randy_byers: (powers expdt)
Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] shsilver for pointing me to this story: Science Fiction Pioneer Homer Eon Flint Gets Second Chance at Publishing Career. According to the article, the digital publisher Musa Publishing has begun publishing all of Flint's stories and novels, including previously unpublished work. Musa is working with Flint's grand daughter, Vella Munn, and they are also publishing a biography she's written about her grandfather.

I had dreamed of putting together a collection of the science fiction stories that had never been reprinted, but of course it was unlikely I'd actually ever have gotten around to it. Now I guess I need to think seriously about buying an e-reader. Or maybe an iPad or other tablet. Anyway, great news! Although I had to laugh when the article referred to "the flowing ease of Flint's prose." Clearly written by either a publicist or someone who has never actually read anything by Homer Eon Flint!

QOTD

Jun. 26th, 2010 08:05 am
randy_byers: (powers expdt)
FLINT, HOMER EON (born FLINDT, 1892-1924)
American (California) writer for the pulp magazines. His death remains a mystery; perhaps executed by gangsters. In many ways the outstanding writer of s-f in the Munsey pulp magazines.

-- Everett F. Bleiler, Science-Fiction: The Early Years
randy_byers: (powers expdt)
For as long as I have been reading fantasy, Perley Poore Sheehan has been one of the "greats" of the great old days when Bob Davis was creating a new literature of the imagination in the pages of the Munsey magazines. Yet it was as a writer of popular romances that his contemporaries knew -- and forgot -- him.

Why was this? Granted that any of those few writers of fantasy would be remembered because he was one of a small circle, why has Sheehan been persistently ranked with Merritt, Austin Hall, Homer Eon Flint, "Francis Stevens"?


-- P. Schuyler Miller, introduction to the 1953 Polaris Press edition of Sheehan's The Abyss of Wonders (1915), although apparently Miller originally wrote this piece in 1931 (when 1915 would hardly have been the "great old days")
randy_byers: (Default)
I've been reading the Modern Library collection of Selected Stories of H.G. Wells, edited by Ursula K Le Guin. (With an amazingly inappropriate cover.) "The Star" was first published in 1897. It is a disaster story. A planetoid is detected just before it collides with Neptune, causing both bodies to head sunward in a flaming mass ... and directly toward Earth! The viewpoint of the story is omniscient, and it only briefly notes particular points of view, staying the longest with a mathematician who calculates that the Earth will be struck by the object. The description of the destruction wrought on the surface of the Earth by the gravitational forces of the approaching mass are grave and terrible. The denouement describing the aftermath is a brief series of ever remoter observations, with a bit of a satiric sting in the final view.

It's a great story, and I'm guessing it was one of the influences on Homer Eon Flint's "The Planeteer," which tosses in a similar scenario (involving Saturn instead of Neptune) as one part of its perhaps overly-complicated dramatic apparatus. The contrast between the two stories might be an effective example of the difference between scientific romance and science fiction. Wells is dispassionate and philosophical, while Flint's story is character-driven and solution-focused. Wells' story is a far more effective literary construction. Flint's story is perhaps aimed at a different social class entirely -- one that doesn't care so much about literary values.
randy_byers: (powers expdt)
Back to Homer Eon Flint. "The Planeteer" was originally published in All-Story Weekly in March 1918, and it was his second published story. There's a lot going on it. It's set in something of a socialist utopia a few hundred years in the future. Earth is heavily populated, and the story begins with the announcement that an earthquake in California has caused the Sacramento Valley to be flooded by the sea, raising the specter of starvation unless some way of compensating for the loss of now rare cropland can be found. The main characters are two scientists who pursue separate solutions, and a world-famous singer who loves them both and tells them she'll marry whoever solves the problem.

So early on we get a glimpse of the marvels of the far-flung future while this central situation is being set up. After that we get a brief tour of the solar system that's reminiscent of earlier scientific romances such as John Jacob Astor's A Journey in Other Worlds (1894) and George Griffith's A Honeymoon in Space (1901). One of the scientists invents a spaceship which is used to first explore the dead moon, then a Mars inhabited by hostile aliens, and finally a Jupiter that is like Earth before humans evolved -- a verdant, uninhabited paradise. All of this is complicated by a wandering planetoid crashing into Saturn, igniting its atmosphere and driving it sunward, pulling Jupiter in its wake. The solution to the food problem that the space scientist therefore proposes is to pull the Earth out of it's own orbit and bring it within the atmosphere of Jupiter, where humans could use airplanes to migrate to the surface and colonize the vast swaths of fertile territory.

Flint is seen as a predecessor of the superscience fiction of Edmond Hamilton (who acknowledged the debt) and E.E. "Doc" Smith. He said that his greatest influences were the complete works of H.G. Wells and Edward Bellamy's Looking Backward, 2000-1887 (1888), although it should be said that "The Planeteer" in particular bears a number of similarities to the Astor novel mentioned above, including the almost utopian technological future and colossal engineering projects. He's definitely a Big Idea guy who is interested in social problems and has a clear sympathy for socialism. "The Planeteer" has some impressively dramatic, if not very realistic scenes, too, as when the wandering planet is slung past the Earth and comes within 90 miles of the surface, as our protagonists watch from the deck of a ship and thus have to survive a huge tsunami. Over all, however, Flint was a pretty clumsy writer, and his handling of the romantic triangle, for example, is crude. (Not unusual for pulp writers, it's true.) Yet one of the interesting aspects of his clumsiness is that the narrator of the story, who is one of the two scientists, does not win the girl, and actually ends up taking a fairly subservient attitude toward his competition for her hand. Can't imagine that Hamilton or Smith would have gone for this unheroic pose, but it makes the story more human in a way. The scientist who comes out on top is also interesting for showing qualms toward the destruction of the Martians that he causes -- an echo, perhaps, of the regretful massacre that concludes Garrett P. Serviss' jingoistic Edison's Conquest of Mars (1898).

Flint wrote a sequel to this novella called "The King of Conserve Island" that apparently follows the humans to surface of Jupiter. I hope I can track it down at some point. It has never been reprinted, as far as I can tell. The copy of "The Planeteer" that I read (courtesy of Curt Phillips, bless his soul) was from Caz Cazedessus' Pulpdom, which reprinted old pulp stories in recent years. To read "The King of Conserve Island" I'll have to track down the 12 October 1918 issue of All-Story Weekly. Likewise for Flint's story "The Man in the Moon," which was serialized in four issues of All-Story in 1919. I have two of those issues. At some point I'd like to put together a collection of Flint's stories, because it does look to me that he was a key transitional figure between the scientific romance and scientifiction. He and Garrett P. Serviss seem to be the key figures amongst the nearly-forgotten writers I've sampled from the pre-Amazing era of American SF.
randy_byers: (brundage)
This novel was originally serialized in Argosy All-Story Weekly in 1921, and it was reprinted frequently after that, both in other pulp magazines and in books. I read the Ace paperback from the mid-'60s, with a cover sporting the claim, "The most famous fantastic novel of all time." I'm not sure that it's been reprinted since then. It seems largely forgotten except as the target of one of Damon Knight's critical demolition jobs in the '50s.

It's not hard to see why. It is a ramshackle book, with the first eighteen chapters written by Hall, then a few chapters by Flint, then another long section by Hall to conclude. A large cast of characters is introduced sporadically over the course of the long story, and many of them seem irrelevant or are forgotten. As Knight gleefully points out, Hall writes as though English were a foreign language to him, and his ideas are often sophomoric. It's also old-fashioned in its concerns, but I think it's worth asking what the original readership found so wonderful about the book, which is something Knight doesn't bother to do.

Two things struck me about what The Blind Spot was up to. The first is that, like A. Merritt in The Moon Pool, the authors seem to be trying to rationalize the occult. As one character puts it, "In other words, Dr. Holcomb has certainly proved the occult by material means." Unfortunately, this rationalization is largely done by assertion, and the assertions frequently seem idiotic. Here's more of the statement I quoted from above:

'In other words, Dr. Holcomb has certainly proved the occult by material means. He has done it with a vengeance. In so doing he has left us in doubt as to ourselves; and unless he discovers the missing factor within the next few hours we are going to be in the anomalous position of knowing plenty about the next world, but nothing about ourselves.'


Since these characters largely disappear from the story at this point, it's hard to see if they ever regain certitude about themselves. Perhaps their loss of self-knowledge is what causes them to disappear! As to whether Dr. Holcomb discovers the missing factor, that's also hard to say. He gives an exposition on his discoveries at the end, explaining something like a parallel world system, but undermines his own theories with comments such as, "I throw out the idea mainly as a suggestion. It is not necessarily the true explanation."

Perhaps this is admirable agnosticism and a scientific call for further testing. What is being suggested, if I can follow the bafflegab, is that what we have heretofore perceived as occult or spiritual is in fact a blurry, limited perception of a parallel universe that exists inside the interstices of the very atoms that compose us. Or something like that. At least that's the explanation for all the mysterious goings-on in San Francisco in the early parts of the novel, although Hall never gets around to telling us whether it explains all gods and monsters and ghosts. Whatever the case, it's quite possible that early science fiction readers found this grounding of the spiritual in the material to be very exciting. From my perspective, the big problem is that Hall seems just as ignorant of the occult as he is of science.

The other thing that struck me is that the parallel world we are shown in the latter part of the novel is, unlike the other worlds of Merritt or Burroughs, not derived from lost world literature. Perhaps it derives more from utopian concepts, although it is not presented as a utopia. Highly advanced, and yet specifically archaic in other ways. The society is relatively complex and conflicted. There is a millennial strain in it. There is interesting technology, and unexplained phenomena. It almost feels like something out of an Arthur C. Clarke novel. From my still limited reading in the era, this may have been a fresh approach to world-building -- a breakthrough -- although Flint was doing something similar in his Dr. Kinney stories, starting in 1919.
randy_byers: (Default)
Flint's "The Queen of Life" ends up being a very strange story. I had to read it twice to try to get it straight in my head, but I'm still not sure I understand all the strange twists and contortions. While on the face of it this is a fairly commonplace utopia, lurking beneath its placid, generic surface is an ambiguous battle of the sexes.

What the big idea, wise guy? -- SPOILERS, ho! )
randy_byers: (Default)
Homer Eon Flint has got to be the greatest name for a science fiction writer ever. "Eon" is the perfect touch, and I wonder if it was a given name or an assumed one. (He was born "Flindt," for example.) Iain Banks should have written his SF as Eon Banks, evoking the muddy confines of the great river of time. Or maybe I should write an epic space opera under the nom de plume of Virgil Eon Banks. Yeah, I'll get right on that.

I've been reading two of Flint's novellas, "The Lord of Death" and "The Queen of Life", both published in 1919 in All-Story (or maybe Argosy -- I can't find the information on the internet). They have struck me as mostly philosophical and political/utopian in tone, but the article about him in SCIFIPEDIA (an online encyclopedia I hadn't heard of before) argues that he was "the first practitioner of what quickly came to be called the 'super-science' story," as later practiced by Doc Smith and John W. Campbell. And indeed, there is a monster magnet invented as a weapon in "The Lord of Death," and, most interesting of any of the technological ideas used in either story so far, there are mechanical plants on the Venus of "The Queen of Life" that quarry minerals underground (the surface is completely covered with human habitation) and convert them into foodstuff -- "starch, sugar, and proteids" -- using artificial leaves and manufactured chlorophyll.

It's true of these stories, as The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction says about Flint in general, that his "writing style and pulp-magazine habits did not always adequately express his deep interest in the emergence of behavioral and historical patterns from various political and social philosophies," but it is also said elsewhere that his writing got better over time. He didn't have much time, however, as he died under mysterious circumstances in 1924. According to his granddaughter, Vella Munn, Flint's broken body was found under a wrecked car at the bottom of a ravine. A man named E.L. Handley, whose car it was, claimed that he'd picked up the hitch-hiking Flint, who then pulled a gun on him, forced him out of the car, and drove off. The police found a black suitcase full of money in the car, and it may have been from an earlier bank robbery in Fresno. While Flint owned guns, the one found near the car was not one of his. Handley himself was a "known gangster" who was later convicted of another crime, so quite possibly his story is not trustworthy. Certainly Flint showed no other early warning signs of becoming a car-jacking bank-robber! (Except maybe changing his name. Hmmmmm.)

A bizarre story worthy of the greatest name in "Different" stories, as the developing genre is called in the brief intro to the two novellas by one C.W. Wolfe of Albuquerque in Ace's 1965 paperback reprint.

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