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The Thing, whole no. 2, Summer 1946

Page 20

ACOLYTE Winter When Fran Laney says there is something wrong with ACOLYTE,I am forced to agree. I feel it, too. I have written Fran, telling him that the magazine would be better if it were a better mirror of his personality, if it contained more of his stuff, if it had the bounce of his letters, of his conversation. I believe this is true, yet it covers only part of the problem. Fran has run so much good stuff in ACOLYTE,so much relatively heavy stuff, that contributors unconsciously have come to feel that they must use heavy treatments. There has been too little editorial control of the style of contributions. Burbee is a genius at interpolating wisecracks in pompous material.Tucker at times uses the same method, achieving a lightness of effect that is steadily beguiling.  Fran could use more of the same. ((I don't agree all the way....Fandom can use a serious zine. And pu-lease don't side-track onto science-fiction.))

Take Sam Moskowitz' yarn on Weinbaum, with its pedestrian lead:
December 14, 1945, marked the tenth anniversary of Stanley G. Weinbaum's death. The posthumous printings, reprintings and accolades are at an end. It is time to evaluate the man's works.
A fishbowl full of filberts to a lead like that! It has no bounce, no life. Its shirtfront is heavy with starch. But suppose Sam had opened this way:
He thought science-fiction was nuts.
Oiling his typewriter with raspberry juice, he set out to show how silly it was. He burlesqued pulp stories, inventing an intelligent ostrich armed with a popgun, an immortal monster of silicon endlessly burping glass bricks....
He ridiculed us so delightfully that he became one of science-fiction's most popular authors. His name was Stanley G. Weinbaum.
Ideas, not words, make good articles. And ideas must be so dressed ((sorry)) that they challenge the reader, demand his attention. Given a yarn such as Sam's, a professional editor would return it, demanding a sockier lead. Laney is one of the few amateur editors who can do likewise and get away with it. His paper would benefit.
Helen and I have asked Margaret Stavely to make three little changes in a poem. If Margaret is represented herein (and I hope she is, for I consider her the best fantasy poet writing today) you will know that we got away with it, too. ((We did.))

Margaret's work in ACOLYTE is not up to snuff. It shows her almost appalling gift for the phrase which stuns you with its power: "Furry fat things that wheezed," "Cosmic ghosts that nibbled at the room." But between these stark, brutal phrases she gives us, too often, the usual. Again, "Dirge for the Univerginal" doesn't progress logically, inevitably, from idea to idea, from statement to climax to conclusion. She starts with a statement covering the lovelies who live by love, a description of them. In the second stanza, she makes only tentative progress. She is still describing them, instead of carrying forward the story by telling what they

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ACOLYTE Winter When Fran Laney says there is something wrong with ACOLYTE,I am forced to agree. I feel it, too. I have written Fran, telling him that the magazine would be better if it were a better mirror of his personality, if it contained more of his stuff, if it had the bounce of his letters, of his conversation. I believe this is true, yet it covers only part of the problem. Fran has run so much good stuff in ACOLYTE,so much relatively heavy stuff, that contributors unconsciously have come to feel that they must use heavy treatments. There has been too little editorial control of the style of contributions. Burbee is a genius at interpolating wisecracks in pompous material.Tucker at times uses the same method, achieving a lightness of effect that is steadily beguiling. Fran could use more of the same. ((I don't agree all the way....Fandom can use a serious zine. And pu-lease don't side-track onto science-fiction.)) Take Sam Moskowitz' yarn on Weinbaum, with its pedestrian lead: December 14, 1945, marked the tenth anniversary of Stanley G. Weinbaum's death. The posthumous printings, reprintings and accolades are at an end. It is time to evaluate the man's works. A fishbowl full of filberts to a lead like that! It has no bounce, no life. Its shirtfront is heavy with starch. But suppose Sam had opened this way: He thought science-fiction was nuts. Oiling his typewriter with raspberry juice, he set out to show how silly it was. He burlesqued pulp stories, inventing an intelligent ostrich armed with a popgun, an immortal monster of silicon endlessly burping glass bricks.... He ridiculed us so delightfully that he became one of science-fiction's most popular authors. His name was Stanley G. Weinbaum. Ideas, not words, make good articles. And ideas must be so dressed ((sorry)) that they challenge the reader, demand his attention. Given a yarn such as Sam's, a professional editor would return it, demanding a sockier lead. Laney is one of the few amateur editors who can do likewise and get away with it. His paper would benefit. Helen and I have asked Margaret Stavely to make three little changes in a poem. If Margaret is represented herein (and I hope she is, for I consider her the best fantasy poet writing today) you will know that we got away with it, too. ((We did.)) Margaret's work in ACOLYTE is not up to snuff. It shows her almost appalling gift for the phrase which stuns you with its power: "Furry fat things that wheezed," "Cosmic ghosts that nibbled at the room." But between these stark, brutal phrases she gives us, too often, the usual. Again, "Dirge for the Univerginal" doesn't progress logically, inevitably, from idea to idea, from statement to climax to conclusion. She starts with a statement covering the lovelies who live by love, a description of them. In the second stanza, she makes only tentative progress. She is still describing them, instead of carrying forward the story by telling what they