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Southern Star, v. 1, issue 3, August 1941
Page 27
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The Munsey Panorama SOUTHERN STAR Page 27 practice of being unenthusiastic is an art in which he fancies he is adept; but when he finished this novel, the old doctor jumped right out of his chair, reached with both hands for the ceiling, and yelled "Whoops!" No keed. He dived across the room, slid under the T-writer, and while the keys began to pound out that familiar click-falter-click rhythm, he mumbled thus-wise in his beard: "Lord, goshamighty! Wait'll I tell 'em! Why this is the b...this is the g...this...!" Just as though he'd discovered something, see? I don't mean to tell you what you'll think, but I insist on telling you what I think. I want to sell you this novel, if it harelips me! You'll say, perhaps, that its science is dated; you'll say it drags in certain places; you'll be annoyed, as I was, by the names Serviss gives his characters; but you'll admit it's great stuff, and you'll recognize it as being a milestone in the annals of science fiction. So confident am I that in the course of time Miss G. will get around to reprinting this work, that I shall be very careful not to spoil it for you by giving away too much of the plot. Here's the editor's blurb, from the June issue: "AN AMAZING NEW SERIAL By the famous Astronomer and Romance Writer GARRETT P. SERVISS THE SECOND DELUGE Wherein the world is sunk in a roar of mighty waters, from which a wise man rescues a few finer souls to build up another human empire. A Daring Conception." And that's what it was, really, though you'd hardly call it "a daring conception" in these Amazing, Startling days of '41. But if it sounds good to you, then I promise you, you'll find it good -- you'll find it almost as good as When Worlds Collide. Me, I couldn't praise it more highly. Cosmo Versal in the hero -- a comical mite of a scientist who is at once a Noah and a prophet. If you are so profane as to laugh at him when he is serious, you'll still remember him on the last day that you live. He's that type of character; and there are other splendid characters, too. What happens? Why, a watery nebula swallows the earth, and Cosmo Versal's futuristic ark is the haven of the chosen few. You meet first a hero who actually is a hero; then you see Humanity spelled with a capital "H"; you see mutiny (of course), and fantastic denizens of the sea, and monster submarines, and hair-breadth escapes, and kings and presidents, and people -- most especially the latter. You won't forget Cosmo Versal as he deliberates upon the problem of whom to take with him; you won't forget him as he flees for his life in spirit as well as in body. And he was a midget Atlas also, for the weight of the world rested on his frail shoulders. Yessuh. Well, suh, I usually play the devil when I try to be either pleasant or convincing, and so I sound off with misgivings. Because I'd like to sell you this novel. THE RIBBON OF FATE, by George Allan England. Complete novel, 21pp, July, 1911. In 1941 they are talking of a possible war with Japan. In 1911, with less reason, they were talking of the same thing, the darkling rumors falling under the general term "yellow peril". Mention of this story really should have been omitted from this
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The Munsey Panorama SOUTHERN STAR Page 27 practice of being unenthusiastic is an art in which he fancies he is adept; but when he finished this novel, the old doctor jumped right out of his chair, reached with both hands for the ceiling, and yelled "Whoops!" No keed. He dived across the room, slid under the T-writer, and while the keys began to pound out that familiar click-falter-click rhythm, he mumbled thus-wise in his beard: "Lord, goshamighty! Wait'll I tell 'em! Why this is the b...this is the g...this...!" Just as though he'd discovered something, see? I don't mean to tell you what you'll think, but I insist on telling you what I think. I want to sell you this novel, if it harelips me! You'll say, perhaps, that its science is dated; you'll say it drags in certain places; you'll be annoyed, as I was, by the names Serviss gives his characters; but you'll admit it's great stuff, and you'll recognize it as being a milestone in the annals of science fiction. So confident am I that in the course of time Miss G. will get around to reprinting this work, that I shall be very careful not to spoil it for you by giving away too much of the plot. Here's the editor's blurb, from the June issue: "AN AMAZING NEW SERIAL By the famous Astronomer and Romance Writer GARRETT P. SERVISS THE SECOND DELUGE Wherein the world is sunk in a roar of mighty waters, from which a wise man rescues a few finer souls to build up another human empire. A Daring Conception." And that's what it was, really, though you'd hardly call it "a daring conception" in these Amazing, Startling days of '41. But if it sounds good to you, then I promise you, you'll find it good -- you'll find it almost as good as When Worlds Collide. Me, I couldn't praise it more highly. Cosmo Versal in the hero -- a comical mite of a scientist who is at once a Noah and a prophet. If you are so profane as to laugh at him when he is serious, you'll still remember him on the last day that you live. He's that type of character; and there are other splendid characters, too. What happens? Why, a watery nebula swallows the earth, and Cosmo Versal's futuristic ark is the haven of the chosen few. You meet first a hero who actually is a hero; then you see Humanity spelled with a capital "H"; you see mutiny (of course), and fantastic denizens of the sea, and monster submarines, and hair-breadth escapes, and kings and presidents, and people -- most especially the latter. You won't forget Cosmo Versal as he deliberates upon the problem of whom to take with him; you won't forget him as he flees for his life in spirit as well as in body. And he was a midget Atlas also, for the weight of the world rested on his frail shoulders. Yessuh. Well, suh, I usually play the devil when I try to be either pleasant or convincing, and so I sound off with misgivings. Because I'd like to sell you this novel. THE RIBBON OF FATE, by George Allan England. Complete novel, 21pp, July, 1911. In 1941 they are talking of a possible war with Japan. In 1911, with less reason, they were talking of the same thing, the darkling rumors falling under the general term "yellow peril". Mention of this story really should have been omitted from this
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