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Diablerie, v. 1, issue 3, March 1944
Page 17
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TWO BOOKS... GEORGE EBEY I picked the first book up in Honolulu. The name is TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH and it's edited by Whit Burnett of Story and published by Dial Press of New York. Price: three dollars, so don't get excited. TBR, I think, has been reviewed before in the stfield but there was something wrong with the review I read since it was complimentary. Something to the effect that TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH is literate fantasy. The litteri, then, are pretty naive, since most of TWO BOTTLES is made up of people who thought they were railroad trains and soon got over it, or the time it stayed dark in New Jersey until - - until when? you ask. I, too, would like to know the answer, because the story ended about there. The author's imagination apparently suffered a relapse. At the end of each story is a biographical note on the author and an explanation on how he came to write the story. This is a mistake. For instance, at the end of A Carp's Love by Anton Chekov, no less, you find that this two page whimsy was brought on by Anton's disgust with Russian romanticists. Unfortunately, it is hard to feel the same disgust unless you are fairly familiar with Russian literature of the nineteenth century. It all seems rather pointless. After finishing this series of footnotes, it is easy to come to the conclusion that most of Mr Burnett's stories were written by authors temporarily under the influence. If there had been a few more fingers in the bottle they might have stayed under long enough to write good, stimulating fantasy. Unfortunately they must have sobered up half way through. In my studiedly unhumble opinion, the best stories in TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH were not fantasy. The Night Before, besides being a beautifully descriptive piece, ("A spray of jazz came from the radio," "...the kaleidoscope had halted on a single rich pattern of sweat, dust, mildew and garbage." "...pure heat dancing from sky, wall, and pavement...") has a distinct resemblance to Fear. In the former yarn, the hero imagines he has killed someone known only as "The Captain". It isn't imagination. The title story - - Two Bottles etc - - is a grusome little thing that is also concerning a case that baffled Scotland Yard. (The Yard is used to being baffled by now.) "What," the question goes, "did two bottles of Num-Numo have to do with the disposal of the murdered girl's body?" Lord Dunsany is the author. The Night of the Grab Baile Mascara is another bit of grotesquerie that contains little fantasy and much horror. You realize, at the end, that the author is quite insane. The one true fantasy in the whole book that is worth re-reading is Mr Sycamore. Mr Sycamore has been published in O'Brien's Best Short Stories of 1938, translated into French, broadcast over the radio, and made into a play which was presented on Broadway where it didn't do so well. The (next page)
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TWO BOOKS... GEORGE EBEY I picked the first book up in Honolulu. The name is TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH and it's edited by Whit Burnett of Story and published by Dial Press of New York. Price: three dollars, so don't get excited. TBR, I think, has been reviewed before in the stfield but there was something wrong with the review I read since it was complimentary. Something to the effect that TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH is literate fantasy. The litteri, then, are pretty naive, since most of TWO BOTTLES is made up of people who thought they were railroad trains and soon got over it, or the time it stayed dark in New Jersey until - - until when? you ask. I, too, would like to know the answer, because the story ended about there. The author's imagination apparently suffered a relapse. At the end of each story is a biographical note on the author and an explanation on how he came to write the story. This is a mistake. For instance, at the end of A Carp's Love by Anton Chekov, no less, you find that this two page whimsy was brought on by Anton's disgust with Russian romanticists. Unfortunately, it is hard to feel the same disgust unless you are fairly familiar with Russian literature of the nineteenth century. It all seems rather pointless. After finishing this series of footnotes, it is easy to come to the conclusion that most of Mr Burnett's stories were written by authors temporarily under the influence. If there had been a few more fingers in the bottle they might have stayed under long enough to write good, stimulating fantasy. Unfortunately they must have sobered up half way through. In my studiedly unhumble opinion, the best stories in TWO BOTTLES OF RELISH were not fantasy. The Night Before, besides being a beautifully descriptive piece, ("A spray of jazz came from the radio," "...the kaleidoscope had halted on a single rich pattern of sweat, dust, mildew and garbage." "...pure heat dancing from sky, wall, and pavement...") has a distinct resemblance to Fear. In the former yarn, the hero imagines he has killed someone known only as "The Captain". It isn't imagination. The title story - - Two Bottles etc - - is a grusome little thing that is also concerning a case that baffled Scotland Yard. (The Yard is used to being baffled by now.) "What," the question goes, "did two bottles of Num-Numo have to do with the disposal of the murdered girl's body?" Lord Dunsany is the author. The Night of the Grab Baile Mascara is another bit of grotesquerie that contains little fantasy and much horror. You realize, at the end, that the author is quite insane. The one true fantasy in the whole book that is worth re-reading is Mr Sycamore. Mr Sycamore has been published in O'Brien's Best Short Stories of 1938, translated into French, broadcast over the radio, and made into a play which was presented on Broadway where it didn't do so well. The (next page)
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