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Eclipse, v. 1, issue 1, whole no. 1, February 1941
Page 13
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ECLIPSE 13 MUSINGS ON THE PROS by DONN BURTOM (Editor's note: No doubt every fan has heard of the pro mags, that group of publications whose job it is to publish to the stuff we're fans of. Perhaps some of your even buy these pro mags; one or two of you may even go so far as to read them. It is the belief of the editorial staff that pro mags should play an important part in fandom, and it is because of this beief that the following column the presented. Donn Burtom, we might add, is a pseudonym for a well known fan who prefers to keep his identity secret.) "The musings go round and round, and come out here." And thus, another fan column is born to bore you. We strive to serve you. It is the custom, in such columns as this, to praise one or two magazines to the skies, and belabor the rest as the asinine droolings of morons; or, worst yet, of writers of great promise who have sold their art down the river. Art is all very well, and I certainly am in favor of it in science and fantasy fiction. But I contend that it thrives on beefsteaks with all the trimmings. I think that authors, like people, must eat. So, when an author turns out a lovely, serious story for one mag, and follows that with a stinkeroo in another, I intend to praise the first, and ignore the second, charging it up to the commissary department. From time to time, this column will point out a particularly good bit in one of the some-times malodorous mags, as evidence that they are not wholly bad, while still agreeing that certain magazines are better suited to the palates of "mature fans" (if there be any) than others. I may exhume a "classic" of the mis-named 'good old days,' now and then, and laud it or lambast it, as I see fit. I shall try, when some story seems especially good, to subject it to a careful, critical, but not necessarily impartial analysis, in the unjustified hope of discovering just what makes it click. I shall try to do all these things. I do not promise to succeed. I don't read WEIRD TALES very often. I like science fiction, with accent on the "science". I also like beautiful fantasy, such as Merritt writes. I do not like horror stories, and confess to little patience with ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and other figments of the distorted imaginations of our ancient forebears. I bought the current WEIRD TALES because it contains a "Lancelot Biggs" story (Palmer's loss) and because I was curious to find out just what king of a fantasy a former naval gunnery expert, Malcolm Jameson would write. I liked "The Man Who Loved Planks." It is not a great story, but it is a good one. The gunnery expert's accuracy of detail and logical development do not conflict with the sympathetic working out of the tale. I also liked Derlith's "Come To Me," and Wandrei's "The Crystal Bullet," which does not, I think deserve the appel-
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ECLIPSE 13 MUSINGS ON THE PROS by DONN BURTOM (Editor's note: No doubt every fan has heard of the pro mags, that group of publications whose job it is to publish to the stuff we're fans of. Perhaps some of your even buy these pro mags; one or two of you may even go so far as to read them. It is the belief of the editorial staff that pro mags should play an important part in fandom, and it is because of this beief that the following column the presented. Donn Burtom, we might add, is a pseudonym for a well known fan who prefers to keep his identity secret.) "The musings go round and round, and come out here." And thus, another fan column is born to bore you. We strive to serve you. It is the custom, in such columns as this, to praise one or two magazines to the skies, and belabor the rest as the asinine droolings of morons; or, worst yet, of writers of great promise who have sold their art down the river. Art is all very well, and I certainly am in favor of it in science and fantasy fiction. But I contend that it thrives on beefsteaks with all the trimmings. I think that authors, like people, must eat. So, when an author turns out a lovely, serious story for one mag, and follows that with a stinkeroo in another, I intend to praise the first, and ignore the second, charging it up to the commissary department. From time to time, this column will point out a particularly good bit in one of the some-times malodorous mags, as evidence that they are not wholly bad, while still agreeing that certain magazines are better suited to the palates of "mature fans" (if there be any) than others. I may exhume a "classic" of the mis-named 'good old days,' now and then, and laud it or lambast it, as I see fit. I shall try, when some story seems especially good, to subject it to a careful, critical, but not necessarily impartial analysis, in the unjustified hope of discovering just what makes it click. I shall try to do all these things. I do not promise to succeed. I don't read WEIRD TALES very often. I like science fiction, with accent on the "science". I also like beautiful fantasy, such as Merritt writes. I do not like horror stories, and confess to little patience with ghouls, vampires, werewolves, and other figments of the distorted imaginations of our ancient forebears. I bought the current WEIRD TALES because it contains a "Lancelot Biggs" story (Palmer's loss) and because I was curious to find out just what king of a fantasy a former naval gunnery expert, Malcolm Jameson would write. I liked "The Man Who Loved Planks." It is not a great story, but it is a good one. The gunnery expert's accuracy of detail and logical development do not conflict with the sympathetic working out of the tale. I also liked Derlith's "Come To Me," and Wandrei's "The Crystal Bullet," which does not, I think deserve the appel-
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