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Bizarre, v. 4, issue 1, Janurary 1941

Page 7

January 1941 Page 7

the knowledge of what error-types are characteristic of each language-group. A nice example of such work is in "Danger in the Dark," in the May, 1939 Unknown. There's the customary misspelling, but the real flavor and reality of the accent is in the phrasing.

Point B: The choice of words is a consideration, naturally- but not in the way ordinarily thought. Writers are expected to choose the right word, the precise flavor-value, for a particular point (words have flavor all right! Think of the difference in value between "sere" and "dry"- "lush" and "green"). A writer who can merely handle words int he right way is a simple Grade C standard space-filler. The really good writer, the one who has style and sticks in your memory, is the man who can use the wrong word at the right place! About half the effectiveness of Sprague de Camp's writing devolves on his ability house just the right word most of the time- then kick you at the points he wants strong by a skillful choice of the wrong word. It stands out in de Camp's writing, because most of his work has been humor- humor based 90% on the use of the wrong word or the wrong answer to a perfectly logical question. Like asking "What animal walks on two legs, and is high above all other animals?" and getting the answer "Birds."

Ron Hubbard, Heinlein, van Vogt- dozens of them. All the top-notch writers assume naturally that they will use the right word-choice as a level background. The skillful choice of wrong words comes to them naturally and easily. That's why they're top writers.

Point C: Believe it or not, style- once you are possessed of those two fundamental essentials- is largely determined by the viewpoint from which the plot is handled. Take three examples- there are dozens; I pick these simply because they are widely divergent and come readily to mind- such as Lester del Rey, Sprague de Camp, and L. Ron Hubbard. Hubbard's natural style is strong, harsh, somewhat bitter, a little curt. De Camp's is more discursive, light, ironical, and, withal, Quixotic to a fair degree. Del Rey's work is light only on the surface; it is deeply sympathetic, very tender, and still- wherein del Rey gains the difference that makes him a top-notcher-- very strong.

Let's imagine how these three authors, each conceiving the same story, would approach it. We'll take "Final Blackout" as an instance. You know what Hubbard did with that. It was one of the strongest, grimmest, bitterest stories Astounding's ever told (April through June, 1940). It was abrupt and hard. It could, it seems, be told in no other way; have happened no other way.

Hubbard made you feel that. But, I can assure you that de Camp would have made that story comedy- bitter comedy, the humor of a grim irony, a Charlie Chaplin type of laughter. The Lieutenant Hubbard pictured as so competent, de Camp would have made competent and effective- but you'd have been shown all the silliness of everything he thought was so inevitalby right. Remember "Divide and Rule!" (Feb. and March '39 Unknowns)? Harold van Slyke was competent, intelligent, sure of the inevitable rightness of things, too.

De Camp would have looked at the Lieutenant with different eyes, displayed him with a different style- and made grand, but bitter, fun of him. And- except for the ending itself- de Camp would have used every plot incident Hubbard did!

Del Rey, handling that plot, would have used every incident Hubbard did, including the ending. But his story wouldn't have been harsh and rough. He'd not have watched the Lieutenant from outside, seeing him move an ununderstood and ununderstandable figure against the backdrop Hubbard painted. You'd have felt with the Lieutenant all the tearing fears and sorrow he felt, but did not worry his men with. You'd have seen the England the Lieutenant returned to through the eyes of this memory of the England he'd left- and the England he knew had been. Hubbard played that tune with the drums, so to speak- an occasional rumble of mention, briefly, harshly, as a military fact to be accounted. Del Rey would have played it with the high, sad, expressive voice of a violin, tenderly and gently.

They'd have been three utterly different- but three powerful and strong- stories. Each would be the same scene, the same characters, the same plot. But each would be seen from the eyes and through the voice of a different style.

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January 1941 Page 7 the knowledge of what error-types are characteristic of each language-group. A nice example of such work is in "Danger in the Dark," in the May, 1939 Unknown. There's the customary misspelling, but the real flavor and reality of the accent is in the phrasing. Point B: The choice of words is a consideration, naturally- but not in the way ordinarily thought. Writers are expected to choose the right word, the precise flavor-value, for a particular point (words have flavor all right! Think of the difference in value between "sere" and "dry"- "lush" and "green"). A writer who can merely handle words int he right way is a simple Grade C standard space-filler. The really good writer, the one who has style and sticks in your memory, is the man who can use the wrong word at the right place! About half the effectiveness of Sprague de Camp's writing devolves on his ability house just the right word most of the time- then kick you at the points he wants strong by a skillful choice of the wrong word. It stands out in de Camp's writing, because most of his work has been humor- humor based 90% on the use of the wrong word or the wrong answer to a perfectly logical question. Like asking "What animal walks on two legs, and is high above all other animals?" and getting the answer "Birds." Ron Hubbard, Heinlein, van Vogt- dozens of them. All the top-notch writers assume naturally that they will use the right word-choice as a level background. The skillful choice of wrong words comes to them naturally and easily. That's why they're top writers. Point C: Believe it or not, style- once you are possessed of those two fundamental essentials- is largely determined by the viewpoint from which the plot is handled. Take three examples- there are dozens; I pick these simply because they are widely divergent and come readily to mind- such as Lester del Rey, Sprague de Camp, and L. Ron Hubbard. Hubbard's natural style is strong, harsh, somewhat bitter, a little curt. De Camp's is more discursive, light, ironical, and, withal, Quixotic to a fair degree. Del Rey's work is light only on the surface; it is deeply sympathetic, very tender, and still- wherein del Rey gains the difference that makes him a top-notcher-- very strong. Let's imagine how these three authors, each conceiving the same story, would approach it. We'll take "Final Blackout" as an instance. You know what Hubbard did with that. It was one of the strongest, grimmest, bitterest stories Astounding's ever told (April through June, 1940). It was abrupt and hard. It could, it seems, be told in no other way; have happened no other way. Hubbard made you feel that. But, I can assure you that de Camp would have made that story comedy- bitter comedy, the humor of a grim irony, a Charlie Chaplin type of laughter. The Lieutenant Hubbard pictured as so competent, de Camp would have made competent and effective- but you'd have been shown all the silliness of everything he thought was so inevitalby right. Remember "Divide and Rule!" (Feb. and March '39 Unknowns)? Harold van Slyke was competent, intelligent, sure of the inevitable rightness of things, too. De Camp would have looked at the Lieutenant with different eyes, displayed him with a different style- and made grand, but bitter, fun of him. And- except for the ending itself- de Camp would have used every plot incident Hubbard did! Del Rey, handling that plot, would have used every incident Hubbard did, including the ending. But his story wouldn't have been harsh and rough. He'd not have watched the Lieutenant from outside, seeing him move an ununderstood and ununderstandable figure against the backdrop Hubbard painted. You'd have felt with the Lieutenant all the tearing fears and sorrow he felt, but did not worry his men with. You'd have seen the England the Lieutenant returned to through the eyes of this memory of the England he'd left- and the England he knew had been. Hubbard played that tune with the drums, so to speak- an occasional rumble of mention, briefly, harshly, as a military fact to be accounted. Del Rey would have played it with the high, sad, expressive voice of a violin, tenderly and gently. They'd have been three utterly different- but three powerful and strong- stories. Each would be the same scene, the same characters, the same plot. But each would be seen from the eyes and through the voice of a different style.