Ralph E. Vaughan's Blog, page 7

The Reincarnation of HP Lovecraft

H.P. Lovecraft
(20 August 1890 - 15 March 1937)During his lifetime, fantasy and science fiction writer Howard Phillips Lovecraft often averred that he believed in nothing, in no form of afterlife, neither the Heaven (or Hell) of his Puritan forebears nor the reincarnations of the Eastern religions. At death, he held, there was merely oblivion, a nothingness, a state he thought much more bearable than life, as there were no wants or desires, no pain or anguish. Before our births, he said, there was nothingness, so why make a big fuss about returning to it at the end? But when Lovecraft died of cancer in 1937, was that really the end for him? Perhaps personally, if his beliefs were correct, but not for his name, his stories, or his ideas. It may not be reincarnation in the tradition of our Hindu brethren, but HP Lovecraft continues to touch minds and change lives 115 years after his birth.

More than forty years ago (though sometimes it seems like a thousand), I sat in a high school homeroom class before the start of the actual learning day. It was a time used by my fellow students to do the homework they were supposed to have done the night before or to gossip about who was doing what with whom or to sit sullen-eyed and brood about the unfair vicissitudes of their lives. My homework, however, was completed, as usual, I didn't have any gossipy friends (hardly any friends at all, really), and though I was prone to brooding it was not usually a public activity for me...people just thought me one of the "quiet ones." On this particular day, I was doing what I did every day -- committing to paper stories about people who had never lived in lands that had never existed. As I neared the end of a story about a man foolish enough to venture upon the mist-laden moor alone I felt a dark presence looming over me. My heart froze and my gaze darted frantically to my left. Yes, Mr Vigil, my homeroom teacher, was standing next to me. He asked me what I was doing, I admitted my deed in a barely audible voice, and he asked if he could read it. I have often wondered what my life, or at least my writing life, would have been like if I had bucked authority (as was the fashion in the 60s) and said, "No way, man!" But I didn't, and he did read it, and I sat all sullen-eyed and brooded about the unfair vicissitudes of my life, and interfering teachers; toward the end of class, he handed back "The Moor" and said, surprisingly: "It was really good, and I'd like to read it when it's finished." And then he asked the question: "Have you ever read HP Lovecraft?" As it happened, I had not, but all that was about to change and my writing life take a big left turn.

Back in those days, bookstores were everywhere. Even a tiny burg like Chula Vista (pop approx 20K) had two, and that was not counting the two newsstands and the three department stores that had book departments. Downtown San Diego had more than thirty bookstores. But, as it happened, the day after Mr Vigil asked the question, my parents had to go to the Lemon Grove Shopping Center for some reason or another, and I found myself walking the aisles of the late and once great Pickwick Bookstore; one clerk eyed me suspiciously when I asked for Lovecraft (probably thought it was one of Dr David Reuben's books) but a more knowledgeable clerk knew exactly what I needed, and I left with several of the outre-covered editions published by Beagle...money actually being worth something back then, I was able to buy all the titles they had with my yard-work allowance, and get change back. I read them, and was amazed at Lovecraft's cosmic themes and soaring flights of imagination, at his sheer genius in stringing the right words together to invoke myriad moods. And I marveled at his ability to challenge even my vocabulary.

It was not long before I started seeking out other editions of Lovecraft's work. I suppose I could make a rational argument for acquiring the hardcovers published by Arkham House (collector's value, durable editions, and all that) but I think I would be at a loss to explain why I have multiple paperback editions of the same story collections. Thank goodness publishers later edited the stories by theme for I could then quite truthfully (yet truly mendaciously) claim I did not have the book in my library. I cannot even claim I was replacing worn and discarded books, for I still have the paperbacks I bought at Pickwick's and "discard" seems to be the one word never to have made it to my working vocabulary.



 Of course, if you get collecting Lovecraft, you don't just stop with his writings. You also collect things written about him and even stories that other people wrote based upon his writings. Eventually, if you become a full-fledged citizen of Lovecraft-land, you also start writing about him and write stories based on his ideas, and there was no time better for that activity than the pre-millennium decades, when print fanzines, chapbooks and booklets were rife, and the small press was a cottage industry engaged in by thousands of people, dozens of whom became my correspondents and sometimes my collaborators in fiction.
Lovecraft Studies 7
"The Old Man & the Sea"
by Ralph E Vaughan Crypt of Cthulhu 1992
Cover by Nick Petrosino
"Lovecraft & Antarctica"
by Ralph E Vaughan


"The Adventure of the Ancient Gods" by Ralph E Vaughan
First story ever published with Sherlock Holmes & HP Lovecraft
H.P. Lovecraft in the Comics
by Ralph E Vaughan
A complete survey of comic book adaptations,
one of the rarest of Lovecraft-related books.
"The Quest for the Dreaming Detective" by Ralph E Vaughan
First story of Sherlock Holmes in HPL's Dreamlands
Even in the stories and books I've written that do not overtly evoke the shade of Lovecraft and his ideas, he always seems to be in the back of my mind, pointing out shadows even when more than one sun illumines the land, reminding me that even the most bucolic landscape is but a thin veneer over ancient secrets, that the reality we see is but a pale manifestation of the of the reality hidden from our severely limited senses.

I've thought of writing this little homage to HP Lovecraft for quite awhile, and I've hinted of my debt to him in other posts, but the time never seemed quite right. But it is today, the 115th anniversary of his birth. He lived less than 47 years, and if his beliefs were correct he entered oblivion on 15 March 1937, but, at the same time, the most important aspects of his life survived the demise of his mortal shell, perpetuated by the work of every writer, artist, filmmaker and reader whose life he touched, and, to a writer, that may be the best kind of afterlife for which to hope.

Enter The Saint

George Sanders (AKA The Saint)Like many people my age (sorry, it's classified) I first encountered the colorful character of Simon Templar, known as The Saint, in the form of actor George Sanders, who played The Saint in several big-screen films, though in that particular series from RKO he was preceded by Louis Hayward and followed by Hugh Sinclair. At the time, I had no idea they were based on books, but perhaps I can be forgiven since most of them were not really based on books at all, but were original stories based on the character of The Saint, also known as the Robin Hood of Crime. It took me awhile to figure out just who The Saint was...not a detective, not a gangster, certainly not a policeman. He was hated and feared by hoods, was obviously an enemy of evil and crime, and though it was apparent he was not trusted by the police there was at least a grudging admiration from some of them, especially his counterfoils in the NYPD and Scotland Yard. Eventually, I figured out he was Sherlock Holmes, the Scarlet Pimpernel, Robin Hood and Bulldog Drummond, all rolled into one suave, and dangerous, package.
Leslie Charteris (L) and Sir Roger Moore (AKA The Saint)But, even I, who first saw The Saint as George Sanders, really think of The Saint as Roger Moore, star of the long-running and still very popular television show. So identified did Moore become with the character that when he replaced Sean Connery as James Bond, I was probably not the only person who asked, "Why is Simon Templar calling himself 007?" But, of course, The Saint is not George Sanders or Roger Moore or, for that matter, perhaps not even Simon Templar. He is, in fact, a fabulous figure from the imagination of Leslie Charteris, a Chinese-English writer who was born as Leslie Bowyer-Yin in 1907, son of a Chinese doctor and an English mother, a racial combination that caused him much trouble in the United States because of the Oriental Exclusion Act, which denied US immigration and residency to anyone with 50% or more Oriental blood. His name change by deed-poll in 1926 was more to do with the commercial world of writing, but it can't be denied that most people imagined that Leslie Charteris (after a notorious gambler, rogue and con artist of the 18th Century) was every bit as English as Simon Templar. Just as Charteris was not who people thought he was, Simon Templar was also more than he seemed to be...he called himself Simon Templar, but at various times he called himself other "ST" names, such as Sebastian Toombs and Sugarman Treacle. Indeed, why "The Saint"? Perhaps from his initials, perhaps from the haloed stick figure he left at his "crimes," perhaps because he saw himself in a war against the "ungodly." As with many aspects of The Saint, it is a mystery.

In the 1960s, as I was discovering the exploits of The Saint on television, I found The Saint in print, both in book form (at Pickwick Books) and in magazine (at the Third Avenue Newsstand). The magazine was quite entertaining to a young mind, as it not only featured adventures of The Saint, but work of other writers as well. The magazine, however, ceased publication in 1967, after 141 issues. The books in paperback continued, spurred by the popularity of the television series, both in its original run and in syndication when it ended in 1969. The character of The Saint remained quite popular, even if the jaunty style of the books started to become dated, so much so that another television series, The Return of The Saint, debuted in 1978 and ran for two years with the dapper Ian Ogilvy in the lead. I suppose it would be appropriate to say a word here about the 1997 Val Kilmer film called The Saint, so I will: Rubbish! The film was terrible, was horribly acted, contained nothing of The Saint or his world as conceived by his creator, did not have a plot, and the only thing it accomplished was to send potential readers running away from the books, as fast as possible.
Over the years, I've managed to build a fairly complete collection of The Saint in hardcover and paperback, in various editions from different publishers. I've found that they're not difficult to find, especially in this brave new digital age when readers don't have to rely on advertisements in the backs of cheesy magazines or the luck of getting on a bookseller's snail-mail list. However, these days you don't have to settle for foxed and sometimes brittle copies, as The Saint has found new life in print and e-format, proof that not even a film as bad as The Saint can kill off a character as colorful and captivating as The Saint. The new editions are coming from two fronts, one an established British firm, the other a controversial American upstart.
First up, we have Mulholland Books, an imprint of longtime Charteris publisher Hodder & Stoughton. The goal was to bring all The Saint books back into print for a new generation of readers, and as you can see in the graphic to the left, they are handsome editions, with new covers with a touch of art deco retro and incorporating the famous little stick figure that has always been a part of The Saint's adventures. According to the Leslie Charteris site, they are being brought out in both print and e-book editions.
The second publisher of Leslie Charteris' The Saint books is Thomas & Mercer. Haven't heard of that particular company? It's an imprint of Amazon Publishing, and is named for two streets that intersect near the company's headquarters. Since the imprint is yet another head sprouting from the Amazon Hydra, some people don't consider it a legitimate publisher, but it is bringing out new work from established and rising star writers, as well as bringing back into print out-of-print books like The Saint series. And even though we're talking about Amazon, which immediately brings to mind visions of e-books and Kindle, the new editions will be offered in trade print editions as well. All in all, things look pretty good for The Saint, both for those reading about him for the first time and those who want new reading editions to augment their collection of fragile vintage editions, now preserved on shelves or in polybags. 
The Home of Leslie Charteris on the Web

Book Reviews: The Good, the Bad and the Really Really Ugly

Downtown Chula Vista, as it was
My first professionally published piece of writing was a book review, and this is how it came about: back in the 1960s, the Chula Vista Star-News, a heavily subscribed twice-weekly broadsheet newspaper serving a community of about 30,000 people, posted an announcement that they were looking for a book reviewer. My mother saw the announcement, mailed the editor a copy of a book report I wrote (actually, this bears a striking similarity to how I ended up in the US Army, but that's another story), and it was not long until the report was published and I received an invitation from co-publisher Lowell Blankfort to visit him at his home in bucolic Bonita. My father had to drive me up a winding hill, past the exclusive and isolated houses to Lowell's estate near the summit. There, he officially informed me I had been hired as the Star-News' book reviewer, that I was expected to review 3-5 books weekly, and that he was sure that this experience (i.e., no pay) would greatly expand my abilities as a writer and journalist. Then he threw open his cupboard, which contained review copies of books sent by publishers all over the country, and told me to take all I could carry. That weekly appearance in the newspaper brought me some notoriety at school, sometimes helped me with my English teachers, and taught me about writing on a strict schedule in a limited space. By the time I gave up the job a few years later, I had reviewed more than 600 books.
Fast-forward to now. The Star-News is still published, Chula Vista has a population of 250,000, but the newspaper is free and no longer has a book section. Most community newspapers these days have either vanished or become free publications, supported by a mostly unpaid staff and cheap rates to local advertisers. Book reviews, once seen as a social imperative, have become a luxury they can no longer support because book reviews generate no revenue. This is also true in larger newspapers where once stand-alone book review sections have been either incorporated into "Lifestyles" or done away with entirely. In the cutthroat world of newspaper economics the bean-counters who call the shots point out that books generally appeal to an older and more elite readership, not a group they want to consider in this demographic-driven age. When the San Francisco Chronicle drastically cut its book review section, the move brought a paltry 400 complaints.
At one time, most books carried snippets from newspaper book reviews on the front and/or back covers. If it was a mystery, you could almost be certain it would carry a blurb from the San Diego Union, because that newspaper once had an entire section of mystery and detective book reviews by veteran mystery writer Robert Wade. Now, you're much more likely to find a cover blurb from another writer or a reader with name recognition who was given an advance copy. Now, it's rare that any book not written by a best-selling or "celebrated" writer will get a mention in the atrophied and increasingly irrelevant newspapers of the 21st Century. When people read a book review these days it's usually from one of the numerous book-oriented blogs, some website like Library Thing or Good Reads, or that bastion of literary good taste and erudite opinions...Amazon.
I've seen many people write that they will not buy a book on Amazon till it has at least five reviews. However, it is my experience that before I can use a review on Amazon (or any other other site for that matter) to evaluate a book, I have to evaluate the reviews themselves. Sadly, most of the reviews published are not worth the electrons they are written with. Thus we get..."I don't know why I bought this book, but I wouldn't buy it again. Otherwise it was okay, I guess.""Best book ever! But since I have to write at least twenty words before the review can be posted on""Hated it, and if you don't like that don't ask me to write a review again.""As I read this book I imagined the author, if you want to call him that, flouncing around the basement of his mother's home in his pyjamas, from time to time coming to his computer like a butterfly to a flower, typing another precious word, taking a sip from his mug of hot coco, then then returning to his prancing as he waits for mommy to tell him his waffles are done.""I liked this book, but I don't know why. I think you'll like it too.""I'm giving this book one star because I couldn't download it in my country.""I bought this book but never got around to reading it."The demise of newspapers and the rise of the Internet has democratized the book review. While that means giving a soapbox to every screwball, knucklehead or nutter with an ax to grind or a character to assassinate, or who just want to see their names in print, it also means that many intelligent, insightful and well-spoken people now have a venue to express their opinions about the books they love, the books they hate, and the books they love to hate. If you can disregard the bottom-feeding reviewers and the sock-puppets of poor writers (they are obvious), then reading the worthwhile reviews gives you something not possible back in the age of newspapers--a consensus of opinion. Personally, I like that the Internet has freed me from the tight limits of the newspaper column, and I can say a bit more about books that deserve the effort.

In 50 years of publishing in print and on the Internet I've written thousands of book reviews. I don't hold up my own efforts as a template to anyone, but, like everyone else in the world, I tend to measure others by my own yardstick. I try to put into my own book reviews what I would hope to see in the reviews of others:What is the basic theme of the book, or what is the author trying to say?What genre is the book?Without giving spoilers, what is the book about?What's interesting about the setting and/or characters?What insights can you give me about the book or its author?Why did you like (or not like) the book?Is this book part of a series, and how does it measure up?How well written is the book?Was the book a satisfying read?What audience will this book appeal to?Do you recommend it?Of course, that's just a partial list and not every point is going to be appropriate for every book. Just as you hold a history book to a different set of standards than you would an historical novel, so different books require different approaches when reviewing them. For example, my review of Brian Ritt's excellent Paperback Confidential  is very different than reviews I gave to Lawrence Block's Grifter's Game, David Goodis' Night Squad  or Say It With Bullets  by Richard Powell, all books written by authors profiled in Brian's indispensable book. However, no matter the book, no matter the genre, no matter the author, when a reader finishes one of my reviews, he will have a pretty good idea what the book was all about, why I liked a book or not, and whether he wants to invest the time, energy and money to read it for himself. And that's nothing less than what I want when I read someone else's review.

Scotland Yard's Newest Manhunter

In the realm of mystery fiction, Scotland Yard (AKA the Metropolitan Police or The Met) is a legendary crime-fighting organization based in London, England, tasked with combating criminality and all sorts of evil in Greater Metropolitan London, often sending their ace detectives to the various English counties when needed or even to foreign lands in the pursuit of justice. In the real world, New Scotland Yard very nearly lives up to its fictional reputation, being one of the most recognized and respected police "brands" of all time, perhaps even eclipsing the vaunted FBI for top spot. Founded in 1829 by an Act of Parliament, it was not long before the actions of its detectives captured the public imagination, first in fiction, then in memoirs written by retired CID (Criminal Investigation Division) detectives. As society changed, so did the portrayal of Scotland Yard manhunters in fiction, from near-superhuman sleuths to foils for private detectives like Holmes and Poirot to doggedly competent and world-weary civil servants in grimly realistic procedurals, like John Creasy's Commander George Gideon and Martha Grimes' Richard Jury. In you're interested in an in-depth book at the transition of the Scotland Yard detective in fiction, I refer you to an essay by crime novelist Andrew Taylor in BBC magazine.
Although I enjoy all forms of the English detective novel, I am always on the lookout for good police procedurals set in London. They are not as easy to find as you might expect, and are actually better represented in the medium of television than in print. PD James' Adam Dalgliesh is the choice of many looking for a more cerebral sort of investigator, known for solving crimes and writing poetry. Richard Jury is favored by those looking for a more approachable sort of detective, melancholy and moody, a modern incarnation of Austen's Mr Darcy, who is, nevertheless, as spectacularly unsuccessful in the romance department as he is successful in solving crimes. My favorite, however, is Commander George Gideon ("Gideon of Scotland Yard"), a down-to-earth copper with a prodigious memory, an ability to handle multiple cases, and a decidedly "hands on" approach to dealing with all sorts of miscreants. He began his career in 1955 and cut a swath through the underworld of London in 26 novels, five of which were written after Creasy's death in 1973. For me, Gideon was most successful in putting aside the dubious mantle of Inspector Lestrade, a detective who could rise to the reputation of the fictional Scotland Yard, near-superhuman feats of crime fighting while remaining a bloke with a badge. Recently, I came across a series of books featuring another ace of Scotland Yard who gave me the same sort of thrill as did Commander Gideon--Detective Chief Inspector Michael Gregory, the creation of writer John Rigbey.

So far, there are four books in the series. The first, The Strange Michael Folmer Affair  (2007), sets DCI Gregory against a foe who is commemorating the Jack the Ripper murders by committing new murders on the exact dates and in the same places as Jack did back in 1888. In the sequel, From the Beatles to Blair  (2011), a professional hit on a retired "bent" Scotland Yard detective takes DCI Gregory on an intense journey through the gangland of London from the decades of the 60s, 70s and 80s, involving colorful real-life gangsters such as the Kray Brothers and corruption in the corridors of power. In The Luciano Legacy  (2012), the torture/murder of a mysterious old woman in the heart of London, followed quickly by the similar murder of a disbarred solicitor nicknamed "the Gabardine Swine," involves DCI Gregory in a mystery that began in America shortly after the end of World War II and the deportation of notorious real-life mobster Charles "Lucky" Luciano. In Mr Rigbey's latest book, Professional Standards  (2014), the DCI tackles robbers, corruption, Masons, and malefactors in Scotland Yard itself.
In many ways, DCI Michael Gregory is a return to the almost infallible manhunters of Scotland Yard's earliest accounts. He thirsts for justice, pursues his cases with the legendary tenacity of the British Bulldog, and does not let anything deter him from his role as an avenging angel for law and order, no matter the cost to his personal or professional life. No matter who or what gets in his way, he will see his criminal in the dock of the Old Bailey. It is his indefatigable sense of justice which endears him most to the reader who is looking for a champion who does not give up or give in, but it is this trait of his character which causes the most turmoil in his life. Over the course of the four books, his marriage goes from rocky to destroyed, as his wife decides she can no longer abide "The Job" that has come to define Gregory as a person. Likewise, his single-minded pursuit of crime and empathy for victims, as well as his complete disregard for workplace politics, has earned him many enemies among those who see crime fighting and public safety subordinate to their roles as social and political activists, primary among these being Inspector Marsh of Professional Standards Department, Scotland Yard's equivalent of Internal Affairs; fortunately for Gregory, his abilities as a detective and his unequaled record of successes has earned him friends in high places, but even the staunchest friends can become fair-weather in nature if the wind changes.
One of things that impressed me about all the books was the sense of verisimilitude, the feeling that I was encountering real Scotland Yard detectives. This is perhaps explained by the fact that John Rigbey was himself a detective in Scotland yard's CID until his retirement in 1972. In that role, he became an expert in London's gangland by direct experience, which explains the sense of authority you get when reading the second book. His acquired knowledge in organized crime and the Mafia of the 30s and 40s is very much in evidence in the third book. After a career in Scotland Yard, Rigbey stayed in the realm of criminal justice when he founded the West of England Detective Agency (later The John Rigbey Consultancy) in 1989. I think it is this mix of public and private detection experience that allows Rigbey to write authoritatively and with empathy about life on both sides of the fence.
Although there are only four novels in the series, so far, I am hopeful more will be forthcoming. As a fan of the British police procedural, I find DCI Michael Gregory a breath of fresh air. If you're interested, you can follow John Rigbey on Twitter and on Facebook. And I also encourage a visit to his website. Happy reading, and good hunting.

A Journey Into the Realm of Steam...and Goggles...and Stuff

Gaslight Gathering 4 PosterLast weekend (May 2-4, 2014) I attended Gaslight Gathering 4, a steampunk convention. I was invited to give a 2-hour presentation on the continuing adventures of Sherlock Holmes and how he fitted into the steampunk universe on Friday, to participate in a panel on the genre of steampunk literature on Saturday, and to autograph copies of my books for an hour in the Vendor Hall. Wait, oh, you have a question, do you? Okay, well, what is it? Quickly now, out with it. After all, we have a blog to get into, so if you have any questions let's get them out of the way. Speak up, I can barely hear you. All right, that's better. What is what? What is steampunk? What do you mean, 'What is steampunk?'" Oh, very well, but you had better take notes since there will be a quiz later.
A simple answer is that steampunk is a form of science fiction based on alternate history (think Star Trek's Mirror Universe or Philip K Dick's The Man in the High Castle), heavily influenced by the literature on the Victorian and Edwardian eras and the technology of those periods. The real answer is a bit more elusive in that it depends on what aspect of steampunk you're talking about. As Diana Vick, longtime veteran of the Seattle steampunk scene, explained, there are three basic aspects of steampunk: 1) Literature 2) Sub-culture and 3) Aesthetic. The literature aspect is pretty much as I explained it above, and includes films like The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, The Wild Wild West, and  20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. The sub-culture is a bit harder to explain, but includes costuming, music, art, imagineering, crafting, role playing, gaming and tea dueling. For many people costuming is both their gateway into the sub-culture and the avenue of their expression. Here are a few photos taken by Ed Cavanaugh during the convention...

As you can see, the Victorian Era echoes through all these creations, and yet there is something more. For, as Diana pointed out, if everyone were just going to wear Victorian clothing, it would be nothing more than a historical reenactment group and we would all just sit down to a nice cuppa. But if you have additions like goggles and weapons, as well as accouterments from other cultures such as Japan and China, Native American tribes and France, the Wild West and Germany, not to mention vampires, zombies, super heroes and ghosts, as well as incursions from other literary genres, such as mystery, spy thriller, pulp fiction and romance, you have something more than just an afternoon stroll through Victorian London. As to the "aesthetics" of steampunk, that's more a matter of form than function, a sense of style and design. Cars, coffee makers, jewelry, washing machines, slide projectors, and houses can all be designed with a steampunk aesthetic, and really have nothing (or not much) to do with the literature or sub-culture of steampunk. And, actually, steampunk literature need not have anymore to do with steampunk sub-culture than a modern day Goth would with a Gothic novel. For more insights on the sub-culture of steampunk, please see Diana Vick's essay on the Seven Fallacies of Steampunk.
Much of how those involved with steampunk see it depends on the gateway through which they entered. I came first through literature, then by film and finally music. Long before the term steampunk was coined, I read everything written by Jules Verne, HG Wells and Edgar Rice Burroughs, three authors who constantly inspire modern steampunk authors. Additionally there were Arthur Conan Doyle (whose Sherlock Holmes and Professor Challenger fit solidly into, respectively, the Victorian and Edwardian eras) and American writer HP Lovecraft, who wrote with a Victorian sensibility even though his stories were often set in the 1920s. And then there is Edgar Allen Poe, who wrote one of the very first works claimed by the steampunk community, "The Balloon Hoax," published in 1844. Books that also pulled me in were Michael Moorcock's Warlord of the Air (1971), Phil Farmer's The Other Log of Phileas Fogg (1973) and Tim Powers' The Anubis Gates (1983). I was attracted to those books, not because they were steampunk (there was no such term at that point) but because they dealt with alternate history themes, the idea there were worlds where history had followed different paths, a genre that has always fascinated me. Like merging roads, my interests in alternate worlds, Sherlock Holmes, Barsoom and the technological terrors of HG Wells came together in the world of steampunk.
Like many other people, I was a fan of The Wild Wild West, the CBS television show that ran 1965 - 1969, with made-for-television films in 1979 and 1980. In a sense, that show was steampunk before steampunk was steampunk. Creator Michael Garrison pitched it as "James Bond on horseback," which could easily be a description of a modern spy-themed steampunk novel, though these days the horse might be steam-powered. The steampunk sensibilities of the series were fully developed in the 1999 film version, where we have a steam-powered bicycle, a steam-powered tank, and a giant steam-powered spider striding across the landscape. Before that, though, there was 1958's The Fabulous World of Jules Verne, and 1961's Master of the World. Also on television, we had Q.E.D. (1982), the much-missed Adventures of Brisco County Jr (1993), and the even-more-missed Legend (1995) where Richard Dean Anderson played a writer of Victorian western adventures and John de Lancie an avatar of inventor Nikola Tesla.


All those books and films softened me up, so to speak, for the sub-culture of steampunk. Actually, I was quite surprised by the existence of the sub-culture. It never really occurred to me that people might dress up and live out the lives depicted in my reading material. I probably should not have been surprised, for I had known a long time about science fiction and fantasy conventions where costumes were worn, not to mention Comic-Con, where costuming was even more important. But surprised I was, and enchanted. And then I discovered steampunk-influenced music, first through the works of my friend Paul Roland, then by others like Professor Elemental, Abney Park, Steam-Powered Giraffe and Vernian Process. As you know, I've also written a steampunk novel and a collection of Sherlock Holmes stories with steampunk overtones, and am working on another of each, so it does not look as if I will escape the clutches of steampunk anytime soon. I don't know if I'll be invited to Gaslight Gathering 5 in 2015, but I hope so, and I don't know if I'll attend other steampunk conventions (I'm not the lone wolf type), but I do know that I had a lot of fun, enjoyed meeting like-minded people, was astounded by the costumes and gadgets, and loved autographing books and participating in panels. I end with just a few of the many photos I took at the convention.
An elegant mode of travel
Boston Metaphysical Society
The Brass Wardrobe
Where are that steam-dog's goggles?
Handsome couple with handsome fezzes
celebrating Fez Friday
An airship captain, but his parrot
seems to have...tentacles?
Adam Green: "Put up you dukes, mate!"
Parasol decorating
Steam-powered skateboard
Weapons from 1873 Expedition to Mars
Rapper Poplock Holmes
Tea dueling gents
Tea dueling at its unruffled best...
Tea dueling intimidation
I don't know what it does, but it looks cool.
Old Bill
Poplock Holmes on a Pennyfarthing
Time Machine
Professor Elemental

The Road to Macondo

When people know you are an avid reader (and if you have found your way here I assume you are), you no doubt have friends who are always buttonholing you and exclaiming with no small sense of urgency, "Hey, you gotta read this book...I'll lend it to you when I'm finished." You're nodding, you're smiling, and deep down you are hoping they never finish the book, because, if they do, they will expect you to put it at the very summit of the Everest-sized stack of books you already want to read, then will ask you daily what you think of it. And, of course, it's not at all the kind of book you would ever pick up on your own--wrong genre, too much (or too little) romance, doesn't agree with your politics, is filled with characters with whom you have nothing in common, is translated from the original Babylonian by a Yugoslavia editor living in France, and, to top it off, you never heard of this writer. Well, yes, that's kind of how it usually seems to work, and you return the book after a month, having read the back cover and a review in Kirkus, and make vapid comments that fool neither you nor your friend, though you both pretend they do; sometimes, however, it all comes together, as it did years ago, when my friend, biologist John Howard, recommended I read One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Since Marquez has just passed away (6 March 1927 - 17 April 2014), I thought I would mark the sad occasion with a remembrance of the work that brought him, happily, to my attention.
One Hundred Years of Solitude is set in the fictional town of Macondo, Colombia, which is in many ways based on Marquez's birth town of Aracataca. John Howard's interest in the novel came naturally enough since his wife is from a very small village in Colombia and through her John developed an appreciation for all aspects of Colombian culture. The book is a seven-generation saga of the Buenida family, whose original patriarch founded the town after falling asleep on the riverbank and dreaming of a city of mirrors. My first reaction to getting the book was about what you might expect, but since he had gifted me an English translation (keeping the original Spanish edition for himself) I felt I at least had to skim through it. As I read the lush and exotic narrative and was bombarded with images of a world that was as magical as it was mundane, where visions and dreams were as real as brick and stone, I became a captive of Marquez's prose. At the same time that I was enchanted by the narrative and the parade of characters, generation after generation, I was also caught by the ebb and flow of the history depicted in the novel. Even though these characters lived and breathed in the solitude of Macondo, they were yet caught up in all the critical junctures of Colombian history, the revolutions, the slaughters, and the ravages by the greedy, both foreign and domestic. As they lived their little lives, dreaming of cities of ice and glass, they did not learn from their mistakes they were doomed to repeat their foibles and follies, generation after generation, just as were their fellow Colombians. They could no more escape the destructive cycles of history than can we ourselves.

Instead of John Howard pestering me about how I was enjoying the book, I began pestering him, though, of course, I did not see it as "pestering." I just wanted to talk about the characters and the country, and since he knew first-hand the culture and history of Colombia, I mined him incessantly for information. A day or two after I started talking to him, he started a project that kept him in the field until after I had finished the book and had moved on to other stories...but I am sure his absence had nothing to do with me...I think.

Having discovered Gabriel Garcia Marquez, I went on to read other of his books, and although I enjoyed all of them immensely, as I was both entertained and challenged, none of them quite had the impact upon as did One Hundred Years of Solitude. As both reader and writer, I've sometimes considered the idea that a writer is born to tell one story and one story only, but such is the way of the world that some writers never quite discover the one story they are supposed to tell, while others tell that one story, then keep on writing anyway, ever chasing themselves, trying to repeat the unique. I don't know if the notion is true, but in One Hundred Years of Solitude, I think Marquez told the one story he was born to tell.

My Silver Age Primers

Everybody who enjoys reading loves books, but why did you learn to read in the first place? You might have learned to read because you had an innate love of books as intrinsic objects, but I do not think that would be common. I think most people learned to read, then developed a love of books and the printed word. You might have learned to read, as many people did, in a schoolroom from a primer for a good grade or just to graduate so you could leave your teacher behind; or you might have learned at home from parents. Me? I sorta taught myself before I started school, and my reading material was intertwined with why I wanted to read: I wanted to read comic books by myself and not depend upon Uncle Bob.

Don't get me wrong. I loved my Uncle Bob dearly and appreciated that he took the time to read to me, and that he did not mind reading about the adventures of Superman, Batman, and the other DC superheroes of the Silver Age. At the time, it never occurred to me that Uncle Bob read the comics to me because I was a handy excuse for reading them himself. However, as much as I appreciated his efforts, I thought he was long on enthusiasm but short on skill--he didn't do the voices, he read in a sort of hesitant monotone, and how he handled sound effects left much to be desired. I had probably just turned four when it occurred to me that if I learned to read myself, not only could I enjoy a comic book whenever I wanted, but I could give the four-color heroes and villains the voices they deserved. So I did.


Of course, once I started reading, I discovered there were comics beyond just the few Uncle Bob would sneak home when Aunt Joyce wasn't looking. My first introduction to written science fiction and mystery came courtesy DC's space-oriented titles and their weird fiction comics, such as House of Mystery. I also learned, to my amazement and enjoyment, there were more comics in the world than just DC's line. I don't want you to think I was rotting my mind with just comic books, for once I was hooked on reading I had to move on to children's books like Go Dog Go and The Whales Go By (two of my favorite), then the series of juvenile fiction books like Tom Swift Jr, the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew.
   

















In the years that have passed my life has been one that could as easily measured in books as it could be in the events that make us who we are. There was the discovery of Isaac Asimov, Arthur C Clarke and Ray Bradbury, who influenced me as a writer, and HP Lovecraft and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, who influenced me more. There was James Bond and Philip Marlowe, Joseph Conrad and William Shakespeare, and the Bible (especially Job and Jonah) and various encyclopedias (yes, I read them). There have been spies, detectives, world savers, clever dogs, London fogs, alien worlds without number, narrow Arkham streets, the biographies of great men and women, smoke-filled pubs, men without a country, villains who found comeuppance or redemption, courage and cowardice,  exotic Chinese ports, Cairo bazaars, opium dens, the gleaming towers of Science City, and men who overcame fear to do far better things than they have ever done before.
But it all started with comic books...



 

Two enduring traits came out of learning to read because I loved comic books and did not love the way Uncle Bob read aloud. First, when I read aloud to my grandchildren or the dogs (the dogs actually seem a bit more appreciative, but they are easier to please) I use different voices for each character, complete with appropriate accents, and I am really great at sound effects. Second, I still love comic books, still read comic books and still have comic books...and refuse to call them graphic novels. However, the comic books I have are not the ones I grew up with, but ones I've accumulated since the 1970's. What happened to the old ones, you ask, the ones I cut lawns, recycled bottles and did not spend my milk money to buy? As anyone who has joined the Army knows, you can't take anything with you to basic training except your clothes and the last good haircut you'll have for the next six years; you leave your stuff at the old homestead knowing that your parents value your treasures just as much as you do...I wonder how long I was gone before Mom had her first yard sale. Nuff said!

The Yellowest of Perils

Fu Manchu Sax Rohmer
(Arthur Henry Sarsfield Ward)











Although Sax Rohmer (1883-1959) wrote many different novels and short stories, from eerie mysteries to epic adventures to philosophical musings, he will forever be remembered as the creator of the oriental arch-villain Dr Fu Manchu, a criminal genius with immense wealth and occult powers whose goal was world domination and the subjugation of all other races. It can be argued (and has been by people who have never read any of the fourteen books) that Fu Manchu is a deliberate racist creation, a focus for white angst, and a manifestation of the "yellow peril" of the times, a cheap attempt to capitalize upon fear and hatred. Rohmer did not see his creation in quite that same jaundiced light; when asked about the person of Fu Manchu, he always claimed his character was based on a real individual, a crime lord he named "Mr King," whom he would at times see while working as a journalist in the Limehouse district, which was London's Chinatown at the time:

"Imagine a person, tall, lean and feline, high-shouldered, with a brow like Shakespeare and a face like Satan, ... one giant intellect, with all the resources of science past and present ... Imagine that awful being, and you have a mental picture of Dr. Fu-Manchu, the yellow peril incarnate in one man."

Whether or not Fu Manchu was based on reality (Mr King never went to jail and some now doubt he was ever more than a marketing ploy for Rohmer) he was much more popular than the other sinister orientals that skulked and menaced their way through pulp magazines, for he remains with us today, and they are but mounds of crumbling paper pulp. Unlike them, the Devil Doctor, as he was sometimes called, began his literary life between hard covers (The Mystery of Dr Fu-Manchu [The Insidious Dr Fu-Manchu in America] in 1913), and when he did appear in a short story it was in a slick magazine like Colliers or Liberty, not one of the dime pulps. While that gave him a better literary pedigree, he has outlasted the others because he really is a towering literary creation, much like Professor Moriarty or Dracula.

From the very beginning, there were critics of the stories, those who believed that Rohmer was vilifying all orientals, that he was portraying Limehouse as a vice-ridden cesspool when its crime rate was lower than other areas of London because the Chinese were in general a very law-abiding race. In actuality, crime in Limehouse was much higher than other parts of London for certain kinds of crime, such as forced prostitution and extortion. However, no matter how much someone groused, the rumblings were rather small because it was just a character in a book, and in a literary setting it is much easier to transform a caricature into a living, breathing person, especially for a writer as good as Rohmer.
The first real opposition to the image of Fu Manchu came when he moved to Hollywood. When MGM's The Mask of Fu Manchu, with Boris Karloff, hit screens in 1932, it prompted an official protest from the Chinese embassy. In 1940, Republic Studios released one of its best serials, The Drums of Fu Manchu, which brought a smack-down from the United States government, China being one of our allies at the time. Hammer Studios made some great films in the 1960s with Christopher Lee, but by then the counter current was against them, and they gave up. Now, it's impossible to screen an old film without someone getting their knickers in a twist, and as far as making a new film...not going to happen, not even in satire. Fu Manchu thwarted the efforts of the world's best policemen and criminologists for a century, but was done in by busybodies with picket signs.

On the other hand, a character who cast such a long shadow as Fu Manchu, who was as popular with readers for so long (Rohmer's last novel was in 1959), is not about to fade away because some people find him an uncomfortable image. In 1973, a collection of Fu Manchu short stories was published as The Wrath of Fu Manchu. Cay Van Ash, Rohmer's assistant and biographer, went on to write two authorized books in the series, Ten Years Beyond Baker Street (1984) and The Fires of Fu Manchu (1987). More recently, William Patrick Maynard has taken up Rohmer's pen to write three authorized novels, The Terror of Fu Manchu (2009), The Destiny of Fu Manchu (2012), and The Triumph of Fu Manchu (scheduled). In addition, Fu Manchu has made all sorts of unauthorized appearances in novels or has been alluded to, from Sherlock Holmes stories to a Man From U.N.C.L.E novel, to Dracula novels. So, despite the best efforts of the well-intentioned, it does not seem we will be rid of Dr Fu Manchu anytime soon...and that's a good thing.
Cover by Christine ClavelA parting word about Fu Manchu, his impact upon society, and the portrait by the talented Christine Clavel which appears on William Patrick Maynard's second book from Black Coat Press. You may be asking yourself, "Hey, where's the mustache?" Despite how Fu Manchu has been portrayed on book covers and in films, the Devil Doctor is actually a clean-shaven gent. Bear in mind, Fu Manchu was a master of disguise (many encountered him without even knowing it) and you can't be a master of disguise with an immovable mustache on your lip or a beard. So, what about all the gangstas proudly sporting their spurious Fu-Manchu Mustaches? They look silly, and even sillier if they include a "soul patch" (what an unfortunate name), but I doubt it's likely to change anytime soon, not with law enforcement using it in descriptions so often and it being a style recognized officially by the World Beard & Moustache Association (yes, it's real). Personally, I'm going to start calling it the "Devil-stache."



About Ralph E Vaughan: I have written several pastiches dealing with the world of Sherlock Holmes, and am credited with writing the first Sherlock Holmes/Cthulhu Mythos crossover in The Adventure of the Ancient Gods. I am the author of Shadows Against the Empire, an interplanetary steampunk adventure novel set in 1882, and I enjoy reading and writing pulp-style adventures. I am also the creator of the Paws & Claws series of young adult novels, which chronicles the exploits of the Three Dog Detective Agency. For further info about me, visit my Face book page and click "like." And, yes, I have a mustache (but not a Fu Manchu [AKA Devil-stache]), and have often been described, much to my chagrin, as a "friendly walrus."

48th Annual Local Author Exhibit at the SDPL

At the end of January I denied my influenza and defied the elements to attend a reception given for authors living in the San Diego area who had published books in 2013. It was not so much that I wanted to meet and greet, craved cheese and crackers, or even wanted to court death; what drew me Downtown was the opportunity to be part of the first exhibition held in the new San Diego Central Library, a project which has been in the works for more than 30 years. As some of you know, I worked for a very long time in the former Central Library, a handsome 5-story (3 above ground, 2 below), so this was an event that resonated with me a bit more than it did with other attendees. Although the new building has some drawbacks, such as no loading docks, no real storage space, and no public access to librarians, it is a very impressive structure, outside and in, from the glittering faux dome (from a distance it appears solid, but up close you can see its true mosaic nature) to the astounding 3-D art around and inside the elevators. It is, of course, much larger than the former library on E Street, between 8th and 9th Avenues, which was built in 1954 (year of the USS Nautilus, Disneyland and Godzilla), but that edifice was so crammed with books and material that, even after shedding tons of discarded books, the new place is full, and most of the local periodicals are still there.
More than 300 books written by local authors are on display in cases on the ground floor through the end of February. At one time e-books were not accepted as part of the event; although that changed last year, they were still not displayed in any way in the old building, though they were listed in the brochure and and in the on-line listing that was posted later in the year. This year, however, computer tablets were mounted on pedestals, and you could either watch a slide show of e-book covers or call up a particular one you wanted to see. As you can imagine, authors stealthily made their ways to the tablets throughout the evening to call up the cover of their own e-book, which stayed there only as long as it took another author to call up his or her own cover. Though most books now also have electronic editions (even mine...yes, I too, and contributing to the downfall of civilization), the tablet display was only for those books having no print edition. I had three books on exhibit this year, Sherlock Holmes: The Coils of Time & Other Stories, Shadows Against the Empire: An Interplanetary Steampunk Adventure, and A Flight of Raptors (Paws & Claws #2), but for some unfathomable reason two were put in once case, and the other in another case across the room. "Sigh"
Photo by Shaun BrileyOnce again, what impressed me most was the variety of the titles. Just a brief and random sampling of titles that caught my eye...Intoxicating Paris: Uncorking the Parisian WithinThe Courage to KillThe Criticism of the Muslim MindTheft & Drugs in the WorkplaceAll Men Come With MalfunctionsCryonic: A Zombie NovelSupernatural and Strange Happenings in the Bible: An Engineer's Study of ScriptureVegetarian DelightsAmerican UmpireFog and DarknessSan Diego YesterdayThe Vesuvius IsotopeLifelines: Scar Tissue Heart/Occult Lover/Snake TattooWhat's So Funny About Nursing?The Werewolf of New York: A Supernatural Law BookHow Frieda the Snail Finds Her True FriendDuffy's World: Seeing the World through a Dog's EyesThe Second Predaxian WarPat O'Malley Historical Steampunk TrilogyDeath of an OystermanThe U.S. Cavalry: Time of Transition, 1938-1944I Love the Work, But I Hate the BusinessAmanda's Kitchen - Creative Ideas and Recipes for International MealsThe Eisenhower Baseball ControversyActually there were many more than that, but you can now see the program book for yourself, though I'm told the actual on-line exhibit may not be ready for a couple of months. The library also has a web page that allows you to look at the brochures and on-line exhibits of years past, so you can see what you have missed. If you are in the San Diego area, however, try not to miss this year's exhibit, and do set aside enough time to give the new building a good going-over. And when you do, please stop by the bookstore operated by the Friends of the Central Library and support them if you can.

This Time Evil Wore A Mask

K-9 Blues
Paws & Claws #3K-9 Blues, third volume in the Paws & Claws series, in which the exploits of the Three Dog Detective Agency are continued, was published in January 2014. It is available in print from all the usual on-line booksellers and can be ordered through any bookstore; the electronic edition of the novel is available from Amazon. I like to know how books come to be written, and thought like-minded readers might be interested in how K-9 Blues came into being...
Levi, Sunny & YodaThe title of the book came to me when I first developed the series in 2012. After the initial book saw print, I very quickly drew up a list of titles, freely associating characters, plots and interests. I knew it was going to involve police dogs who had been disgraced, that the affected K-9 officers were going to (reluctantly) seek the assistance of the Three Dog Detective Agency, and that the antagonist of the plot was going to be like something out of a serial film or a pulp fiction magazine...he was going to be masked. What I did not know at the time was how many changes I would have to make to the plot because of actions by the various characters, but more about that later.
Paws & Claws A Flight of Raptors
Because K-9 Blues was about police dogs, I needed a cast. Officers Antony and Arnold had already appeared briefly in Paws & Claws: A Three Dog Mystery , and played a somewhat larger role in the second book, A Flight of Raptors . Since I had already established their personalities -- Antony, the stern and by-the-book Cane Corso, and Arnold, the much more affable Belgian Shepherd -- it remained to establish the other members of the Chula Vista Police Department's crack K-9 Unit. Leader of the Unit was Captain Reese (German Shepherd), but the stalwart officer I first envisioned did not endure, and by his own actions ended up a "useful tool" for the antagonist, mirroring an Army officer I knew. I fared better with Sergeant Rex, the Unit's tough and grizzled non-com, based on a First Sergeant with whom I once served. Completing the main cast of K-9 officers was Boris (Sulimov) who finds himself in a very dark place because of his own poor choices, but choices made because he is lashing out at a world that does not respect his mixed breeding (jackal-dog). Another dog, Blackie (Doberman), a probationary officer started out as a minor character, but his importance in the plot increased later in the book, more through his own initiative than my own planning. Boris also wrote his own role, going far beyond what I had envisioned.
Another character I wanted to bring back from A Flight of Raptors was Ajax, a well-meaning but slightly dim Mastiff who lives in an apartment complex down the street and around the corner from the home of the Three Dog Detective Agency. This time, however, Ajax was going to have a partner. At the end of each book, the Three Dog Detective Agency thanks the reader and asks for nominations of "Animals of Character" for the next book. Canadian artist Cassandra Hueser nominated her pet cat, Swoon.
SwoonSwoon is a petite British Shorthair who was rescued from dire circumstances. I thought it would be interesting to partner the small cat with the giant dog, as it would simultaneously reveal Swoon's tough side and Ajax's tender nature. In each of the two previous books, there was an overarching main plot, but numerous tangents, reflecting the busy and varied nature of life in the neighborhood, and  Swoon and Ajax's story was supposed to be another sidebar to the main plot, but it did not work out that way. Swoon was supposed to help rescue Ajax, but that did not work out either. Because the plot was so strong, involving two interweaving lines of inquiry, Swoon found herself not only in the thick of the plot, but in mortal danger.
Because I use actual locations in the books (I shoot photos of the locales that are included in the book) some of the additional characters stem from sights I see, such as a lean Whippet I have seen wandering from time to time. He became Slim Shady, whom I gave a backstory of being an abandoned pet, now afraid to trust companions (the term used by dogs and cats for humans).  He started out as a point of contention between the K-9 officers and the Three Dog Detective Agency, evolved into an unwitting pawn in the antagonist's plot against Antony and Arnold, and a very pitiable sympathetic fellow, all revealed though his words and actions, and whose story, as he told it, brought plot changes.
Another character who came out of the geography of the area was a Welsh Springer Spaniel whose condo overlooks the area behind the Chula Vista Police Department. He is a show dog with the usual complex show name ("I hope you didn't break your jaw saying that," Yoda quipped), but he answers to the name Biggles. Like Slim Shady, he saw more than was healthy to see. Fortunately, he was discovered by the Three Dog Detective Agency, not the minions of the antagonist. His story, as related to Sunny and Yoda, also brought about some plot changes.
We now move, finally, to the antagonist, known only as the Master. It was my plan that the Master would be ultimately revealed as a very large and malicious cat, the reason he kept his distance from others, worked from the shadows, had a very odd (disguised) scent, and, of course, wore a mask. Things did not work out as I had planned, entirely because of Levi's nose. Levi, Sunny and Yoda were in Memorial Park following up information given them by Slim Shady. Levi came upon where the Master had sat and analyzed the scent-molecules drifting up. I thought I knew what he was going to find, but I was wrong. He told the others that the Master was doglike, but peculiar...primitive, like something from the depths of time. I had to rework the entire plot (Thanks, Levi), but I must admit, it made for a much more interesting story. I hope you will too...