Weird Tales/Volume 38/Issue 1/The Eyrie
We've Come of Legal Age
Edmond Hamilton, who discovers "The Shadow Folk" for us in this issue, writes:
I have been greatly interested in the letters in recent issues of The Eyrie from some of the older contributors like Manly Wade Wellman, Seabury Quinn, August Derleth, E. Hoffmann Price, Frank Belknap Long and others. In point of time my own first story slightly followed theirs, appearing in the magazine just eighteen years ago.
I never had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Derleth, nor the late Robert E. Howard nor the incomparable Lovecraft, but have had the luck to make personal acquaintance with most of Weird Tales' other writers from A. Merritt on along to Ray Bradbury. And I can testify that there really is the unusual affection and loyalty for the magazine of which Mr. Derleth speaks.
Perhaps it is because so many of us, as was the case with me, had our first published stories appear in Weird Tales. Since then, I've been fortunate enough to publish several hundred yarns in many different magazines here and in England, including some in Spanish and Swedish versions which I'm wholly unable to read. But I doubt if all of them together ever gave me the thrill I received when the August, 1926, issue of Weird Tales appeared with my "Monster-God of Mamurth."
While I've written quite a lot in the detective, adventure and other fields, I'd rather write fantastic fiction than anything else. I think that's true of nearly all fantasy writers, and explains their devotion to this, the oldest magazine in the field.
I speak as a reader as well as a writer, for I don't think I've ever missed reading an issue since the first one away back in 1923. And now that Weird Tales has come of legal age, I hope it's only beginning a long and lusty life.
Edmond Hamilton.
Streets of Defeat
Frank Owen tells us more interesting facts on China and reminds us of the debt we owe the Chinese. Let us hope, as Mr. Owen says below, that in "The Long Still Streets of China" the Japs will be overwhelmingly and completely crushed.
For more than twenty years I have been writing stories for Weird Tales and interesting years they have been. I believe the stories have been liked because of the lore of old China which I have endeavored to get into them. For the Chinese are very appealing people, so friendly, so human, so forthright. They have given to civilization so very much and have asked so little in return. The very paper on which this magazine is printed would not have been possible had not Ts'ae Lun invented paper in A.D. 105. He made it from the ancient bark of trees—the inner bark. His experiments were sponsored by the Emperor. The finished product was called the Marquis Ts'ae's paper. Nor could writers like me scribble stories had not the pencil been invented by Mung Teen of Tsin (B.C. 246-205). It was called the "Tsin Pencil."
Porcelain, carved jades, tea, rare rugs, cinnabar, and lapis lazuli have come from that fabulous country where there is only one doctor for every hundred and sixty thousand people, where there is so much poverty and famine and suffering, and yet whose untapped mineral resources are so immense they almost seem mythical. No wonder gluttonous Japan is so anxious to swallow this vast country with its age old wisdom. Even in the days of the T'angs twelve hundred years ago China enjoyed as free a press as we have in America today. And freedom of worship was given to all men. Perhaps the Japanese believe that they may be able to absorb something of that intangible quality that makes the Chinese respected the world over.
Po Chui, one of China's greatest poets, used to read his poems to his washwoman to make certain that anyone could understand them. At the other extreme is Lao Tzu's Tao Teh King which, though of only five thousand characters, is understood by few living men though it is revered by untold millions.
But I am getting away from what I started to write, of the years I have been writing for Weird Tales, of the friends I have made through its pages. The other day, the editor of one of the New York publishing houses sent me a copy of a rare Chinese book of which only a hundred were printed. "Because," he wrote me, "I enjoy your Chinese stories so very much." I have little to say about The Long Still Streets of Evening, but let us hope that the title is symbolic—that in "The Long Still Streets of China," the Japs will meet defeat—devastating, complete, absolute.
Frank Owen.
Background of the "Bookkeeper"
Seabury Quinn, knowing our peculiar fondness for the "backgrounds" of stories, obliges with that information on his popular "Death's Bookkeeper," which appeared in the last (July) issue of Weird Tales.
Jules de Grandin's creator tells us:
I thought that werewolves, vampires, etc., deserved a little rest, so in this instance went directly to the classics for my plot. Specifically, to the Alcestis of Euripides (480-406 B. C.). You may or may not remember the plot of this drama; in case you don't, I'll refresh your memory:
Admetus, king of Thessaly, was ill unto death, and Apollo prevailed upon the Fates to spare him, provided someone would consent to die in his stead. Then came the difficulty. Brave warriors, who would willingly have periled their lives for their prince, shrank from the thought of dying for him in a bed of sickness; his aged parents also shrank from the call, and at last his faithful wife, Alcestis, volunteered to be his surrogate, and went through with it. Alcestis sickened as Admetus revived, and was rapidly sinking into everlasting sleep when Hercules arrived at the palace, hid himself in the death chamber and wrestled with Thanatos (Death) for his prey, finally defeating him. Alcestis recovered and was restored to her husband amid great and (as Euripides spins the yarn) poetical rejoicing.
So here we have an ancient Grecian drama in modern dress with Jules de Grandin substituting for Hercules, and being just as proud of himself as ever the old Greek hero dared to be of his prowess.
Seabury Quinn.
Humor at War with Horror
To O. Mabbot of New York City has the following to say on Humor vs. Horror in a weird tale:
"I'm glad you printed the letter headed 'Don't Be Funny,' One might raise the purely academic question whether anyone ever wrote a really good humorous weird tale, and win the debate for the affirmative by citing a few examples; but in general, humor is at war with weirdness, and humorous stories of the supernatural are almost without exception flops, or else succeed despite a great handicap. You do not need one an issue—one or two a year will be a remarkably high number to find if you demand the same standard you do for the rest of the magazine. When one augur met another, he laughed—to avert an evil omen probably—and in a weird tale we do not want to drive off the terror by any such deadly thing to spooks as good fun. Humor may be used for relief sparingly (for little relief is needed in short stories), and kindly ghosts and friendly demons are welcome occasionally. But Lovecraft was right in thinking humor usually at war with supernatural horror, and an alliance of the two is at best tenuous."
Readers' Vote
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The Shadow Folk
The Long Still Streets of Evening
The Seven Seas Are One
Bang! You're Dead!
The Devil's Ticket
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Pacific 421
Sorcery from Thule
The Wayward Skunk
The Weirds of the Woodcarver
Monsieur Bluebeard
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Here's a list of ten stories in this issue. Won't you let us know which three you consider the best? Just place the numbers: 1, 2, and 3, respectively against your three favorite tales—then clip it out and mail it in to us.
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