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Fantasy Commentator, v. 1, issue 5, Winter 1944-1945
Page 97
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FANTASY COMMENTATOR 97 diagram of Absolute Past, Absolute Present, and Absolute Future makes this look a little simpler---at least to me.) The artist paints his pictures of Jennie at her various stages of development---note that the ages at which he paints her correspond to those in the quotation from Wells---and miraculously the events of his own present are altered. He too subconsciously moves in other dimensions of time, for some of his paintings are premonitions of the tragic end of their story. These portraits of Jennie are but aspects of her three-dimensional self, which he is destined never to meet in this period of time. But her four-dimensional self, like his own, is fixed and unalterable, its "immortality" (to quote Dunne again) "being in other dimensions of time, does not clash with the obvious ending of the individual in the physiologist's time dimension." And therefore, the artist says, when they tell him and Jennie has been drowned at sea, "It doesn't matter." Since I myself have developed no aptitude for "going forward in time," I cannot tell whether these novels will prove simply to be a variation of romantic concepts from a war-torn world, or whether they will seem to indicate a rising belief in the theory of reincarnation as well as various forms of extra-sensory perception. But so far as I know, they do represent the first attempts to translate into popular literary forms some of the concepts of our twentieth-century mathematicians and physicists. And if these writers seem to draw their inspiration from the speculations of somewhat unorthodox thinkers, that is not to be wondered at, for after all, the writer seeking to escape from too much reality needs a myth with which to work. ---oOo--- After Death by Christina G. Rossetti The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept / And strewn with rushes; rosemary and may / Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, / Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept. / He leaned above me, thinking that I slept / And could not hear him; but I heard him say, / "Poor child, poor child": and as he turned away / Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. / He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold / That hid my face, or take my hand in his, / Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head; / He did not love me living; but once dead / He pitied me; and very sweet it is / To know he still is warm though I am cold. ---oOo--- As I See It...---continued from page 91 And that I think is wholly true. There are too many stories being written today which are labelled fantastic---when they are not truly that. They are good stories, many of them, but most of them are not fantastic.
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FANTASY COMMENTATOR 97 diagram of Absolute Past, Absolute Present, and Absolute Future makes this look a little simpler---at least to me.) The artist paints his pictures of Jennie at her various stages of development---note that the ages at which he paints her correspond to those in the quotation from Wells---and miraculously the events of his own present are altered. He too subconsciously moves in other dimensions of time, for some of his paintings are premonitions of the tragic end of their story. These portraits of Jennie are but aspects of her three-dimensional self, which he is destined never to meet in this period of time. But her four-dimensional self, like his own, is fixed and unalterable, its "immortality" (to quote Dunne again) "being in other dimensions of time, does not clash with the obvious ending of the individual in the physiologist's time dimension." And therefore, the artist says, when they tell him and Jennie has been drowned at sea, "It doesn't matter." Since I myself have developed no aptitude for "going forward in time," I cannot tell whether these novels will prove simply to be a variation of romantic concepts from a war-torn world, or whether they will seem to indicate a rising belief in the theory of reincarnation as well as various forms of extra-sensory perception. But so far as I know, they do represent the first attempts to translate into popular literary forms some of the concepts of our twentieth-century mathematicians and physicists. And if these writers seem to draw their inspiration from the speculations of somewhat unorthodox thinkers, that is not to be wondered at, for after all, the writer seeking to escape from too much reality needs a myth with which to work. ---oOo--- After Death by Christina G. Rossetti The curtains were half drawn, the floor was swept / And strewn with rushes; rosemary and may / Lay thick upon the bed on which I lay, / Where through the lattice ivy-shadows crept. / He leaned above me, thinking that I slept / And could not hear him; but I heard him say, / "Poor child, poor child": and as he turned away / Came a deep silence, and I knew he wept. / He did not touch the shroud, or raise the fold / That hid my face, or take my hand in his, / Or ruffle the smooth pillows for my head; / He did not love me living; but once dead / He pitied me; and very sweet it is / To know he still is warm though I am cold. ---oOo--- As I See It...---continued from page 91 And that I think is wholly true. There are too many stories being written today which are labelled fantastic---when they are not truly that. They are good stories, many of them, but most of them are not fantastic.
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