Contrary to what I reported earlier, I will not be reading at Balticon on Sunday morning. My slot was inadvertently listed in the pocket program as belonging to David Louis Edelman, and though the con committee graciously offered to return the time to me and publicize the change, I felt that most attendees would rely on the program book for planning out their days, and so most would not know I was reading at all or while others would show up looking for David and be disappointed to find me in the room instead. So I thought it was best (with no hard feelings) to bow out of reading this year.

Just thought I should mention it here so that no one goes looking for me where I won’t be.

But more important than any of that, for the reference of future con committees and attendees—

—that’s David Louis Edelman on the left and Scott Edelman on the right.

Know your Edelmans!

I headed over to the Martinsburg-Berkeley County Public Library last night to hear actor and West Virginia native David Selby talk about his novel Lincoln’s Better Angel. For those of a certain generation, Selby will forever be remembered as Quentin Collins, the werewolf character from Dark Shadows, whom he brought to life from 1968 through 1971, but he also did a long stint on Falcon Crest, and recently popped up on HBO to portray Jane Alexander’s partner in the controversial series Tell Me You Love Me.

The event was billed as a reading, but what the the 60 or so of us who showed up ended up experiencing was less a reading than a full performance. Lincoln’s Better Angel tells the story of a Vietnam veteran who works as a caretaker on the grounds of the Lincoln Memorial. One night, mourning the loss of his child, he encounters Lincoln’s ghost, and together they wander the city, discussing issues of race, family, and self-worth. Selby said that he wrote the novel based on a play he wrote and performed in many years ago, which is perhaps why, rather than simply reading from the book, he took about 90 minutes acting out the events of the story, fully inhabiting all of the characters. Though he kept a copy of his novel in hand, passages marked with yellow post-it notes, he rarely referred to it. (more…)

In an article in yesterday’s Washington Post titled “Where Are the Shows of Yesterday?,” which ran through all of last season’s television series that didn’t survive, columnist Lisa de Moraes took the time to squeeze in this slam at science-fiction fans when she got around to discussing the casualties over at CBS:

Vampire detective drama Moonlight, meanwhile, was gutted before it ever aired but for all the recasting, etc., still wound up wildly mediocre. Up to the end of last week, some of its scary sci-fi-people fans were still holding out hope it would rise like the phoenix at another network.

Other CBS casualties include Cane, Shark, Welcome to the Captain and the apocalyptic Jericho, despite the best efforts of its scary-sci-fi-people fan base.

Gee, thanks.

I wanted to answer the question I posed above, honestly, I really did. But sadly, the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I couldn’t.

It all began with a column by Daniel Grossman in the May 5, 2008 issue of Publishers Weekly. He commented on the recently canceled Quill Awards, and suggested several humorous category expansions which might have kept up interest in the Quill concept had they been implemented. Some of his suggestions included “Best Memoir by Aging Rock Star Who Couldn’t Possibly Have Remembered Half the Things Written About,” “Best Children’s Book by Celebrity Who Wants to Be Known as an Author but Lacks the Wherewithal to Actually Write a Novel,” and “Most Overhyped Book Whose Advance Never Came Close to Earning Out.”

But the one that spoke to me the most was:

Best 1,000-Page Novel That Should Have Been a 200-Page Novel

I would probably have pushed that idea even further, since often, when reading a long novel (or trying to real a long novel), I don’t think about how much better it would have been as a shorter novel but instead how much better it would have been as 7,500-word short story! I often find myself thinking, would you just get on with it already! And so I thought I’d write here about the recent long novels I’d read that seemed a waste of space, and how they could have accomplished what they’d set out to do with far fewer pages, naming names and letting the chips fall where they may. (more…)

Two relevant dreams to relate this morning.

In the first, I was in the world of Boston Legal. I was Denny Crane (William Shatner) and I was hanging out with Alan Shore (James Spader). We were in a montage of the two of us acting wacky in different costumes, i.e. naval uniforms, cheerleader outfits, etc.

In the last scene, the only one of any length, I was hunched over, snapping my fingers, and moving through an office hallway while wearing a black leather jacket and singing “When You’re a Jet” from West Side Story. Alan Shore was watching me suspiciously, only to finally join in halfheartedly. After he did so, I berated him for not committing himself to it. “Don’t ham it up, play it for real,” I growled at him. At least that’s what I scribbled down on my notepad that I’d said, when I woke immediately after that, humming the song. (more…)

Presented for your consideration …

The oil painting below of the Green Lantern by pop artist Mel Ramos, just one of his many superhero images, was sold at auction on May 13, 2008 for $600,000.

You can find further details of the transaction here.

Meanwhile, the following drawing, by Martin Nodell, the man who actually created the Green Lantern in 1940 and who died two years ago at age 91, was sold at auction on September 16, 2007 for … (pause for dramatic effect) …$77.68.

Which means the world would have us believe that the Ramos has a value 7,723 times that of the Nodell.

Don’t believe the world.

I don’t know about you, but as for me—

I know which one of these two is the better drawing, which has more inherent meaning, and which one, given the chance, I’d rather own, even if price were no object.

And, as you might guess, I’ve never been a fan of the comic-book swipes of Roy Lichtenstein either.

Only a handful of the many thousands of daffodils which have been in bloom since mid-March remain, but there’s no reason to be sad, for that’s as it should be. Other blooms have just popped to take their turns coloring the garden.

The pink rhododendron by the front of the house began to burst at the end of last week, the many yellow, brown, and purple iris are standing tall all around the property, the bleeding hearts are showing why they got their name, and the lupins, which long before I’d ever seen an actual flower I only knew as a word in a Monty Python sketch, are showing off strong pink, yellow, red, and purple stalks.

But as much all as I love all of those (and the lupin could very well be my favorite flower), the blooms that fascinate me the most right now are those of the Allium Nectaroscordum, which are also known as Mediterranean Bells. Up until two years ago, I’d only ever known the sort of allium that looks like a purple pom-pom, but then I discovered these bulbs in a local gardening store and was attracted to their weird, delicate look. They almost seem alien, and so I picked them up immediately. Their odd bells can now be found atop three-foot stalks rising out of the beds where the daffodils had previously bloomed.

Next in line to bloom—the poppies.

Will Elder, one of the founding artists of MAD magazine, passed away this morning. Though I attended the 1972 EC Comics Convention, as far as I recall, Elder did not, and so I never met the man and have no personal anecdotes to share. (I did, however, meet much of the rest of the EC crew, managed to get Bill Gaines, Joe Orlando, George Evans, Al Williamson, and Wally Wood to sign my program book, and even got sketches from the last three of those names, plus a caricature of me by Jack Davis that you see as the icon at left.)

But I’ve long admired his artwork, not just in those early issues of MAD, but also in the pages of Trump, Humbug, and Playboy. That last publication was where, with Harvey Kurtzman, Elder co-created the strip Little Annie Fanny at Hugh Hefner’s request.

I would have liked to have met him, because he was reported to be a wild and crazy guy, legendary in his zaniness. The caricature above, taken from that con’s program book, and drawn by Marie Severin back when she and Elder worked together at EC in the ’50s, gives a clue as to how he was seen by his coworkers. (more…)

I just received my schedule for Balticon 42, which begins a week from Friday.

All of my programming will take place on Sunday, May 25. Since it’s a local con, I haven’t decided yet how many other days I’ll attend, and won’t make up my mind until I see the final programming grid.

If you also plan on being there, here’s where you’ll be able to find me:

11:00 a.m.: Reading

3:00 p.m.: How the Internet Helps Small Presses

6:00 p.m.: Autographing

7:00 p.m.: Joseph Campbell’s Monomyth

I’m not sure how I ended up on that last panel, as I never volunteered for it and don’t consider myself a Campbell expert, but I’ll do my best to pontificate properly.

As good wishes for Gene Colan light up the blogosphere, I’m reminded of the fact that when I first became aware of his work, that work wasn’t appearing under his own name, due to the comic-book traditions of the day. Back then, it was taboo for artists and writers to openly accept assignments from multiple companies, and so if they wanted to work for other than a single outlet, they had to do so under a pseudonym, creating a different house name wherever they went.

For example, when DC inker Mike Esposito first started working for Marvel Comics, he appeared under the name Mickey Demeo. Frank Giacoia became Frank Ray, Gil Kane was reborn as Al Stak, and so on.

From this vantage point, it all seems a polite fiction, because who could read the works of any of these creators and not know who really wrote or drew them, whatever the pen names? Surely the editors and publishers of the day could see right through the ruse. But I guess they were primarily concerned that the readers think that all of their favorite artists and writers were exclusive, and in those days when comic-book fandom was just being born, the powers that be probably felt that no one would be able to tell what was really going on. (more…)