1930s experimenting with animation in ways none of his peers tried. He adapted classics and he gave us indelible characters and song. He even tried for Art with a capital ‘A’.

His third feature-length film was [[[Fantasia]]] and in eight segments, introduced audiences to a variety of classical music set to animated tales inspired by each. Today, we know it best for the entertaining “[[[Sorcerer’s Apprentice]]]” bit guest starring Mickey in his feature debut; but the film was so much more. It opened up what animation could be and do and while it was a box office disappointment during its 1940 release, it has also endured as a sampling of masterful animation.

In time for the holidays, Walt Disney Home Entertainment has released Fantasia in Blu-ray, packaging in numerous ways including a four-disc set, accompanied by [[[Fantasia 2000]]]. You most certainly want Fantasia one way or the other so the ultimate decision is how badly do you want the follow-up feature.

It was said that Disney intended Fantasia to be a living laboratory as segments were added and dropped every few years, keeping it fresh and imaginative. The lack of business scuttled that plan until 1990 when Roy E. Disney, Walt’s nephew, got animators started on a new version. This time, three of the original segments were to be retained with five new ones added but in the end, Mickey remained and everything else was new and nowhere near as wonderful as the original.

The original Fantasia was edited and re-scored and altered throughout the years but with the passage of time, Disney’s crew has been slowly restoring it to as close to the original 125-minute roadshow release as was possible. About the only questionable edit was keeping a few seconds of a racist black centaur on the cutting room floor, but what you get on the Blu-ray is the definitive version and the one to endure. The restoration and transfer are pristine, which has become the Disney gold standard. Obviously, this was made to be heard as well as seen so the audio is equally exceptional. (more…)

ALL PULP interviews writer, editor, creator SEAN TAYLOR!

  • News
  • December 7, 2010
Sean Taylor, Writer/Editor/Creator
AP: Tell us a little about yourself and your pulp interests.
ST: My interest in pulps began like most of my reading habits… from comic books. I wasn’t the type to just read the superhero books. No, I also dug the war anthologies and horror and sci-fi anthologies from just about Day 1. That, of course, later grew into a love for pulp prose stories as well, mostly adventure stories for teens, and as I got older I found and fell in love with the tone of classic adventure stories featuring two-fisted heroes and great-looking dames. Because there were no girls here, mind you. They were dames.
AP: What does pulp mean to you?
ST: To me, pulp is more a tone than a genre. Pulp is a way of thinking about stories. It’s that great and grand adventure that seems to fly from old serial reels into my mind. It’s got clear heroes and villains, but not just them, there as so many more who live in the varying shades of grays. Pulp is a way of seeing a dame fighting off a thug around the next corner, a way of expecting a new adventure when you get out of the car, a way of bring the excitement of the impossible into my writing. I guess in a barebones, nuts-and-bolts fashion, to me pulp is a way of turning off the high-minded literary part of my English Lit major brain and just having fun with good guys, bad guys, and the people who populate their stories.
AP: You are known mostly as a writer of comic books.  How did you get your start? What was your first published work?

 ST: My first published comic book story was in a pulp book… of sorts, Shooting Star Comics Anthology #1. Some friends and I got together and put out a book to serve as a portfolio of work we could show editors to try to solicit work from other companies. Well, some of us were so happy with the showing and so enamored with the work that we legally formed a publishing company and kept putting out the book, aiming to keep it more like the old pulp adventure books of yore. Some heroes, some Doc Savage type action stories, some noir adventure, and even some old-fashioned sci-fi thrown in to boot. 

AP: How did your comic book interests lead to your working for Gene Simmons of KISS fame on the Gene Simmons Dominatrix comic book?
ST: Networking. Networking. And before I forget to mention it… Networking.
Seriously.
You never know when someone you work with or someone who works for you will be your boss. And that’s just what happened for Gene Simmons Dominatrix. When I was editor-in-chief at Shooting Star Comics, we published a book called Children of the Grave written by Tom Waltz. Well, IDW ended up publishing the trade paperback collection of that miniseries and Tom made his way up the ranks at IDW to become the editor of Simmons Comics Group line of books for the company. And when he needed someone to write a potentially controversial book about some potentially misunderstood content featuring a female lead… well, naturally he thought of me.
That said, that book still stands out as some of my finest work, I think. I loved being able to take what could have been a caricaturistic, one-note kind of book and injecting odd characters and fun downtimes into it that lead to one reviewer calling it the “pulpiest pulp on the stands.” That was probably the high point review for me. I just kept thinking of hot girls, insane situations, fun settings and two-fisted fighting action, and voila, the book did pretty well and hit the top 300 list from Diamond for all six issues.
AP: You have worked on short prose tales for Show Me A Hero, the Dominatrix trade collection, the new iHero magazine, and the upcoming Lance Star: Sky Ranger vol. 3 anthology.  What draws you to these shorter stories and can we expect to see more coming?
ST: That one’s easy. Short stories don’t take as long to write, and I’m at heart a lazy cuss. That and it frees me up to have fun with more than one character at a time and not have to commit so much time to one writing relationship so to speak. I’m a sort of literary quintessential bachelor that way, but I guess one day I’ll eventually have to settle down and have a long term commitment to a tale.
Actually, the story I’m writing for Lance Star: Sky Ranger vol. 3 is about twice as long as my typical story, a longer commitment for me, but since the character is so interesting and I get to introduce a new female “villain” into the mix for Lance, it’s well worth sticking around a few weeks extra in this relationship.
AP: I mentioned Show Me A Hero earlier. Tell us about this collection of stories and what separates this super hero prose from the pack.
ST: Show Me a Hero is a collection of every single short story I’ve every written for iHero Entertainment, even back when it was still called Cyber Age Adventures. With iHero and CAA we (president Frank Fradella, the rest of the staff, and I) really tried to focus on stories that didn’t feel like comic book stories (though we all love them), but we instead wanted to do the kind of stories that either the format of comics or the limitations placed on them by public perception wouldn’t allow. These are literate, adult tales of people. They just happen to be people with powers or costumes. Perhaps the highest compliment of my work for iHero has come from Dwayne McDuffie, who said it was “more human than all but the best super hero comic book work.”
We’re also relaunching the iHero magazine, now called I, Hero, and the first issue is available now. Check out http://www.ihero.net/ for more information.
AP: What, if any, existing pulp or comic book characters would you like to try your hand at writing?
ST: You know, I’ve always had an affection for the old Phantom Lady, but I’m getting to revisit a dream project right now actually with my good friend and incredible artist James Ritchey III. We’re doing a brand new story of the old Centaur character The Blue Lady for a new pulp comics anthology featuring public domain characters. I’ll have more information about that one as we get closer to the publishing date.
Other than that I’d prefer to work in genres rather than necessarily just on certain characters. Something about all those old horror and sci-fi pulp covers inspires me to write stories about strange things.
What’s really fun for me is to take characters that may not have originally been part of a true pulp type of story, and then twist it around to tell stories with them in a new, pulpy way that remains true to the character yet still brings something new to the table.
AP: Who are some of your creative influences?
ST: I’ll admit up front it’s a mixed bag of goodness and badness. Coming from an English-Lit background, I’m the kind of guy who enjoys reading Shakespeare, Flannery O’Connor, Hemingway, and F. Scott Fitgerald for fun. I’m also a big fan of Raymond Carver, Annie Dillard, C.S. Lewis, and Zora Neale Hurston.
But I’m love my thrillers too, and Ed McBain’s work is a huge influence as well as that of Donald Westlake and Christa Faust.
When I turn to sci-fi, I’m kind of old-school, and I prefer to read Vonnegut, Heinlein, and Bradbury, or sometimes Dr. Who novelisations (see that ‘s’ – that’s because it’s British… cool, huh?) from the old series.
For comics, I always inspired by books written by Chuck Dixon, Steve Seagle, Beau Smith, or Gail Simone. Those guys (and that classy lady) really deliver the goods on a consistent basis.
AP: That pulps inspired many comic book creations. Are pulps still a viable source of comic book inspiration or are the two more or less influencing/encouraging one another now idea wise?
ST: I think that today it’s more a two-way street. Perhaps it’s that comics kept the sort of pulp ideal alive long enough for the pulp revival we’re seeing today. You certainly can’t fault Alan  Moore for looking back and drawing from that well when he developed The League of Extraordinary Gentleman. And as much as I’m not in the know with the current Steampunk drive, it certainly seems to have a kind of pulpy mindset to it as well. Whatever the reason, pulp’s star certainly seems to be shining again, and we’re even seeing it in the movies. With flicks like Give ‘Em Hell Malone, The Expendables, The Spirit, and the upcoming Green Hornet, whether you like the movies or not, they’re doing a great job of keeping pulp storytelling in the public eye. And to me, like I said earlier, pulp is a lot more about storytelling than it is about genre or even finished publishing format. It may have originated with the paper, but it’s outgrown that limited definition now.
AP: What does Sean Taylor do when he’s not writing comic books and pulp stories?
ST: Whenever possible, he sleeps. When he wakes up, he watches horror movies or cartoons. When he’s tired of those, he writes. And he realizes that he should probably change the order of those priorities, but there’s probably something good on TV right now, so he’ll have to get to that later.
AP: Where can readers find learn more about you and your work?
ST: I have my official website at http://www.taylorverse.com/. I also have a Facebook page at www.facebook.com/seanhtaylor. To stay up to date on iHero Entertainment, visit http://www.ihero.net/.
AP: Any upcoming projects you would like to mention?
ST: Several, actually. Thanks. For my prose work, look for IDW’s Classics Mutilated anthology in stores now. I wrote a story for that one pitting Alice from Wonderland against Snow White, and even got to throw in some surprise villains from the Lovecraft mythos. Then in February, my first zombie story becomes available in DAW Books’ Zombiesque anthology. It’s a tale called “Posthumous” about how far a resurrected corpse who’s also a popular writer will go to keep her marriage together with her still living husband. And of course, don’t forget that new Lance Star story I’m writing for volume 3 of that series and my ongoing monthly work on the new I, Hero magazine. We’ll be revisiting lots of fan favorite characters there, from Fishnet Angel to the Fool and the Grandstander.
On the comics front, I’m writing an original sequel to the works of H.G. Wells for IDW that will be drawn by the amazing George Pitcher III. I’m also doing a weird tales kind of thriller (think Ed McBain meets Ranma 1/2) for Markosia called Quinn: The Reckoning, that will be drawn by my good friend Martheus Wade. I’m writing an indie zombie book called Zen Vs. the Zombies with a friend (more information on that one as we get closer to the date), and one of my favorite projects right now is the Jesse James in the Mayan Underworld book I’m working on for Arcana. Of course, don’t forget the upcoming pulp comics anthology story I’m doing with James Ritchey III featuring the indomitable Blue Lady. And for those fans who remember my Shooting Star Comics work, well, let’s just say that… I’ll have to stop here before the spoiler police beat down my door.
AP: Are there any upcoming convention appearances or signings coming up where fans can meet you?
ST: Sure, I’ll be at Connooga from February 18-20 in Chattanooga, Tennessee, then back home in Atlanta for Momocon for March12-13. And if you plan ahead as far as May next year, come visit me in Birmingham, Alabama for Imagicon. That one’s always one of my favorites for the year. I keep my list of conventions and other appearances updated at http://www.taylorverse.com/conventions.html so check there for new announcements.
AP: You have served as a writer, editor, and publisher. Are there any creative areas you’ve not worked in that you would like to try your hand at doing?
ST: I’ve also lettered comics digitally, which is fun. If anything I wish I could draw. I’d love to try my hand at that, but I understand my limitations and inabilities all too well.
I would love to write for films though, primarily for low- to mid-budget horror flicks. I cut my teeth watching those things and love the clichés and stereotypes of them, and would really enjoy playing in that playground. So if anyone reading this has a production company and needs a scriptwriter for some good ol’ fashioned creepy scares and hack and slash action, let me know. I’ve got a folder filled with ideas for the proverbial “just the right time.”
AP: And finally, what advice would you give to anyone wanting to be a writer?
ST: First, plumbers fix pipes and don’t stop for plumber’s block. Race car drivers drive fast in a oval and don’t pull off to the side with driver’s block. Assembly line workers assemble and don’t let assembly block slow them down. You are what you do, not what you claim to do. Writers write. It’s that simple. Don’t give me that writer’s block excuse. Write something. Anything. Then keep writing.
And second, learn to edit. Not just proofread, but edit. And whenever possible, turn off your spellchecker. It only makes you lazy.
AP: Thanks, Sean. 

GUEST REVIEW OF THE WEEK…DR. HERMES RETURNS!!

  • News
  • December 2, 2010

GUEST REVIEW OF THE WEEK!

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Dr. Hermes Retro-Scans http://dr-hermes.livejournal.com/790788.html                     

CHILDREN OF THE LENS (ah, kids today)

From the November and December 1947 issues of ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION, this was the final book in the original Lensman series (Smith later revised TRIPLANETARY to serve as a prologue and wrote FIRST LENSMAN to fill in the gap between TRIPLANETARY and GALACTIC PATROL). CHILDREN OF THE LENS certainly has a full cast, with both Kimball and Clarrissa Kinnison, their five offspring and familiar faces (if “faces” is the correct word) like Worsel, Tregonsee and Nadreck… not to mention Mentor of Arisia. Our heroes are united in action to combat the biggest threat to Civilization yet, all building up to a cosmic showdown two billion years in the making.

Yet for most of the time, I didn’t find CHILDREN OF THE LENS quite as satisfying as the earlier books in the series. Smith’s writing has gotten much smoother and less flamboyant than when he started, but some of the purple grandeur has been lost. Also, to be honest, too much of the conflict this time around is on a telepathic level. Powerful superhuman minds probing and clashing is dramatic enough, but the earlier books capped off the psychic struggles with epic scenes of planets crashing into each other and the output of suns concentrated into destructive beans.

The big ultimate showdown is impressive enough (and actually I don’t see how it could have ended any other way), but I thought the middle of the story could have used some more exploding planets and ultra-resonating frammistats. Kimball Kinnison’s undercover missions (posing as a smuggler or crook) were always highlights of the first three books and here they gets skipped over briefly. (Smith’s infrequent dry humor shows where Kim is posing as a snoopy author.)

There is a haunting moment when, with all the minds of untold millions of Lensmen combined, the five Children have joined into a group-consciousness called the UNIT to spearhead the attack. “Strong young arms laced the straining Five into a group as motionless and as sculpturesque as statuary, while between their bodies and around them came into being a gigantic Lens: a Lens whose splendor filled the entire room with radiance.” I love that image; if the Lensmen books are ever filmed properly, that scene would raise goose bumps.

I felt slightly dismayed at the way the Children so easily and presumptuously manipulate the minds of everyone around them. After cheering for Kim, Clarrissa and Worsel through their adventures in the three preceding books, it was a wee bit unsettling to watch them being toyed with like marionettes by the kids (and without their even knowing about it). I know a major part of Smith’s theme was developing and increasing our heroes’ abilities and that Mr and Mrs Kinnison wanted their Children to keep stepping up in power, inevitably leaving themselves in the dust… but somehow this made me unreasonably sad. It would be like seeing Sherlock Holmes train an apprentice who then secretly plants clues to make it easier for the Great Detective or if Korak had been slyly protecting Tarzan from danger without getting caught.

It’s been twenty years since the last installment. Kim and Clarrissa Kinnison (the Gray Lensman and the Red) have turned out a son (Christopher or Kit) and two pairs of non-identical twin girls. These all have names starting with a “K” sound, and (although each has slightly different abilities and personalities) the girls really all look and sound pretty much alike; enough so, that I wasn’t sure which one was teaming up with Worsel and which with Tregonsee. All five of the Children start off already gifted beyond their parents — they are after all the culmination of the millenia-long breeding program which produced parents Kim and Chris — and additionally they were raised by two Second Stage Lensmen and pals like Worsel and Tregonsee. In fact, these kids are so advanced they can materialize the amazing Lenses on their arms all by themselves. Not that they need one. But they each also head to Arisia to receive their final upgrades from Mentor himself (itself? theirselves?). By this time, the five Children seem like they could take over Olympus itself without much trouble and tackle Asgard a few minutes later.

It’s hard to keep coming up with challenges fit for these steadily evolving superhumans, but Smith always manages. For one thing, they go up against alien beings who can meet them head on; also, much of the action is carried out through technology, as weapons and defenses keep outdoing each other. Too, they have to deal with problems like their nasty counterparts, the Black Lensmen, who get their yellow power rings from the anti-matter universe of Qward… no, wait. Who get their substandard cheap imitation Lenses from somewhere to be identified.

I’m still not sure I’ve got the big picture right, as Smith has created a mythology as dense and complex as Tolkien’s. So I might be perplexed about something on page 221 of SECOND STAGE LENSMEN that is clarified in the introduction to TRIPLANETARY. (My Visualization of the Cosmic All is clouded and weak; in fact, I have trouble finding my car keys.) Be that as it may, it seems that the ultimate evil (from our viewpoint) in the universe are the Eddorians, who operate through a hierarchy of races descending below them in both power and wickedness. As we follow the books, our heroes keep overcoming their enemies only to later find that there was something behind them even worse. (Frustrating, eh?) So the villains escalate from the Boskonian pirates to the Overlords of Delgon to the Eich to the Ploorans (brrrr). Although we the readers know about the Eddorians, in the narrative itself only the Children and the Arisians are hip to their existence.

There are some tantalizing hints here and there that the five Children will soon start breeding with each other in a big incestuous commune. Actually, there are also some unsavory undertones in the scene where Kit initiates his mother in the mysteries of becoming a Second-Stage Lensman; aside from the way he keeps telling how gorgeous and sexy she is, the description of their intense training session sure suggests science-fiction MILFism to me. (“Kit came [telepathically, that is,]; and at the first terrific surge of his mind within hers the Red Lensman caught her breath, stiffened in every muscle and all but screamed in agony.”) After she has been raised to Second Stage Lenshood, her face is white and sweaty and her hair dishevelled. While she goes to freshen up, Kit eats a steak.

Anyway, back to the girls. None of the four sisters “had ever shown or felt the slightest interest in any one of numerous boys and men.” No normal human male, even a Lensman, could possibly come up to their standards. Except, of course, for their brother Kit, who is their equal and who can join with them in a thrilling group mind called the UNIT. Hmm, you don’t suppose…? (“They each had dreamed of a man who would be her own equal, physically and mentally, but it had not yet occurred to any of them that one such man already existed.”) And Kit has funny stirrings about his sisters, too (“They didn’t FEEL like other girls. After dancing with one of them, other girls felt like robots made out putty. Their flesh was different. It was firmer, finer, infinitely more responsive.”)

I’m just glad Philip Jose Farmer never got around to writing a Lensman book. Whew!

In the epilogue to CHILDREN OF THE LENS, Kit informs whatever race discovers his time-capsule message that his own Civilization has probably fallen by now and his reader’s new society is being threatened by some arch-threat of its own. But, Kit reassures them, help will be available. (“Prepare your mind for contact.”) And the cycle will start all over again. I can’t even imagine what Smith would have come up with for a challenge bigger and nastier than the Eddorians. Tackling Yog-Sothoth and the Great Old Ones? One of the five Children going bad and turning on the others? Blackie DuQuesne making a comeback? Excursions into the afterlife?

Fortier reviews FROGS OF DOOM!!!! No Kiddin’!!

  • News
  • December 1, 2010

ALL PULP REVIEWS
by Ron Fortier

DOC WILDE
& The Frogs of Doom
By Tim Byrd
G.P.Putnam’s Son
186 pages

(This is a review written in the past but to preserve the sentiment, ALL PULP will print it as it was originally printed)

Sometimes the twist and turns of fate can make you sit back and ponder those magical things we call coincidence. Early yesterday morning, via the internet, I learned that one of our finest fantasy, science fiction writers had died; Philip Jose Farmer. Amongst his many popular works, Farmer had invented a strange heroes mythology wherein he surmised not only were all the great literary heroes of the late nineteenth and twentieth century based on real people but that they were also related in one fashion or another. This was called his Wold Newton Mythology.

In this fanciful theory, Farmer postulated that there had actually been a 1930s globe trotting adventurer who was the basis for the pulp hero, Doc Savage. Farmer also suggested this man was related to the jungle lord we call Tarzan. Amongst his elaborate genealogy of heroes, Farmer several times replaced the name Savage with Wilde, again to indicate historical personages and their fictional disguises.

So why bring this all up now? Simply because on the day I learned of Farmer’s passing, this book arrived on my doorstep; DOC WILDE AND THE FROGS OF DOOM by Tim Byrd. In his action-packed story, Byrd tells us this Doc Savage figure not only existed, but that he went on to marry and have a son and grandchildren. The son is one Doctor Spartacus Wilde, a golden hued chip off the old block. Like his dad, now ninety-nine but still fit as an Olympian athlete, he is a famous scientist, inventor and world traveler. He is also a widower raising two fantastic kids, Brian and Wren, both of whom have inherited the family adventuring genes.

As the book opens, Doc and his children learn that Grandpa Wilde has disappeared at the same time they are attacked by a variety of bizarre, hybrid frogs. Surviving these bizarre assaults, Doc, Brian, Wren and Doc’s aides, take up the search from the Empire State Building, where they interview Grandma Pat Wilde to the halls of Harvard. Oh, and the two aides I mentioned are a red-headed Irishman named Declan mac Coul and a natty, debonair lawyer named Phineas Bartlett. (Of course any self-respecting pulp fan will recognize them immediately.)

The trail of the missing senior Doc leads our group to the South American jungles of Hidalgo, as yet another well known name from the Savage canon. The innocent fun of this book, which is a Young Reader’s offering, is that it does not attempt to shy away from its origins and is a worthy pastiche for all Doc Savage enthusiasts. Byrd is having a grand time offering us a satisfying what-if adventure that rings true from start to finish and left me wanting more. All the trappings and clichés of the hero pulps are here, but presented in such a fresh and carefree manner, the reader will be swept away by the outlandish exploits performed by this one-of-a-kind family. The Wildes are old fashion heroes in the best sense of the word and their adventure is sure to thrill pulp fans, both old and new.　

Fortier Reviews FROGS OF DOOM! No kiddin’!!!

  • News
  • December 1, 2010

DOC WILDE & The Frogs of Doom

By Tim Byrd
G.P.Putnam’s Son
186 pages

(This is a review written in the past but to preserve the sentiment, ALL PULP will print it as it was originally printed)

Sometimes the twist and turns of fate can make you sit back and ponder those magical things we call coincidence. Early yesterday morning, via the internet, I learned that one of our finest fantasy, science fiction writers had died; Philip Jose Farmer. Amongst his many popular works, Farmer had invented a strange heroes mythology wherein he surmised not only were all the great literary heroes of the late nineteenth and twentieth century based on real people but that they were also related in one fashion or another. This was called his Wold Newton Mythology.

In this fanciful theory, Farmer postulated that there had actually been a 1930s globe trotting adventurer who was the basis for the pulp hero, Doc Savage. Farmer also suggested this man was related to the jungle lord we call Tarzan. Amongst his elaborate genealogy of heroes, Farmer several times replaced the name Savage with Wilde, again to indicate historical personages and their fictional disguises.

So why bring this all up now? Simply because on the day I learned of Farmer’s passing, this book arrived on my doorstep; DOC WILDE AND THE FROGS OF DOOM by Tim Byrd. In his action-packed story, Byrd tells us this Doc Savage figure not only existed, but that he went on to marry and have a son and grandchildren. The son is one Doctor Spartacus Wilde, a golden hued chip off the old block. Like his dad, now ninety-nine but still fit as an Olympian athlete, he is a famous scientist, inventor and world traveler. He is also a widower raising two fantastic kids, Brian and Wren, both of whom have inherited the family adventuring genes.

As the book opens, Doc and his children learn that Grandpa Wilde has disappeared at the same time they are attacked by a variety of bizarre, hybrid frogs. Surviving these bizarre assaults, Doc, Brian, Wren and Doc’s aides, take up the search from the Empire State Building, where they interview Grandma Pat Wilde to the halls of Harvard. Oh, and the two aides I mentioned are a red-headed Irishman named Declan mac Coul and a natty, debonair lawyer named Phineas Bartlett. (Of course any self-respecting pulp fan will recognize them immediately.)

The trail of the missing senior Doc leads our group to the South American jungles of Hidalgo, as yet another well known name from the Savage canon. The innocent fun of this book, which is a Young Reader’s offering, is that it does not attempt to shy away from its origins and is a worthy pastiche for all Doc Savage enthusiasts. Byrd is having a grand time offering us a satisfying what-if adventure that rings true from start to finish and left me wanting more. All the trappings and clichés of the hero pulps are here, but presented in such a fresh and carefree manner, the reader will be swept away by the outlandish exploits performed by this one-of-a-kind family. The Wildes are old fashion heroes in the best sense of the word and their adventure is sure to thrill pulp fans, both old and new.

　　

DECODER RING THEATRE FREE FICTION PREVIEW ON ALL PULP!

  • News
  • December 1, 2010
DECODER RING THEATRE, one of the premiere sources of not just modern audio drama, but PULP audio drama has provided ALL PULP with a FICTION PREVIEW!   DRT, known for its RED PANDA audio dramas, as well as BLACK JACK JUSTICE, and other various gems, also has three Red Panda novels available!!!  Gregg Taylor, author and creator of THE RED PANDA, has graciously allowed ALL PULP to post the first chapter of the first novel TALES OF THE RED PANDA: THE CRIME CABAL! 
Even though this is the first chapter of a novel, it reads like a self contained tale and is a great introduction to The Red Panda and Flying Squirrel!!  Stay tuned to ALL PULP in coming days for a review of all THE RED PANDA novels as well as interviews with DRT cast and creators and other DRT goodies.   For more info on the fiction and all DRT does, go to http://www.decoderringtheatre.com/! And now…
Tales of the Red Panda: The Crime Cabal
  
One
The last sliver of the moon hung above the great, teeming city and its million souls like the flickering remnants of a guttering candle. Its few, feeble rays reached into the thousand dark places the gaslight could never penetrate – the alleyways, the long-quiet industrial ruins, the waterfront. Silver fingertips bruised themselves against the creeping darkness of the badlands and found themselves buried in its lifeless chill. The moon retired and was seen no more. Those of the city that could do so made their way to warmth and safety behind locked doors. Those that could not whispered a prayer to the morning, and let the waves of darkness wash over them. Night came to the city.

Mitch Reynard stared out into the blackness and blinked hard. Four hours of this. It was too much. He shook his head a little to persuade his eyes to stay focused and stamped his feet to fight the chill of the damp spring air. He felt inside his coat for a cigarette. As he fumbled with the lining of his torn pocket, his fingers brushed against the cold steel of the .38 revolver he wore on his shoulder. For a moment he remembered that he had a job to do. Like a truant schoolboy, his eyes turned back to the weary blackness that surrounded him.

He pressed the cigarette between thin, dry lips and felt for his matches. Nothing. He was sure that he’d had half a book. His eyes turned again to the void. He took six steps forward and looked over the edge of the roof he stood upon. He could barely see the walls of the warehouse below him, but he could hear the soft scuff of the men at the front door as they struggled to keep their watch. He could see the orange glow of their cigarettes as they paced. Reynard almost called to them, but six stories below they wouldn’t be of much use to him, and they could no more leave their posts than he could his. He turned back in towards the rooftop. To his left, he thought he could almost make out Jake on the corner of the roof with his Thompson. Or maybe he just thought he could. It didn’t matter – he’d be there all right, and he’d have a light.

Reynard turned out to face the night. Nothing. He decided that this was pointless. Night after night, watching for something that didn’t come. Tonight he wouldn’t have even been able to see it if he’d known what he was looking for.

“No sense being a hero,” he thought, and smiled at the irony.

He turned and made his way carefully across the rooftop to the corner where he knew Jake stood waiting. Waiting and watching. He’d gone fifteen feet before he was sure he could just make out the shape of Jake’s light colored raincoat. Another twenty feet and Reynard could see him, outlined in black and white like a picture show. He began to wonder at what distance it would be safe to call out to the waiting gunman. Didn’t want to surprise him. Jake didn’t much like surprises. Reynard heard a sudden noise behind him. His blood froze in his veins, and for just a moment, he had no idea what to do. He heard another footfall gently brush against the stones that covered the roof, closer this time. Reynard’s instincts took over. His right arm reached across his body as he turned and then straightened, .38 in hand. He heard a familiar voice hiss,

“Reynard! Reynard, what in blazes do you think you’re playing at?”

Reynard sighed. It was Malcolm, the boss’ right-hand. He could just see him striding forward through the darkness. Malcolm was afraid of nothing.

“Reynard! You’re not at your post!” hissed Malcolm.

“Geez, Mister Malcolm, I was just gonna get a match off Jake.”

Malcolm was close enough to be seen clearly now. Reynard could see the bigger man’s immaculately pressed grey suit and the scowl of contempt he always seemed to wear. He could smell Malcolm’s expensive cigar and more expensive hair tonic. Yes, sir. Malcolm was doing all right, that was for sure. He’d been old man Sclareli’s toughest soldier before he was put away, and his nephew’s loyal lieutenant since that dark day. Young Vic Sclareli was the boss, but Malcolm knew where all the bodies were buried, and how to dispose of another one if the need arose.

“Mister Sclareli doesn’t pay you to make social calls, Reynard.” There was menace in the gravel of that voice.

“Honest, Mister Malcolm.” Reynard was sweating now, in spite of the cold. “Lookit,” he said, pointing toward the unlit cigarette still stuck to his dry lips.

Malcolm held his eyes for a moment as best he could in the blackness. Finally, Reynard was sure he saw him smile. Reynard swallowed hard to persuade his heart to go back down his throat. A light sparked as Malcolm struck a match and lit Reynard’s cigarette. The smoke burned Reynard’s lungs and watered his eyes, but he smiled in relief.

“Thanks. Thanks, Mister Malcolm.”

“Keep the book, Mitch,” Malcolm said, pressing it into Reynard’s hand. “We can’t afford any slip-ups.”

“Geez, Mister Malcolm, I don’t mean anything by it, but how much longer are we supposed to keep this up? It’s been two weeks now, holed up like rats in a cage.”

Malcolm’s eyebrow arched. “A very tastefully appointed cage, Reynard.”

“Inside, sure it is,” chirped Reynard, feeling bolder now, “but from out here it’s just a big old warehouse. We don’t even know what we’re watching for.”

“Let’s hope you know it when you see it, Mitch,” said Malcolm, turning away. “For your sake.”

Malcolm stalked back towards the door that led in from the roof to the Sclareli mob’s headquarters – a hideout that had become a fortress. The half-open door cast a red glow against the blackness, thirty, maybe forty feet away. Reynard slipped the book of matches into his pocket. He’d need most of these before dawn. He didn’t understand this. He didn’t understand why they were hiding. They were hunters, not prey. They should be fighting back.

He started to return to his post. He turned and glanced back to Jake on the corner. Good old Jake – never asked questions, never left his post. Except…

Jake was gone.

Reynard froze and looked around. It was still too pitch black to see far, but the black and white outline of the man with the Thompson was nowhere to be found. He took two quick steps in that direction then stopped hard, like a dog yanked by a leash. If Malcolm was watching…

“Mister Malcolm!” hissed Reynard, as loud as he dared. “Mister Malcolm, it’s Jake.” The red glow of the half-open door still hung in the air, but there wasn’t a sound.

“Mister Malcolm!”

Nothing. Like most men that pursued his line of work, Mitch Reynard was a coward. Able enough in a group, or when told what to do, but one way or another the equation was always balanced by fear. After another moment, he realized what Sclareli would do to him if he let an unwelcome visitor slip past him. That tore it. He was more afraid of the boss than Malcolm.

Reynard pulled his .38 again and raced across the rooftop, stumbling in the darkness. As he picked himself up, he turned. The glow of the open door seemed very far away now. It actually seemed to be getting darker. Cautiously, he felt his way forward until he found the low wall that surrounded the edge of the roof. He groped further into the darkness, his tongue dry and heavy in his mouth as he called in a hoarse whisper,

“Jake! Jake? Where are you?”

Reynard’s right hand found the point where the north and east walls met. He turned in towards the roof, feeling with his outstretched hand as he instinctively lowered himself down to the surface of the roof. His eyes could just make out something…

Jake’s battered pork-pie hat, lying on the ground beside a still-smoldering cigar. But no Jake. Reynard scrambled to his feet and heard the clatter of something metallic. He bent forward again and came up with Jake’s Thompson. Reynard’s heart sank.

At that moment, a faint sound carried through the blackness. The beginnings of triumphant laughter, like a far-off song in a haunting minor key, taunting him. Reynard felt the chill of doom grip his heart. He had heard that sound before. At that moment, there was a clatter from across the roof, and the red glow abruptly disappeared. The door was shut. That laughter was inside the Sclareli headquarters. Reynard raced towards the door, shouting,

“He’s inside! He’s inside! Everybody–” Reynard was cut off as he tripped over something lying in the darkness and fell, hard. He turned in a rage. It was Malcolm, dead or out cold, Reynard couldn’t tell. No one was responding to his cries. There was no movement or sound on the rooftop. Reynard knew he was alone. The others had been taken, one by one. He’d only been spared because he wasn’t at his post.

He gripped the Thompson hard and raced towards the door. He found it by the sounds of a struggle from within, and then gunshots, a dozen or more. That gave the alarm. Reynard could hear his confederates on the ground converging on the front door. Reynard waited. Perhaps it was all over.

But then he heard the laugh again. Louder now, and with a crueler, mocking tone. Reynard stood with his hand on the doorknob, his whole body shaking. Few had heard that sound so close for so long. It was more than just laughter; it was a battle cry. There was mirth in the laugh, a kind of reckless joy.

“Oh, God,” Reynard whispered to himself, forgetting that he had long ago forsaken the right to any aid from that corner. He gripped the doorknob harder, unable to force his body forward. Unable to find the strength of will. Alone on that roof, the sounds of titanic struggle beyond the door. And always that laughter. It couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but to Mitch Reynard, it was an eternity.

From within, there was a sound like an explosion. He could feel the rush of air shaking the old wooden door. He waited a moment. No laughter. Maybe… just maybe.

Reynard turned the knob and raced through the door. He fell forward onto the high catwalk that ran around the top level of the warehouse Sclareli had converted for his headquarters. Reynard had known the place for a year. Neither he nor any other member of the gang had left it for the past two weeks. He would never have recognized it now. The great open chamber that was Vic Sclareli’s pride and joy was in ruins. The only light was from a fire burning near the main doors, evidently the explosive blast Reynard had heard had backfired. The lights flickered and sparked, but from the damage done to a power relay near the door, Reynard could tell there would be no help there. There was scattered gunfire from the lower levels as the remaining members of the Sclareli mob tried to organize their counterstrike. And everywhere there were bodies. They hadn’t been shot; Reynard couldn’t see any blood at all. He was taking them apart with his bare hands.

Suddenly, Reynard looked up, across the open expanse to the other side of the catwalk. There he was. Just a man. A man like any other. Reynard struggled to collect himself. If he could get a shot from here, he might have a–

Reynard’s thoughts came to a crashing halt as the frozen form sixty feet away sprang into motion. Reynard could see six of his confederates rush the man, and the casual ease with which he brushed them aside. The heads, arms, legs… all broken and bent as they were never meant to be. Six men. In a moment. In spite of himself, Reynard gasped.

The dark shape froze, like a wolf with the scent of blood in its nose, and turned in his direction. No. It was impossible. The man couldn’t have heard that sound. Not over the screams, the growing flames, the gunfire. And then the laughter began again.

The man raced towards the edge of the catwalk and threw himself over into oblivion. Red gauntlets thrust forward, fingertips extended to their furthest reach. Something seemed to propel him forward, pushing him away from the solid walls with such force that he barely fell an inch as he jumped. Impossible. It couldn’t be… no man could make that leap.

Half the distance between the site of the last battle and the catwalk where Reynard now stood there was a cross-beam, almost a full six stories in the air. The man reached it as if it had been easy. He gripped the beam with crimson gloved hands and propelled himself around it, seemingly oblivious to the blaze of gunfire from below. He spun himself around the beam with terrible speed and hurled himself into the air, feet first, towards the frozen form of Mitch Reynard.

It was easily the most incredible thing that Reynard had ever seen. The man stretched his arms behind his head, his hands reaching as if they worked invisible controls. Some force of great power seemed now to be pulling him by the feet, pulling him an impossible distance through the air. He actually overshot his mark, hitting the wall above the catwalk feet first and, with another sudden movement of his hands, staying there. He turned and looked right into Reynard’s soul with eyes that were blank, white and seemed to glow with an unearthly fury. And then he smiled.

Mitch felt weak in the knees as the man walked toward him, striding along the wall as smoothly as if he were walking flat upon the ground. Several stray bullets from floor level got his attention enough that he dropped to the catwalk. Reynard felt the cold steel of the Thompson in his clammy hands, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry out to the world the terror that gripped him by the heart.

At last, there he stood, not three feet away, towering above Reynard. The long grey coat, the immaculate suit beneath and the grey fedora impossibly still perched on his head. The bright red gauntlets and domino mask. And those terrible eyes. It was him. The man that fifty gunmen had watched for and guarded against, and all in vain.

It was the Red Panda.

The right gauntlet thrust forward at unbelievable speed, gripping Reynard by the throat. The left hand lashed out in a crimson blur and sent the Thompson clattering to the floor. Reynard stared in disbelief at the cold, white eyes hovering behind the colorful mask. This… this thing couldn’t be human, could it? No one could do what he did. No living man could have eyes like that. He could feel his entire body shaking, but was powerless to make it stop. Beneath the mask, Reynard could see the smile playing about his tormentor’s face.

“You’re afraid, aren’t you, Mitch Reynard?” the masked man said quietly, in a voice like a far-off roll of thunder. Reynard started. It knew his name. Mitch Reynard: career criminal, multiple murderer, proud parasite upon the living city, soldier in the Sclareli mob. Despite himself, Mitch Reynard began to quietly sob. The creature of the night that suspended him above the floor in a vice-like grip made no effort to conceal his amusement.

“You fear the Red Panda, do you not?” came the voice again.

Mitch could only sputter and nod.

“As well you might. For you have much to answer for, Mitch Reynard.”

The weeping gangster became quieter, calmer, as the voice washed over him, smooth and even-toned. Reynard could feel something… a coldness…

“All who cause the innocent to suffer in the name of greed will be made to answer, Reynard.” The voice seemed so far away now.

…No, not cold… a… numbness… creeping tendrils of another mind in his…

“The Red Panda is coming to make you pay, Mitch Reynard.”

There were cries from below. The remnants of the Sclareli mob were getting organized for a last offensive – a final push up the stairs to finish off the masked intruder in their midst who had suddenly vanished.

“But I am not the Red Panda.”

Mitch could not bring himself to question this. Of course this was not the Red Panda.

“I am your trusted associate. Don’t you recognize me?”

Mitch smiled in warm relief. It was good to see a friendly face.

“But he is here. Dozens of him. Coming this way.”

The gangster’s brows furrowed in confusion for just a moment.

“He’s not just one man. He’s a small army. Can’t you hear them coming?”

Mitch could hear them. Hear them creeping up towards the catwalk. Of course – it all made sense now. No one man could have fought such a war on crime and the gangs of men who controlled it. No one man. An army. And they were here!

“They will take you, if you let them, Mitch Reynard. And they will make you pay. Pay for every wrong thing you have ever done, even the ones you think no one knows about. If you let them.” The voice felt closer now. Like a warm whisper in Reynard’s ear that fanned the almost extinguished fires of his courage. Reynard felt strong. Stronger than he had in years. The great gloved hand set him back upon his feet and patted him on the shoulder.

“You won’t let them, will you, Mitch?”

Reynard shook his head slowly, as if it took all of his concentration. He moved as one in a daze to his right and picked up the Thompson. At last he had the strength to use it. At last. He crept to the edge of the catwalk. There… just past the shadows… there was the Red Panda. Two of them. And there were more, coming from the left. And another, on the ground with a rifle. One of them suddenly looked up.

“Mitch!” called the masked man.

As Mitch Reynard opened fire, the roar of the submachine gun almost drowned out the ringing peals of laughter from somewhere far above.

Minutes later, as the sounds of furious battle continued, a small, lithe shape moved quietly through Vic Sclareli’s inner sanctum. The Red Panda watched from the shadows as it padded, almost silently, towards an oversized portrait of Vic’s uncle Tony, the founder of the Sclareli criminal empire who currently resided in a maximum security penitentiary for his trouble. Grey-gloved hands lifted the portrait down to reveal a wall safe behind. The hands set the painting on the floor, against the wall. For a moment, the garish colors served to highlight the silhouette of the cat burglar. It was a pleasant sort of a shape – female, athletic and yet softly curved. If the masked man took note of any of that, he gave no outward sign. Her gloved hands began to work the safe. The roar of gunfire in the outer chambers continued, muted though it was by the cork-lined walls of Sclareli’s office.

The Red Panda stepped forward from the shadows, gliding silently towards the intruder. With both stealth and speed he moved towards the girl. Again, the smile played upon his face. She could have no idea he was here.

“How am I supposed to crack this safe with you making that racket?” came a voice that was equal parts sass and laughter. “Or is that you being quiet?”

The Red Panda smiled ruefully. His partner either had remarkable hearing or that was a very lucky guess. He decided to presume the former.

“How are we doing?” he asked coldly.

“Not bad. Most of what we need is in a pile on the desk,” said the Flying Squirrel with a glance back and a smile. “I thought you were keeping them busy.”

“Don’t they sound busy?” came the reply as he pulled a folding satchel from the depths of his coat.

“Who’s the shooter?” the masked young woman at the safe asked casually.

“Mitch Reynard,” replied the Red Panda, as he quickly scanned the files his partner had selected before placing them into the satchel.

“Mitch Reynard? You big softie.” The Flying Squirrel’s voice was amused, but not disappointed. “He’s the worst shot in gangland. He’d be lucky to hit the broad side of a barn at ten paces.”

“It’s still safer in here,” he said, as he completed his task.

“And here I thought you just missed me,” she sighed as she turned the latch and opened the safe. “Are we interested in any cash or negotiables today?”

“I think we’re covered. Grab the ledger and burn the rest.”

“You rich boys don’t know the value of a dollar, do you?” There was a note of genuine disdain in her voice. He tried to think where he’d gone wrong. She turned her head in his direction, her steel grey cowl that blended perfectly into her catsuit turned to the side, waiting. He tried not to smile at the false ears on her cowl as they waggled at him slightly.

“All right, grab the ledger, burn the bonds and we’ll drop the cash off at St. Michael’s.” He was fairly sure she was after the Robin Hood play.

“That’s my Boss. He gets there in the end. Your ledger, sahib.” She handed him a thick black tome that, together with the other documents in the bag, spelled doom for Sclareli’s rackets.

“Good work, Squirrel. This should be the end of the Sclareli crime family once and for all.”

“Nothin’ personal, Boss, but we’ve said that before. Of course, if ‘dead shot’ Reynard has his way…” As if on cue, the roar of the machine gun stopped, leaving only an echo in its wake. They exchanged a look. Without a word, she grabbed the last stack of bills and thrust it into her own satchel as he produced a small, round device from the folds of his coat. He depressed a button and the ball began to whir.

“Down!” ordered the Red Panda calmly, and he threw the incendiary into the safe. The remainder of Sclareli’s nest egg went up in flames.

As the wail of police sirens descended on the place, two almost-invisible shapes leaped from the rooftop and were swallowed up into the night. If the arriving policemen heard the far-off peals of laughter as they stormed the broken fortress, they gave no outward sign.

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DEBUT OF THE ALL PULP NEWSSTAND-BULLDOG EDITION!!

  • News
  • December 1, 2010

ALL PULP NEWSSTAND

BULLDOG EDITION
12/1/10
FREE PULP FICTION
From Bill Raetz-
For the month of December, 2010, I’m offering my first pulp fiction novella, Strip Poker, as a free download! It’s also available as a paperback for only $5.95.
Gracing the cover of this illustrated, incredibly pulpy adventure is none other than the lovely Syd Divine, the Golden Girl of the West.
If you enjoy the novella, posting a comment/short review somewhere online would be much appreciated.  The free download is available by clicking:
Get your copy today—and be sure to tell a friend!
For more about Syd Divine, visit: http://goldengirlofthewest.blogspot.com/.
FREE PULP CHRISTMAS TALE!!
From Josh Reynolds-

Advent Day Giveaway

So…how many of you were paying attention when I mentioned a little something called “Krampsnacht”? Because if you were, you’d know that starting today and going until Midnight on Christmas Day, I’ll be offering a COMPLETELY FREE 5,000 WORD SHORT STORY to anyone who contacts me either via e-mail at argus33 at hotmail dot com, Facebook, Livejournal or Blogger between now and then.

Now, what’s this story business about, you ask? Well, it’s a bit of a gamble, is what it is. It’s both a holiday treat and an advertisement of sorts for a series of stories I’ll be writing regularly, starting next year, for Fantasy & Fear Magazine. This story is a first taste, if you will, of the characters who will be starring in said series-Charles St. Cyprian, the Royal Occultist to the British Crown and his assistant/apprentice, the sharp-tongued Ebe Gallowglass.
That said, the first ‘official’ appearance of these characters will be in January of 2011, in a story titled “Sign of the Salamander”, which concerns a murdered civil servant, a missing mystical artifact and a riverboat going down the Nile. But until that time, you should feel free to enjoy “Krampusnacht”, which sees our daring duo attempt to stand in the way of the kill-frenzy of the Krampus!
 
NEW FICTION FROM TEEL GLENN!
From TJ Glenn’s Facebook page-
Teel James Glenn I’m delighted to announce that my short story “The Jester’s Touch” is live at the Fantasy World Geographic Magazine site. Stop by, read and leave a comment:
Teel

http://skaggsworld.com/fwg/2010/11/16/the-jesters-touch/

PRO SE ANNOUNCES NEW ANTHOLOGY LINE FOR 2011!
Pro Se Productions, publisher of the monthly PRO SE PRESENTS magazine line (including the rotating PECULIAR ADVENTURES, FANTASY AND FEAR, and MASKED GUN MYSTERY titles) announces that it will begin publishing Anthologies in 2011.  Unlike the magazines, these will be in book form and will contain four 15,000 word stories per book, each book with a different theme.

Ad for PECULIAR ADVENTURES

“We’re very fortunate,” states Tommy Hancock, Editor in Chief of Pro Se Press, “to have worked with so many talented writers and artists in the last year.  The decision to continue our magazine line and then add anthologies essentially came out of that talent pool.  We have writers eager to write concepts, both their own and some that are Pro Se house concepts and artists who can’t wait to bring images from those tales to life.  We have four great anthologies planned and are ready to welcome writers and artists, both those we’ve worked with and anyone new to Pro Se, to submit work for these collections.”
The first anthology, THE NINTH CIRCLE-VOLUME ONE, is scheduled for March, 2011.  This collection focuses on a concept created by Hancock that centers around a crime ridden precinct and borough in a city that shuffles its misbegotten and forgotten to THE NINTH CIRCLE.  This anthology will include tales from Hancock as well as noted pulp authors Barry Reese, Joshua Reynolds, and Derrick Ferguson!
The other collections still have openings for stories.  The anthologies scheduled to follow this debut include-
DEAD MAN WALKEN- Yet another concept from Hancock, this western adventure has enough intrigue and mystery to choke a horse!  A town is savagely attacked by a ruthless band of outlaws and most of the citizens killed, including the promising sheriff elect, Fitch Walken.  A month after the massacre and all the bodies are buried, Fitch Walken stumbles into town, the last three months of his life gone from his memory! The mystery deepens when Walken’s grave is exhumed…and he’s IN THE COFFIN!  What follows is the classic struggle of a man to find out who he is, what happened to him, and just which side of good and evil he will stand on! 
THE BLACK FEDORA-A BOOK OF VILLAINS- This is just what it says it is, an anthology dedicated to stories about the bad guys we love to hate.   These stories will focus on original villains and of course the heroes they face, these tales similar in style to the FU MANCHU stories of the past.  But this isn’t only for yellow perils!!  Any type of villain that populates pulp is welcome to try on THE BLACK FEDORA!
HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY-Ever wanted a chance to write a masked man enforcing justice in ancient Egypt?  Or a larger than life genius and his team of heroes righting wrongs in renaissance Italy?  Or mad scientists terrorizing the Arizona desert towns of the Old West?  Then here’s your chance!  HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY will include stories of traditional pulp concepts and tropes plopped into our very own past, pre 1900!  Take your favorite pulp stereotype and wrap it up in ancient or not so ancient places and people and join us in HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY!

PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY #2
ON SALE NOW!

Any writers interested in submitting a proposal for DEAD MAN WALKEN, THE BLACK FEDORA, and/or HIGH ADVENTURE HISTORY need to write up a maximum of a two page proposal and email it to Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net.  If the concept is accepted, the writer will be given a deadline to complete the story.  If the deadline is not met, other writers who have submitted proposals and put on a list for future volumes will be moved into the now open space.  All accepted writers will receive a percentage of earnings from the book they are a part of.  Artists interested in work, which will be paid by the page, also need to send samples and inquiries to Hancock at the above address.
When asked about the move Pro Se is making into anthologies, Barry Reese, a contributing writer to THE NINTH CIRCLE and Book Editor for PRO SE PRESENTS MASKED GUN MYSTERY stated, “It seems like the perfect transition for Pro Se — they’ve already shown that they can bring back the thrill of pulp monthlies and now they can take that sense of adventure and design into the field of anthologies. It’s a no-brainer and I’m thrilled to see what Pro Se can do!”
 
For any questions, please contact Tommy Hancock at proseproductions@earthlink.net
sorcerers-apprentice1-6000135

Review: ‘The Sorcerer’s Apprentice’

sorcerers-apprentice1-6000135People have been adapting works of art since time immemorial adjusting the details for the era and culture. There appear to be countless versions of what happens when a sorcerer leaves his apprentice alone to complete his chores. This led to Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s 1797 ballad, which was adapted into a symphonic poem by Paul Dukas in 1890. In the 1940s Walt Disney used both as an inspiration for the most beloved sequence in [[[Fantasia]]], as Mickey Mouse plays the Sorcerer’s Apprentice. These days, with everything from the Disney vaults ripe for reinterpretation, it was inevitable that someone would turn this enchanting sequence into an over-the-top spectacle.

Actor Nicholas Cage is credited with the notion for this retelling of [[[The Sorcerer’s Apprentice]]], which reunites him with director Jon Turteltaub, with Disney hoping for some National treasure magic to be sprinkled over this warmed-up rehash of the familiar. The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, one of the summer’s more disappointing offerings, is out on DVD today in the usual assortment of formats and combinations.

In this retelling, written by Matt Lopez and the team of Lawrence Konner & Mark Rosenthal (it amazes me these guys still get work) from a story by Doug Miro, Carlo Bernard and Matt Lopez, the Sorcerer in question is Balthazar Blake, one of Merlin’s three apprentices and the survivor of the horrors at the fall of Camelot. Balthazar and his best friend Maxim Horvath (Alfred Molina) both loved Veronica Gorloisen (Monica Bellucci), who sacrificed herself to stop Morgana le Fay (Alice Krige) from raising an army of the dead. Veronica absorbed le Fay’s soul and was encased in a nesting doll called the Grimhold. We’re then told that Horvath turned on Balthazar and they fought for centuries while Balthazar stopped the worst of le Fay’s believers, turning each into a nesting doll surrounding the first. Finally, Horvath was contained and Balthazar could proceed with his mission: to find Merlin’s true successor, the Prime Merlinian. He would know of his success when Merlin’s dragon ring responded to the right person.

For a millennium, Balthazar searched the world until fate brought 10 year old Dave Stutler (Jake Cherry) to his Manhattan shop. But 10 year old boys don’t always follow instructions and after being given the ring, which curls around his finger, he accidentally unleashed Horvath, beginning a new battle between former friends in that eternal struggle between good and evil – that is, until both got caught in a Chinese urn for a decade.

Stutler (Jay Baruchel) is now a socially awkward physics student at NYU when both magicians reappear, plunging his life into a new form of hell. Balthazar slowly convinces Dave to accept training and his destiny, but balks when Dave tries to make time for Becky Barnes (Teresa Palmer). (more…)

superf-ckers-lg-3363487

Review: ‘Superf*ckers’

[[[Superf*ckers]]]
By James Kochalka
Top Shelf Productions, 144 pages, $14.95

superf-ckers-lg-3363487Reading the reviews about previous editions of James Kochalka’s Superf*ckers I was thinking this was going to be an amazing satire of the super-hero genre, poking fun at teams from the Justice Society of America to the Thunderbolts.  Over the years, Kochalka had been doling out one issue at a time, starting with Superf*ckers #271 in 2005 and released a fourth issue in 2007. Top Shelf has collected the four issues with the previously unpublished [[[Jack Krak #1]]] in a new collection released earlier this year.

I don’t get the praise. Not at all. Kochalka’s robbery figurework is good for his childrens’ books and other independent works but when it comes to super-powered, hyper-sexualized characters, it feels entirely wrong.

Over the course of the collection, these spoiled, nasty would-be heroes act like whiny, horny, spiteful high school students. None seem to be using their powers for the public good, but instead, to outperform each other in the hopes of gaining acceptance in the club. They are a uniformly unlikeable bunch and the satirical elements are so broadly played they’re more slapstick than witty commentary on modern comic book tropes.

Kochalka cuts between combinations of heroes one-upping each other, excreting with abandon and he paces these various threads nicely enough. He crams each page with plenty of panels and action, brightly coloring everything in what must have been a painstaking manner.

Amazingly, at the outset, Kochalka thought this might be an all-ages title but as he got further into this, he couldn’t prevent his annoying heroes from cussing so it has remained a book aimed at older readers. “And it makes the action more dramatic,” he told Comic Book Resources. Not at all. The cursing and invective permeates every pages as do the acts that should never be attempted at home.

I remain baffled why anyone things this is a laugh-out loud must-read series. In the same interview he said, “On the surface it’s fun and breezy romp, but underneath it’s a layered satire of American society, the comic book scene, power and pathos and the human condition.” That might have been his intent but the execution fails to measure up.

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