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Fantasite, v. 2, issue 2, May-June 1942
Page 4
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4 THE FANTASITE Raymond Palmer, Clifton Amsbury, and Aubrey Mac Dermott in the guiding positions. Its primary goal was a scientific one, and they had Directors of Rocketry, Entomology, Anthropology, etc. Then a bit later it got mixed up pretty thoroughly with stf, became almost wholly a discussion group. One thing led to another, and it gradually petered out. I even served as director of our local chapter once, or maybe it was secretary. That was quite some time ago. And my only publishing ventures, outside writing a few fan articles, consisted of a high sounding "Literary Editor" post with Charley Bloomer's old Tesseract. Oh, yes, I started mimeographing a table of contents to WEIRD TALES in 1934; got the first ten years of it done and abandoned the idea. Still have copies mouldering somewhere in a basement. Corresponded regularly with Lovecraft until shortly before his death, and we hatched up the idea of me bringing out all his poetry in a permanent form. He sent the poetry, I got the stuff all arranged and ready for the printer. I went broke. Exciting as hell. ------------------------------- Books that Have Come My Way:-- My favorite "end of the world" story, strange to say, was never published in a fantasy magazine, nor was it written by any known science fiction author. I doubt if even the more active fans have heard of it. A novelette; the title: "The Machine Stops," by E. M. Forester, publishing in 1928 by Harcourt, Brace and Co., in a book of short stories titled, "The Eternal Moment". It is a tale of the vastly distant future, when the world has become one vast, unified machine, -- honeycombed, completely excavated, every single square foot of its interior filled with the complexities of life and living. Human beings have lost the art of moving about, or caring for their simplest creature needs without mechanical aids. They abhor personal contact, perhaps living their entire lives without seeing another personality more than once, and at all times reside in a metal cubicle with their every human need automatically tended...The flick of a button puts them in instant communication with any other resident of the teeming earth...Should anything happen to disrupt the complex workings of the vast machine that is the Earth, there would be no one to lift a finger in help...because for some millenia there have been machines to tend the machines; and machines to tend those machines...ad infinitum. There were only two normal people left alive, who had a curiosity concerning the surface of the Earth, which no one had seen for aeons. An Adam, and an Eve. And then-- the Machine stopped-- ------------------------------------ Do not confuse the above with a novel published a couple of years back in England, also titled "The Machine Stops," by Wayland Smith. ------------------------------------- Several years back, I think in Charlie Hornig's defunct Fantasy fan, I mentioned an author I had just discovered, raved over him, and enthusiastically recommended him to all and sundry. His real name is M. L. A. Gompertz-- but he used a pseudonym, and that is how you will find his books "By 'Ganpat'". His stories are almost all of the high mountains, of Tibet, of lamaland in general. But don't think they're ordinary adventures, the Talbot Mundy type of story. They have a habit of discovering weird races of people and lands that might possibly exist, and a romantic quality that raises them to the highest level of fantasy. Since last mention, I have discovered several more by this fine English writer, and with your good will and permission, I'll pass the titles on. They're worth looking up.
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4 THE FANTASITE Raymond Palmer, Clifton Amsbury, and Aubrey Mac Dermott in the guiding positions. Its primary goal was a scientific one, and they had Directors of Rocketry, Entomology, Anthropology, etc. Then a bit later it got mixed up pretty thoroughly with stf, became almost wholly a discussion group. One thing led to another, and it gradually petered out. I even served as director of our local chapter once, or maybe it was secretary. That was quite some time ago. And my only publishing ventures, outside writing a few fan articles, consisted of a high sounding "Literary Editor" post with Charley Bloomer's old Tesseract. Oh, yes, I started mimeographing a table of contents to WEIRD TALES in 1934; got the first ten years of it done and abandoned the idea. Still have copies mouldering somewhere in a basement. Corresponded regularly with Lovecraft until shortly before his death, and we hatched up the idea of me bringing out all his poetry in a permanent form. He sent the poetry, I got the stuff all arranged and ready for the printer. I went broke. Exciting as hell. ------------------------------- Books that Have Come My Way:-- My favorite "end of the world" story, strange to say, was never published in a fantasy magazine, nor was it written by any known science fiction author. I doubt if even the more active fans have heard of it. A novelette; the title: "The Machine Stops," by E. M. Forester, publishing in 1928 by Harcourt, Brace and Co., in a book of short stories titled, "The Eternal Moment". It is a tale of the vastly distant future, when the world has become one vast, unified machine, -- honeycombed, completely excavated, every single square foot of its interior filled with the complexities of life and living. Human beings have lost the art of moving about, or caring for their simplest creature needs without mechanical aids. They abhor personal contact, perhaps living their entire lives without seeing another personality more than once, and at all times reside in a metal cubicle with their every human need automatically tended...The flick of a button puts them in instant communication with any other resident of the teeming earth...Should anything happen to disrupt the complex workings of the vast machine that is the Earth, there would be no one to lift a finger in help...because for some millenia there have been machines to tend the machines; and machines to tend those machines...ad infinitum. There were only two normal people left alive, who had a curiosity concerning the surface of the Earth, which no one had seen for aeons. An Adam, and an Eve. And then-- the Machine stopped-- ------------------------------------ Do not confuse the above with a novel published a couple of years back in England, also titled "The Machine Stops," by Wayland Smith. ------------------------------------- Several years back, I think in Charlie Hornig's defunct Fantasy fan, I mentioned an author I had just discovered, raved over him, and enthusiastically recommended him to all and sundry. His real name is M. L. A. Gompertz-- but he used a pseudonym, and that is how you will find his books "By 'Ganpat'". His stories are almost all of the high mountains, of Tibet, of lamaland in general. But don't think they're ordinary adventures, the Talbot Mundy type of story. They have a habit of discovering weird races of people and lands that might possibly exist, and a romantic quality that raises them to the highest level of fantasy. Since last mention, I have discovered several more by this fine English writer, and with your good will and permission, I'll pass the titles on. They're worth looking up.
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