# Weird Tales/Volume 30/Issue 6/The Eyrie

We take pleasure in calling the attention of our readers to a new feature that we are inaugurating this month: a series of full-page pictures by Virgil Finlay, illustrating famous weird passages of verse. The first of these is based on a passage from George Sterling's A Wine of Wizardry—a passage so striking that Ambrose Bierce gave it rank alongside those famous passages from Coleridge's Kubla Khan and Keats's Ode to a Nightingale which Dante Gabriel Rossetti called the two Pillars of Hercules of modern human imagination. One of these Finlay illustrations will appear in each issue. He will draw his subjects from the whole realm of weird literature. Poe's melancholy Raven will appear here, and the angel Israfel, "whose heartstrings are a lute;" the Weird Sisters from Shakespeare's Macbeth; the Belle Dame Sans Merci of Keats; Longfellow's grisly Skeleton in Armor; Burns's Tam o' Shanter pursued by the warlocks; and many other gems of weird literature. Let us know what you think of this feature.
Here It Is
Gertrude Hemken, of Chicago, writes: "Once again I present myself in epistle-form. This time with thanks to David H. Keller for his Tiger Cat—the leddy in the tale had a fine way of getting revenge for that sad instance in New York—I appreciate Doctor Keller's finesse in letting the readers know how a woman can feel about being mistreated. One would almost believe a woman had written the story. I am all in sympathy with the Tiger Cat, although her demise did not sadden me. . . . Icky—one of those slimy tales—and by HPL—wooeey! The Shunned House was something far beyond my imagination. The more I read of Lovecraft's works, the more I see in them the modern Poe—by his minute detail of every angle—the history of the family which built the house—the exact description of the plot of ground in which this ancient dwelling stood (a person could almost draw a map of the site) — on such things I find HPL so very like Poe. I caught myself gasping a bit when reading of the containers of sulfur being emptied on that blasphemous slime and of the resulting fumes. Dear me, how awful it would be if such really happened! (And then the question comes to my mind that perhaps it did occur.) Although The Homicidal Diary was not the type of tale I now associate Earl Peirce, Jr., with, I did find it fascinating—very. What strange things dreams can do to one—and what strange dreams a person can have—and what strange things hypnosis can make one do. Gruesome? Yes—retchingly so. But why can't we have another on the order of The Last Archer? What about it, EP? Well, now, lemme see—dunno just what to say about The Long Arm—the whole thing just sorta disappointed me—wasn't quite nasty enough for my gluttonous taste. Gosh, I'm getting to be a real fiend. Thrills and adventure galore—do I like this Lake of Life! Am looking forward to the next installment and then for more yarns like it. Darkest Africa holds so many strange secrets—I find it more fascinating than the Orient. Mr. Hamilton has me on my toes wondering what the Guardians are and what force they have released on the ring of mountains to discharge instant death to trespassers. Wellman writes the most curious tales of the oddest things coming to life—well, sort of a tangible existence. Last time it was a parchment—now it's fat and bulging cherubs that just ain't cherubs. Nasty things, weren't they? Here Lies was a laugh-getter​—but!—what was so weird about it? Is my mind getting dull? The outstanding story in this month's issue—to me—was your reprint of Rich's The Purple Cincture. I could see those terrible glowing colors—angry colors—I could see them so plainly and could see the suffering of those afflicted—my nerves twitched as though that searing pain were severing my foot and hand—I didn't dare think of my neck. Now for the Eyrie—I can add no more to your answer to G. M. Wilson on his astonishing accusation—the very idea of him—how dare he do such to WT!—my gawsh—he doesn't read the magazine thoroughly enough. Good gosh—if a person is going to read WT with a grain of salt, how the deuce can he get any pleasure out of it? The idea is to leave one's mind open to all possibilities and forget how it's gonna end—the day is past and gone when the fair-haired boy rescued the beauteous maiden from a fate worse than death just in the nick of time. Some stories must end that way, but the people these days demand variety—and variety is what they get. One time the hero or she-hero dies or is overcome—next time they escape, but not unscathed—and mebbe the third time they run true to the old-fashioned style. If GMW has any old copies of WT and should he glance through them, he will find that he has been very unjust. I can say no more. Reginald A. Pryke of Kent, England, writes so grandly of Howard what I have never been able to express. Should I never keep a copy of WT—I'd keep this one for the fine tribute he has paid Howard and his incomparable creations of mankind. Let me take this opportunity to thank Mr. Pryke for a fine letter—I've read few as good in the Eyrie. Once again I ask—who is WC, Jr.? Sort of a WT Walter Winchell?—eh wot? I liked the random biography WC, Jr., gives of Clifford Ball—it's such things as these that we readers want to know of the authors—just bits of human news which we know will make them seem more real to us. Will we have more of such inside stuff—please?"
Man Can Now Talk With God :
SAYS NOTED PSYCHOLOGIST :
"A new and revolutionary religious teaching based entirely on the misunderstood sayings of the Galilean Carpenter, and designed to show how we may find, understand and use the same identical power which Jesus used in performing His so-called Miracles," is attracting world wide attention to its founder, Dr. Frank B. Robinson, noted psychologist, author and lecturer.
"Psychiana," this new psychological religion, believes and teaches that it is today possible for every normal human being, understanding spiritual law as Christ understood it, "to duplicate every work that the Carpenter of Galilee ever did"—it believes and teaches that when He said, "the things that I do shall ye do also," He meant what He said and meant it literally to all mankind, through all the ages.
Dr. Robinson has prepared a 6000 word treatise on "Psychiana," in which he tells about his long search for the Truth, how he finally came to the full realization of an Unseen Power or force "so dynamic in itself that all other powers and forces fade into insignificance beside it"—how he learned to commune directly with the Living God, using this mighty, never-failing power to demonstrate health, happiness and financial success, and how any normal being may find and use it as Jesus did. He is now offering this treatise free to every reader of this magazine who writes him.
If you want to read this "highly interesting, revolutionary and fascinating story of the discovery of a great Truth," just send your name and address to Dr. Frank B. Robinson, 418 12th St., Moscow, Idaho. It will be sent free and postpaid without cost or obligation. Write the Doctor today.—Copyright, 1935, Dr. Frank B. Robinson. :
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From a Spanish Friend
Jorge Thuillier writes from Havana, Cuba: "I have been a reader of Weird Tales for several years. I read it every month in Spain, my native country, and now that the great Spanish tragedy has driven me out of my home and to this island, I have ​kept on reading it here, as enthusiastically as there. I never wrote to you before, mainly because the great distance between our countries discouraged me, but also because I think all these readers' letters must be a bore to you. So I shall be brief. I only want to congratulate you for the ever increasing quality of your magazine, which now stands as unique in its kind. Being an artist, though not a professional one, I am really delighted by the very good drawings that illustrate the stories. I wish to congratulate Madam Brundage in particular, for the splendid picture she made for the October issue. The girl is the most fascinating representation of a woman I have ever seen. You forget the ghastly thing she is doing, when you look at her loveliness. Generally speaking, the whole magazine is a priceless gift for all lovers of the unusual and weird. I hope I shall be able to read it for many years to come."
Orchids to Mr. Pryke
Pete Thompson, of Seattle, writes: "My first fan letter. I have been reading Weird Tales for about three years off and on and really think you have finally reached the acme of perfection. Tiger Cat by D. H. Keller was tops in the October issue, as was The Homicidal Diary. . . . Orchids to you, my dear Reginald A. Pryke of Kent, England—your harangue on reasons for not reviving Conan, or any of the other brain children of our past master WT authors, hits the spot. Really I've wanted to say the same things. Thanks for putting into words what I've wanted to but lacked the ability."
Poe Outshone
George W. Skora, of Tucson, Arizona, writes: "A devoted reader of weird and science fiction, I have been reading Weird Tales for the last eight years. Although I am a singularly imaginative person, I do not read our magazine for the revolting, shuddery, terrifying aspect of its stories, but for the occasional tales, becoming more numerous of late, which translate me, mind and body, to some other age, or to some other world, where I can indulge my fancy in sword's-play, in adventure, in the mystery, romance, and superstition of another time or another dimension. Perhaps such reading forms an escape for me from reality and allows me, in my mind at least, to indulge and participate in the action of other periods. I am most grateful to Weird Tales for doing this for me. And these modern masters of weird fiction so far outshine Poe and his contemporaries that there is absolutely no comparison. It is as though a twenty-watt bulb were expected to shine die dazzling light of a carbon arc. Such tales as Shambleau, The Three Marked Pennies, The Black God's Kiss, all the barbaric adventures of Conan the Cimmerian, of Jirel of Joiry, of King Kull, and such others as the fascinating Globe of Memories, The Last Pharaoh, which was one of the greatest stories I have ever read, Red Nails, the masterful Clicking Red Heels, The Carnal God, The Hounds of Tindalos, all of the Northwest Smith stories, and in the present issue, the best of the Jules de Grandin stories, I believe, Pledged to the Death, which impressed me very favorably, all of these and numerous others will live for ever in my imagination, and I often go back and read them over to recapture their mood. Weird fiction has lost perhaps its two greatest masters, Howard Phillips Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, and with them the heroes which they created have died. No more will Conan the barbarian fight from one end to the other of those mysterious half-legendary lands, no more will he woo and win fair maidens in his inimitable fashion, no more will he defy warrior and king alike, for the master pen which created him is no more and with that passing Conan is likewise gone for ever. I cannot conceive of his being recreated by anyone with the mastery of Robert E. Howard, and hence would rather see Conan dead as he had lived, a fighting-man who perished as he would have wished, sword in hand, the grim smile of desperate battle on his lips, in his ears the din of clashing blade and shouting men who felt its cunning edge. That world of his is gone. It would be blasphemy to attempt the rebuilding from dead ashes. And in closing, let me mention one more story which I will long remember: The Fire of Asshurbanipal, a thrilling story if ever there was one. On rereading this letter, I once more feel the futility of mere words to say the things or express the thoughts that I really feel. You have one of the finest magazines, one of the finest staffs of artists and authors, of any publishing company in this country. And I do not say this with intention of flattery. I really mean ​it and with sincerity. I would buy Weird Tales if it were a dollar a copy, much as it would strain my pocketbook. I have no faults to find other than the desire that Brundage would give us an occasional brunette on the cover of the mag, and I would personally like to see one cover in black and white merely for the striking effect it would give."
Like Rare Old Wine
Natalie Rockwell, of Syracuse, New York, writes: "How does an ungrateful little wench like myself express her gratitude for the really great pleasure you've given her in your incomparable magazine, WT? I've been reading your mag. for years (tho' I'm only 18), but I've never screwed up enough courage to tell you about it. Just finished your October issue to the accompaniment of a luscious thunderstorm. I always try to keep from reading it 'till I have the proper atmosphere. (It's a darned hard job tho' not to take a little peek at the intriguing book waiting my pleasure on the table.) The Lake of Life and Pledged to the Dead are tops in that issue. I've always liked Jules anyway. He seems to be so human and lovable. Now, even if this is my first letter, may I please make one little criticism? Brundage's gals are really delightful in form and coloring, and I love to copy them to see how nearly I can approximate her figures—but—her expressions are so terribly monotonous. I always know just what the faces will look like before I see the cover. It's the eyes that do the dirty work. No horror, no nothing in them. They look as tho' they were all poured from the same mold. Please, please for the sake of those who like to see really expressive features, put some life in the eyes. Now I've finished my ranting and raving and can only sit and wistfully chink of the next WT that's so far away. Give us more and more weird, woeful tales of the same excellent quality of the past. Your mag. is like good wine that mellows with age and leaves a better taste every time it's quaffed.
Trudy, Beware of Oliver!
Henry Kuttner writes from Beverly Hills, California: "My vote for the best story in the October WT goes to Here Lies, a ​delightfully satirical little piece; and I especially liked the illustrations for The Shunned House and The Long Arm. Trudy Hemken's reference to my bad grammar did not pass unnoticed, and Trudy may expect a call from Oliver, my pet ghoul, some fine evening. He told me he thought he'd drop in for a bite."
It Happened One Night
Manly Wade Wellman writes from New York City: "Mr. Joseph Allen Ryan's letter in October WT, anent the idea back of my short story, The Terrible Parchment, impels me to give the real genesis of the thing—even more unusual than Mr. Ryan's account. The idea came to me all of a sudden, rather late one night. I sat down at once and wrote it out roughly, with my apartment for setting and my wife and myself for characters. It was almost morning when I wrote 'The End,' and I laid it aside, then polished it up the following evening. After that I took it to Julius Schwartz, my agent. With him was Mort Weisinger. They glanced over the story, and their mouths fell open. 'Look here,' they said, both at once. 'Not five days ago we were discussing——' After that they told the story Mr. Ryan tells, of how they imagined the Necronomicon materializing through the combined mental effort of many readers of Lovecraft's tales. Yet neither had communicated with me, as both will be ready to testify. We laughingly decided it was a case of thought-transference—an unconscious mental message sent and received. I wonder if anybody has a better explanation."
A Conte Cruel
J. Vernon Shea, Jr., of Pittsburgh, writes: "The October number is another good issue. I read The Shunned House with a feeling of sadness, for the many references to Providence made it seem a post-delayed letter from H. P. L. The story is not quite of his best, for it has the over-slow approach and the lingering on technicalities that marked some of his last work; nevertheless, the culmination is startling, and the artistry veritably impeccable. I doubt if any of your writers will ever quite attain the high standard of Lovecraft at his best. Tiger Cat is one of the best things Doctor Keller has done, but the story falls into the genre of the conte cruel rather than of the weird tale proper. Nowadays the conte cruel is a little passe, for the horrors of war narrated in any newspaper far surpass the artificial horrors. Quinn's tale is better than usual, almost in the vein of his The Phantom Farmhouse; Wellman again rings the bell with The Golgotha Dancers, and Habl's The Long Arm is different. More European writers should be represented in Weird Tales. I read with distaste Peirce's The Homicidal Diary, an hysterical and cheap melodrama; to demonstrate its inadequacy, compare it with Mrs. Belloc Lownde's brilliant handling of a similar theme, The Lodger, or with such motion pictures as M and Night Must Fall. It occurs to me that the Eyrie readers might be interested in some statistics. For instance, which writer has appeared most frequently in WT? Quinn? Derleth? Howard? Why not give a chart, listing the most printed writers, and giving such data as number of serials, number of novelettes, number of short stories, number of 'short shorts,' number of poems, number of reprints?" [We fear that such statistical data would interest only a select few of our readers, and would take up space that could otherwise be used for stories.—The Editor.]
Happy vs. Unhappy Endings
Clifton Hall, of Los Angeles, writes: "I thought the second part of Hamilton's new serial, The Lake of Life, was the best story in the October number. It reminds one a little of a dime thriller, but makes fascinating reading. Tiger Cat, by Keller, stands second, in my estimation, although I think it was a mistake to reveal the nature of the cellar's contents by means of the blurb and the two illustrations. Third spot, I think, should go to Quinn's Pledged to the Dead. However, I have one criticism to make in connection with the de Grandin series: if I'd had as many dozen hair-raising experiences with creatures from another world as Trowbridge has had, I don't think I'd have to be convinced during every new adventure that 'such things are possible.' Yet I cannot recall a de Grandin story in which the Frenchman has not had to argue for some minutes with his skeptical friend before the latter realizes that the improbable is not necessarily the impossible. Lovecraft's last was okay, I guess, but I didn't think the climax stupendous enough to justify the long and at times tedious building-up ​process. The Homicidal Diary I considered to be the best of the others. Hie orange-haired creature on the cover stood out brightly against the dark background—an arresting bit of work. But how about another Finlay cover? It's been four months since his last. And now for G. M. Wilson, who says that Weird Tales is not an interesting book because everyone knows that everything will come out hunky-dory! I checked back over the stories — exactly 90 of them, including reprints — that have appeared in the ten issues dated 1937, and found out a surprizing fact. The-" was an exact split—45-45—between the happy and unhappy endings! Of course, it was difPcult to definitely place many yarns in either classification, but in the end the advantage lay on neither side. It is improbable that in any other magazine can you find such an amazing balance in endings."
* The Cream of Weird Fiction
* • Weird Tales prints the best weird fiction in the world today. The high literary quality of its stories is evidenced by the comparatively large number of stories from Weird Tales that have been reprinted or awarded honorable mention in annual best fiction anthologies. You are assured of reading the best when you read Weird Tales, The Unique Magazine.
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The October Issue
Julius Hopkins, of Washington, D. C, writes: "The October WT is a real treat for any lover of weird fiction. Two excellent stories vie closely for first place, namely: The Shunned House by H. P. Lovecraft and The Homicidal Diary by Earl Peirce, Jr. I am giving the slim edge to Mr. Peirce because in his story the horror is still at large and, furthermore, is of great current interest because actually the famous Cleveland beheader has not been captured yet, and not even any clues as to his identity have been found. The Homicidal Diary is written in plain convincing language and certainly does make your heart beat fast, especially in that scene where Jason Carse is rapidly becoming over-excited and the sharp butcher knife is close at hand. That's a real spine-chilling scene for you. The Shunned House is another typical Lovecraft tale written as only H. P. L. could ever have done it. The slow summation of facts builds a solid foundation for the surprize ending. The big horrible surprize, though so terrible it seems unbelievable, becomes a reality under the masterful handling of this marvelous writer who has sadly passed on into the great beyond. I award second place to The Shunned House, but this time second place is really a second first place. For third place I pick The Long Arm by Franz Habl. I enjoyed this yarn because it is something a bit different and it leaves in your mind the question of whether ​or not Banaotovitch is still alive. That's the kind of a thrill I like."
Hamilton's Serial
B. M. Reynolds, of North Adams, Massachusetts, writes: "You were certainly fortunate in securing that splendid yarn The Lake of Life by Edmond Hamilton, an exceptional piece of fantasy of the A. Merritt type, worthy of taking its place beside those two fine fantastic novels: Williamson's Golden Blood and Kelley's The Last Pharaoh. I believe that these stories will always be remembered by us, the readers.... Second best story in September was The Ho-Ho-Kam Horror. Stories of this type are particularly effective when written in diary form, and Mr. Bryan did a good job with this one. Good build-up and abrupt ending. Not a bit far-fetched, either, as Superstition Mountain, the heaven of the rattlesnakes, is a very real and tangible locality, as any Pueblo or Navajo Indian will attest, and the place is most certainly 'taboo,' at least for the white man. Psychopompos by the late genius H. P. Lovecraft was certainly unique, serving to make us realize still more the great talent that was lost by his untimely death.... Oh yes, I nearly forgot to compliment Henry Kuttner on H. P. L., his grand tribute to Lovecraft, the finest piece of poetry since Howard wrote A Song Out of Midian about ten years ago!"
* TALES STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGEMENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24, 1912.
* Of Weird Tales, published monthly at Indianapolis
* Indiana, for October 1, 1937.
* State of Illinois
* County of Cook
* Before me. a notary public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared Wm. R. Sprenger. who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the Business Manager of the Weird Tales and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management (and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption required by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied in section 411, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wit:
* 1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business manager are:
* Publisher — Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2457 E. Washington St.. Indianapolis, Ind.
* Editor — Farnsworth Wright, 840 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
* Managing Editor — None.
* Business Manager — William R. Sprenger, 840 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
* 2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be stated and also immediately thereunder the names and addresses of stockholders owning or holding one per cent or more of total amount of stock. If not owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of the Individual owners must be given. If owned by a firm, company, or other unincorporated concern, its name and address, as well as those of each individual member must be given.)
* Popular Fiction Publishing Company, 2457 E. Washington St., Indianapolis. Ind.
* Wm. R. Sprenger, 840 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
* Farnsworth Wright, 840 N. Michigan Ave., Chicago, Ill.
* George M. Cornelius, 2457 E. Washington St., Indianapolis, Indiana.
* George H. Cornelius, 2457 E. Washington St., Indianapolis, Indiana.
* P. W. Cornelius, 2457 E. Washington St., Indianapolis, Indiana.
* 3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are none, so state).
* None.
* 4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, if any, contain not only the list of stockholders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the company, but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing affiant's full knowledge and belief as to the circumstances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this affiant has no reason to believe that any other person, association, or corporation has any interest, direct or indirect, in the said stock, bonds, or other securities than as so stated by him.
* 5. That the average number of copies of each Issue of this publication sold or distributed, through the mails or otherwise, to paid subscribers during the twelve months preceding the date shown above is_____ (This information is required from daily publications only.)
* WM. R. SPRENGER, Business Manager.
* Sworn to and subscribed before me this 23d day oC
* September, 1937.
* [SEAL]
* J. G. WING, Notary Public.
* My commission expires February 15, 1940.
End of the Abyss
J. A. Murphy, of Augusta, Georgia, writes: "My, my, now just look what you have gone and done! Last month upon reading The Abyss Under the World I just knew that you had found another one that could be placed with the best of them. I went by the news stand every day or two waiting for the September issue to come in, and when I did get it, I had to read the finis of The Abyss Under the World before I even came home. And what do I find upon reading it but that you let J. Paul Suter go and put an ending like that on it! Why does anyone have to be like that? Now if they had really been transplanted into another world, and had followed the priest in his jump into the abyss, I think everyone would have been happier, because there would have been more thrills to come."
Random Notes by W. C, Jr.
What a break for the Washington Weird Tales Club! Seabury Quinn, who reads the fashion magazines so his heroines may be clothed stylishly, is shipping the furniture from Brooklyn to Washington. . . . As if to compensate for the Old Marster's absence from the skyscraper city, Earl Peirce, Jr., and Bruce Bryan may migrate to NYC, taking up writing as a regular profession. . . . H. P. Lovccraft's Psychopompos, "a tale in rime," was one of his earliest efforts, dating from 1917. . . . Virgil Finlay seldom uses models, but refers occasionally to photographs to get the right effect in picturing various textures. Virgil was born in Rochester, New York, twenty-three years ago. His first attempt at drawing occurred at the tender age of three, when the magnificently limned equine of his imagination was labeled "doggy" by his mother. He attended several grammar schools in and about Rochester; and his first real claim to fame was established when block-print caricatures of his teachers were reproduced in the John Marshall High School paper. He studied at Mechanics Institute classes and the gallery in Rochester. He has exhibited in oils, pen and ink, pencil, and block-print, and also works in tempera, transparent water color, charcoal, wood-cut, stone, chalk, and clay — preferring pen and ink to them all. Virgil is a quiet young man, unmarried, with a serious face that often lights up with a broad smile. Athletics in earlier years won him a fourteen-inch bicep and stubby, powerful fingers. He often spends two or three days on a single drawing for Weird Tales, beginning work around noon and ceasing only when dawn tinges the night sky. A dreamless sleep then shuts him from the material world until noon again, when he repeats the process. He has a keen sense of humor. And the way he plays practical jokes on his fellow Weirdists! For instance: Clifford Ball once stated in a letter to the Eyrie, previous to publication of his first story, that the ridiculous theme of a woman's being captured and carried off by a giant ape was passé. With this in mind, Virgil selected that particular scene in illustrating Ball's Thief of Forthe! . . . What is perhaps his most famous drawing, the strange, dark illustration for Robert Bloch's The Faceless God, was the result of a dilemma: In the story there was little action which could be portrayed graphically,
* NEXT MONTH
* The Hairy Ones Shall Dance
* By Gans T. Field
* A strange story is this—the story of a stage magician whose investigations of spirit séances precipitated him into the midst of an astounding situation. It is a tale of terror and sudden death, a tale of the hideous, stark horror that struck during a séance, a tale of the frightful thing that laired in the Devil's Croft.
* This is an unusual story indeed, and one that will hold your interest throughout by the spell of its weird happenings. This shuddery novel will begin
* in the January issue of
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Concise Comments
Richard F. Jamison, of Valley Park, Missouri, writes: "If anyone is fated to equal Lovecraft's genius Henry Kuttner is that man. His stories have that indescribable something that every truly weird story must have."
Jean Van Wissink, of Chicago, writes: "If all pages of the October issue but those of The Lake of Life had been blank, I'd still have had my money's worth! Edmond Hamilton seems especially worth hanging on to."
R. N. Nicholaieff, of Chicago, writes: "Lovecraft's The Shunned House rates first place in the October issue. I read this tale three times just because I liked the way it was written. Lovecraft was indeed a master of weird fiction."
Seymour Kapetansky, of Detroit, writes: "No two writing styles could have been further apart than those of H. P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard, yet both were masters of weird fantasy. It's lucky we have such talented writers as Henry Kuttner and Robert Bloch to carry on."
A. V. Pershing, of Anderson, Indiana, writes: "Hamilton's The Lake of Life is weird and extremely interesting. As fine as he already is, he's getting better."
Edward Landberg, of Brooklyn, writes: "In 1931-32 you published two reprint novels, Frankenstein by Mrs. Shelley and The Wolf-Leader by Dumas, of which the readers disapproved. You then stated that you would cease to publish serial reprints. That was a mistake. If you don't mind my saying so, it was not the idea of the serial reprints that the readers disliked, although at first glance it would seem so, but it was the stories you chose. They really were not fit for a modern reader's consumption."
Henry Kuttner writes from Beverly Hills, California: "I enjoyed most of the tales in the September issue, and the ones I did not shall go unnamed. Bruce Bryan makes a highly auspicious debut, and his familiarity with his subject lent a pleasing air of authenticity to The Ho-Ho-Kam Horror. As for School for the Unspeakable, I've developed into an ardent Wellman fan since reading such little masterpieces as this and The Kelpie."
Most Popular Story
Readers, what is your favorite story in this issue? If you have any likes and dislikes, we shall be glad to hear about them. Write a letter to the Eyrie, Weird Tales, 840 N. Michigan Avenue, Chicago, or send us a postcard, telling us what you think of this magazine. In the October issue, three stories are exactly tied for first place as this issue goes to press. They are Tiger Cat by David H. Keller, Pledged to the Dead by Seabury Quinn, and The Shunned House by the late H. P. Lovecraft.