Monday, November 18, 2024
The Brad Johannsen Archive
Friday, November 15, 2024
Wednesday, November 13, 2024
Book Review: For Texas and Zed
'For Texas and Zed' (189 pp.) was published by Popular Library in May, 1976. The artist who provided the cover illustration is not credited.
Zach Hughes was the pseudonym of the U.S. writer Hugh Zachary (1926 - 2016) who had success from the late 1960s to the 1980s in publishing short stories and novels in the genres of sci-fi and horror. My review of his 1980 novel 'Killbird' is here.
'Texas and Zed' is set in the year 2589. The thousands of inhabited planets in the galaxy are divided between the Empire and the Cassiopeian Alliance. These polities are engaged in a centuries-old Cold War, a war continuously on the precipice of turning into a galaxywide conflict of unprecedented destruction.
The planet Texas, which orbits the star Zed, is the lone independent planet, siding neither with the Empire, nor the Alliance. The inhabitants (referred to as 'Texicans') of Texas carefully shield their world from detection by the Empire, for Texas is one of the most bountiful and pleasant worlds in the known galaxy. So much so, that if the Emperor learned of its whereabouts he would seek to capture it, and add it to his collection.
As the novel opens, a Texas official, Murchison Burns, and his son Lex Burns, are negotiating with Empire bureaucrats for a trade deal involving the exchange of Texas beef for Empire metals. Being only 17 and headstrong, Lex enjoys the favors of the fetching Empire representative Lady Gwyn Ingles. Lex makes the fateful act of abducting the Lady Gwyn, intending to make her his bride, when the Burns delegation leaves Empire space to return home.
The Empire will not tolerate such a transgression and as punishment, Lex is obliged to spend two years in service aboard an Empire battle cruiser. What he learns on that duty leads him to an audacious plan: defy the Empire, and make Texas a military and economic power.
Defying the Empire is seeming folly, for it has a million ships, and tens of millions of men to man them. But even as a confrontation with the Empire looms, Lex believes that Texas can win. The Emperor, for all his military resources, is about to learn a truism: you don't mess with Texas.
'Texas and Zed' basically is a homage to the space operas of the pulp era. It has a stripped-down prose style and breathless pacing; space battles involving thousands of ships are related in the span of a page or two. Major plot points are disposed of in a few paragraphs. Lex Burns is so indomitable and self-confident a hero that there never really is any tension or suspense generated in the narrative. The frenetic action sequences are periodically interrupted by more retrospective passages, but these seem perfunctory.
Author Hughes imbues the novel with his personal philosophy, which centers on rugged individualism and a conservative political stance. This stance is of course intrinsic to Texas (at least, outside Houston and Austin) and is both quaint and novel when contrasted with the Woke ideology that predominates in today's sci-fi publications.
Readers looking for a short and sweet space opera will likely enjoy 'For Texas and Zed,' but those interested in a more deliberate treatment of this sub-genre probably will want to look elsewhere.
Saturday, November 9, 2024
The Last Temptation graphic novel
Marvel / Dynamite, 1994 / 2014
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original (top) and recolored (bottom) pages |
Wednesday, November 6, 2024
Book Review: Black Butterflies
Sunday, November 3, 2024
Tales of an Imperfect Future
Wednesday, October 30, 2024
Book Review: Harvest Home
2 / 5 Stars
Harvest Home' came out in hardback in 1973, with a paperback edition (415 pp.) issued by Fawcett Crest in June, 1974. Both editions feature cover art by Paul Bacon.
I remember reading this book way back in the early 70s, as a ‘Book of the Month’ club hardbound edition with the untrimmed page edges and cheaper binding (‘special book club edition’ indicated in small italic font on the inside flap of the dust jacket). In a fit of nostalgia, 50 years later I decided to take a second look at the novel.
Thomas Tryon was one of a triumvirate of authors, such as Ira Levin (‘Rosemary’s Baby’) and William Peter Blatty (‘The Exorcist’), who were on the leading edge of the horror fiction movement back in the late 60s – early 70s. Tryon’s previous novel ‘The Other’ (1971) was made into a feature film in 1972, so he was riding considerable momentum when ‘Home’ was issued in 1973.
‘Home’ takes place in 1972 in the bucolic New England town of Cornwall Coombe. Ned Constantine, the first-person narrator, his wife Beth, and daughter Kate, have just moved to the village from New York City. Cornwall Coombe has plenty of Yankee charm, a hint of mystery, and a large cast of eccentric characters: there is a kindly Widder Woman with a ‘Foxfire’ homeliness about her; an older married couple in the house next door, who are full of facts and observations about life in the village; a scraggly but lovable peddler; Tamar, the Town Hussy; and her odd little daughter, who is gifted with prophetic and disturbing visions.
Ned discovers that much of the social and economic life of the village revolves around adherence to pastoral rituals and beliefs that are seemingly drawn from medieval England, rather than 20th century America. While at first these beliefs seem quaint and harmless to Ned and his family, he gradually realizes that there is a dark and dangerous undertone to Cornwall Coombe’s customs. There is an encounter with what seems to be a ‘ghost’ and an eerie tableaux in the deep woods. Soon Ned is forced to a fateful decision: does he step over the line into being a participant, or does he reject the Old Ways and in so doing becomes the interloper who must be eliminated ?
The main drawback to ‘Harvest Home’ is its leisurely pacing; so leisurely, in fact, that I suspect anyone under the age of 40, raised on the more graphic horror that has defined the Paperbacks from Hell era, will find it boring. The Portents of Doom that Tryon sprinkles through the early pages of the book are too thin a gruel to nourish modern readers more used to violence and action within the first 50 pages of their novels. When the horror tones of the story do finally kick in, they are relatively weak and rely more on subtlety and atmosphere than overt gore.
In some ways I suspect the languid tenor of ‘Home’ led to Tryon’s somewhat premature eclipse in the world of horror fiction. The same year that ‘Home’ appeared on store shelves, Stephen King would publish ‘Carrie’, and then in 1975, his own Haunted Village novel, ‘Salems Lot,’ which is superior to Tryon’s works. In the wake of the King juggernaut, the horror tales of Tryon, Blatty, and Levin came across as rather mannered and sedate.
Readers willing to indulge in a slow-paced, character-driven novel set in the early 1970s will want to give ‘Home’ a try. But anyone expecting an intense dose of horror will need to look elsewhere.