By Peter M. Renfro

The Blue Barbarians (Amazing Stories Quarterly Summer 1931) vs. Avalon Books (1958)

I do not know what it is about Stanton A. Coblentz (1896-1982) that appeals to me. Since I grew up in the '80s my first exposure to Coblentz must have been through a cheap paperback reprint of Hidden World. Admittedly, being a fan of E.R. Burroughs Inner Earth series, I was a sucker for anything hollow-earth.

Even so, this one book (poorly written as I recall) would hardly explain my interest. Perhaps it was the FPCI's editions of After 12,000 Years and The Sunken World , and Avon's wonderfully garish cover for Into Plutonian Depths which added respectability? Actually, it wasn't. What sparked and then nearly destroyed my interest in Stanton Coblentz was the plethora of Avalon titles available at the local library. Outlandish titles like Lord of Tranerica, The Lost Comet, The Lizard Lords, and The Blue Barbarians all testified to wonderful adventures within.

As a teenager, I remember reading one of these Avalon titles and I remember thinking it was utter trash; poorly written and poorly plotted! For 15 years I assumed Coblentz had written one or two acceptable novels, and cranked out a series of marginal sci-fi juvenilia. Two years ago this belief was reinforced when I read the Avalon edition of The Blue Barbarians.
Within the past year I have been quickly re-assessing the work of Stanton Coblentz, thanks largely to Everett F. Bleiler's Science Fiction: The Gernsback Years (1998). Reading the various entries for Coblentz it became clear that a number of his novels underwent revisions and abridgements for their reprints in later years.
By happy accident I was able to track down a reading copy of the Summer 1931 copy of Amazing Stories Quarterly containing The Blue Barbarians. What an epiphany as I began reading this original version!

Granted, the characters in The Blue Barbarians are rather stilted, some of the plot devices are quite outlandish, and the social commentary a bit pedestrian…but this is, after all, pulp fiction we're talking about - these 'shortcomings' are part of the charm! So I'm not here to criticize the actual novel…but here to put on trial the travesty of Avalon's reprint.

The Avalon edition starts in medias-race - dialogue with just bare-bones description of the scene: Our narrator arrives on a lofty mountaintop just minutes before his spaceship is to leave for Venus. The AMZQ version begins with a prelude explaining how Coblentz received this story of 800,000 years hence via a séance. This followed by a lengthy "Outline of Future History" setting the stage for the 'opening' scene on the mountaintop.

Nowhere on the dustjacket or interior copyright page is any indication given that Avalon's edition has been altered in any way from the original pulp publication. Given that pulp writers were paid by the word, some 'pruning' would arguably have been justified. Take for example:

"When I had recovered from my first dazed surprise, my chief sensation was a numb dread, a shuddery premonition as of approaching catastrophe. I really do not know how to explain this feeling; but no sooner had my vague and luminous hopes solidified into imminent possibility than they were somehow tarnished; and while I was being publicly commended for my fine spirit and my bravery, privately I felt like the braggart who has verbally slain countless bears, when, much to his alarm, an actual beast looms in sight." [AMZQ p. 295]

Here is a wordsmith plying his trade! Just a few sentences later:
"Every clod of this battered old earth now endeared itself to me strangely; there was a new significance, almost a beauty about the very clouds of dust, where blew the sole material remains of lost generations; I would linger in revery over a blade of grass, a pebble, an ear of corn, bidding a mental farewell and wondering when next I should view their like; and in the habitations of man I found a new magnificence and meaning." [AMZQ p. 295]

Stanton Coblentz was a poet with a college degree in English literature. Even so, I am sure even he would agree the above two samples argue more he was padding the verbiage for pennies, than for the love of the language…but to cut this out entirely??? Avalon Books deleted these and nearly every other descriptive passage - the very soul of the novel gone! [They even changed the name of the dog from Yap-Yap to Tippy!]

Compare this passage as it appears in Avalon:

"I, too, was making observations. How I cried out in disgust when I stepped on some mushroom-like creepers that gave out a sound like a child complaining, and scattered a nauseous odor! And how startled I was at the white, hairy shrubs reminding me of upturned beards! And the little flowering bush half hidden by tiny blue-throated birds, which sang and sang in clear notes like the tinkling of elves!" [Avalon p. 31]

Nothing very remarkable, nothing very memorable, and quite pedestrian in style. Now, compare to the original version from 1931:
"Scarcely less remarkable was the luxuriant undergrowth. Clinging to some of the trunks was a white, fungus-like creeper, with long silky stems and fragile pale yellow blossoms that seemed of tissue paper; about other trunks a sort of gigantic lichen had woven itself, standing out vividly green against a background of reddish brown; and upon the ground were a multitude of vines and bushes, most of them gray and colorless and many apparently parasitic. Here would surely have been a life's work for any naturalist! - had I myself not had more compelling pursuits I should have liked nothing better than to study these plants: the long snaky ones with spidery black stems and tendrils devoid of leaf and bud; the gorgeous, spiny ones, whose orchid-like blossoms were encircled by javelin thorns half a foot long; the soft, mushroom-like variety, which, when trodden upon, emitted a nauseating odor; the white, hairy species, reminding me of upturned beards sprouting upon the earth's surface; and, above all, the little flowering shrub whose symmetrical limbs were half hidden by tiny blue-throated birds, which sang and sang in clear liquid tones that the poet likened to the unearthly music of the elves." [AMZQ p. 305]

Ironically, the Avalon edition continues with "I could go on for pages, to tell of the other wood creatures…" Coblentz did go on for pages! From the above comparison, it appears that as much as 60% of the original novel was jettisoned! While I would certainly agree that Coblentz had a penchant for over-descriptiveness, there's no denying he was a serious writer with a gift of words…a talent that is grossly misrepresented by Avalon Books.

I am curious whether Coblentz re-wrote his books for Avalon, or whether an editor is responsible for these atrocities. He was still active in the science fiction field when these Avalon editions were coming out, and yet there is little information available. Even in Bleiler the only reference to the Avalon edition is: "The text may be altered or abridged." Quite an understatement as I have come to discover!

--Storybook Farm, March 31, 2001

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WEIRD TALES: 1928-1938

By Peter M. Renfro

It is a dark and stormy evening in late September as I sit down to write this. It feels appropriate to have the night sky intermittently lit up with lightning and the thunder to punctuate my thoughts. The task before me is to delve into my impressions of Weird Tales during the decade of 1928 - 1938. Since the fall of 2001 I have been reading each issue consecutively.

Weird Tales came into existence in March 1923 and left the publishing world in September 1954 (future incarnations of the title fall outside the general scope of pulp definitions). Many will agree with my assertion that the Weird Tales reputation stems almost entirely from the 1928-1938 decade - the editorship of Farnsworth Wright raised the pulp to unparalleled heights. Not only did he bring forth definitive stories from Robert E. Howard, Clark Ashton Smith, Jack Williamson, Seabury Quinn, C. L. Moore, Edmond Hamilton and Robert Bloch, but he also showcased them under the artistry of Margaret Brundage, J. Allen St. John and Virgil Finlay.

As 1928 opens, Weird Tales is about to enter its fifth year of publication. Most of the stories still share the traditional trappings of ghosts, vampires and other things that go bump in the night. The writing style in general shares many of the trappings of late 19th Century fiction; though a few stories reflect a more modern pizzazz of the Roaring Twenties. A few writers like Edmond Hamilton, Ray Cummings and Nictzin Dyalhis bring a scientific element to Weird Tales.

Science fiction as a genre is still in its infancy; in fact, the term had not even been coined yet - the stories were commonly referred to as scientific romances. Yet Hamilton is in full swing with his Intergalactic Patrol stories. Sadly, they represent just about everything that is bad in pulp science fiction. The bad guys are really, really bad, and the good guys are really, really good. In these stories, Edmond Hamilton nearly wears out the exclamation key on his typewriter as characters Oooh and Aaaah and Golly-Gee over this or that incredible discovery or narrow escape! Each adventure seems to have the largest, grandest, most unusual, most dangerous, and every other superlative imaginable happening! Aside from grammaticism, my biggest disappointment in Hamilton's Interstellar Patrol stories is the lack of three-dimensional space battles. The Patrol is all the time drawing a line between the home worlds and the invaders…he seems to forget the space ships can just as easily fly above or below any 'line' drawn in space!

The worst of these is perhaps "Crashing Suns" from August 1928. This story is "The Giant Claw" of pulp SF - I don't even know where to begin with the criticisms. First and foremost, the writing is horrible. I can forgive many, many faults as long as the writing is crisp, clear and fits the mood of the story. Hamilton strikes out on all three counts. The science is laughable - an alien species, realizing their sun is cooling, comes up with the brilliant idea of altering their sun's course so it will crash into Earth's Sun. They predict the resulting 'super sun' will be big enough for their needs…and all of this takes place within one year (!). What's really sad is that Jerry Bruckheimer could probably produce a big-budget film version, not change a thing, and have a hit movie. This is pure space opera at its all time lowest level.

Aside from the Interstellar Patrol stories, Edmond Hamilton was also known for his End-of-the-World tales. In what seemed an endless parade of stories, the earth is menaced by creatures from underground, creatures from under the sea, creatures from outer space, creatures from another dimension, creatures from the future - and these invading creatures all had intricately constructed plans to destroy humanity or the Earth, and these plans always included one simple flaw that could not only thwart the entire plan, but destroy the entire invading army in the process. Invariably, Hamilton's hero would discover this secret flaw just in the nick of time. "The Dimension Terror" from June 1928 is perhaps the best written of these tales.

As time wore on, Edmond Hamilton would try his hand at other stories and every now and then would strike pay dirt. My personal favorite is "Child of the Winds" in the May 1936 issue. Hamilton's writing is remarkably restrained in this delightfully pastoral story of sentient wind. Another nice departure for Hamilton was "Vampire Village" published under the Hugh Davidson pseudonym in the November 1932 issue. Although the story itself is none too original, the writing style was remarkably mature and free from extraneous exclamation marks.

As the '20s draw to a close, Seabury Quinn's Jules de Grandin stories were still in their infancy. During this phase, almost all the stories have logical explanations for the strange goings-on. Quinn's style showed very little variation through the late '20s - De Grandin and Dr. Trowbridge would stumble upon some strange phenomena in or around Harrisonville, New Jersey; overcome some dire threat, then De Grandin would then spend the last two or three pages pontificating ad naseum the logical explanations. These early tales have little to recommend other than watching Quinn's style develop. By the early '30s, the focus shifts to actual supernatural occurrences, with the stories becoming increasingly more gruesome and fantastic. This pattern culminates in the 1933 story "Malay Terror"; perhaps the most extreme de Grandin story Quinn ever wrote (flying heads with attached stomachs?!?). After this, the Jules de Grandin stories begin to settle down to more mundane (though still unnatural) scenarios.

I was fascinated watching the relationship between Dr. Trowbridge and Jules de Grandin develop. Quinn always describes the detective in feminine terms (slender, elegant and classy), and he is a houseguest who never seems to wear out his welcome. By the early '30s, Trowbridge and de Grandin seem to share the same room, and once they actually share the same bed (I believe the story is "The House with No Mirror"). Perhaps I read a little too much into these situations, and they eventually cease by the mid-1930's. Perhaps Farnsworth Wright objected to these vague hints of homosexuality? Actually, de Grandin's sexuality is rather vague - he did have one great love early in his life, which he frequently referenced. And neither he nor Trowbridge are ever short of compliments when faced with a nude woman (the frequency of which are enough to make even Hugh Hefner envious!).

Towards the end of the '30s Quinn began experimenting with off-trail stories. "Roads", a Christmas tale, received the most acclamation from the readers. Personally, I found these stories to be over-written and needlessly bogged down in inconsequential details. Perhaps the most outlandish on these is "Strange Interval" from the May 1936 issue. In this story a young man is cruelly castrated aboard a pirate vessel and must live much of his life as the handmaiden of the girl he loves. Although perhaps the most extreme, this was not the only story Quinn dealt with transgender issues!

In early 1928 Robert E. Howard was as much known for his letters in The Eyrie as he was known for his story contributions, but this began to change with the August '28 issue and the introduction of a character named Solomon Kane. A major writing force was forging itself right in front of the readers. I can add little to what has already been written about Howard. He virtually invented the entire sword and sorcery sub-genre; but perhaps Howard's stories endured and prospered in later years not because of the blood and thunder…but the philosophical musings Howard's characters often indulged themselves in.

Ironically, as Howard rose to prestige, H. P. Lovecraft appeared to be declining…perhaps not in quality, but certainly in quantity. "The Call of Cthulhu" (1928) and "The Dunwich Horror" (1929) are two of Lovecraft's greatest stories…yet after their publication, he would only make intermittent appearances - "The Whisperer in the Darkness" in 1931; "The Dreams in the Witch-House" in 1933. And yet, the Lovecraft mythos prospered as other writers peppered their stories with the Elder Gods and numerous citations from the Necronomicon. Yet, for all his popularity, Lovecraft never once was graced with a cover (was this an editorial decision on Wright's part; or perhaps Lovecraft's own wish?).

Perhaps the greatest fantasist Weird Tales ever had was Clark Ashton Smith. His imagination seemed boundless, and his verbiage was unequaled (anyone reading more than ten of his stories should receive an honorary English degree!). Many of Smith's tales are loosely connected; many taking place in far-off worlds like Zothique or medieval fantasy-lands like Averoigne. My personal favorite is "The Colossus of Ylourgne" from the June 1934 issue - a dwarf wizard constructs a giant Frankenstein-like monster for his mind to inhabit so he can wreak revenge on the countryside. Much of the descriptive passages bring to mind paintings by Heironymous Bosch.

I would like to put forth the idea that Smith's May 1932 story, "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis", may be the basis for Ridley Scott's film "Alien". A group of mercenaries explore an ancient Martian pyramid. In the vaults beneath, they stumble upon these urns that contain alien brain-eating parasites. The story was later adapted as a comic in the '50s, and this may be where Dan O'Bannon drew much of his inspiration for his screenplay. Check out the special features on the "Alien" DVD - the early sketches for the film could just as easily serve as illustrations for "The Vaults of Yoh-Vombis".

Jack Williamson's career was first established in the science fiction pulps; but in 1933 he entered the pages of Weird Tales with his novel of weird adventure called "Golden Blood". He quickly became a favorite of the readers, even though his later appearances were decidedly under par.

But enough about the popular writers; they comprise but a small percentage of the stories. Let me draw attention to some of the lesser-known authors and their stories that had as much writing polish or unique ideas to stand alongside the masters.

Perhaps my favorite is a nearly forgotten tale called "The Thing in the House" by H. F. Scotten from the May 1929 issue. This is the first of only two stories he published; it balances weird menace with a slightly outré scientific premise with some genuinely unsettling passages. A scientist is able to create an invisible creature from pure thought; he loses control of the creature during his nightmares (much like Dr. Mobeius in "Forbidden Planet"). The best parts of the story detail the police surrounding the scientist's house and coming to the realization the creature they are fighting is invisible. It is a shame that Scotten's follow-up story, "The Invading Madness", is a confused narrative of creatures from another dimension. This story had some unique ideas, but characters, plotting and narrative are not handled well and the result is quite disappointing.

"Ebony Magic" by Stella Wynne (her only WT story) is another favorite (from March 1928). It is a sheer joy to read for its recreation of the early 20th Century Black dialect. A colored man and his mulatto wife have a prognostication nightclub act. In the beginning, it is a complete sham…but as time goes on, his wife taps into true ESP powers. As her powers grow, his body weakens. Out of love for her husband, she kills herself. The story treats its black characters very sympathetically, that I find very unusual for this time period. I should point out that very rarely are black people denigrated in the pages of Weird Tales. There are a number of minor black characters that are shady or subservient, but I suspect blacks are better represented in the pages of WT than just about any other pulp publication from the '20s and '30s.

Although Frank Belknap Long Jr. is remembered as one of the better and more prolific writers, he only has a few appearances in Weird Tales during this time frame. The first, and by far the best, is "The Space-Eaters" from July 1928. This is one heckuva creepy story! From the opening quote from the Necronomicon, to the main characters of Frank and Howard, this is perhaps one of the earliest stories to expand upon Lovecraft's mythos, and perhaps the first to feature him as a character within the story. Howard is trying to write the ultimate nameless-horror story, when Frank's neighbor encounters just such a creature. Despite some dialogue that would be laughable by today's standards, there are some truly frightening images (the arm that is not an arm, that stretches down from the sky haunts me to this day).

One of the most interesting science fiction tales to appear is "The Distortion Out of Space" by Francis Flagg in August 1934. This story blends together elements found in "…And He Built a Crooked House" by Robert Heinlein, "The Captured Cross-Section" by Miles J. Breur and "Little Girl Lost" (from 'The Twilight Zone'). A fragment of a meteor smashes into the second floor of a country farmhouse. Two hunters investigate and discover one of the rooms is gateway leading to another dimension. They go in search of the farmer's wife who is lost inside. The end of the tale has one of the hunters shooting at an orb-like crystal that shatters and breaks them out of the distortion. But during the split second before the 'doorway' collapses, a mental rapport is established and the hunter receives mental impressions that the meteorite was in fact an alien spaceship that crashed on earth. The wounded alien created the distortion of space in an attempt to protect itself while it learned more about the planet it had crashed upon. The last thing the hunter senses is tragic futility coupled with great accomplishment - apparently the alien is a space pioneer; his success is tempered by the fact his own race will never know of his accomplishment. Much of the story unfolds like typical pulp fiction; but the last two pages inject more fresh ideas that most novel-length stories of the time.

November 1933 ushered in a new era for Weird Tales. C. L. Moore spearheaded a new batch of writers and her story "Shambleau" remains a milestone both in her career and in annals of Weird Tales.

Catherine Moore was just 22 years old when this, her first professional sale, was published. Not many authors land with such an impact. The beginning of the story has an almost Old-West feel to it. The writing during the opening pages is not very distinguished, and we have to take on faith the characterization of Northwest Smith. But about halfway into the story, things really take off. Moore's descriptive passages are genuinely weird, yet confidently mature. This is about as fine a melding of science fiction and weird-horror as any (the only serious competitor that comes to mind is Jack Williamson's "Wolves of Darkness"). And just when most ordinary writers would end their tale, she is just getting started. The ending pages discussing the possible origins of Shambleau are intriguing and held this reader's attention (unlike many of Jules de Grandin's closing expositions). Perhaps the real power of this story lies in the weakness of Northwest Smith; he is built up as a typical pulp hero, yet in the embrace of Shambleau he is completely helpless and needs to be rescued. Even the end of the story shows his uncertainty, his vulnerability. This is quite a departure from characters like Tarzan, Conan or even Jules de Grandin.

Moore would continue to explore the boundaries of imagination, beauty, and the 'feminine' side of weird tales for years to come. She would tackle the male-dominated sword-and-sorcery genre with Jirel of Joiry, and extend the exploits of Northwest Smith. Many of her stories would take place within the darker recesses of her characters' minds, or on alternate planes of reality. Her greatest asset would also be one of her biggest faults - a tendency to over-write her descriptive passages. Many of her subsequent stories would lack the punch of "Shambleau" because her brilliant descriptive passages would wear out their welcome and slow down plot development.

Carl Jacobi, Manly Wade Wellman, the Binder brothers and Henry Kuttner also joined the ranks of Weird Tales during the mid-30s…but by far the greatest discovery was in January 1935: Robert Bloch.

Bloch's rise to fame was nearly derailed when a letter he wrote to The Eyrie criticizing Howard's Conan stories appeared concurrently with his first published tale. Many readers took umbrage at one 'established' writer attacking another. Despite these prejudices, many readers were won over by Bloch's "Feast in the Abbey". Once the firestorm died down (and Bloch apologized/explained), he began appearing regularly. In the beginning, his stories were clearly Lovecraft pastiches; but within two years, his own style began to emerge and his stories dominated Weird Tales during the late '30s. I feel it is a great tragedy Lovecraft did not live long enough to see his young protégé develop far beyond either of their expectations.

During these ten years, the look of Weird Tales went through three distinct phases. In the beginning, C.C. Senf was responsible for many of the covers. He had a more gothic, atmospheric approach. Come September 1932, Margaret Brundage's brighter colors, and nearly picture-perfect renderings took readers by storm. During her six-year reign, the readers would constantly debate the merits of her nudes, but there is no denying the covers had reached their artistic apex. Howard and Quinn were at the top of their game, and even lesser writers like Paul Ernst introduced us to Dr. Death - all brought evocatively to life by Ms. Brundage. Only twice was her reign interrupted; both times by the grandmaster himself, J. Allen St. John (Otis Adelbert Kline's "Buccaneers of Venus" and Jack Williamson's "Golden Blood", respectively).

The third phase begins in early 1937 when Virgil Finlay, after several issues of interior illustrations, finally gets a cover. Brundage and Finlay will trade covers for the next two years until she paints her last cover for the October 1938 issue. At this time the editorial offices shifted from Chicago to New York; a move that for whatever reason, precluded future Brundage covers.

Besides the stories and the artwork, there is a third element that comprised Weird Tales - The Eyrie. Amateurs and professionals mixed equally in the letters department. Friendships were born; feuds developed and genuine criticism (good and bad) interwove the fabric of this micro-society. Familiar names like Jack Darrow, Robert A. Madle, and Henry Hasse seemed to appear every month. But one personality seemed to shine above them all.

September 1934 marked the first letter by Gertrude Hemken in The Eyrie. During the next six years she would become one of the most frequent and unique contributors to the letters department. Her observations became increasingly spontaneous and peppered with her unique spellings and made-up words. Oogy, the word for which she is most remembered for, first appeared in February 1936. By January 1937 her letters were getting as much notice as the stories themselves:

"Yuh, yuh, yuh, yuh - I chuckle as I hug myself in fiendish glee - hee hee hee hee. So - Joseph Allan Ryan, of Cambridge, Maryland, doesn't like my writing sensibly. Okay, Joey boy, you asked for it - you're gonna get cute words. Yessir. Y'know - I had often wondered what the readers thot of my kookoo comments. Reckon as haow they like 'em. It's a laff to think that I write cute words. Doodness! You'd never b'lieve it to look at me. And thanx, Mr. Ryan, for dubbing me Trudy - people are too unkind and call me Gertie - and oh, how that grates on my ears, ugh!…"

Despite the slang, her comments were generally very insightful and poignant. Sometime during the summer of 1937, Farnsworth Wright met Gertrude; I assume she visited the offices of Weird Tales (being a native of Chicago). Mysteriously in August 1938 she started signing her letters as Caroline Ferber and by 1940 she'd ceased writing letters altogether. I wonder what became of her?

Stories, art and letters - three ingredients that comprised the essence of Weird Tales, and all three reached a pinnacle during the '30s. Weird Tales enjoyed a long life; but when people discuss the magazine, it is almost invariably the decade from 1928 - 1938 that they regard as the definitive years.

Reading these issues consecutively, I have gained a unique (from a modern fan's viewpoint) perspective. To see how authors influenced one another (most famously the expansion of the Cthulhu Mythos); to see new ideas introduced and older ones given a new twist - a perspective completely lost by reading single-author collections.

Reading these issues has given me a cultural perspective. In 1928 sound in motion pictures did not exist; by 1938 Hollywood had turned out a host of horrors (and authors like Dorothy Quick and Henry Kuttner drew on their personal tinsel-town experiences for stories). Obscure letter writers like Forrest J. Ackerman, Sam Moskowitz and Julius Schwartz began forging alliances that would create and define fandom. The United States came out of Prohibition; sank into a Depression; and watched as turmoil brewed in Europe. All of this filtered into the pages of Weird Tales.

Although there have been a fair number of below-par stories during this ten-year spread, I have been most amazed at how consistently well written the majority of stories are; perhaps the best of any pulp (except perhaps Blue Book). Much of this credit has to be attributed to its editor Farnsworth Wright. He seemed a fair judge for stories, and willing to take chances on off-trail stories. He encouraged and nurtured young writers like C. L. Moore, Robert Bloch and Manly Wade Wellman. When he died in 1940, Weird Tales would never be the same.

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Amazing Stories Quarterly

NOTE ON THE TEXT:
My copies of the first 4 issues of AMZQ are collected together into one hardbound edition, apparently from the estate of Sam Moskowitz (recently acquired through an Ebay auction). Unlike most other hardbound pulps in my collection, this appears to have been bound sometime during the '30s or '40s. The gilded titles and imprints, while still quite clear, do show quite a bit of fading and general aging. The book is quite fragile, and even from very careful reading, some of the interior pages are beginning to detach. What is curious about this volume is "Mr. H. Gernsback" is imprinted on the bottom right hand corner of the cover. Due to the age of the binding job, I am left wondering if this perhaps was Hugo Gernsback's own personal copy??? The paper-stock is quite heavy - heavier than any other pulp I've seen - can anyone attest if this is how the early AMZQ's were?

PREFACE:
It's always nice to start a series at the beginning. Reading Gernsback's editorial to this issue really helps put the scientifiction movement in perspective. Airplanes were still new; wireless communication just becoming a reality; the concept of space flight scoffed at by the masses. And yet, a growing number of readers wanted something more than a mystery story or a western…they wanted something that would challenge their minds and their imaginations.

Amazing Stories Quarterly began publishing just a few short years after Amazing Stories began…if I'm not mistaken, this, then, is the second publication devoted to scientific romances (as they were then called). While it was tedious for this modern reader to get through these stories, I must admit to gleaning much more 'cultural' history of the late '20s than I had previously from any movie or history book.

It is almost inconceivable for me - born in 1969 and raised on "Star Trek" and "Star Wars" - to comprehend a time when science fiction was so new that magazines had to rely heavily upon reprinted stories (Jules Verne and H.G. Wells being the most popular). Just a few short months earlier, with the September 1928 issue of Amazing Stories, did the world get the first issue composed entirely of all-original scientification!

Amazing Stories Quarterly [v1 #1, Winter 1928] (50¢, 144pp+, large, cover by Frank R. Paul)

The Moon of Doom o Earl L. Bell Egads! What a horrible way to launch such a prestigious companion publication! The story starts off with a promising paragraph about the Earth's rotation mysteriously increasing. Then begins reading like a 'future history' as Mankind prepares for the worst when it is discovered the Moon is getting closer and closer; very reminiscent of "When Worlds Collide". Small groups of humanity flee to the surface of the Moon (which has somehow sucked up Earth's atmosphere) to escape the catastrophe below. They encounter the ruins of an ancient Lunarian civilization. For some reason, the Moon starts receding from the Earth, the humans flee back to the surface of the Earth to re-colonize the planet a la the Garden of Eden.

I've deliberately given away the ending so you won't have to waste your time with this. Some of the descriptive passages were good, but by and large the writing style was atrocious, the characters don't even qualify as one-dimensional, and so many ideas that deserved further development are just casually tossed by the wayside..

Just one brief example of how ghastly this story is: Mildred, young and pretty disciple of Professor Burke looks to the Moon:

"…'The other side of the Moon! How I should like to explore it! And something tells me that I shall, some day. The moon has always called to me, and now, when it is so close that it seems I could reach up and touch it, I am tempted to stretch out my hands and cry for it, as they tell me I did when I was a baby. It seems to be drawing me toward it even as it is pulling the tides…'"

Oh, puh-leeze! I can put up with dreadful writing as long as there are interesting ideas or a good pay-off in the end. No so here! Avoid at all costs!

The Atomic Riddle o Edward S. Sears
This is a scientific whodunit story. Crudely written, horrible characterizations (how long until we see a plausible female character in science fiction???), and the end explanation is just too wordy.

When the Sleeper Wakes o H. G. Wells o n. The Graphic Jan 9-May 6, 1899
I must confess that I did not re-read this novel I had read this in high school and only have vague memories of it. As I recall, it was rather boring; lots of social commentary. I believe this was written during a transitional period for Wells - as he moved from being a romanticist to becoming something of a social engineer. Gernsback regards it very highly, and at the time of publication the novel had been out of print for many years. One day I'll re-read this and revise this review.

The Golden Vapor o E. H. Johnson o ss Electrical Experimenter Feb '20
This is another kind of scientific whodunit, this time from the perspective of the criminal. Seems rather pointless. Easily forgettable - in fact, I read this just a few weeks ago, and still had to go back and browse through the story to jog my memory!

The Puzzle Duel o Miles J. Breuer, M.D. o ss
Yet another scientific whodunit - now I can understand how Scientific Detective Monthly/Amazing Detective Tales was able to co-exist for several years! This time two men in college challenge one another to a duel. Both manage to kill the other through ingenious scientific devices. Not bad as these kind of stories go (and certainly outshines the other stories in this issue).

The Terrors of the Upper Air o Frank Orndorff o ss
This story provided a fantastic glimpse into the past - a time when airplanes were still new and wireless transmission still a modern marvel. And yet, what is even more amazing is that Jack Williamson, 20 years old when this story was first published, is still with us in 2006 and still writing!

This is a story about two barnstormers out to break the world record for altitude. They relay their adventures via radio to the spectators below. The aviators are caught in a mysterious updraft and discover a mysterious world in the clouds and are menaced by pterodactyls. The ambiguous ending is deftly handled. Characterization is weak, but adequately serves the purpose of the story; Orndorff has a very descriptive writing style that I found easy to follow. This would have made a great radio dramatization because the story really does leave much to your imagination!

Amazing Stories Quarterly [v1 #2, Spring 1928] (50¢, 144pp+, large, cover by Frank R. Paul)

A Modern Atlantis o Frederick Arthur Hodge o n.
Gernsback introduces this story as one that will grow in importance in years to come. He also makes note how rare science and fiction are woven together successfully - citing Jules Verne as one who has science but very little literature in his stories. I find it ironic that this intro should be appended to this abysmal story! The first two chapters have almost zero characterization or plot - we are told that in the early 1930's giant, man-made islands called 'isleports' have been built on the oceans. Apparently our hero will be the inventor of these islands; a Mr. Holden.

When the plot is moving along, Hodge has a competent narrative voice. However, he is given to many long passages of character introspection that really does nothing to forward the plot. Almost two full pages setting up a long extended metaphor about conversation, an orchid and how like an orchid the protagonist's conversations with his nurse are!

For such an extended narrative, the plot is quite simple. The Isleport is intended as a stopping off base for an enemy attack on the United States. The port has been evacuated, all save its inventor and his nurse (it was not known they had arrived at the isle the previous night). Once Holden realizes the situation, he spends the days working in his private laboratory on an invention that he hopes will end the conflict. Meanwhile, a spy from the European consortium has snuck aboard the isle with the intent of preparing the port for hostile takeover. An old friend of Holden's happened to shadow the spy to the port through a series of unlikely plot developments.

Hodge postulates that the invention of an 'ultimate weapon' will bring about world peace. Time has proven him completely wrong. It is interesting to see the hero destroy countless defenseless planes and battleships with his 'death ray' (never referred to as a death ray in the story, but that's essentially what the secret weapon is).

The science fiction aspects are kept to a minimal (given the length of the story), and the most fantastical aspect of all is the 'instant' peace that is brokered by the use of this weapon. Despite all its flaws, a certain indefinable charm keeps me from wanting to entirely dismiss or trash this story. Perhaps because it reflects a time of innocence; a time when it seemed that science might provide an answer to end war. The mindset that conceptualized this piece no longer exists, and perhaps its very non-existence in today's world allows me to appreciate it that much more.

This would have much more successful as a short story. It's overblown narrative ruins it for the modern reader. Despite that, the writing style and characterization is at least a step above "The Moon of Doom".

The Nth Man o Homer Eon Flint o na
Though written around 1920 for one of the Munsey magazines, this story never saw print until Gernsback acquired the rights in 1928. Flint is better known as co-author of "The Blind Spot." This story sets forth several images that have become synonymous with science fiction. First and foremost, this is an early 'superman' story; the illustrations bear remarkable resemblance to later depictions of the Iron Man, and even "The Iron Giant".

Mysterious, yet benign events over a 13-year period presage the appearance of a giant 'man' who towers nearly two miles tall. This giant issues forth an ultimatum to the President that new laws need to be passed that will destroy the secret dictatorship that is running the country. The wealthy dictator pulling the strings behind the scenes refuses to relinquish power. The giant engages and destroys the military, and eventually breaks the dictator. Amazing coincidences reveal that the dictator is in fact the giant's grandfather! There are several sections in this story that scathingly attack the rich, privileged society, and the postulation that powerful interest groups secretly run the country are quite radical for their time. Also rather radical is the theory that injecting serums into the pituitary glands from giant Galapagosian turtles can 'mutate' a baby boy into a super-human giant with shell-like skin. Despite some of the clunkiness of the narrative prose, and some truly outrageous character developments, this is quite an important piece of early SF that juggles social, political and scientific issues.

The King of the Monkey Men o A. Hyatt Verrill o na
There is almost no science fiction to this tale; it is pure jungle adventure. I am typically a big fan of such stories, but this one did not do much for me. Perhaps because it was in Amazing Stories, I expected (and wanted) some kind of fantastical aspect to emerge.

An explorer discovers a lost tribe of 'missing link' creatures in a remote valley somewhere in South America; he spends time with them. Later, he leaves the valley to return to civilization. On his way back, he rescues a white woman who had been raised by another little-known tribe. In the end, he discovers that the young woman is in reality his own daughter whom he lost many years ago. All of these adventures are related as a story within a story…framed by someone scoffing at the incredible coincidences authors impose on their fiction! The jungle scenery is nicely described, but there still remains a sense of pointlessness to the whole affair. For such a 'prestigious' magazine, there has been little to recommend from these first two issues. Judging by these stories, it's a wonder in itself that science fiction ever survived its infancy!

The Vibrator of Death o Harold F. Richards, Ph.D. o ss Science and Invention Jan '22
Ahhh! A reprint from 1922 - that explains a lot…but it doesn't explain why Gernsback would reprint such a horribly bad story! This should be held up as an example of one of the all-time worst scientific detective tales!

In France, workers all across the nation are going on strike; a Bolshevik is suspected to be behind it. A popular female singer travels around the country encouraging workers to return to their jobs. She is murdered and it is up to an American detective to solve the case. I can't talk about characterization because there is none; the plotting and style are so bad I'd rather try to forget about it altogether than discuss it here. Even at just 5 pages, this was much, much too long. This is even worse than the Keller story in the previous issue!

The Second Swarm o J. Schlossel o nv
This is yet another horrible, horrible story! Atrocious writing; just as bad as the previous story!

Some 12,000 years in the future, spaceships are sent out to explore nearby stars in search of habitable planets. One of the expeditions to Sirius never returns. A follow-up group of ships is attacked by the Siriusans, and one ship manages to return to earth. All in an uproar, humanity constructs thousands of ships to 'swarm' over the alien world and colonize it for Earth.

A few interesting ideas - the people of the world are divided into three sections corresponding to their races; all seem to live in harmony and all seem equal; suspended animation is used for the interstellar trips (about 13 years to Sirius at 2/3 the speed of light); the Siriusans abandon their planet in face of the gigantic odds from Earth. They are described as similar to tarantulas…only 50 times larger than the earthly variety.

This story is very poorly written. A few characters are introduced, but they are of little importance and are all killed before the end of the story. While the ideas are slightly interesting (for their time), it is such a morass of awkward narrative that modern readers should avoid this at all costs!

Amazing Stories Quarterly [v1 #3, Summer 1928] (Experimenter Publishing Co., Inc., 50¢, 144pp+, large, cover by Frank R. Paul)

The Sunken World o Stanton A. Coblentz o n.
This novel marks a great change in science fiction. This is one of the earliest examples of 'modern' SF that is well written. This is miles ahead of anything else that has appeared in AMZQtrly up to this point (save perhaps Wells' When the Sleeper Wakes).

Admittedly, Coblentz does get mired down in some utopian digressions, and a few antiquated plot devices, but these faults seem rather minor in the over scope of the novel. The undersea society and culture of the Atlantean race is nicely realized. Coblentz, coming from a background in poetry, seems to exalt the finer arts in this utopian kingdom…and yet, he destroys it in the end; leaving his final message perhaps a bit vague.

This is a remarkably well-crafted novel for being Coblentz' first (or at least, his first in science fiction). There is a sense of 'seriousness' and 'literature' that pervades the narrative, which helps it rise above contemporary SF of its time. Coblentz' next novel is to be After 12,000 Years - another novel that explores, even more deeply, a utopian vision.

Out of the Sub-Universe o R. F. Starzl o ss
This is a serviceable short story about worlds within atoms. Reprinted several times from it's original publication. I believe the merits of its reprinting lie more in its brevity than in any of its other qualities.

The Menace [*Taine of San Francisco] o David H. Keller, M.D. o nv
There is a college thesis just waiting to be exploited with this story! This is perhaps the most racist story to ever appear in science fiction. Taine is a super detective and has been hired by leaders of the First National Bank to investigate some strange doings. It appears some wealthy white people are buying up land in Harlem and settling blacks there; and possibly related are some white criminals that have fingerprints of black criminals. As Taine investigates further, by passing himself off as a mulatto, he discovers that a black scientist has discovered how to extract gold from sea water as well as developed a serum to turn black people white. So….black people everywhere are going to be injected with this serum that will turn them white, and they will take over the world. Taine's true identity is discovered, but a traitor to the cause helps him to escape the Powerful Ones and he destroys the building they are in (and supposedly this puts an end to their threat).

But the story doesn't end here - Keller continues the Black Menace for another three story-events, with the final story taking place forty years (1970?) in the future. The plots are fantastically unlikely; Taine thwarts them every time (thus proving time and again white supremacy). The ending is just so utterly, mind-numbingly ludicrous that I'm still trying to figure out if this is the ultimate piece of racist propaganda in science fiction, or is this an elaborate piece of sarcasm.

I know Dr. Keller was a popular writer…but I found the writing to be bad even by pulp standards. I have a lot of problems with motivations in this story - black people are presented as being united by the color of their skin; yet they are willing to abandon that distinction. Conversely, what do the white people have to fear - if all black people turn themselves white, wouldn't that be a good thing? Perhaps Keller feels that colorless black people would still be degenerate, and therefore will still pollute the white gene pool. None of this really makes sense to me. What little I have read about Keller's personal life seems contrary to what he expounds in this story. And what of Gernsback? As editor and publisher, did he endorse the views expressed in this story?

Like some horrible automobile accident on the highway, I find it hard to look away. As bad as I felt the writing to be and as outrageous as the plot devices were, I feel I must come back to this story some day and read it with a much more critical eye and attention to subtext. Like "The Terrors of the Upper Air", this story provides a unique glimpse into the past that is solely lacking in most history books.

Ten Days to Live o C. J. Eustace o nv
A scientist invents a machine that can move the Earth closer to the Sun; the scientist wants to use it for a brief time to improve the Earth's climate, but a none-to-likable character who lusts for the scientists' daughter kills him and sets the machine to working. As the entire planet succumbs to unbearable heat, the narrator tracks down the villain and dispatches him at the last moment and thus saves what is left of humanity. Extremely clichéd; stilted writing - you have been warned!

Amazing Stories Quarterly v1 #4, Fall 1928 cover by Frank R. Paul

Scientifiction, Searchlight of Science o Jack Williamson o editorial
Jack Williamson's first appearance in print is a prize-winning ($50) essay about scientification. I'm sure readers would have considered it a most 'Amazing' yarn were they told Mr. Williamson would continue writing science fiction up until at least 2006!

The World of the Giant Ants o A. Hyatt Verrill
Despite the clunky writing, and descriptive passages that meander, I found myself liking this story. It is essentially an adventure yarn in the jungles of South America and the discovery of a hidden valley (in the crater of an extinct volcano) where giant semi-intelligent ants dominate. Verrill spends too much time on entomological details, yet I found several of the passages and his extrapolations quite fascinating. With some judicious editing, this would probably condense down to a nifty novella.

Stenographer's Hands o David H. Keller, M.D.
Keller explores the world of eugenics with this tale of a business company that adopts a long-range plan of breeding a superior work-force of stenographers. The system appears to succeed, but 200 years later the work-force begin to suffer from in-breeding diseases. In this story Keller reveals a very sexist attitude. This story taken with "The Menace" appear to portray an author who perfectly embodied the ideals of Adolph Hitler. I found this a difficult story to get through because of the writing style; I feel Keller represents everything bad about early pulp sci-fi writing.

Four Dimensional Transit [*Fourth Dimension (unnamed narrator)] o Bob Olsen
This is part of a series of stories started in Amazing Stories with Professor Banning as protagonist. In this story, the Professor has invented a new airplane that can travel faster than any other. He takes a wager he can circumnavigate the Earth in eighteen hours. The Professor takes a detour to the Moon and his companions worry that the wager is lost because weeks appear to pass. Banning reveals the plane has flown in the fourth dimension and returns to the Earth in only fifteen hours.

When the World Went Mad o Ronald M. Sherin
Looking back at these early issues of Amazing Stories, the truly amazing thing is how some of them ever got published! A mad Russian scientist wants to explore space…but instead of building a rocket to launch himself there, he manipulates atomic energy to speed up Earth's rotation in order to 'spin off' his space glove! The hero manages to turn off the atomic machine but millions of people are dead, and the Earth now has an 18-hour day. This was the print equivalent of "The Giant Claw" or "Plan Nine from Outer Space."

The Gravity King o Clelland J. Ball o (reprinted from Science and Invention Apr '22)
An inventor devises a scheme by which he will avenge himself against some unethical business tycoons who robbed him of his prior invention. Originally published in 1922, but still of very little interest; typical Gernsbackian-style story.

Final Thoughts:
These four issues comprise the first volume of Amazing Stories Quarterly; an important step in the development of Science Fiction. The Quaterly would continue another eighteen issues (ending in the Fall of 1934), but it established a pattern that other SF pulps would experiment with until the '50s. Reading these stories it is easy to see the Gernsbackian style - attention is paid to inventions and scientific development; action, characterization and writing style were not necessary. Many of the stories read like extended lectures on scientific possibilities (a far cry from the scientific romances appearing in Argosy by such authors as Cummings, Merritt, Burroughs, Farley and Kline). Only with the establishment of Astounding Stories as competitor, does the face of science fiction begin to change and become more plot/character driven. Ironically, within ten years it is Astounding Stories which becomes the torch-bearer for hard science fiction, while Amazing Stories degenerates into space operas and BEM's.

For those interested in the early years of science fiction, Everett F. Fleiler's "Science-Fiction: The Gernsback Years" is indispensable. Published by the Kent State University Press, this mammoth hardcover is well worth the investment. The bulk of the book is taken up with story synopsis for nearly every SF story from 1926 - 1936; along with brief biographical data on the authors, magazines, and illustrators.