Category Archives: Uncategorized

Congratulations to the World Fantasy Award Winners

Announced this afternoon were the winners of the 2010 World Fantasy Awards:

Novel: 
     The City and the City by China Mie’ville

Novella:
     “Sea Hearts” by Margo Lanagan

Short Story
     “The Pelican Brief” by Karen Joy Fowler

Anthology:
     American Fantastic Tales:  Terror and the Uncanny: From Poe to the Pulps/From the 1940’s to Now,
          Peter Straub, ed.

Collection (tie):
     There Once Lived a Woman Who Tried to Kill Her Neighbor’s Baby: Scary Fairy Tales by Ludmilla
          Petrushevskaya
     The Very Best of Gene Wolf/eThe Best of Gene Wolfe by Gene Wolfe

Artist
     Charles Vess

Special Award – Professional
     Jonathan Strahan for editing anthologies

Special Award – Non -Professional
     Susan Marie Groppi for Strange Horizons

Life Achievement (previously announced)
     Brian Lumley
     Terry Prachett
     Peter Straub

Adventures Fantastic would like to congratulate all the winners.  I’ve read “The Pelican Brief” but not any of the others.  Seems like I’ve got some catching up to do.  Again, congratulations to all the nominees, and especially to the winners.

A Cab Ride to Murder

Nobody’s Angel
Jack Clark
Hardcase Crime
paperback, June 2010, 220 pg

At first glance a crime novel about a cab driver, while possibly adventurous, may not sound all that fantastic.  But keep in mind, one person’s mundane is another person’s fantastic. 

When cab drivers are presented in fiction, whether in film or in literature, they often serve merely as chauffeurs or as comic foils.  When they’re the central characters, too many times they’re romanticized.  (I have never seen the show Taxi, so the applicability of any comments I make in this post to that show is purely coincidental.)  At least that’s been my observation, although I’ve not done any scientific study.  The only cab driver stories I know of in which the cabbie was played straight, and not for laughs, was in the Steve Midnight tales by John K. Butler.  These ran mostly in Dime DetectiveAdventure House has reprinted them in At the Stroke of Midnight, which I read a few years back and quite enjoyed.  Other than this volume, Butler is pretty much out of print except for a story in the odd anthology, a mistake that someone will hopefully correct.  And soon.

Anyway, Nobody’s Angel tells the story of Eddie Miles, a Chicago cabbie who happens to become involved in two different series of killings while working the night shift.  In one, someone is mutilating and murdering prostitutes.  Eddie stumbles on one of the killings, causing the killer to drive away before completing his task, and the result is the intended victim ends up being the only survivor.  In the other, someone is knocking off cab drivers.  Eddie is a friend of the latest victim as well as the last person to see him alive.  You can imagine how this makes the police take an interest in him, although they don’t take the expected approach and hassle Eddie or even suspect him.  Instead they ask him to keep his eyes and ears open.

Clark does an excellent job of showing us the world of the night shift through Eddie’s eyes.  It’s a world most of us probably wouldn’t want to see on a daily basis.  While there is certainly room for humor and camaraderie, especially among the cabbies, it’s a world that is often sordid and profane.  And at times out right deadly.

Clark opens each chapter with one of the ordinances governing cab drivers in the city of Chicago.  This technique gives insight into the lives of the cabbies.  All good fantasy and science fiction, at least at novel length, will take the reader and transport him or her into the life of someone in another world, hopefully one that is different enough to be exotic while at the same time having enough touchstones of the familiar to allow the reader to relate.  Clark proves that sometimes some of the most exotic settings can literally be right around the corner.  While reading the book, he made the world of the Chicago cab driver real to me, even though I’d never been to that city or was even very familiar with its geography.  This is something the urban detective tale does when the author is working at the top of the form:  give the detective’s city an identity so that the city transcends place and setting and becomes a character in its own right.  It’s a hard trick to pull off, but Clark does it.  When I learned on his website that Jack Clark drives a cab himself, I wasn’t surprised.  If I were a betting man, I would bet that some of the fares Eddie picks up are based on those of Jack himself.  One or two are so out there, they had to be true.

There is action and violence in the book, but that’s not what the plot revolves around.  Instead it’s the threat of violence, coming when unexpected, and the sense of danger permeating the city.  Lennie, Eddie’s friend who is murdered, is an old and experienced cabbie, with plenty of street smarts.  The fact that someone is able to get past his guard rattles the drivers.  The second killer carving up streetwalkers only adds to the tension, as do Eddie’s attempts to locate the killer’s van again.  We learn how Eddie thinks, the mistakes he’s made, the regrets he has.  Yet deep inside, he’s a hero.  He does the right thing, more than once, when there’s a very real possibility the right thing could get him hurt, robbed, killed, or any combination of the above.  More than that, he’s ready when he has to fight.  While his weapon of choice may not be a sword or a blaster, he wields it with skill, and he’s not afraid to risk his life in a tight situation.

Nobody’s Angel is more than just a study in character and place.  There is a mystery in the book.  The clues are there.  I’m annoyed I missed them, because when I got to the end, it was obvious what I’d overlooked.  And the more I think about it, the more obvious it is.

Overall, this was one of the better noir crime novels I’ve read in a while, and I tend to read a lot of them in between the fantasy, science fiction, and historical adventure.  While I may have been put off by some of the things Eddie encountered, I’d ride along with him again any time.

Finally, I want to say a word about Hard Case Crime.  For something like six years or so now, publisher Charles Ardai has been bringing out some of the best old and new noir-style crime novels by established Grandmasters (can you say Lawrence Block and Donald E. Westlake?), forgotten pros whose names should be better known, such as Cornell Woolrich (it pains me to put him in this category) and Charles Williams, to nwer writers who are worth keeping an eye on (think Dominic Stansberry for one).  And the cover art is something to behold.  You can see all of them here.

Their printer and distributor has been Dorchester Books, which earlier this year announced they were switching to ebooks.  What that means is that volume 66, Brett Halliday’s Mike Shayne novel Murder is My Business is the last Hard Case book you’ll see in mass market paperback for a while, maybe ever.  Volume 67 is scheduled to be released in hardcover through Subterranean Books, and there are plans to continue the line, although details are sketchy.  Also the Gabriel Hunt mens’ adventure series (an offshoot of Hard Case), the Cosmos collections of the weird fiction of Robert E. Howard, and the Leisure line of horror are now gone.  As in off the shelves.  At least in the chain box stores like Barnes and Noble.  And they’ve probably been pulped, which means copies will become more and more collectible as the years pass.

I had to order the Hard Case and Gabriel Hunt volumes I was missing from two different independent booksellers who specialize in mysteries.  I have all the Hard Case and the first five of the Gabriel Hunt.  I don’t know if the sixth Hunt will be published on schedule this month or not.  I tend to doubt it.  Hopefully it will see print someday soon.  I’ll take a look at the Hunt books here in the future as I can fit them in.  But I do want to thank Charles Ardai and his team for bringing me so many hours of reading pleasure throughout the last few years.

Long Looks at Short Fiction: The Natural History of Calamity by Robert J. Howe

The Natural History of Calamity
Robert J. Howe
Black Gater 14, $15.95

The current issue of Black Gate is so thick, and has so many stories in it, that I want to look at another one before moving on to other venues to examine short fiction.  Next up in this series of posts will be something seasonal (a ghost story), probably followed by something science fictional.

Anyway, on to the story at hand.  This one concerns a female private investigator, one Debbie Colavito, who works as a karmic detective.  She has the ability to detect a person’s karma, and, although it’s not exactly explained how, she can make changes in that karma.

Now the whole concept of karma is one I’ve never bought into.  At all.  So right off the bat, I had a hard time getting into the story because I couldn’t accept its basic premise.  However, since I had made up my mind to examine the story here in my Long Looks at Short Fiction series of posts, I decided I would try to put my prejudices aside and give the story a try.  Fortunately, that wasn’t as hard to do as I thought. 

The story opens with Debbie being visited by a prospective client, Will Charbonneau.  Seems Will’s lady love, Becky, has suddenly up and dumped him for a car salesman.  Will and Becky met in the Peace Corps, moved in together after they both returned stateside, and are working as high school teachers.  Will is clearly heartbroken and confused over Becky’s sudden change of heart.  They were talking about getting married, after all.  Can Debbie check into things and help him understand why this has happened?  He’s seen a feature about her in the paper, so he knows she’s a karmic detective.

Debbie takes the case, albeit with a little reluctance, since she’s sure that Becky’s decision to move out was made without any influence from the car salesman.  That is until she discovers the car salesman is Micheal, someone she dated in high school until he raped her on a date.  She hasn’t seen or heard from him in years.  As they used to say, from this point on, the plot thickens.

Howe gives Debbie Colavito a distinctive voice, one that’s part wise-cracking PI, part single woman making ends meet on her own.  Now I’m a huge fan of traditional PI stories, especially those told in first-person.  I don’t care how cliched some people consider the trope to be, it’s always been one of my favorites.  And Howe does a good job with this one.  There’s a genuine mystery here.  Not all the people or situations are as they appear.  Even if I did have trouble buying into the whole karmic detective angle, Howe develops Debbie’s character well and made her someone I cared about. 

He does a good job of writing a woman’s perspective.  Conventional wisdom is that many men can’t write from a woman’s viewpoint effectively.  While I don’t completely buy that I idea either, (people are people no matter what their gender) I don’t completely diasgree with it.  Men and women are wired differently mentally and emotionally.  Debbie is not simply a male detective in drag.  She is able to bond with Becky, whereas a male detective in a more traditional PI story would probably end up in bed with her.  Which is not to say Debbie is completely sexless.  She finds Will attractive.  She just doesn’t try to manipulate his emotions to get in bed with him.  In fact, when a situation arises in which she could, she deliberately doesn’t.

The writing is in the story is smooth, and the action flows.  The characters are individuals.  Howe has an easy to read style, probably due to his journalism background.  I don’t know if Howe has written any other stories about this character.  The author bio doesn’t mention any, and Black Gate does a good job of listing previous installments in a series.  While it wasn’t what I would consider exactly my cup of tea, I would certainly consider reading more about this character.

Nomad The Warrior: Addendum

It’s been over a week since I last posted, which is longer than I would prefer.  To make up for it I’m going to post two reviews over the weekend, plus this post.  I guess that makes 2.5 posts, since this one is going to be brief.

Part of the reason I’ve not posted has to do with travel.  I’ve been trying to a get a former residence fixed up (anybody wanna buy a house?), and that took me to the other side of the state.  Texas is a big state.

Anyway, since I posted the review about Nomad The Warrior, I’ve done some further thinking (six hour drives are good for that).  Specifically about how religion is portrayed in the movie.  There’s some ancester worship and shamanistic beliefs shown on the part of the Jungar.  The Kazakhs refer to the Almighty, and this is what intrigues me.  Whether they mean Allah, Jehovah, or someone else is never made clear.  I may be wrong, but I’m fairly certain by this time that the Kazakhs were Muslim.  Much of the story takes place in Turkestan.  The photo I posted from my visit there was of the Kodzha Achmed Yosavi Mausoleum, which dates to the 14th century, well before the events of the movie, and is considered to be the Mecca of the East in the Islamic world.  In other words, the hero of the movie should have been muslim.

I’m not sure why the movie referred to the deity of the Kazakhs as the Almighty.  Maybe this was a holdover from the Soviet days, but I don’t think so.  It could have been a result of translating the movie into English.  On the other hand, it could have been done to make the movie more palatable to American audiences by omitting any overt references to Islam and thus making the hero more sympathetic to US movie-goers.

I haven’t had time to watch the Kazakh version of the movie, but I understand in places there are some significant differences in the dialogue from the English version.  I need to make time to watch the Kazakh version and see who the Kazakhs pray to.

Nomad, the Warrior

Nomad the Warrior (2005)

Starring Kuno Becker, Jay Hernandez, Jason Scott Lee
Directed by Sergey Bodrov and Ivan Passer

So I’m in the grocery store, looking at a selection of DVDs on an endcap between the cereal aisle and the cookie aisle (don’t tell me these people don’t understand product placement) when I pick up this movie with a guy holding a sword while screaming at some sort of army in the background.  Looks promising.  I turn the case over to read the synopsis and notice the movie is in two languages.  English.  And Kazakh.

Having spent some time in Kazakhstan, I’m sold.  It could have been a terrible movie, and I would have bought it simply because as I read the credits more closely, it was produced in Kazakhstan.  Fortunately, it wasn’t a horrible movie.  It wasn’t as great as it could have been, but it wasn’t horrible.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.

The movie is set in 18th centurty Kazakhstan, where the nomadic Kazakh tribes, split into fueding factions by the typical greed and desire for power, are being slowly defeated by the Mongol Jungars.  Enter Oraz (Jason Scott Lee), who is some sort of an Obi-Wan figure, a warrior mystic respected by all the tribes, who is searching for a prophesied child who will become a warrior to unite and deliver the Kazakh tribesmen from their enemies.  The Jungars (often spelled Dzunghars) are lead by Galdan (Dokshan Zholzhaksynov) and his evil henchman General Sharish (Mark Dacascos).  Oraz manages to rescue the child, son of the sultan of Turkestan, just before his mother and the rest of their caravan are slaughtered by Sharish and his men, who are seeking to destroy the child and prevent fulfillment of the prophecy.  Oraz manages to convince the boy’s father to let him raise the child to fulfill the prophecy. Even though the savior is supposed to be the son of a sultan and a direct descendant of Genghis Kahn, I kept wondering why Oraz simply didn’t do the job himself.  Oraz proceeds to take one child from each of the Kazakh tribes and raises a brotherhood of freedom fighters. 

Once the boys have grown, Mansur (Kuno Becker), the prophesied one, and his best friend Erali (Jay Hernandez) fall for the same girl, Hocha, which complicates things and ends up driving a good portion of the plot.  Meanwhile Galdan has discovered that he didn’t kill the prophesied child after all.  Sharish and his army lay siege to Turkestan.  I’m not sure where these scenes were shot, but it wasn’t Turkestan.  There are too many hills outside the citiy.  Turkestan is on a plain.  I know; I’ve been there.  The picture below was taken in November, 2004, and shows the main surviving structure.  As you can see, no hills.  But that’s a minor point that most Americans wouldn’t be aware of.

Sharish challenges the Kazakhs to settle the dispute by single combat.  Erali volunteers, but Oraz tells him that Mansur must fight Sharish.  He thens informs Mansur that Sharish killed his mother, claps Mansur on the shoulder, and walks off.  Nothing like a little motivational speech to inspire the troops.
The fight that follows, like all the combat scenes is this movie, is extremely well coreographed.  The equine combat scenes, and there are more than one, are the best I’ve ever seen.  In fact, the cinematography, costumes, scenery, and musical score are outstanding.  This is clearly not a Hollywood production. 
That’s both good and bad.  In an American movie, there are guidelines for how animals are to be treated during the filming.  For example, horses aren’t tripped.  But there is one scene, where the girl Hocha (Dilnaz Akhmadieva) and her brother are captured by the Jungar,  a scene in which the horses are clearly tripped.  The Jungars have set up a rope across a road, and they raise it as the horses go by.  You can see one of the horses do a face plant in the dirt; it’s a closeup of the horses and riders in slow motion.  Not something typically shown in a US movie.
The story has betrayal, love, heartbreak, courage, action, and all the other things you would expect from an epic.  A number of the supporting characters are reasonablly well developed for the amount of screen time they have.  Others, such as Sharish’s brother, seem to be in the scenes almost as an afterthought.  I have no idea how much of the original Kazakh film, if any, was cut for the American release, so some of my disappointment here might be due to editing for American distribution rather than the original script.
Ultimately where the movie fails is in the story.  Oraz develops an annoying tendency to be seen sitting astride his horse on a hillside watching Mansur fulfill his destiny.  When Sharish captures Hocha, he uses her brother’s life as leverage to get her to agree to marry him.  Yet after this scene the brother is never mentioned again, even though every time we see Hocha for the next hour, she’s in the Jungar camp.  Mansur also is taken prisoner and cannot be executed because he is a descendant of Genghis Kahn.  This is a concept seen in Raiders from the North, which I reviewed last week.  At  one point Mansur is forced to fight an opponent who has never been defeated.  The men fight with chain mail veils so that can’t see each other’s faces.  It turns out to be someone Mansur knows.  How this person got to the Jungar camp and is fighting for them is never explained.  It should be, because this is a major break with how this character has been established.
But the main thing that ruined the story for me was the weak ending.  Determined to smash the Kazakhs once and for all, the entire Jungar army lays siege to Turkestan.  The battle starts promisingly enough, but then the voice-over says the siege lasts on the order of 100 days.  Yet no climactic battle is shown, just a montage of images resulting in the Jungars taking to their horses and riding away pursued by the surviving Kazakhs.  After all the cool fight scenes, talk about an anticlimax.
What would have been better would have been for Mansur to begin to unite the tribes but end the movie with his escape from the Jungars.  That aspect of the prophecy was never really developed, and different tribesmen just kind of stagger in without having much of a noticeable effect.  And how they get through the siege of Turkestan is taken for granted.  Splitting the story would have been more logical.  Sure it would have involved another movie, and more expense, but the story would have been better served.  That way, the final defeat of teh Jungars could have been given a proper treatment.
I had to do an internet search to find a listing of the cast.  The film only gave the actors’ names, not the roles they played.  On one site I found a note that the dialogue in the English version, which is what I watched, departed significantly from the English subtitles in the Kazakh version.  I’ll probably go back and watch that version sometime soon.  In spite of its flaws, Nomad the Warrior is a film I’m more than willing to see again, if only for the vistas of the steppes, the music, and the combat scenes.

The Birth of the Moghul Empire

Raiders from the North:  Empire of the Moghul
Alex Rutherford
St. Martin’s, 436 pgs., $24.95

The cover was what first attracted me to this book.  I mean, a big axe about to fall against a backdrop of a marching army, with the “O” in the word “North” a shield.  What’s not to love?  But many a book has failed to live up to the promises inherent in its cover, so what about the contents?

I’m delighted to say that, while not quite what I was hoping for, this book was well worth the price.  The book is a biographical novel about Babur, founder of the Moghul dynasty in India, and the first in a series called Empire of the Moghul.  This is not a period of history with which I have much familiarity.  Must have been absent when the football coach history teacher covered that unit in school. The term Moghul is the Persian word for Mongol, given to Babur by Shah Ismail as an insult.  Of course Babur adopts it with pride.

The book opens with Babur’s father, king of Ferghana, in what is now Uzbekistan, telling him about his destiny to uphold his heritage.  Babur was descended from Timur, known as Tamerlaine in the West, on his father’s side and from Genghis Kahn on his mother’s side.  This speech, while sounding a bit contrived, sets the tone of the rest of the novel.  Following his words to his son, Babur’s father goes to his dovecote on the side of the palace wall, which breaks off and falls to the bottom of a ravine, killinng him and most of the doves.  Thus at twelve, Babur becomes a king.

The schemes, intrigues, and hatching of plots begins immediately.  Aided by the commander of his army, Wazir Kahn, and his wiley grandmother, Esan Dawlat, Babur manages to survive and prosper, at least when he isn’t hiding in the hills from his enemies.

Alex Rutherford is the pen name of Michael and Diana Preston, a husband and wife writing team, and they drew heavily from Babur’s diaries, known as the Baburnama.  The diaries contain gaps, possibly because Babur didn’t always write in them or possibly because some volumes were lost during or shortly after Babur’s life.  For example, there is an eleven year gap between parts 3 and 4 of the novel.  In a brief afterward, the Prestons mention that they condensed some portions of Babur’s life as well as combined characters in the diary into single individuals.  These characters include Wazir Kahn and Baburi, a market boy Babur befirends who becomes his most trusted companion.  A quick internet search revealed that much of Babur’s reign in Kabul and conquest of India were condensed or omitted.

This being a historical novel, there is none of the neatness of plot one would expect to find in a work of pure fiction set in an imaginary world.  Major characters come and go with little or no warning.  Acts of villainy, and there are plenty, often go unavenged, at least by Babur.  Because the authors chose to stick to the main outline of Babur’s life, they were compelled to follow to the basic facts rather than tie things up neatly.  This strengthens the novel rather than weakens it.  The speech Babur’s father gives him in the open pages sets the theme for the rest of the book, Babur’s destiny as a descendant of Timur.  After he has lost both his home kingdom of Ferghana and the city of Samarkand (long coveted by his father and held by his uncle until Babur captures it) and is being pursued by an army of Uzbek raiders, Babur never loses sight of his goal and gives up, even when wallowing in the depths of self-pity.  Indeed there are several exchanges between Babur and Baburi over this notion of destiny.  Baburi at times serves as a foil for Babur, contrasting the freedom of a street urchin with the bonds on a ruler.

Where the book least met my initial expectations were the battle scenes.  While the authors don’t shy away from details at times, the details are used sparingly. This makes the specifics more powerful, such as when Babur and his men come upon a small village pillaged by the Uzbeks.  This is probably one of the more graphic scenes in the book and is one of the most effective.  Whereas a writer such as Robert E. Howard would have given detailed accounts of the battles, bringing the reader into the scene with his use of details (which is what I was expecting when I bought the book), the Prestons paint the canvas of the battlefield in broad sweeps, using enough detail to convey the ebb and flow of the armies, but on a less personal scale.  Very little details are given about individual combat except when Babur is directly involved in the attack (or retreat). 

Instead the book focuses on Babur’s rising and falling in his attempts to fulfill his destiny and reclaim lands once belonging to Timur.  Character is the emphasis here, not carnage, although there is enough of that to whet the appetite of most fans of action adventure.  Babur grows from an inexperienced, and soft-hearted, young king to a harsh, and at times merciless, emperor.  While I thought the last few years of his life were given short shrift, overall the picture painted is a complete one, with Babur spending the last years of his rule trying to groom his sons to succeed him.

The book closes with Babur’s death in his late 40s.  The second volume, Brothers at War, was published this past June in Britain.  I’m looking forward to reading it.

FYI – Historical Fiction

It seems I may have been a bit premature in my remarks last week about not finding what I was looking for after the Cimmerian blog shut down.  One of the main things I had in mind was a lack of posts about historical events, people, and fiction.  Well, over at REHupa, Morgan Holmes has posted three items relating to historical fiction (plus an announcement of a collection of about Robert E. Howard as well as a post two weeks ago about a collection of tales from the pulp Adventure), while this morning at Black Gate, Bill Ward posted a review of Robert Low’s The White Raven.  Undaunted, I intend to blog on.  There is enough heroic fiction and fantastic adventures out there that haven’t been blogged about that I’m sure I can find something to discuss.  And who says I can’t review an item someone else has already looked at.  Isn’t this sort of dialogue and interchange of ideas and opinions what fandom is all about?

When It Rains It Pours

Well, I had intended to have at least one other post by this time (a week after starting this blog), but an out of town trip, a deadline on a personal writing project, and assorted acts of dayjobbery have conspired to keep me from finishing the story I’m going to review.  I should have it done within a couple of days, once the deadlines have passed.  After that, I’ll probably review Raiders from the North by Alex Rutherford.  No promises, though.  While I will review that book, if something else comes up I find more urgent, I’ll tackle it first.

Opening Salvo

Hello…hello…(tap, tap)…Is this thing on?

Ahem.  If anyone is out there, I’m starting this blog, Adventures Fantastic.  The focus will be on, well, just what the title suggests.  Adventures of a fantastic nature.  Mostly fictional, but with an occasional factual post thrown in.  I know, I know, you’re probably thinking there are already a number of websites and blogs out there that have a similar focus.  Why another one?

That’s a very perceptive question, and I’m glad you asked it.  It’s true there are a number of other places you could go on the web to get a fix for this kind of thing, such as Black Gate, REH: Two-Gun Raconteur, or REHupa.  And you should.  But ever since the Cimmerian shut down, I haven’t found exactly what I’ve been looking for.  That blog was one of the few I’m aware of that regularly mixed posts about heroic fantasy with articles on history and historical adventure.  Few, in this case, being defined as “only.”  Maybe that last sentence just shows my ignorance, I don’t know.  Anyway, someone once said, and I think I’ve seen the quote attributed to George Orwell, that writers write what they can’t find on library shelves.  The same holds true in this case.

While hubris may be high on my list of personal characterics, I’m under no delusion that this blog will approach the high water mark of The Cimmerian anytime soon, if ever.  For one thing, The Cimmerian was a group effort, while this is going to be strictly solo, at least for now.  For another, I’m taking a slightly broader definition of “fantastic” than what is usually meant when someone talks about fantastic fiction.  I’m speaking of fantastic not simply in the context of supernatural or science-fictional elements, but anything that is out of the ordinary for most people.  The majority of Americans, it seems to me, live their lives in such a way that any adventure they experience has an element of the fantastic to it simply by its very novelty.  This could include, but is not limited to, other cultures and historical periods or experiences and narratives of an adventurous nature.  Using such a broad definition would include historical fiction, historical essays, and even the occasional thriller or detective yarn as appropriate things to blog about.  In other words, the pulp content on this blog is going to be high.

I think that’s a good thing.

I’m new to the blogging scene, so I’ll be starting out slow.  There  won’t be a lot of bells and whistles at first, but I’ll be adding some flash as we go along.  What you can expect are book reviews, essays, factual articles, links to other websites, and anything else I find cool or interesting that I might feel like writing about.  One thing I’ve never seen, and I was surprised one of the bloggers on The Cimmerian didn’t do this, is a series of articles on Henry Kuttner’s Elak of Atlantis stories.  Look for the first of those in the next few weeks.

Keith