tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1961639354574638702024-03-06T14:02:05.281-06:00Mission: SporkExploring and skewering bad fiction, one spoonful at a time.Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.comBlogger885125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-74022606599539415792016-12-02T13:59:00.001-06:002016-12-02T13:59:49.929-06:00Mission UpdateIt's been two weeks since the last post, so as you probably might have guessed, this blog is going to go quiet for a while. At this point I don't think there's much left to say about Hubbard... or at least about his writings, there's still books to be written on what was wrong with the man and how much harm he did. But for now, I'm out of material, and don't think anything else from Hubbard's bibliography is going to tell us anything we haven't learned by now. On the upside, this means we end our exploration of the writings of L. Ron Hubbard on a definite high note.<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how long this quiet will last and what I'll be sporking in the future. I'd probably have to break out of my Hubbard rut and move on to other authors, as scandalous as that thought may be. If things change, I'll certainly make a note that things are moving again.<br />
<br />
Until then, thank you very much for reading!<br />
<br />
<br />Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-54820602407530907782016-11-18T21:46:00.001-06:002016-11-18T21:46:26.122-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Hubbard's Finest HourWe've examined a lot of dead trees in this blog, from the horrors of <i>Mission Earth</i> to the myopic morality of Ole Doc Methuselah, from the mediocrity of <i>Buckskin Brigades</i> to the flashes of competence in <i>Fear</i> and <i>Slaves of Sleep</i>. We've looked at L. Ron Hubbard's very first novel and his very last work, and sampled his offerings from the Golden Age of Pulp Fiction. And it's safe to say that <i>Typewriter in the Sky </i>is Hubbard's best story, something marked not just by an absence of flaws, but also with actual strengths and achievements.<br />
<br />
Which means Hubbard peaked in 1940, sadly.<br />
<br />
<i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> works because it takes something that's been done to death - the bog-standard pulp pirate story - and turns it on its head, lets us look at it from new perspectives. We get glimpses of the writing process behind such stories during those chapters where Hackett is arguing with his editor, or discussing the writing process with a fellow author. More significantly, within the narrative we're viewing it from the perspective of someone designated the story's villain, and so get see what it's like to have to play defense while the hero is out there somewhere preparing to ruin everything, how it feels to try to thwart someone the universe seems to be bending over backwards to help win. It's everything <i>Mission Earth</i> wasn't because Mike is actually <i>trying</i> to oppose Bristol, and more importantly isn't a disgusting piece of brainless garbage like Soltan Gris - instead our antagonist is a likeable, normal guy who was forced to play a role by forces beyond his control and tries to do as much good as he can in a bad situation.<br />
<br />
In the process, we get an atypical look at a typical pulp story protagonist. It's hard to find anything heroic about Bristol - he's a pirate driven by rage and vengeance, with as much depth to him as a bloodstain on a sidewalk, someone who wins against impossible odds because the universe revolves around him. In any other Hubbard story he'd be presented as a hero, but since this tale follows Mike de Wolf, we get a less biased account and so see just how frankly unpleasant all the Bristols and Yellow Hairs and whatnot really are. By which I mean here Hubbard is actually <i>acknowledging</i> that the "hero" is a scowling murder machine wrapped in a thick layer of plot armor.<br />
<br />
And even though we and Mike both know that Bristol is more or less fated to win, what would be boring if the story was following Bristol instead becomes exciting because we're instead following Mike. Because we like Mike, and we want him to somehow prevail. We see him fight to change the course of the plot and even succeed here and there, only for his victories to be cruelly snatched away with the sound of tearing paper. So not only is there some real tension since there's no guarantee that the main character will survive, much less win, the fact that Mike is all but fated to lose means there's a sense of tragedy as the story enters the final chapters.<br />
<br />
It's not quite a classical Greek tragedy where a fundamentally flawed figure like Oedipus or Jason is being set up for a fall by the gods as punishment for their hubris, since again Mike is basically a nice guy stuck playing a villain. And it's not quite as bleak as the old Norse waiting for Ragnarok while knowing that even the gods were fated to die, since there is at least a sliver of hope that Hackett might change his mind and give Mike some measure of victory. But it's a grim and fatalistic mood that makes Mike's initial success against the pirate fleet in the story's climax all the more satisfying, and his subsequent loss all the harder.<br />
<br />
Contrast this again to <i>Mission Earth</i>, where none of us believed it when Gris "won" at any point, his defeat was both inevitable and too long in coming, and the only reason we rooted for Heller was because he was merely obnoxious instead of a sex offender.<br />
<br />
<i>Typewriter </i>does have its problems, of course. The way Mike ended up in a story is a bit silly, and the mechanics of how time progresses and events unfold within the story and while its author is writing it are a bit wonky, though these are hardly crippling defects. More troubling are the moral questions raised by an author's ability to create and subsequently destroy whole worlds full of characters that Mike swears are real, which implies that any third-rate writer is unknowingly both a god and a mass murderer. Which isn't to say that Hackett doesn't revel in the almost-divine power he wields as a creator of fiction... and I bet you could work those sentiments, even if they aren't expressed
by Hubbard's actual author avatar René Lafayette, into an examination of the mindset
of someone who later founded a <strike>cult</strike> <strike>tax dodge</strike> perfectly legitimate religion.<br />
<br />
At any rate, Hubbard probably did this to give more weight to the events happening within "Blood and Loot," so we treated the character deaths as gravely as we did those in less metafictional stories. But this does run the risk of instead distracting the reader with worries that maybe authors should stop writing fiction altogether to save the lives of all those temporary but real beings they're killing for the sake of drama. Or killing and <i>re</i>-killing in the case of poor Captain Fernando... which actually undermines Hubbard's point that these deaths are meaningful if they can be so easily rewritten. <br />
<br />
But again, these flaws don't ruin the story.<i> </i> Instead <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i>'s biggest issue is where it falls in Hubbard's bibliography. It's a story based around a fresh idea that deconstructs several industry standards and features engaging characters and an interesting plot - and it comes smack in the middle of Hubbard's pulp fiction phase. <i>Final Blackout</i> came out just a few months before it, "The Slaver" and "Space Can" were published just two years later. And as I've said, this story does everything right with the "villain as main character" conceit that <i>Mission Earth</i> did wrong, yet was written first.<br />
<br />
And that's the big question this book raises - how can Hubbard write it and immediately go back to churning out schlock?<br />
<br />
<i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> proves he <i>can</i> be creative, even groundbreaking, if you buy the hype in the book's blurbs and introduction. The chapters with Hackett and Mike's commentary show that Hubbard is in fact aware of how formulaic and predictable these sorts of pulp stories are, and the book as a whole shows he can shake up that formula and do something interesting with it. So why didn't he do more stories like this, metafictional pieces that skewer and deconstruct a literary genre even while having fun with it? And more importantly, why didn't he learn from this experience?<br />
<br />
Well, I guess he learned <i>some</i> things from it. "The Last Drop" was a weird little story, "The Great Secret" was pretty far removed from the old formula. The Ole Doc Methuselah stories were... formulaic in a different way, at least, even if the main character was an ass. But none of these subsequent offerings were exactly good literature, and then came <i>Masters of Sleep</i> to herald the kind of author Hubbard was becoming. So Hubbard's brush with good literature in <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> at best changed the ways his other books sucked, and he forgot some of its most important lessons by the end of his career when he unleashed <i>Mission Earth</i> on an audience that probably didn't deserve it.<br />
<br />
I can't offer much of an explanation for this, only speculation. Maybe he just didn't see the flaws in his later stories and assumed he had grown out of his pre-<i>Typewriter</i> shortcomings. Maybe he liked simple tales with simple heroes who always defeated simple villains more than he did writing about writing itself. Maybe someone else wrote <i>Typewriter</i> and Hubbard hid the body somewhere in the Mojave. Maybe it didn't sell enough for him to think doing more works like it was worthwhile.<br />
<br />
So we can only wonder what could've been, what Hubbard's career would have been like if <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> had been a launching point instead of a momentarily flare of brilliance, what kind of satirical takes on popular entertainment he might have penned instead of the "satire" of <i>Mission Earth</i>. He probably wouldn't have been as prolific, but he also might have been known as someone who stood out from his peers and did things differently instead of being another example from the Golden Age of Pulp Literature. Maybe the critical thinking skills he developed through this sort of work may have changed some of his opinions and behavior in his later life.<br />
<br />
It's tragic, really. Without <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i>, Hubbard's just an uninspired writer who got a little better, then considerably worse, over the course of his career. With it - and taking into account parts of <i>Fear</i> and <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> - we can see him as someone who could have been so much more, who might have been a decent, even great writer. All the ingredients were there, he clearly knew what he was doing wrong and how he could do things better, but...<br />
<br />
Well, we've seen what he did instead. Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-9316361985188212282016-11-11T20:07:00.003-06:002017-02-04T13:54:31.857-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen - At the End of All ThingsIt's hard to say when the battle ended, given the sun's unsteady progress through the sky, but when we rejoin Mike it's close to midnight. He's managed to drag himself out of the sea and up the hill overlooking Nombre de Dios. The town itself lays in "smoldering ruins" after being ruthlessly sacked by the murderous pirates, and in the process of slipping past it, Mike figured out why the coastal defenses switched sides - "Bristol had landed a force to take them from the fortified rear while the Spanish fleet was sucked into the trap from the sea." Have to say, that sounds like what a Hubbard Protagonist would do in this sort of situation.<br />
<br />
So everything's gone horribly wrong, what should have been a no-brainer victory has instead turned into a crushing, catastrophic defeat... and I guess Mike just lost a naval battle too. Anyway, Mike figures he's off-script now, he can't hear the typewriter clacking above him. I'm not sure about that, though - the typewriter seemed to approve of him going into the water at the end of the last chapter, and while the narration claims that Mike crawled onto the shore "only because of his own endeavor," well... I guess it depends on how bad a writer you think Hackett is, if he's the sort to end the final encounter between the hero and villain in an anticlimax where the bad guy falls overboard without so much as crossing swords with the hero, or if he's the slightly less bad sort of writer who would do that just to have the villain reappear one last time in a "shocking" end-of-book twist before being defeated for good and in a more satisfying manner.<br />
<br />
As far as Mike can tell the story is over - which isn't to say that the pirates aren't busy sacking the town and debauching themselves. More to the point, the minor characters Mike's been living with for the past months are all dead, and he's lost the affections of the Lady Marion after all the progress he made with her was so cruelly retconned. But he's still alive, he's still got his sword, and he still has all the skills that made him an effective antagonist, so Mike's headed towards his villa to pay its new owner a visit.<br />
<br />
Now, we might question this, ask why Mike is persisting, maybe speculate that he's been consumed by the role he fell into. But what else can he do in this sort of situation? Electricity won't be invented for another couple of centuries, the same with indoor plumbing. He's stuck in this crappy pirate story, so he might as well play his part to the very end. Plus by now he has a very legitimate reason to hate Bristol.<br />
<br />
There's a sentry out front, sprawled on the ground drunk, so Mike helps himself to a pistol and kicks the manor's door in. This quite ruins Bristol and Lady Marion's romantic candlelit dinner, as you might imagine, and they both shoot to their feet in astonishment.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Gog's wounds! Who's this?"<br />
<br />
"I'm Mike de Wolf. The fellow you call Miguel St. Raoul de Lobo. Can it be," he added with sarcasm which had become habitual, "that I am not welcome in my own house?"<br />
<br />
"Damme!" said Bristol. "Ye're a ghost!"<br />
<br />
"No, m'lad," said Mike. "It's you that are a ghost!"</blockquote>
<br />
Meh. See what you're going for, Mike, but you'll have to do better than 'no, you!' to impress me.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Lady Marion was white as she looked from Mike to Bristol.<br />
<br />
"But ye're dead!" said Bristol. "With my own eyes I saw it!"</blockquote>
<br />
No, you saw him fall into the water and <i>assumed</i> he was dead... interesting, Bristol is the story-within-a-story's hero, but he's acting about as intelligent as a typical Hubbard Villain.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"You've got the same eyes now," said Mike.</blockquote>
<br />
Better.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"But why - have you come back?" said Bristol.<br />
<br />
"To kill you," said Mike.<br />
<br />
It had no great effect upon Bristol. He had led a charmed life for so long that he was afraid of nothing. He reached towards his rapier which lay on the arms of a chair beside the wall.</blockquote>
<br />
You can just imagine how this would read if it was following Bristol's point of view, how it would say that he was utterly fearless and confident and inspired to fight for his beloved and yadda yadda. It's refreshing for Hubbard to admit that this hero has no <i>reason</i> to be afraid because this world goes out of the way to make him win.<br />
<br />
Mike's first instinct is to just shoot Bristol then and there. Mike may be the very best character to appear in any Hubbard story. But though he "ached" to do the smart and straightforward thing, he also doesn't want to upset the Lady Marion, so even though he's exhausted and not in shape for a duel, he says he doesn't want to fight before a woman and invites Bristol onto the front porch to murder each other like civilized people.<br />
<br />
So the protagonist and antagonist step outside for the final battle. But first, Mike, "humanly prey to jealousy," asks how glad Marion was to see Bristol again, and surmises that he asked her to marry him.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"So I did," said Bristol.<br />
<br />
"And she accepted," said Mike, "and then, amid a very touching scene, she said she could see you marching in triumph through the streets of London with your name on every lip and that at last she had found a man brave enough to command her humbleness and that she would be content to spend the remainder of her life worshipping you. And then she kissed you."<br />
<br />
"Of course," said Bristol. "But - how did you know?"<br />
<br />
"There's a lot I know."</blockquote>
<br />
Ah, so close, Mike. At this point you might as well tell Bristol the truth, that he's the designated hero of a shallow and poorly-written adventure story whose every success is due to contrivance and the mandates of a dull and predictable plot. Then when he's having an existential crisis you can shoot him in the face.<br />
<br />
It's set up to be a standard swordfight, with the oddity that Bristol first removes his boots, "the better to grip the floor with his feet." They make their last boasts about killing the other, Bristol shouts "Guard!" and lunges, the rapiers clash...<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HYVyw6wntIU">Well, this music is certainly appropriate.</a> It even fits the scene in this book, too.<br />
<br />
Mike shakes from the impact of Bristol's attack before realizing it's not just him, the whole world is violently quaking. Lightning splits the sky, thunder roars so loudly that it "seemed capable of tearing Mike apart." And in a terrible crash the front porch collapses upon Bristol the buccaneer and that nameless and incompetent door guard.<br />
<br />
Huh. Almost an anticlimactic as "de Lobo" getting offed by falling overboard.<br />
<br />
There's no time to exult in this unearned victory, Mike hears cries of distress and sees Marion at the door trying to force her way past the debris. He drags her out and tells her to come along, and even though Mike's still the villain as far as she knows, she's weeping in terror and complies. They can't make any progress, though, between the torrential rains and violent earthquakes they can't even stay upright. The best the two can do is cling to each other.<br />
<br />
A terrified Marion asks what's going on, and Mike insists that it's nothing but an earthquake and a storm. But let's stop to think about this - this weather probably isn't part of the book's ending, right? The typewriter stopped, and this isn't the sort of story-within-a-story where the triumphant final battle is followed by a sudden natural disaster that kills the protagonist. So my guess is that this cataclysm is the result of either Mike trying to change things too far... or this is just what happens to a literary universe after the author types The End and sends the manuscript off to the editor. Which is kind of depressing.<br />
<br />
At any rate, I think it should be <i>more</i> than a storm and earthquake, something incredible and apocalyptic - the seas draining away, the stars falling from the sky, the horizon being swallowed by a void that grows swiftly and terrifyingly closer. Or maybe something less disastrous but no less final, like an unnatural stillness when everything in the concluded narrative comes to an eternal stop.<br />
<br />
But that might be too much for Hubbard, and we should really just be happy that the story we've had is so not-awful. Mike reveals that Bristol is dead but that he didn't kill him, then has to ask an important question.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Yes. Marion, look at me. Have you no memory of loving me? Have you no thought of all the months we were together? You were happy with me-"<br />
<br />
"Mike! Hold me! Hold me, Mike! I'm frightened!"<br />
<br />
He held her close to him.</blockquote>
<br />
I guess that's a 'yes, unless she remembers how 'Miguel' introduced himself when he made his entrance minutes ago. So hurray, in literally the last moments of this world, Mike got his girl back. Just in time for a tree to topple directly towards them, prompting him to try to shield her body with his own. But then with one last earthquake the tree vanishes, the storm around them vanishes, and finally Marion vanishes.<br />
<br />
And then, in the next and final chapter, Mike is lying on a street while a cab driver asks if he's alright and needs a ride home. Mike pushes himself upright and steadies himself against a streetlamp and insists he's fine, notices from the cab's license plate that it's the same year he remembers before ending up in a pulp novel, and when he asks the cabbie he's relieved the hear he's in "N'Yawk." So Mike decides to walk on home.<br />
<br />
At this point you might be tempted to wonder how Mike wound up back in the world he's originally from without the benefits of an electrical short in a bathroom, and why he ended up on a street instead of his point of departure. Don't.<br />
<br />
Mike thinks as he walks, about how glad he is to be back, how he'll have another try at joining the Philharmonic, and of course he'll see all his author friends again like LaFayette and Winchester and Hackett. Mike almost considers telling Hackett about his ordeal in an attempt to prevent anything like it from happening again, but decides against it - not because he's afraid of being sent to an asylum, I guess Hubbard hasn't developed his proper hate-on for psychiatry yet, but because it would cause "Hackett's already gigantic opinion of himself" to "probably expand beyond endurable limits," since the guy always likes to prattle on about "the powers of an author."<br />
<br />
No mention of warning Hackett that every time he writes a story, he's creating living, breathing people who bleed and die horribly as the plot demands, and once the story is over they're all consumed by a catastrophic storm and earthquake before disappearing into nothingness. Huh.<br />
<br />
Mike tries to keep his thoughts clear of a certain subject, but can't avoid it forever, and has to face the fact that "He had lost her," and will never see her again. It's a thought so horrible that he has to stop and lean against a wall for a moment, until an uncaring policeman orders him to move along. It's a moment, I think, that would be more effective if Mike referred to "her" by her actual name.<br />
<br />
So he walks along, bitter and angry with the world he just left and the world he's back in, and the cruelties of fate.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Ah, yes. The fate. It was his luck to meet somebody in a story and then return without her. It was his luck. But you couldn't expect the breaks all the time. You couldn't ask luck to run your way forever. He had had her for a little while, in a land ruled by a typewriter in the clouds. And now he was out of that and there was no type-</blockquote>
<br />
And now, the punchline.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Abruptly Mike de Wolf stopped. His jaw slacked a trifle and his hand went up to his mouth to cover it. His eyes were fixed upon the fleecy clouds which scurried across the moon.<br />
<br />
Up there--<br />
<br />
God?<br />
<br />
In a dirty bathrobe?</blockquote>
<br />
At first I thought Hubbard was implying that capital-G God is another slob writing the sad story of our world in his pajamas, but the intention is probably that Mike has somehow realized that he's escaped one story but is still just a character in another, and is looking up at L. Ron himself from the business end of a typewriter.<br />
<br />
And since that's the end of Mike's story, presumably this version of N'Yawk and everyone in it are then swallowed up in a hellish storm before being consigned to the darkness beyond the last page of the book.<br />
<br />
Good night, everybody!<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-twelve-gang.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Twelve</span></a>Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-83477298122762683032016-11-09T15:38:00.001-06:002016-12-27T19:12:31.244-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Twelve - Gang Aft AgleyI never thought I'd prefer to immerse myself in an L. Ron Hubbard story instead of checking the news, but here we are.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Dawn cracked like the firing of a pistol and there was the sun, just up over the eastern horizon, a great scarlet ball which sent ribbons of flame quivering across the zenith. The sea was smooth and though this hour in these waters should have had no wind, there was wind, about twenty miles of it, quite sufficient to send prows knifing and foaming. But no ships were moving.</blockquote>
<br />
This is the unnatural stillness that comes from the author not quite understanding how ships work instead of the unnatural stillness that comes because the author hasn't started typing yet, it looks like. Mike is still able to act normally, and takes a moment to size up the opposition through a telescope. The pirate fleet is outnumbered two-to-one, especially since the Spanish fleet has somehow jumped from twenty to fifty ships since Mike led it out of port. Another oddity is that it looks like Bristol's using the <i>Fleetfoot</i> as his flagship, the very vessel Mike stole when he escaped St. Kitts, but at this point Mike is so jaded that he doesn't give this a second thought. And of course all the pirate ships are "rigged square without a lateen showing on any stick," which... are words that presumably mean something to someone who knows more about sailing than I do. I actually miss that glossary at the end of <i>Masters of Sleep</i>, unreliable as it was.<br />
<br />
In the space of a paragraph break the ships suddenly start moving, and as the fleets close, Mike orders a serpentine (a light cannon, I learned this from <i>Medieval II Total War</i>) to fire to gauge the range. This is followed by a shot from a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilisk_(cannon)">basilisk</a> that brings down the foremast of the enemy flagship, and so Mike gives the command to fire at will. Signal flags are hoisted, the Spanish ships start taking potshots that the privateers can't answer, and then the enemy is in range for a broadside.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Fire!" said Mike.<br />
<br />
On fifty ships battery captains loped from fore bulkhead to aft, chopping down a hand as each gun was passed. If they had all been fired at once, the gunwales would not have stood the strain. And so their flame and fury lasted down the length of the vessel for half a minute, lasting over the fleet for nearly three minutes and hiding all the gilt and all the flags completely in a fog.</blockquote>
<br />
And so the battle begins, which is to say that the Spanish give the English pirates a bruising that the sea dogs can't answer. But there's something to note during all of this - Mike isn't doing much thinking or reflection now, he's just giving orders in between descriptions of the action. I'm not sure whether Hubbard is doing this out of habit or to make a point about how Mike's character is determining his actions, but it's a bit strange to go from Mike spending big paragraphs noticing all the weirdness in the situation to just saying lines of dialogue.<br />
<br />
Mike gives the order to "Wear ship," turning away from the enemy and traveling inside the clouds of your own gunsmoke while you reload, so when you turn back and come into full view you'll be ready to fire again. He cycles through this tactic again and again, but eventually the enemy gets in range of their own weapons and begins to fire back. Mike paces about giving his men orders, deafened from the roar of cannons and mostly blind from smoke, but despite these distractions he still has time to notice that even though the fighting has gone on for an hour, the sun hasn't moved in the sky.<br />
<br />
And then he breaks character to have a little freakout. One minute Mike is playing his role as the almirante, the next a round of chain shot comes scything through the air and turns poor Captain Fernando "into two chunks and his feet were still stepped back to brace as shoulders and head were squashed against the helm, spattering the quartermasters."<br />
<br />
You know what, I'm disappointed Fernando didn't die repeatedly over the course of the book in increasingly outlandish ways as Hackett rewrote the story again and again. But I guess one revision was the most we could expect from the guy.<br />
<br />
Anyway, this surprisingly sudden and violent death is enough to make Mike queasy and take in the mangled wreckage and bodies on the ship's deck, the screams of the wounded and dying, the blood running into the scuppers, whatever those are, I think they're like gutters for boats? He tries to remind himself that this is all in the hands of one Horace Hackett, but that doesn't steady his nerves, so instead he focuses on the immediate cause of his trouble - Bristol the pirate. And that does it, the power of his hatred for his designated enemy lets Mike embrace his role, angrily giving the orders to continue the fight. Maybe this is something you have to do if you've been dropped into a pulp novel. Maybe this is something soldiers have to do to get through a battle outside of pulp novels. <br />
<br />
Mike has his vessel savage Bristol's flagship, crossing its T and circling around to give it a vicious broadside that reduces it to a floating ruin. The other Spanish ships imitate the maneuver, and soon the two lines of warships have moved past each other. Mike's down twenty ships, and gives orders for some of his vessels to rescue survivors before the wrecks finish sinking, and then it's time to turn around and pursue the English pirates and trap them between the Spanish fleet and the guns of Nombre de Dios.<br />
<br />
And I'm not complaining much, am I? I've grumbled about the author's use of naval terminology he doesn't define for us, but there's nothing fundamentally wrong with this chapter. It's a decent enough naval battle that doesn't get totally bogged down in nautical jargon, and unlike the climaxes of every other Hubbard story that comes to mind, it's actually... I'm not sure if it's exciting, but it's certainly more interesting than watching Heller fight a bad guy. Because we don't know what's going to happen, we know that Mike is seemingly fated to lose as per literary convention, but we've also seen him try to defy this fate, so the outcome is still up in the air. And we're rooting for this character, he's likeable, and an underdog, instead of the typical Hubbard protagonist who only has disadvantages to make his inevitable victory all the more incredible.<br />
<br />
Mike himself has to suppress a surge of optimism as everything goes according to plan, because he knows "There was decidedly something very spooky about this action. He was winning it!" And it's not just because Hackett has forgotten the sun so it's still just over the horizon and turning the sea red in some accidental symbolism. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And then, suddenly, the sun leaped up the sky and in the blink of an eye was at the zenith!<br />
<br />
The sailing-master didn't think that was odd, either.<br />
<br />
When Mike pointed out to Trombo that there were nearly as many English ships left in action as there had been at the beginning, even though half the English fleet had been sunk, Trombo shrugged and muttered something about the will of God.</blockquote>
<br />
Again, this is cute if you don't think about it and try to work out whether Hackett is belatedly mentioning the sun's position or actually going back and rewriting this chapter, which would raise questions of how Mike was able to experience these sudden revisions to the world around him.<br />
<br />
So the mysteriously not-battered English are sailing right into the town's coastal defenses, the Spanish are chasing them, the nameless Spanish sailors are all enjoying themselves and convinced that they're herding their enemies to their doom, while Mike is still feeling like something is wrong but holding out hope that "maybe Horace had a stroke."<br />
<br />
And that's the scary thing about hope, isn't it? You cling to it when things seem bad, or even when things seem good and you're frightened that the unthinkable might happen anyway. But when that hope gets snatched away from you, when your worst fears are realized, when you watch that light dwindle and get snuffed out, the darkness that comes in its place is even deeper and bleaker.<br />
<br />
The fleeing privateers finally get in range of Nombre de Dios' cannons, but the guns don't fire. Mike bellows orders and gives signal flags to no effect, so he instead tells his fleet to continue the pursuit. And <i>then</i> the guns fire, upon the <i>Spanish</i> fleet. The Spaniards are so stunned that they spend a moment floating there getting shot to pieces, and when they finally try to act the wind suddenly picks up and keeps them from fleeing out of range. Suddenly the privateers are attacking again, blasting the Spanish at close range before boarding the surviving ships. In all of a page, the battle is turned on its head, and Mike is face-to-face with his nemesis, the dread pirate Bristol.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mike stood amid the ruins of his quarterdeck and toppled mizzen and beheld the devil swoop upon him. This, then, was the end. This was the part where Bristol ran him through for a dirty spick and fed his corpse to the sharks. And this was not cardboard scenery or puppet men. Pain and death were real!</blockquote>
<br />
But can be reversed based on the author's whims, remember. So there's that.<br />
<br />
It's hardly a climactic confrontation, there's no exchange of dialogue, no fat paragraph about Mike's thoughts or fancy swordplay. Again, we can't be sure whether this is indicative of Hackett writing an anticlimax in-story, Hubbard writing an anticlimax on purpose, or Hubbard writing an anticlimax out of habit. Let's go with the middle option, though, because Mike is actively defying narrative convention.<br />
<br />
He doesn't draw his rapier, since he knows that will only get him killed. Instead he leaps behind a serpentine left pointing along the deck by a now-dead crew, meaning the cannon is now aimed directly at Bristol. Mike picks up the linstock (torch?), lights the weapon, it fires-<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Bristol was wreathed in smoke, untouched even by powder sparks.</blockquote>
<br />
Thrice-damned plot armor!<br />
<br />
I'm not sure how it happens, but the very next line, Mike's in the water, getting swept away - oh, he grabbed a spar at some point? While firing the gun. Whatever. Our hero's last, desperate attempt to defeat his enemy has failed, and the chapter ends with him in sea, his fleet in shambles, his men slain, his plans ruined, and his last chance at revenge foiled. "And in his battered ears rang the English cheer which meant victory, and the whir of a contented typewriter in the sky."<br />
<br />
Ugh, and the worst part is, since the typewriter is still clacking away, even Mike's survival is all according to the plot. Tune in next time when we try to figure out just what happened to make everything go so wrong and wrap up this story.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-eleven-but.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Eleven</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapters-thirteen-and.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Forward to Chapters Thirteen and Fourteen </span></a> </div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-37336415410985193102016-11-07T15:00:00.001-06:002016-11-09T15:38:58.224-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Eleven - But the Future Refused to ChangeBack in the story... or, the story being written in the story we're reading... Mike has spent three days desperately putting together defenses to save Nombre de Dios from pirates. Cannons have been salvaged from the wreck of the <i>Josef y Maria</i>, hundreds of slaves have sweated putting together fortifications along the shore, and while "sudden reinforcements of one character or another had magically appeared," Mike sourly tells the governor that at best they'll be able to make things "uncomfortable" for Bristol's sea dogs.<br />
<br />
The governor doesn't like this pessimism, and tells Mike to go home and get some rest. Our hero starts trudging along the path out of town, when-<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And then it happened!<br />
<br />
There was a ripping sound somewhere high overhead. The whole coast trembled! There was a repetition of splashes in the harbor and a shaking roar along the beach! All went dark!<br />
<br />
Mike was no longer on the path; he was on the quarterdeck of the <i>Josef y Maria</i>!</blockquote>
<br />
Yes, as if a switch had been turned, as if an eye had been blinked, as if
some phantom force in the universe had made a move eons beyond our
comprehension, suddenly, everything's changed. The shore battery Mike (well, slave labor) spent days putting together is gone, but the fort on the north side of the channel is now twice as large and has a twin on the south side, the town itself is larger and more boisterous, and the harbor is filled with Spanish ships. There's a full moon in the sky even though Mike last saw it in its last quarter, and the late Captain Fernando steps forward to inform the almirante that a fleet of pirates has been sighted just a few leagues away.<br />
<br />
Or in other words, Hackett tore up the last few chapters and did those rewrites his editor wanted.<br />
<br />
It's a neat idea, but it just raises more and more nagging questions the more you think about it, specifically about how time works in this situation. If Mike had to live through all those months the almirante spent preparing his forces, why didn't he suddenly have to relive everything his character went though to get to this new scenario? If Mike was taking months to go through the book's timeline while Hackett was churning this crap out in a few days, wouldn't Hackett be able to go back and change the book's ending before Mike reached it? And if Mike is aware of his character's past even if he hasn't necessarily lived it, how would he remember the original way things went instead of getting partially-rewritten himself?<br />
<br />
I <i>almost</i> want to try to chart this out in MS Paint, but it's probably not worth it. Just a book, I should really just relax. Or rather get back to fretting about the election while not sweating the metaphysical and metafictional details of a century-old story.<br />
<br />
Fernando's miraculous reappearance is accompanied by the rattling of a typewriter in the heavens, so Mike is stuck saying his character's dialogue where he swears that in the morning "those English dogs will be shark bait" like a true villain. Worse, when Father Mercy shows up, Mike agrees to his request that any captives be given over to the rack, along with Bristol, "if there's anything left" of him by the time the almirante is through with him.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"The English girl," said Father Mercy. "What about her now?"<br />
<br />
"The Lady Marion," said Mike, angry at being a puppet but helpless, "is my particular own - if I can tame her."<br />
<br />
Father Mercy grinned evilly and drifted away.</blockquote>
<br />
And it's only then that the typewriter fades and Mike is able to lean against a railing, fretting about what he's said and what must have changed. He doesn't give a Psychlo's eleventh finger about the dead men and ruined ships rising from the depths or the moon changing - though Mike does ask Captain Fernando about them. The officer insists he's seen things like the moon changing shape and considers it "The will of God," and as far as Fernando knows the fleet has been there all along.<br />
<br />
No, what's got Mike really worried is what these retcons mean for his relationship with Lady Marion. He goes home to check on her and finds her under guard, and when Mike steps inside,<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Tall and regal, her face wreathed with disdain, she faced him. "Well, now, Sir Admiral! You did not expect Bristol to come, and yet come he has! And he'll pick your rotten bones before night."<br />
<br />
"Aye, so even you think he's a vulture!" said Mike. He had tried to stop that, but now again he was aware of the clicking sound on high.<br />
<br />
"Now go to your defeat!" said the Lady Marion. "My curse shall follow you!"</blockquote>
<br />
Yep, she's gotten retconned too. Mike's efforts to win Marion over, the happy months they spent together, the blossoming relationship between a fictional character and someone who had an electrical accident in his friend's bathroom, it's all been torn out, wadded up and thrown in the trash. Mike's not a hero antagonist anymore, he's an evil cliche who kidnapped the hero's girlfriend in vain hopes of making her his bride.<br />
<br />
I think this is the first time in a Hubbard story that a character has really lost something and I've felt sorry for them because of it. Mike's trying to make a difference, trying to turn his life around, trying to make his own way in the world, but forces beyond his control are foiling his every effort to change things, and worse, trapping him under the label of a villain. It's more effective than those times that Heller or Yellow Hair or Yellow Heller or whoever think they've lost their shallow female love interests because we <i>know</i> they're going to turn up safe and sound by the end of the story, while in Mike's case, he's pretty much doomed.<br />
<br />
So Mike is utterly "Desolated" by this development, but only for a moment. Then he gets angry, furious that all his efforts were undone just for the benefit of "Bristol, a damned puppet!"<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Damn you!" said Mike, shaking his fist at the sky. "I'll show you! Do you hear me? I'll knock your fair-haired son of a witch into the briny and then we'll see what you'll do about it! I'm going to <i>win!"</i></blockquote>
<br />
All Mike can do now is embrace his role as the story's villain and do his best to kill Bristol in hopes of somehow winning Marion back afterwards. So he goes back to his flagship, assembles his officers, and lays out the battle plan - break up, encircle and savage Bristol's armada so that the remnants are forced into the teeth of Nombre de Dios' gun batteries. <br />
<br />
It's a good plan, I suppose. But it's a plan devised by someone a story has decided is the villain, for the final battle against who the story has declared a hero. That's probably why Mike is "resolute," but not "glowing with confidence" like his officers at the end of the chapter - like us, he knows this isn't going to end in his favor.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-ten-nobody.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Ten</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-twelve-gang.html">Forward to Chapter Twelve</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-10910246489492139542016-11-04T16:59:00.003-05:002016-11-07T15:00:49.911-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Ten - Nobody Likes How Things Are GoingOur villain protagonist has a patient, unexciting plan to endure the hero antagonist's attacks until he's finally forced to attack the protagonist's fortified position, a fight even the hero would be hard-pressed to win. Unfortunately, this wouldn't be terribly exciting whether you were watching the hero or the villain - either the antagonist sits around for months, or the protagonist runs out of raids to run and is forced into a losing battle.<br />
<br />
So, one night Mike gets to host Captain Fernando, the governor of Nombre de Dios, and the governor of Panama at "a gala dinner, entirely too gay to foreshadow disaster." After all the other guests are sent away, the governor of Panama announces that he has news. Mike says the same, is allowed to go first, and explains how he plans to leave the next treasure fleet lightly-guarded to entice Bristol to attack, before bringing up a reserve and catching the pirate against Nombre de Dios' defenses. "This plan is based on my knowledge of the psychology of - of Bristol." Guess Mike is a bad guy after all.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, the governor's news trumps - ugh, my migraine - Mike's. Orders just came in that relieve Mike of his command, so Fernando is now in charge of the Spanish forces in the New World, and he and the other contrary bigwigs thinks Mike's plan "is a strategy which looks very slim." Mike gives them a glare and storms out before they can get any more words in.<br />
<br />
One paragraph break and we're "Much later that night" in Mike's room with Marion, presumably after she's helped him burn off some frustration. Though if that was indeed the case, they went right to it instead of discussing what had gotten Mike so agitated, since it's only now - or, "much later" - that Mike explains he's lost his command. When she realizes she's to blame for his problems she bursts into tears while he tries to lie no, it's not her fault.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Oh, yes," she wept.<br />
<br />
"Have you no thought of what might happen to you?" said Mike.<br />
<br />
Evidently she had not yet considered that, but she looked up at him proudly.<br />
<br />
"You would not let them touch me."<br />
<br />
"No," said Mike. "No, of course not."</blockquote>
<br />
Huh. Maybe I'm projecting here, but it almost seems like Mike was annoyed that his love interest was so fawning and flat that she could only see the latest plot developments in how they affected him. Okay, I'm almost certainly projecting here.<br />
<br />
At any rate, the next morning Father Mercy comes to visit, only to find Mike's mansion barricaded and a warning shot waiting for any demands for entry. You'd think this showdown between a high-ranking priest and a disgraced admiral would go further, but nothing happens for the next five days, until a battered wreck of a ship limps into Nombre de Dios' harbor. Mike leaves his home for this, and gets to meet a mortally-wounded Fernando, who reveals that the Spanish fleet was annihilated by the English pirates, leaving only this ruined flagship and thirty men alive. Fernando begs Mike's forgiveness, and our hero grants it, along with wishes that "whatever place you go to have a kinder god than this."<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mike turned aside as they bore the captain away. No typewriter in the sky here. Nothing but real, agonizing death. Those streaks down from the scuppers of the <i>Josef y Maria</i>, real blood had made those.</blockquote>
<br />
Well, it all <i>seems</i> very real, but just wait until next chapter.<br />
<br />
Having left the shelter of his manor, Mike is soon accosted by Father Mercy and some "church troops" trying to arrest him, only for the town's governor to intervene with his own forces. When the padre complains that Mike is an "infidel," the governor counters that they'd be mad to throw out the only man who can hope to defend the town now, and puts Mike in full command of the remaining Spanish forces. Mike's disinterested and depressed, but does suggest that they salvage the guns from the sinking flagship and fortify the beach to hold off a landing, and also send runners to Panama for reinforcements, though they'll probably be too late.<br />
<br />
Our hero's only hope is that, since he's been able to change the plot of the story a bit, with some effort he could change it further. And then... we cut to Horace Hackett in his publisher's office, talking through "Blood and Loot."<br />
<br />
Jules Montcalm does not like what he's hearing, and another author, one René LaFayette... really, Hubbard? Your own pen name? Well, R. L. Not-Hubbard doesn't like it either, and Montcalm accuses Hackett of trying to sell a scene that even the writer thinks sucks. The editor concludes that the whole battle is too easy, with Bristol tearing through the Spanish fleet and then overcoming a few puny shore batteries, and Hackett admits that okay, it's a bit weak. Then the editor asks,<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Well, your strong man in this story is this Spanish admiral and where was he?"<br />
<br />
"I dunno," said Horace. "You got to understand that sometimes, when you're writing, a story just takes care of itself."</blockquote>
<br />
This raises all sorts of questions. Like how could Hackett, the story's author, not know what is happening in it? Did all the intrigue at Nombre de Dios happen without any of his input? Did he not notice that the almirante wasn't leading the attack against Bristol's pirate armada? And if part of his pitch for the story was that it had a really interesting villain, why did Hackett let said villain slip out of sight?<br />
<br />
Well, Montcalm wants a proper showdown between Bristol and this admiral, and it has to take place at sea because "This is a sea story, not a land story." Hackett complains that a final duel on the quarterdeck has been done to death, but Montcalm points out that it works, and orders the author to give him a proper swordfight by Monday or else "I'll - I'll let Tritewell illustrate it!"<br />
<br />
We end with Hackett grumbling about having to tear up and throw out perfectly good copy, only for LaFayette to remark that he's lucky Montcalm isn't scrapping the whole stupid book.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
When he passed René LaFayette he muttered, "And after all the drink I've bought <i>you</i>."<br />
<br />
René grinned.</blockquote>
<br />
Normally Hubbard doesn't take such a direct approach when it comes to tormenting his creations. At least Gris never had to deal with an author avatar calling him names and insulting his decisions... unless Heller counts. Yeah, he might.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-nine-waiting.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Nine</span></a> <br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-eleven-but.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Forward to Chapter Eleven</span></a></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-13415093626191416622016-11-02T19:24:00.002-05:002016-12-27T15:44:41.287-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Nine - The Waiting GameSo after a seventeen-page behemoth of a chapter, now we get four-and-a-half pages of Chapter Nine. My guess is that Hubbard wanted Mike and Marion getting all kissyface to end a chapter and thought that tacking on this bit after a paragraph break would underscore the drama or romance or whatever, but there's no way of knowing.<br />
<br />
We fast forward through a month and learn that Mike has been getting nothing but bad news - Bristol's pirates have massacred everyone in the fortress of Santa Ysabel, Terra Nueva has been burned to the ground and its inhabitants eaten by cannibalistic natives, and Father Mercy is outraged that the English are murdering Catholic priests and "exalting their blasphemous Protestant creed!" All the while, Mike's scouts can find no sign of the pirates, only the aftermath of their vicious attacks.<br />
<br />
Everyone's urging Mike to take action and deal with Bristol once and for all, but he coolly and calmly rebuffs them. When Nombre de Dios' governor demands that el almirante sally forth to wipe out the pirates, Mike points out that the minute he does so, the local Indian spies will let Bristol know that it's a perfect time to strike, so he'll wait until he knows for certain where the enemy is before he leaves his headquarters, thank you very much. When Fernando reports that the English are offering a bounty for Spanish heads delivered by their Indian allies, Mike deduces that it's a lie, and if he doesn't give Bristol any easy targets, his pirates will run out of gold and be forced to attack him here. And as for Father Mercy's complaints about dead priests, Mike's response is to knock him to his knees, point his rapier at the padre's throat, and suggest that he go back to church to "Pray for the souls of the people killed by the buccaneers and add a prayer for yourself, thanking your God that He put me in between the buccaneer fleet and the shore here at Nombre de Dios."<br />
<br />
It helps of course the Mike knows Bristol's real objective is to reclaim the Lady Marion. And so he waits patiently for a month... another month? Same month? Well, after news of attacks continues to come in, I suppose Mike loses his patience and gives a letter to a suspected native spy, a message asking Bristol to "Kindly fall upon Nombre de Dios so that we can have done with you," with a P.S. that "The Lady Marion wishes to send her love." for that little extra 'up yours.' Within "a few weeks" he gets an answer from Bristol, advising that his men are coming for Lady Marion and she ought to pack her bags.<br />
<br />
Isn't it nice when people can be civilized and work out where and when they're going to kill each other? It certainly saves time running search-and-destroy missions. <br />
<br />
So while Mike waits for the final confrontation with Bristol, he has a candlelit dinner with Marion where he voices his hope that Bristol lives up to his reputation, "Or perhaps that the god in the case is witty enough to see the import behind this." She's uncomfortable with his talk about God, and she also calls him Mike. Hmm. So is she doing that because our hero has told his literary lover his real (nick)name, or is it because Hackett is subconsciously equating Miguel de Lobo with his real-life friend? Or is it both?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Shall I order your bags packed, my dear?" said Mike.<br />
<br />
"That little horse you gave me today is a darling," said the Lady Marion.<br />
<br />
And so the matter stood.</blockquote>
<br />
She... didn't actually answer the question, Mike.<br />
<br />
So that's our mini-chapter, Mike sitting around, stoically taking losses, waiting for the inevitable showdow<span style="font-size: small;">n with his nemesis. </span> Have to say, this story delivers where <i>Mission Earth</i> didn't - we're finally seeing what it's like to be a (designated) villain while the (designated) hero closes in on you, whittling away at your "evil" empire before assaulting your "sinister" lair. And unlike the main character of that garbage, Mike is sympathetic and more competent than even the story requires him to be, thanks to his knowledge that he's <i>in</i> a story, and he knows who's writing it.<br />
<br />
See what happens when you admit that an antagonist doesn't have to be an irredeemable moron for him to oppose the protagonist, Hubbard? Ugh, this actually makes <i>Mission Earth</i> even <i>worse</i> because now we know that Hubbard <i>was</i> capable of doing things right, but still gave us Soltan Gris instead of expanding on what he started here.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, it sounds like all of Mike's efforts will be for naught.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And so Mike won a little more time - which proved his own undoing.</blockquote>
<br />
And now the POV is getting temporally displaced rather than drifting behind the eyes of the other characters. Somebody nail that thing down.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-eight.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Eight</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-ten-nobody.html">Forward to Chapter Ten</a> </span> </div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-44163027547362073412016-10-31T16:49:00.000-05:002016-11-02T19:24:49.453-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Eight - The Horrible TruthSo last time our hero got the smart idea of trying to defy the plot of the story he's trapped in, only to watch helplessly as his forces committed a war crime and run into his love interest anyway, both of which have now given the story's "hero" all the more justification to come and kick his "villainous" ass. The only consolation is that Mike has been able to use his position as el almirante to punish his rapacious marines with whippings and half-rations, though this does mean that he has the new problem of a potential mutiny to worry about.<br />
<br />
Which isn't to say Mike's old problems have gone away. The ominous Father Mercy enters... the scene, I guess, the author doesn't explain where Mike is conversing with Fernando at this chapter's start other than that it has a door. It's not Mike's cabin, since that's where Lady Marion is, though it seems adjacent to it. Anyway, Father Mercy enters the room to be creepy. He's still annoyed that Mike won't let him torture the English prisoners, but he's willing to forgive this if Mike lets the padre get his withered hands on "a heretic of - ah - special interest to me," Lady Marion.<br />
<br />
I gotta asks, is this character type common to early 20th-century-pulp action stories? The sadistic, vaguely pervy priest who wants to get his hands on some damsel and do nasty things to her for the sake of her soul? Was this thing common in pirate thrillers featuring the Spanish?<br />
<br />
Anyway, Mike threatens to break Father Mercy over his own rack, and when the padre threatens his commission over "one silly English heretic," Mike throws a pistol at him. Fernando, whoever he is, warns that it's "madness" to oppose such a high-ranking member of the church.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I have a fleet and he has a rosary," said Mike. "I leave it to you to discover which one fires the heaviest broadside."<br />
<br />
"I think," said Fernando, leaving, "that you'll discover that it's the rosary."</blockquote>
<br />
Guess it depends how fast you fire it. Maybe if you loaded it into some sort of railgun... anyway, after Fernando leaves, Mike spends a moment sitting in this vaguely defined room and has himself a drink. And then Lady Marion steps out of Mike's cabin, so they can have a scene heavy with belligerent romantic tension.<br />
<br />
Marion's overheard the trouble Mike is in, but after the disaster in Tortuga, she thinks his punishment of his soldiers is all an attempt to impress her, but he counters that he had no idea she was even on the island. Both accuse the other of being conceited enough to think he/she fancies her/him, but Mike finally concludes that while he can't deny his feelings for her, he has "no taste for playing the part of a bungling buccaneer," and is only keeping her around as a hostage, which ends with Marion storming out and slamming the door.<br />
<br />
Once the exchange is over, Mike is horrified at how combative he was, and how he blew a good opportunity to smooth things over with Marion.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But his words could not be recalled. He-<br />
<br />
His words. <i>His </i>words. HIS WORDS!<br />
<br />
Suddenly he shook an angry fist in the direction of the sky. "Damn you Horace Hackett! So I'm to wreck my fleet, am I? So I'm to fall in love like a puppy with this English girl, am I? I'm to bowl myself over by opposing the church and them I'm to be murdered by your bucko-boy Bristol. Well, to hell with you and your damned typewriter! You're going to get something more than you expected before this thing is done!"</blockquote>
<br />
Yep, for all his efforts to change the course of the story, Mike is still having words put in his mouth by a cosmic force committed to his downfall, something I'm sure we can all relate to. And for all his defiance, he can sense that Hackett's focus has shifted away from him to some other scene, so even this act of rebellion is empty.<br />
<br />
So there's nothing left to do to return to Nombre de Dios, town of the ceaselessly-screaming wildlife and automaton ladies who keep walking through the streets without ever reaching their destination. An indeterminate amount of time passes, and Mike makes the best of his respite from the author's commands by sending ships on patrol for any sign of pirates, as well as warnings to the Spanish colonies that the English may try something in reprisal for Tortuga. Other than that, Mike can only take comfort in the town's defenses that could surely defeat any pirate attack, even one led by the famous Captain Bristol.<br />
<br />
But, one day Fernando shows up with a packet of messages for the almirante. None of them are good - one commands him to stop raising panic with his talk of pirates, another is from the bishop of Panama demanding that Mike let Father Mercy escort Lady Marion to the city to be examined, and the last is from Mike's character's former paramour Anne threatening to use her influence over Panama's governor to punish him if he doesn't hand over this English girl she think he's been seeing instead of her.<br />
<br />
Mike deduces that Fernando has been letting these letters sit for a while to increase the controversy around the mad almirante, but still refuses to the enclosed demands, since sending Marion to the bishop would only provoke Bristol's wrath. He also has Fernando follow him into his manor to see how he's been treating Marion.'<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Trombo," said Mike, "inform the Lady Marion that we would like to see her here."<br />
<br />
Trombo, like some hulking, hairless bear, waddled away. In the distance sounded a slammed door and a heavy thud and then Trombo came back feeling a new bruise upon his arm, looking guiltily at Mike. "She say 'no.'"<br />
<br />
Mike turned to Fernando. "She is my prisoner and nothing more. Now do you understand my position?"</blockquote>
<br />
So Mike tears up the letters and sends... whoever Fernando is back to Panama to give word of what he's seen here, along with the message that his detractors are all "the best allies that Tom Bristol ever had." And the narration's point of view briefly changes to Fernando, who is not looking forward to another trek across the Isthmus of Panama and all its rebellious Maroons. Which implies that he's a thinking, feeling being nevertheless consigned to the fate of a secondary character in a forgettable pirate story produced by a procrastinating author, raising all sorts of uncomfortable questions which we'll have to examine later.<br />
<br />
At any rate, Mike is fuming, especially when Trombo suggests he correct Marion's attitude with a good length of belt. Our hero paces, cursing the people around them and their attitude of "Spanish superiority!", and who are "All so sold on a man's duty to the church!" Yeah, churches suck! Nobody should belong to one, or found their own!<br />
<br />
The insult to injury is that there's a baby grand piano in the room with Mike, with the words "Steinway, Chicago" on it. We belatedly learn that Mike read "Pittsburgh" on the cutlasses used by the buccaneers and "<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Congress_of_Industrial_Organizations">C.I.O</a>." on the shipments of lumber being loaded into the galleons in the harbor. And that's cute, but it doesn't work, Hubbard.<br />
<br />
We can accept that anachronism of the piano in this setting, and even that Mike can see the Steinway logo on it because that's what Hackett is patterning the instrument off of, and Mike knows that. But why would Hackett include information about the maker's mark on the cutlasses of the pirate extras? They aren't anachronisms, pirates had access to steel weapons, so we can't say it's a subconscious thing, and Hackett would be an idiot for specifying that these pirates' swords were made in America. And he has no reason to go into detail about the stamps on the lumber shipments happening in the background at Nombre de Dios.<br />
<br />
So this bit of silliness makes about as much sense as Mike kicking one of the buildings and finding it's just a false front propped up by some beams of lumber. Actually, this makes <i>less</i> sense than that, that would at least indicate how shallow and unreal this setting is, while this seems to imply the author is dumb enough to go out of his way to include an out-of-place detail.<br />
<br />
Anyway. Mike laments that he doesn't have the technical skill to build something like a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lewis_gun">Lewis machine gun</a> to fight Bristol with, and gives the piano a good thump as he passes it, which turns into him banging out his frustrations upon its keys, until he calms and spends a good hour playing music. He winds down and realizes that Lady Marion is in the room with him, wearing a proper amber gown provided by "author-magic" even though she was recovered in a torn dress. <br />
<br />
And now we get our properly romantic moment, after the two love interests have tried to deny the extent of their feelings for each other. Marion softly asks him to keep playing, and as he does so, explains that she overheard the conversation about the contents of those letters, and asks why Mike doesn't do the easy thing and let her go, either to Panama to save his own hide, or to St. Kitts to save hers. He says he won't have her killed and can't trust any crew to take her safely to St. Kitts, though he also admits to himself that he's lying and can't bear to part with the only thing that makes him happy in this world.<br />
<br />
But he does tell her a different truth, however - "You do not know it, but you are only the character in a story. A lovely, devastating character, it is true, and one who is, I find, really alive." She sits in patient silence as Mike explains that he knows how this story goes because he knows its author, and thus knows that he is trapped in the role of a villain, fated to die while Marion will be returned to Bristol. Marion comments that she's seen Shakespeare and thinks that Mike might be carrying his "all the world's a stage" simile rather far, and wonders by what "strange necromancy" - at this point I think Hubbard just uses the word as a synonym for 'magic' - Mike can claim to know God's will. Mike can only reply that Marion's true god "is not the god you suppose him," but gives up trying to convince her of the truth.<br />
<br />
Mike concludes that he's fated to lose to Bristol and lose Marion, and Marion agrees that "no one man can change destiny." And I guess that's the depressing message of this story? No matter how hard you try, things will happen because some greater plot requires it? We're trapped in our roles and can do nothing but wait and see as they're played out? That sucks, even if you're not in one of Horace Hackett's pirate pulps.<br />
<br />
Having become resigned to his fate, Mike decides that even if he's due to get killed, and even if Bristol will ultimately end up with Marion, there's one thing he's sure of:<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Milady," said Mike, gathering her to him and holding her tightly against him. "I love you," he whispered.</blockquote>
<br />
D'awww.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
She thrust at him and tried to get free, but his arms were strong and his lips, seeking hers, were gentle.</blockquote>
<br />
D'aww retracted, replaced with outrage.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And then her arms ceased their flailing and her hands crept up across his flat, straight back and locked there. "Oh - my darling," she whispered.</blockquote>
<br />
And so Lady Marion also concludes that it's useless to struggle, though in her case it means submitting to a man's advances rather than a role in a story.<br />
<br />
And you were doing so well, Hubbard. Well, you were doing okay. Better than you usually do, certainly.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-seven-bad.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Seven</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/11/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-nine-waiting.html">Forward to Chapter Nine</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-85221287310889106372016-10-28T15:02:00.003-05:002016-10-31T17:59:33.624-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Seven - Bad Times in TortugaThe plot is moving again, so Mike, as Almirante Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo, sets out from Nombre de Dios at the head of a mighty fleet escorting treasure ships as they pass through the pirate-infested Caribbean before going home to Spain All the while he has to deal with lingering existential concerns.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
This world was so <i>real</i> to those who lived in it. They lived and were born and they got sick and felt pain and died. And they looked up into the blue, wholly unconscious that they might well hear the rattling of a typewriter's keys and smell the horrible pipe which Horace Hackett clenched in yellow teeth. From whence had this world come, whither would it go? These people all thought they remembered long pasts and ancestors. They were convinced that their progeny would continue up the ages. They believed in their ingenuity and trusted their calculations. And yet-</blockquote>
<br />
At which point Mike has to stop and go back to thinking about Hackett's history writing villains, he's not interrupted by anything. I just have to say, this passage fits the story it appears in, since it's about a real person somehow getting sucked into a work of fiction. But if you combine it with the <a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2014/10/fear-chapter-7-part-2-guidance.html">"You are the Entity" speech</a> from <i>Fear</i>, well... it's just kind of interesting that someone who spent his life using other people for his own gain also wrote about characters who discovered they were the only 'real' people in the world, and everyone around them was just a set of props or automatons.<br />
<br />
Back to the voyage - Mike has a strong instinct to sail right back to St. Kitts, use what he's learned about the town's defenses to take it with barely a fight, and take Lady Marion as a hostage in case Bristol isn't among the slain. All of the captains under his command keep recommending that he take such a wise course of action. But, because Mike knows how this universe works, he knows that if the designated bad guys think something is a good idea, there must be something wrong with it that the designated hero will be able to take advantage of.<br />
<br />
So when the treasure ships are sent on their way and Mike and his captains have a conference about what to do next, and someone named Fernando suggests attacking St. Kitts while the wind is a certain way, Mike explains that no, they won't be doing that - instead, the fleet will be hitting the pirate haven of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tortuga_(Haiti)">Tortuga</a>. Mike plans to burn any ships they find there, so Bristol won't be able to add them to his fleet, and the settlement itself will be destroyed - "with all due humanity, of course."<br />
<br />
Fernando is astonished, since he'd heard rumors about a very important woman at St. Kitts, but Mike grins and insists that it was all for the benefit of any eavesdropping Indian spies loyal to Bristol. So Fernando can only gush about his almirante's brilliance and Mike congratulates himself for defying the plot and writing his own destiny. Then he has to go on to plan the campaign, but it's fine, Mike is suddenly as good a naval strategist as he is a swordsman.<br />
<br />
One paragraph break later and we're at Tortuga, as Mike's fleet approaches under cover of the pre-dawn mists. He reminds his captains of the battle plan - bombard the defenses, then send in the landing parties, simple stuff that even a hack writer could come up with - but he also adds something his men weren't expecting. He commands that "There will be no ravishing of this town. There will be no useless slaughter. We are here on a military objective and civilians are not fair game." This confuses the Spaniards, since after all Tortuga is inhabited by filthy Englishmen and evil Frenchmen in league with the pirates that have been preying upon the Spanish for so long, but the officers nod their agreement and go back to their ships.<br />
<br />
Then Mike's flagship drops the battle flag, the bombardment begins, the marines set out and...<br />
<br />
Well, if you were expecting an action scene, or even a Hubbard Action Scene, sorry to disappoint you. The fight for Tortuga reads more like an after-action report than an exciting battle. We're told very quickly that the raid only lasted for six hours, and it was unpleasantly one-sided. All the town's menfolk were out hunting in the island's interior, so some of the defensive cannons were crewed by women and children, who were killed during the bombardment. Only a hundred fighters mustered to contest the Spanish landing, and since they were outnumbered five-to-one they were handily massacred. And then the Spanish troops forgot or ignored Mike's orders, and the targeted strike against a pirate base turned out into an all-out massacre.<br />
<br />
Mike tried to sound a recall, to no avail, and then landed with Trombo - what's Trombo's official position, anyway? Does the Spanish navy has a position for a Big, Dumb Henchman? Anyway, Mike can't get his men under control, and can only watch helplessly as they loot homes, chase screaming women through the burning streets, torture priests to death to find out where they've hidden treasure, and turn cannons on the houses of holdouts. Trombo just says that the soldiers are "mad and drunk" and will surely listen to the almirante tomorrow, and helps himself to a keg of beer to help pass the time.<br />
<br />
So we get about six pages of various atrocities interspaced with Mike sitting as a helpless, fuming bystander. If you've seen some Hollywood "historical" action dramas like <i>The Patriot</i> you should know what to expect. The only development worth mentioning is when Mike spies a group of men grappling with a filthy, bruised woman in a torn dress who is trying to get her hands on a cutlass, and he quickly leaps into action to intervene - it's Lady Marion! How dramatic! How convenient!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
At point-blank he let a sergeant have a ball in the stomach and a sailor the other in the face. And then his rapier was out and shimmering greedily.<br />
<br />
"Let her go, you illegitimate sons," snarled Mike.</blockquote>
<br />
The soldiers can't make out their commanding officer under all the smoke, so they charge, and two get cut down in the space of a sentence - again, this does not read like Hubbard's normal action scenes. The rest try to dogpile our hero, but then Trombo roars and starts pulling them off Mike and dashing their heads against the wall, charming. Lots of brains getting let out of skulls in this story, I've noticed.<br />
<br />
In the end, Mike is able to stagger to his feet and approach Marion.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo," said Mike, bitterly. "Admiral of this rabble. Your arm, milady, so that I can escort you to the safety of my flagship."<br />
<br />
She started to object and then understood the folly of staying here. She straightened up and with a slight curtsy, took his arm.</blockquote>
<br />
And so ends the Spanish "raid" on Tortuga and the chapter. On the bright side, all the twenty-thousand casualties were nameless extras in this literary B-movie Mike has somehow found himself in. And we've learned that he can try to steer the plot to an extent. But we've also learned that when you're cast as the main villain, in command of a bunch of bad guys, they're going to act like bad guys no matter what orders you give them. And when the author desires you to get swept up in a love triangle, you're damn well going to find your love interest even if you're specifically trying to avoid her.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-six-slow.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Six</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-eight.html">Forward to Chapter Eight</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-57749154641376330392016-10-26T20:13:00.001-05:002016-10-28T15:03:23.706-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Six - Slow Times in PanamaOh hey, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nombre_de_Dios,_Col%C3%B3n">it's a real place after all</a>.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Nombre de Dios was a sweat-soaked town, fried by sun, steamed by jungle, depopulated by fever, commanded by a martinet, shaken by earthquakes, worked by slaves and cluttered with great stacks of silver and gold.</blockquote>
<br />
Yes, Mike, his rescued crew, and the pirates they captured in the course of stealing a ship were all able to successfully sail to one of the oldest and busiest Spanish settlements in the New World, a village of one-storied structures inhabited by soldiers in bright uniforms, ladies in carriages, slaves in chains, and a great deal of monkeys, parrots and scorpions. Quite a colorful backdrop for a scene in a story, but Mike is getting tired of it.<br />
<br />
See, it's now been a whole two months since Mike's flight from St. Kitts. The first month was okay, as Mike got to boggle about life in a 17th-century colony when he wasn't fretting that someone would discover that he isn't really Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo after all. But nobody's caught on, and now Mike is suffering the full effects of being caught up in a cheap novel. <br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mike had been able to come to a definite conclusion regarding his predicament. He had no doubt that this was "Blood and Loot" by Horace Hackett, and that the whole panorama was activated only by Horace Hackett's mind. And what Horace Hackett said was so, was so. And what Horace Hackett said people said, they said. And when Horace Hackett said that the almirante waited two months for the repair of his gale-battered fleet and the arrival of ships from Spain to augment it, then the almirante did nothing for two months but wait.<br />
<br />
And if Horace Hackett forgot to complete a scenic effect, then it was incomplete. But if he generalized and said this was Nombre de Dios of 1640, then it <i>was</i> Nombre de Dios of 1640, with all the trimmings and the people. And if he said it was an ever-blue sea, then, b'god, the sea was bluish even at night.<br />
<br />
And if Horace Hackett stated that the parrots and monkeys screamed and chattered endlessly, so they did. And if women paraded continually, they paraded continually.</blockquote>
<br />
There's a nice quote from Sir Terry Pratchett: "If you are in the market for easy laughs, you learn that two well-tried ways are either to trip up a cliche or take things absolutely literally." Although in this case you might be able to find some horror in the situation.<br />
<br />
The good news is that Mike has accepted that he is somehow in his buddy's stupid pirate story, so he's not wasting any more time in denial. He knows that he's only gallant and competent with the sword because his character is meant to be a foil for the story's hero, and Mike is still spooked whenever he's "swept along by a force which was wholly invisible and untouchable" to play his part properly, like how he knows everyone's names and what to say when they greet each other. Another downside of his situation is that Mike is forced to question whether his lovesickness for Lady Marion is genuine or required by the narrative.<br />
<br />
The upside of all this is that Mike can make a good guess of where the plot will try to take him, since he knows the guy writing it. He knows that de Lobo would want to kidnap Lady Marion and use her as bait for a trap only to get spitted on Bristol's rapier in reprisal, so that's not a good tactic for Mike to try. He does admit that there's a "bare chance" that such a confrontation might end with Bristol dead and Marion siding with de Lobo if Hackett decides to turn his adventure story into a tragedy, but the odds of that are so small that Mike can't rely on them.<br />
<br />
So it's been an uncomfortable two months, with Mike creeped out at his surroundings, pining for a character he may be required to pine for, and seething with anger towards Tom Bristol for trying to steal his girl and Horace Hackett for unknowingly trying to murder him in the course of telling a lame pirate story. Mike's only hope is that he might be able to force changes to this predictable plot like when he refused to kill his wounded during the escape from St. Kitts.<br />
<br />
And I can't help but notice that I'm doing a lot of recapping in this post but not any critiquing. That's because I can't find anything wrong with this chapter thus far - this is an interesting and entertaining premise, Mike is responding in a believable manner to unbelievable surroundings, and the prospect of a main character using his genre savvy to find a way to survive a hackneyed story is a lot more fun to read about than an unstoppable warrior swording or plot devicing his problems to death.<br />
<br />
One afternoon Mike can feel Hackett's "spotlight" shifting back to him from some other scene as another character steps forward. Trombo, who was mentioned last chapter, is "a gigantic creature" with brawny arms who wears nothing but pants, has a small, pointed head, no brow to speak of, and bright yellow skin... well, now we have something to complain about, don't we? At best we can say that this is the sort of now-offensive character who pops up in early 20th century pulp novels. You know, like that scaly Chinese villain in <i>Spy Killer</i>.<br />
<br />
Trombo is one of those mildly retarded flunky types who follows Mike around like a puppy, and as Hackett's scene begins, Trombo switches from speaking Spanish to talking in broken English to tell Mike "You bothered." Trombo's noticed that the almirante is not visiting any of his lady friends like the captured Indian princess Zuilerma, who is in her room crying that she's grown too old for her admiral even though she's "not yet eighteen" ...well, that's just how things worked back then, right? Doesn't mean the author's some sort of pervert who'd spend chapter after chapter writing underage sex scenes.<br />
<br />
Mike tries to fight back against the narrative by spitefully staying silent, at least until Trombo deduces that since Mike isn't taking advantage of the many, many women who'd be willing and eager to bed him, or slaves, who wouldn't have any choice in the matter, his almirante must be in love. Mike warns that Trombo is "treading on swampy ground," but finally admits that yes, he <i>is</i> in love - with an Englishwoman, specifically Lady Marion Carstone, sweetheart of the notorious pirate Tom Bristol.<br />
<br />
Trombo declares that Mike is obviously feverish, but when Mike goes on to explain that he plans to take Marion as a prisoner of war - so much for fighting the plot, Mike - Trombo's despair changes to delight as he marvels at how his almirante has planned such a terrible vengeance upon Bristol, who will get to see his beloved with his mortal enemy just before the almirante disembowels the pirate and feeds his entrails to the dogs. Mike agrees, though he's horrified at the pleasure he feels from the morbid picture Trombo is painting.<br />
<br />
And that's kind of hellish, isn't it? To not only be trapped in the role of a villain, but to feel the same delight that villain would experience upon torturing the book's hero, even though you're clinging to your separate identity as what you hope is a good guy. <br />
<br />
So Trombo is mollified, even if he thinks that the almirante will eventually get bored of Marion like he has with all his other lovers. And then another character enters the scene, a "gray shadow" named Father Mercy with a "corpse face" that remains still even when he talks. This creepy priest is here to complain that Mike isn't letting him torture those captive English sailors to death - to save their immortal souls, of course. And he's overheard Mike talking about taking Lady Marion prisoner, and insists that he be allowed to personally see to her salvation.<br />
<br />
For his part, Mike is quite disgusted by Father Mercy, and not even because the plot requires him to be. It's enough for him to shake off Hackett's control and rant at the "soul-scavenging buzzard," telling the padre that the prisoners are off limits - "if you crave <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auto-da-f%C3%A9">autos-da-fé</a> every day, use up Indians and leave white men alone." Uh... well, at least <i>some</i> people aren't being tortured, right?<br />
<br />
Mike insists that his orders place them higher than Father Mercy or even the god he supposedly serves, blasphemy that the priest is willing to forget if he can get his hands on Lady Marion. But Mike would rather shell his own town than "Feed white flesh to your damned racks" - I mean, he's progressive for his setting, right? - and when Father Mercy talks about the hand of God, Mike can all too easily visualize the real force behind these events and declares that "Your god, sir priest, is as lecherous as thou."<br />
<br />
So Mike, in the process of trying to figure out a way not to get killed in a predictable final showdown between himself and this story's hero, has not only committed himself to forcing that confrontation by kidnapping their shared love interest, but he's also made an enemy of a thoroughly unpleasant Spanish priest who has vowed to use all his power to see the almirante removed from command and placed under his tender care.<br />
<br />
On the upside, Mike's purgatory in a land of endlessly strolling automatons and eternally-shrieking wildlife might be coming to an end. And we eventually found some objectionable passages in an otherwise very good chapter, just so we don't forget that we're reading a Hubbard novel.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-five-part-two.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Five part two</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-seven-bad.html">Forward to Chapter Seven</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-67755159136519831432016-10-24T16:05:00.001-05:002016-12-27T01:30:58.349-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Five part two - Blood and BrainsLast time, Mike and Lady Marion had a moment and the story's POV took an unexpected turn, only for both developments to be derailed by the arrival of "Blood and Loot"'s designated hero.<br />
<br />
Mike and Marion can hear "a coldly quiet voice" talking "deadly business" with Lord Carstone in the next room, and Marion throws open the door so they can better overhear Bristol insisting that he be allowed to take a look at this "don" no matter how much Carstone protests their guest is an Irishman. Since they're in the salon Mike can't see them, so Bristol will get a proper dramatic introduction in two pages, but he <i>can</i> see some of Bristol's sea dogs, brawny and cruel-faced fellows that include headsilked Frenchmen, as well as Caribs and Maroons bearing chests of plunder.<br />
<br />
Also, Mike recognizes some of them, particularly three towering Maroons named Catshy, Zuil and Suyda, who he <i>knows</i> he had ordered flogged and tossed overboard to be shark food. But he's too busy worrying about being identified as the book's villain to waste any thought on how he knows these things. Eventually Bristol and Captain Braumley, who's come back from getting thrown out of the house by Mike, are able to convince Carstone that they need to take a look at his guest. Marion calls that Mike's in the drawing room, and let the confrontation begin. Set scene, and go!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Mike stood by the window, his face in dimness, his shadow painted gigantically upon an ancient tapestry by the guttering candles. His very first glimpse of Bristol told him that here was a man who would have to be removed if he himself was ever to be safe again.<br />
<br />
Bristol was lean and hard. His handsome face was keen and strong. His eyes were as pale and cold as Arctic ice. He wore his own blond hair and it came in a metallic sweep down to the shoulders of his flaring cloak collar. There was a hard steel quality about the fellow which Mike felt would, in itself, turn the edge of a battle-ax.</blockquote>
<br />
Huh, I think Mike can see the hero's plot armor. Also, I'm a little disappointed that Mike didn't notice or comment on how he happened to position himself in the most dramatic manner possible. Or was it intentional on Mike's part?<br />
<br />
Lady Marion introduces Michael O'Brian and Captain Thomas Bristol to each other, and it's one of those scenes where the characters are trading polite pleasantries while staring at each other, waiting for the first sign of weakness or an indication of an attack. Bristol remarks on Mike's good fortune for surviving that shipwreck, Mike gathers from the loot in the hall that Bristol's voyage was successful, and Bristol invites him to look at the booty. Uh, plunder. From all those Spanish ships Bristol attacked.<br />
<br />
Now, Mike knows that the offer "was a trap to get him into sight of those Maroons" out in the better-lit hallway, but Mike <i>also</i> thinks "And yet it seemed a good bait to grab." No elaboration. We don't know if he's trying to bluff his way out of the situation, or if Mike is once again having thoughts beamed into his head by the all-powerful plot to make him behave in a certain way. Missed opportunity, Hubbard.<br />
<br />
Or maybe Mike can sense that this isn't a dramatic enough moment to reveal his 'true' identity so it's a safe offer to make. This talk about inspecting the plunder gets Lord Carstone interested, and he insists, to Bristol's disappointment, that the treasure be hauled into the room where they're talking and drinking. So Mike gets to hang out in the shadows where no one can identify him while Carstone first drools over the gold spilling out of the treasure chests, then complains that Bristol didn't bring him any slaves to work the plantations. Bristol seizes this opportunity and orders Zuil to have the prisoners of war brought into the courtyard.<br />
<br />
There's another page of agonizing small talk-<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Been long in these waters?" said Bristol.<br />
<br />
"No," said Mike.<br />
<br />
"Wonderful place," said Bristol.<br />
<br />
"Aye," said Mike. "Wonderful."<br />
<br />
"Except for the fever," said Bristol. "That gets the best of them."<br />
<br />
"Aye, it must," said Mike.</blockquote>
<br />
-and the narration once again slips into the omniscient, when we're told that Bristol is quietly furious that his plans go give Lady Marion a necklace have been derailed by a rival to her affections. But then a pirate announces that the prisoners have arrived, and everyone files out to gloat over those nasty Spanish. On the way out Mike picks his wide-brimmed hat on the room's anachronistic piano, and... bleh. Even when Hubbard's satirizing bad writing he still makes a mistake: Mike is startled by the hat, "for he did not recall landing with a hat," even though he's already mentioned the magically-appearing hat several times over the past few chapters. He <i>ought</i> to be surprised it's on the piano, I can't find any indication he was wearing it when he started playing.<br />
<br />
Anyway, they go down into the courtyard to inspect the prisoners by torchlight. Lord Carstone starts examining teeth and prodding muscles while Mike tries to keep anyone from recognizing him, but wouldn't you know it but a young cadet, "Chains notwithstanding," throws himself to Mike's feet and clutches his leg while begging the "Almirante!" to save him. Mike tries to kick the kid away, but Bristol draws his sword and those three named Maroons are upon him in an instant.<br />
<br />
You know how it goes. Mike blurs into action, filled "by a gigantic power, dancing back with his blade shrieking" to bring down the first baddie. One of the Spanish officers steals a cutlass to try and help, and suddenly there's a <i>"Clank!"</i> and the prisoners, who <i>had</i> been chained together, are now "miraculously chained independently in such a way that he would be wielding his fetters as a weapon!" Bristol and Mike briefly lock blades before Bristol is pulled back, and then the prisoners are swinging left and right until the courtyard becomes "slippery with blood and brains," ick.<br />
<br />
By this point the English have gunners shooting into the mob, so Mike calls "The gate! <i>La puerta!"</i> and another opportunity for satire is missed when he doesn't wonder why he's speaking two languages. The chained prisoners rush the fort's entrance, but the guards take aim at Mike at point-blank range, where even muskets can't miss. But then,<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<i>Clank!</i><br />
<br />
He had a steel corselet about him which he had not had before. He made a mental note to thank Hackett and even as he acted had a sudden chill of knowing that so far something had always happened to save him, but that he could not possibly continue to depend upon it. The hero, Bristol, might. But not Mike, the villain of the piece!</blockquote>
<i> </i><br />
At least he's coming to terms with the situation. As the Spanish batter their way through the gate sentries, Bristol reappears to lock blades with Mike as the two snarl at each other, their faces close enough to generate some homoerotic subtext. "You Spanish hellion!", Bristol will never rest until Mike's hanged for a spy, "I'm not a pirate" as a comeback, Bristol promises to kill Mike, Mike promises to "probably have" Lady Marion, and then... again, missed opportunity.<br />
<br />
Mike tells Bristol to get out of the way and his mob of escapees "swept over Bristol and battered him under" as they flee. Even after recognizing that Bristol is the biggest threat to his life, Mike doesn't do the smart thing and kill him now when Bristol is hilariously outnumbered. And more disappointingly, he doesn't wonder<i> why</i> he can't bring himself to do this, to kill off the book's hero before the story's halfway point, to act like an intelligent villain instead of one who sets up his own defeat.<br />
<br />
Which isn't to say that Mike isn't totally neglecting to use his smarts. He has the Spanish close the fort's gates behind them, then pours out the contents of a purloined powder horn and uses a pistol to spark a fire that sets the fort's entrance ablaze. Once he and his men are out of range of the musketmen on the fort's walls, they take a moment using their stolen weapons to lose some dead weight, hacking the limbs of those who died during the escape and were dragged along by their chains. Some are merely wounded, though, and beg to be killed instead of left behind for the English to recover.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And then Mike, about to order that death much to his own horror, changed that order. "Pick them up, you hulks. Are we English?"<br />
<br />
They burdened themselves with the wounded.<br />
<br />
The sound of the typewriter faded to nothing.</blockquote>
<br />
Which begs the question of how much credit Mike deserves for leading this escape, if it's only now that he's really asserting himself over the story.<br />
<br />
The rest of their escape is no trouble. Some soldiers or whatever come up the hill from the town to see what the commotion is about, but Mike is able to have his men hide in the brush while he in English tells the newcomers to hurry to 'rescue' the fort from an attack, only to get shot at in the confusion of night by the very people they're trying to help. Bristol's buccaneers are in town, but they're celebrating their success in the traditional pirate manner, and don't notice the group of Spaniards slipping between the taverns. So Mike and his men are able to steal boats, row out to one of the warships in the harbor, and take it without a fight because its crew are too drunk to notice they're being boarded until the Spanish are all over them.<br />
<br />
Oh, and if you're wondering about that young cadet who blew Mike's cover, when Mike asks about the kid he's informed that he died during the escape. Mike has no reaction to this, and there's no indication what he planned to do to the cadet. It just kind of happens.<br />
<br />
Mike has his men sail away with the ship's lanterns darkened, but soon he has to take a moment to take stock of what he's doing. He's speaking fluent Spanish - Castilian, in fact - and giving the proper orders to the crew of this archaic sailing vessel. He's also killed "seven or eight" men in less than a day, which doesn't seem to be tearing him up too much, and in his defense... well, it was in self-defense. And he thinks he might have fallen in love with Lady Marion.<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
What strange power was this which decreed all those things?</blockquote>
<br />
Oh come on, just three pages ago you thanked Hackett for giving you a breastplate... though come to think of it, after the armor appeared, the musketmen never actually shot at Mike, he went straight into melee without any bullets bouncing off his armored tummy. So it was ultimately unnecessary. Anyway, Mike should know at this point what's going on.<br />
<br />
So we end with Mike, aka Almirante Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo, commanding a warship as it sails beneath the stars towards a place called Nombre de Dios which he isn't confident actually exists even though he has distinct memories of what it looks like, after having made a deadly enemy in Captain Tom Bristol, "the coolest and toughest and cleverest" of the pirates to threaten the Spanish in the Caribbean. All while he has an existential crisis.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"She's luffing her t'ps'ls," said Mike. "Bring the breeze farther astern."<br />
<br />
Had he said that?<br />
<br />
How did he know?<br />
<br />
How- Wh-<br />
<br />
WHY?<br />
<br />
And how would all this end?</blockquote>
<br />
Guess we'll have to keep reading and find out.<br />
<br />
Have to say, it sure is a lot more interesting when you can't be confident that the hero will defeat the villain in the end, the villain is more sympathetic and likeable than the one-dimensional hero, and someone is trying to flout convention within the story itself. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-five-part-one.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter five part one</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-six-slow.html">Forward to Chapter Six</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-68984009981737353392016-10-21T21:15:00.000-05:002016-10-24T16:05:55.457-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Five part one - Who Writes This Crap?Bleh, decide if you want short seven-page chapters or enormous thirty-page chapters, Hubbard.<br />
<br />
Mike de Wolf may be a bit of a dilettante, but he knows some stuff, and has been places. He spent some time in the West Indies on a cruise and dabbled with painting some of the "native women with baskets on their heads" before giving up and tossing the results overboard. He also remembers some of the information from the tourist's guidebook, as well as stuff from basic geography. And thus he knows that wherever he is, it ain't St. Kitts.<br />
<br />
The fortress-manor he's in is meant to be <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brimstone_Hill_Fortress_National_Park">Brimstone Hill</a>, except the year is supposed to be 1640, while Mike knows that the fort itself was built after the American Revolution. Mike also remembers the island's history and how the French and English both had colonies there, so it's odd that there's no Frenchmen around. He even knows that Sir Thomas Warner is supposed to be the island's governor at this time, which makes this Lord Carstone a bit of an anomaly. And the island's harbor is too round, entered through a channel equipped with flashing lights, like a modern port. And it'll get even worse later in the chapter.<br />
<br />
The point is, Mike can now discount the 'time travel' theory because he's obviously not in the real St. Kitts. But when he thinks about "Blood and Loot," and visualizes Hackett sitting at a typewriter surrounded by cigarette butts, Mike's mind recoils, and he cannot accept the answer that he's been dancing around since two chapters ago. Instead Mike reflects more on his situation, how there's hostile Maroons and a Hubbard Action Hero out to get him, and what he's done since washing up on this strange island.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Two men he had killed on the beach and wounded another tonight. And he had bested them with a rapier - a weapon about which he knew nothing, but which in his hands became abrupt demise. And there was something else - his head felt quite all right and the bandage about it had mysteriously vanished; further, his side felt as good as new and there was no pull of tape there. What mad world was this in which a man became possessed of sudden talents and healed in minutes? And then his sword scabbard and cape and hat had appeared magically overnight.</blockquote>
<br />
It's stuff like this that makes me really wonder about Hubbard.<br />
<br />
The easy way out is to assume that here he's critiquing other pulp authors while being oblivious to the things he's done in his own stories - <i>Buckskin Brigades</i> had muddled chronology, a hero who ignored his injuries unless it was more dramatic for him to have a handicap, and was able to learn new skills astonishingly quickly. But it may be more likely that Hubbard is being self-deprecating here, or maybe confessing the little sins he's committed over his career in the pulps. If that's the case, it's interesting that he's not trying to justify or excuse them - Mike isn't embracing these sudden skills so he can enjoy his role as a swashbuckling admiral in the Caribbean, or even admitting that he doesn't mind such conveniences in the stories he reads but not in 'real life.' Hubbard's just cataloguing these anachronisms and inconsistencies as <span style="font-size: x-small;">t</span>hings that happen in literature and letting the reader do with them as they will. Which is just bizarre coming from the guy who would later pound the reader with the Psychology Bad! mallet over and over.<br />
<br />
But I wonder - if Hubbard was able to recognize these failings, these mistakes and shortcomings a pulp writer may commit in the rush to churn out copy, why did he keep making them throughout the rest of his career? This story came out in the middle of his short fiction period, remember, so there's another decade of pulp tales that come after this one, to say nothing of some horrendous novels.<br />
<br />
Well, in fairness I can't think of any major continuity errors in the stories I've covered on this blog, no cases where Heller or whoever suddenly had a gun they didn't in the previous chapter. And since Hubbard focused on science fiction for the most part, there aren't any glaring historical anachronisms beyond the wonky timeline in <i>Buckskin Brigades</i>. So maybe he figured that since he wasn't making <i>those</i> mistakes, he was practically flawless.<br />
<br />
Back to the story. Mike has a bit of an existential crisis when he tries to reconcile his memories of being, well, himself, with a bunch of other stuff - memories of a love interest named Anne and "a Carib slave girl" who might be gazing wistfully at the horizon while waiting for his return, memories of a giant named Trombo and a sadistic Father Mercy, memories of Valencia and Morocco and Panama that are all essential to the backstory of Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo, but not Mike. He's even got a proclamation from King Philip, in readable Spanish, authorizing him to hunt those pirates of the Caribbean, a pretty damning document that he ought to keep hidden from all these Spaniard-hating Englishmen.<br />
<br />
No sooner does Mike shove the thing down his doublet than he hears Lady Marion walking along the fort wall nearby. I didn't know Mike was on the parapets, but then again I though Mike was in a mansion, not a fortress, until the start of this chapter. Marion's gazing down at the harbor in a way that makes Mike jealous, so he gets her attention with a polite "Milady" and greets her.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
She started and then smiled uncertainly at him.<br />
<br />
"The unfortunate lesson merited by Captain Braumley and administered by myself seems to have upset you. Forgive such actions on my part..."<br />
<br />
Good Lord! What was wrong with him that he had to talk in such a stilted way? And - <i>Yes!</i> There was the sound of that typewriter again!</blockquote>
<br />
Oh good, Hackett's back from the club.<br />
<br />
They make small talk, and Mike spends a good paragraph quietly awed by Marion's beauty, but then she expresses her hope that he'll get along with Captain Bristol, who might not like Mike's Spanish heritage. She admits that Bristol's crew is a bunch of "wild devils" and "restless spirits" who came to the New World as deserters or prisoners, and Bristol himself had a run-in with an inquisitor who sent him to a slave galley, so yeah, not fans of aristocratic Spanish officers. Mike wisely moves the topic from politics to Lady Marion herself, and reveals that her father seemed proud of her when they talked after dinner. She admits that Lord Carstone had some difficulty accepting her since she's inherently inferior for not being born a son, but Mike continues to pour on the charm.<br />
<br />
They walk through the fort-mansion until they're in Marion's drawing room, and Mike realizes there's a piano there - "He blinked wonderingly at the gold letters: Steinway, Chicago." Take a break, Hackett, you're drunk. But Mike doesn't start ranting at this blatantly out-of-place musical instrument, or curl into a little ball of temporal despair. Nope, he just rolls with it. He's not embracing the madness, not just yet, he's just not going to spend a single sentence reacting to this development.<br />
<br />
Instead, when Marion pours some wine and raises a toast "To the Empire of England in the New World," Mike says "I drink only to your beauty," and after draining his glass starts toying with the piano's keys. Marion continues talking about her past, how her father changed when her mother died, how he gave her toys like toy guns and a sailing boat that turned her into the feisty tomboy she is today, and wonders how she's supposed to find happiness if men are intimidated by her strength while she couldn't stand being married to a man weaker than her.<br />
<br />
Through this, Mike plays some soft and thematically-appropriate music on the piano, moved by her beautiful melancholy. But eventually Marion points out that she's told him about her troubles, so it's only fair that he share his own.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Ah, but you would not believe mine," said Mike. "You could not understand the story of a man trapped into a world quite foreign to him, playing a rôle </blockquote>
<br />
I thought at first that it was a smudge on the page, but nope, <a href="https://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/r%C3%B4le#English">it looks deliberate</a>. It's another of Hubbard's technically correct but dated or esoteric word choices. Guy had a gift.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
which he does not understand, distrusting the reality of all things on earth and above, seeing no reason and having his own outraged, believing that all will fade too soon and grasping the fleeting instants of joy which, like gentle clouds hiding a scorching sun, too often and too swiftly blow away."</blockquote>
<br />
I can see where Hubbard is going with this, but I think he's putting it on too thick. Mike just talking about playing an unfamiliar role might be a nice dual allusion to him playing an admiral in the story and "de Lobo" trying to act like a gentleman in an English household, with the nice foreshadowing that he's for all intents and purposes a Spanish fugitive pretending to be a harmless Irishman. But the stuff about "distrusting the reality of all things" tips the balance more towards crazy person.<br />
<br />
Marion isn't bothered, though, and takes another moment to consider this swordsman-musician.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Ah, yes, he was a very strange fellow. A strangely fascinating fellow. Here was not the straightforward bravery of Bristol, but the ultimate in gentility. Fearing weakness in her eyes, no man had ever played to her or said such fragile things to her before. But then, she sighed, there would be some flaw in him. There must be. There was in every other man. Some failing, perhaps a lack of courage in war or clearness in thought...</blockquote>
<br />
Wait. We're hearing Marion's thoughts. We've shifted from a narrative focused tightly on Mike (or Hackett) to a wandering third-person omniscient narrator.<br />
<br />
No, no, this doesn't work. It <i>could</i> work, if maybe Mike realized with wonder and horror that he could somehow read Marion's internal monologue as part of his growing awareness of the story surrounding him. But if the plot is about Mike getting dropped into a crappy pirate story, you don't want to spend too much time looking through the eyes of the literary constructs surrounding him, it raises some prickly questions.<br />
<br />
Bleh. Marion suddenly realizes that she's spent so long contemplating Mike that she's completely forgotten about Bristol sailing into town, just in time for a trumpet to declare the buccaneer's arrival. And that's where we'll stop for now, because the next twenty pages get pretty busy.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-four-writers.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Four </span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-five-part-two.html">Forward to Chapter Five part two</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-53708086480412142012016-10-19T20:16:00.001-05:002016-10-21T21:15:39.284-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Four - Writers on WritingThere is a problem with this story's premise, in which Mike de Wolf is being forced to play a role in "Blood and Loot" as Horace Hackett writes it - what happens to Mike when Hackett has to take a leak? In this chapter Hackett goes out for a drink, but in the next chapter Mike doesn't sob in relief after coming out of some sort of limbo state he got dumped into the instant Hackett's fingers left the keys. So there doesn't seem to be a 1:1 ratio when it comes to time's flow in and out of the story, especially since we'll see later that Hackett carelessly writing a paragraph that starts with "several months later" dooms poor Mike to week after week of nothing happening, while only minutes are passing at the typewriter in the real world. But there's also a moment when-<br />
<br />
Well, in due time. We probably shouldn't closely examine the mechanics of a fantasy story that kicks off when somebody electrocutes himself on a bathroom lightbulb. So let's join Horace Hackett as he has a drink in a place called the Vagabond Club, sitting in a state of fashionable disarray, "a perfect picture of an author who has finished a day's stint and who hopes his virtuousness will be noticed."<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He was wholly unconscious - so far as anyone could tell - of the whisper across the room, to wit: "That's Horace Hackett, the popular novelist." And it was purely coincidental that Horace immediately sighed deeply and assume a profound expression.</blockquote>
<br />
Hmm, I've read magazines and such that referred to people as 'popular novelists,' but I think most ordinary folks would just call someone a 'writer.'<br />
<br />
Hackett is joined by another author, a fellow named Winchester Remington Colt, good grief. He's walking around in New York wearing a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stetson">Stetson</a> and "high-heeled boots," orders "a short of redeye, pard" from the bartender, and ambles over to "hunker down for a spell" next to Hackett after seeing how his friend is "all tuckered out" from "horsewhippin' the wordage." And yes, we're allowed to view this guy as a ridiculous poser - his hands are pale, he loses the western jargon the longer he talks with Hackett, and in two pages admits to being on a farm "once." It's just eerie how much this guy, someone trying so hard to become a western stereotype, resembles some of the 'satirical' characters in Hubbard's later works that we're supposed to take seriously(?).<br />
<br />
It's a case of dueling egos as both authors try to discuss their latest pulps - Colt is working on something called "Hell on the Border," and he tries to talk about its plot and characters while Hackett blathers on about "Blood and Loot" - until they give up after a page. Then they start talking about their profession, how it's "a hell of a business" filled with doubters prepared to dump you the minute you "turn in a sour one" no matter how many stories you've sold before, how editors are "a pack of bums" who have no idea what the public really wants, that sort of thing. It's at this point that Hackett considers buying a farm, prompting Colt to relate how he spent a weekend on one - "Woke me up at ten o'clock in the morning they did, after me not being able to sleep all night because it was so quiet." So yes, he's as much of a cowboy as George W. Bush, clearer of brush and wearer of loafers.<br />
<br />
And then the topic turns to one of those strange things about writing, as Hackett admits that sometimes a story seems to write itself. "You lay out the beginning and know how it's going to end, and it wanders around as it pleases in the middle. 'Course, you know the high spots, but even those take care of themselves pretty well if you have the effect you want in mind." In his case, Hackett admits that his original idea for his story was a straightforward 'hero shows up, suffers setback, beats villain' scenario, but now he's found that the bad guy is a pretty interesting character too, with sympathetic motivations of his own, even if he loses in the end. Which sounds less like the story writing itself and more like Hackett having a good idea during the writing process, but potato, pineapple.<br />
<br />
Colt admits that something similar happened when he did "Hell on the Rio Grande," that he knew the start and finish and "the middle just went racing along" almost without his input. Hackett agrees that it's kind of spooky, like they're "perfectly in tune with the story. We don't have to think about it, it just sort of comes bubbling out of us like music." And it makes me wonder - did Hubbard have such an easy time writing when he produced the <i>Mission Earth</i> books? And if that's the sort of writing that comes naturally to you, what does that say about you as an author, or as a person?<br />
<br />
Colt remembers Mike de Wolf mentioning that the only good stories get written in this way, and asks about the guy since he missed a cocktail party last night. Hackett admits that he hasn't seen Mike since the guy got mad and "shoved off" after being used in a story, then goes back to talking about the power of writing, how it's "sort of divine, somehow," that ability to create and destroy. Colt agrees to an extent and tries to phrase the process like that of a medium, but Hackett won't settle for that.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"No, I feel different than that. When I go knocking out the wordage and really get interested in my characters it almost makes me feel like - a god or something."<br />
<br />
"Yeah, I know," said Colt.<br />
<br />
"It's a great business," said Horace.<br />
<br />
"Yeah. Sure. Nothing like being a writer."</blockquote>
<br />
In-ter-esting. Colt seems pretty level-headed since the farthest he'll go is to compare the writing process to channeling greater than yourself, which is a poetic way of saying that if you know the characters you've created, and know the setting, it's easy to figure out what they'll do in the situations that come between your story's beginning and ending.<br />
<br />
But Hackett seems a bit more megalomaniacal, exulting in his power of creation and the control he has over (fictional) characters' lives. After all, you can do a lot with a story: change the world so that it works how you think it does or should, or create a new world from scratch. Have your views accepted and embraced by everyone, even say that they've changed the world. Write your friends, even yourself into the narrative, and your enemies too so they can get what's coming to them. Yeah, a certain type of person could go on a real power trip after messing around with a typewriter.<br />
<br />
Well, wasn't that enlightening? We learned a bit about early 20th century pulp writing culture, and might have unintentionally learned something about this story's author. But don't worry, next time we'll get back to Mike as he prepares to meet the <i>real</i> hero of "Blood and Loot."<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-three-day.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Three</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-five-part-one.html">Forward to Chapter Five part one</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-78311389255212924382016-10-17T20:30:00.000-05:002016-10-19T20:16:49.712-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Three - A Day with the CarstonesAnd we go from two ten-page chapters to a yuge thirty-page chapter. Mike wakes up in an enormous canopy bed, freshly-washed and bandaged, and a bit slow on the uptake. He considers going for a golf game since the weather's so warm - almost tropical, in fact - and doesn't react when a black servant sticks his head through the curtains, helps Mike sit up, and sets down a tray of coffee and snacks. It's only when he suddenly remembers the encounter on the beach and hears the distant pounding of surf that Mike has a little freak-out.<br />
<br />
No, Mike isn't shocked to see a black man playing meek manservant, he only tries to remember which of his friends employs people of color in such servile positions. Nor does he try to engage the man in conversation. This came out in 1940, remember. The bad old days.<br />
<br />
Mike manages to not send melons and sweet buns flying everywhere, then notices a lavender-scented envelope on the tray that turns out to contain a letter from a Lady Marion. It's written in half-assed old-timey English - "I am grieved at the discourtesy which greeted ye upon our land and beg to tender my sympathy and the hope that your woundes paine you not this day" - but eventually Marion gets around to requesting to visit the "gallant captain" if his fever "not be too great."<br />
<br />
Between this and the head injury, Mike decides to have some wine as he ponders the situation. First, he's definitely missed that piano audition. Second, he's pretty sure he killed two guys on that beach, which "In his realm" would get him hanged. And third, his life is in danger in this realm too. Mike overhears a commotion outside, and when he asks that Negro servant about it, learns that "Them people from de town" are demanding that the master of the household give up the "Spaniard" prisoner for execution. Mike insists that he is in fact an Irishman, and decides to meet with Lady Marion to try to clarify the situation.<br />
<br />
This will require getting dressed, and while the bad news is that Mike's outfit - which he isn't confident he was wearing the other day - is a ridiculous mass of black silk and lace and gold, the good news is that the servant is around to help Mike get dressed. Once that's done, our hero takes a moment to examine himself.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The mirror gave back the tall, supple image of a Spanish gentleman, aristocratically handsome head backed by the upstanding lace collar, pale but strong hands barely showing under the folds of gorgeous lace, slim and shapely legs backed by the flowing cape which dropped from one shoulder. He was Mike de Wolf, but somehow he wasn't Mike de Wolf. There was a commanding poise about him which was an intensification of his usual manner, and in his face showed a pride of being and a consciousness of station which the old Mike de Wolf would not have had at all. He was grand and handsome and dashing and, all in one, he was quite confused about it.</blockquote>
<br />
<i>This</i> is what I wanted on the book's cover, a swashbuckling hero in all his finery but betraying a fundamental confusion about his situation.<br />
<br />
Adding to the weirdness is that Mike's impractically fancy rapier now has a scabbard when yesterday it did not, and he's also confident that he wasn't wearing that cape on the beach. And there it is again, that sound of a typewriter clacking away overhead. But at least he's dressed now, so he tells the servant to let Her Ladyship know it's safe to visit him. She enters to find Mike striking a heroic pose gazing out the window, he thanks her for saving his life, and Marion assures him that the Carstones aren't murderous savages and will be happy to send their noble Spanish prisoner back to his people for just a "slight ransom to remove the stain of guilt from his lordship."<br />
<br />
And then, Mike goes off-script. <br />
<br />
He <i>almost</i> introduces himself as Miguel Saint Raoul Maria Gonzales Sebastian de Mendoza y Toledo Francisco Juan Tomaso Guerro de Brazo y Leon de Lobo... and if he tried to fit all that on his sword he'd have to carry around a claymore. But instead of rattling off all that, Mike insists that while he was aboard the <i>Natividad</i>, he's actually Michael O'Brien, grandson of a Spanish castaway who married into an Irish noble family, seeking his fortune in service of Spain.<br />
<br />
It doesn't seem to be a conscious decision - he's bewildered at the Spanish name on his lips, but then Mike hears himself deny being a Spaniard, so it's like there are two different autopilots fighting over the controls. When the incredulous Lady Marion asks if he was commanding the Spanish vessel, Mike denies it even though he "knew that he lied, but was powerless to correct that lie." So I don't think Mike is fighting back against the story at this point, my guess is that he's feeling the effects of Hackett changing the specifics of the plot between talking about the story and writing it. Also, Mike hasn't realized he's in a story yet.<br />
<br />
Marion is relieved that the hostile sailor who killed two of her countrymen is Irish instead of Spanish, because what reason would the Irish have to dislike the British? She says Mike is welcome to stay as long as he likes, and invites him to dinner with Lord Carstone that evening. The way she leaves the room, walking in a graceful manner which makes Mike "warm all through," and after she's gone he flops down on the bed to exult over her poise and crown of red hair and dazzling eyes.<br />
<br />
But eventually Mike's focus shifts back to his bizarre situation, and he decides he's hallucinating after a head injury or something, and will have a good story to tell next time he sees Horace Hackett. And <i>then</i> Mike remembers Hackett talking about his pirate story and how Mike was perfect for its villain, so he concludes that this is all a dream. He tries to go to sleep to wake up, only to emerge from a nap several hours later in the same bed, with that manservant alerting him that supper will be ready in an hour. When asked the date, the "Boy" ("Mah name Jimbo, suh.") reveals that "I heerd somebody say this was somethin' like sixteen hunnert and forty, suh, but Ah wouldn't know." <br />
<br />
What follows is a three-page-long freakout. First Mike rants that he can't be three hundred years in the past, even though the outfits and scenery around him fit the period. He dismisses the idea of time travel and instead kicks a wall in case he's in a movie set, but of course he isn't. Then he has to deal with the memories of a naval battle he's also sure he didn't actually experience, and "a sort of strange belief in all this and a belief in his own part in it," since after all he knew how to use his sword and give orders on a ship. And finally, Mike must come to terms with how everything around him seems right out of Hackett's upcoming story "Blood and Loot," and how if Mike seems to be cast in the role of the villainous Spanish admiral, he does not need to be sticking around this island.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, Mike doesn't have any options. If he tries to flee the city to the island's forests, he'll get eaten by Caribs, and even though Mike was able to fight off those swashbucklers the other day, now he's decided that he doesn't know anything about swords and ships and muskets, so he can't try to fight his way to a boat. So he might as well go to the governor's dinner.<br />
<br />
Lady Marion of course is wearing a low-cut gown, while her father turns out to be "an overly upholstered giant sculpted out of lard" who "Harumph"s at every opportunity, and they're also joined by a Captain Braumley who is still suspicious of Mike and not eager to dine with a Spaniard.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Ye'll keep yer evil tongue in yer cheek, sir," said Marion with lifted chin, "or I'll have ye taught better manners by the gentleman himself. He's no common gutter-bred soldier!"<br />
<br />
The captain choked on that one and became purple-hued. Mike had never seen anyone really turn purple from embarrassment before, and it was really amazing to see it. Bright purple.</blockquote>
<br />
There's not many moments like this in the book, but I still like them. Take a literary cliche, a phrase like "turned purple with anger," and play it completely straight, see how weird and vaguely unsettling it would be to experience.<br />
<br />
Dinner turns out to be a tense affair, with the captain baiting Mike until our hero admits that while he doesn't consider himself a don, he did have a Spanish grandpa. When Braumley vows to bring the garrison to the manor to apprehend this stinkin' Spaniard, Mike doesn't so much draw his sword as he does catch his rapier after it "leaped from its scabbard," then jumps over the table to block the captain's exit.<br />
<br />
So it's dinner and a show, as Bramley insists on fighting Mike right then and there. Our hero freezes up for a moment because he <i>knows</i> he doesn't know how to fight, but Mike nevertheless is able to hold his own and drive the enemy back.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He knew he needed all his eyes for that magically shifting point which sought his heart or throat and yet he amazed himself by saying coolly, "Your permission, milady. The beggar seems a bit insistent."<br />
<br />
What the devil made him talk like this? And was that sound he heard a typewriter?<br />
<br />
It <i>must </i>be!</blockquote>
<br />
In the end, Mike is able to disarm the captain - in less than a page, without a single Hubbard Action Sequence - and slash his ass a bit before throwing the blubbering baddie out the front door. Lady Marion is of course highly impressed with this swordplay and can only forgive his violence in a dazed voice before going to her room. And Lord Carstone just pours him a drink and chats for a bit. And by a bit I mean four pages. Man, why wasn't this two chapters? Could've ended the section with Mike taking a nap.<br />
<br />
Almost finished. Carstone rambles, first about how Marion "thinks she's sick at the sight of blood and violence, but what are women but violence and blood, what?" Then the topic of politics and business comes up, and Carstone admits he's disinterested in religion, and knows that England has no claim to these islands, but he wants Spanish gold and so is willing to back buccaneers to attack Spanish shipping. He's a little worried about one admiral, someone named Miguel Saint Raoul de Lobo, but Carstone has that problem solved - he's sent for a young firebrand named Bristol and promised him a governorship and Marion's hand if he can bring Carstone the head of the Spanish admiral.<br />
<br />
Mike nervously asks how this Bristol will know he's got the right Spaniard, and Carstone reveals that they've taken some <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maroon_(people)">Maroons</a> from the Panama coast who served as slaves on the Spanish ships and suffered Spanish raids and atrocities, and they'll happily identify this evil admiral. Yep, once Bristol shows up, that nasty Spaniard's days are numbered.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I dare say," said Mike, and memories were stirring uneasily where no past had been. "And this Bristol will soon be home, eh?"<br />
<br />
"Right."<br />
<br />
"By the way, milord, I'd like quite well to stay, but I can't have the town revolting against you because of my father and because of this Captain Braumley."</blockquote>
<br />
Lord Carstone tries to entice Mike to stick around with offers of protection and employment as a double agent, but wouldn't you know it but a black messenger runs up to announce that Captain Bristol's fleet has arrived, an announcement made redundant by saluting cannons in the harbor. And while the is certainly a convenient coincidence done for the sake of drama, somehow it just feels appropriate for this story, doesn't it? This story about stories, I should say.<br />
<br />
So now Mike is coming to grips with the situation, and while he may not fully accept that he's somehow been sucked into a story-in-progress, he's at least aware of where the plot is trying to take him. And we're getting some instances of what a literary world looks like from the inside out, where an author's choice of words is played completely literally. But next time we'll take a short break from all of this and check on how Hackett himself is doing.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-two-mano-mano.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Two</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-four-writers.html">Forward to Chapter Four</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-18475001540082851822016-10-14T20:57:00.001-05:002016-10-17T20:31:22.281-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter Two - Mano-a-Mano, Mano, Mano and ManoThe good news is that Mike de Wolf has a body again, the bad news is that it's getting tossed around by crashing waves against jagged rocks. There's no time to think, Mike can only instinctively cling to the sand when he feels it under his fingers, and drag himself out of the surf to sprawl face-down on a beach. He's bleeding and nauseous from seawater in his belly, and he's so exhausted that he does nothing but lie where he is even after he hears the distant "rattle of musketry." And this is problematic, but just wait a moment.<br />
<br />
Eventually instinct tells Mike that he needs to get up, plus the back of his neck is sunburned and flies are starting to land on his head. There's no further sounds of gunfire, but there is "a faint whir, reminiscent of a typewriter, which seemed to come out of the sky." This is an odd sound to come from the heavens, but Mike thinks no more on the matter. That's forgivable, he's pretty woozy from his injuries.<br />
<br />
He takes stock of his surroundings, and finds himself on a short beach against a wall of tropical foliage, while broken pieces of wood and tangles of rigging start to wash to shore around him. Mike has no idea where he is or how he got there - but "Suddenly he was beset by an incredible memory," of being aboard a galleon in a raging battle, with pinnacles and spars and scupper ports and linstocks and everything. And someone had called him "Your lordship" and he had given the order to open fire.<br />
<br />
In other words, a character in a Hubbard story is suddenly and mysteriously knowing something. But unlike in, say, <i>Mission Earth</i>, said character is actually <i>acknowledging</i> how weird and convenient this is, and he's just a surprised as we are. The best explanation Mike can come up with is that the lobster he had for supper last night is giving him a crazy nightmare.<br />
<br />
My only problem with this situation is that Mike is admitting how weird it is to remember this battle but not that he, a 20th century man, was able to recognize the sound of muskets firing. If it sounds distinct from modern firearms, it's odd that Mike is experienced enough to know the difference. If it sounds similar to modern firearms, Mike's first response should have been to assume it's just gunfire without being so specific. If he'd just do a mental-double take and ask himself why he was so sure he was hearing musketry, we'd be set, but as it is it's an oversight.<br />
<br />
But enough nitpicking, let's get things moving. An explosion of sand near his hand and the crack of multiple firearms indicates that someone is trying to shoot Mike, so he scrambles to his feet and flees into the jungle. He can hear people behind him shouting stuff like "There he went!" and "Get behind him!", and it's not a nice thing for a bunch of strangers to be so set on killing you. He can even hear a horse running along the beach he's escaping from. Not a good situation by any means.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He felt like a rabbit, having no arms whatever. If only he had a gun or-<br />
<br />
<i>Clank!</i><br />
<br />
He felt himself smitten about the waist - and lo! he had a buckler and sword! The rapier lay naked in the sling, without a scabbard, the way bravoes wore them of old. The hilt of the weapon was gold, and studded with round-cut precious stones. And in clear letters on the steel was stamped "Toledo" and "Almirante de Lobo."</blockquote>
<i> </i><br />
Huh, lucky break. Heller usually had to reach up his own ass to pull out the weapon he needed to win the day.<br />
<br />
Mike doesn't waste any time wondering at this miraculous turn of events, but spends a moment trying and failing to control his temper, before giving up and striding out to face his foes, weapon in hand. Four hostile swashbucklers are waiting for him, and they exchange banter like "Use your pistol, you English dogs, or I'll spit you like a roasting chicken and feed you to the sharks!" and "I'll take you on meself, me bucko, and send your ears back to 'is most Catholic majesty with the compliments of my bully boys." Despite the leader's boast of taking Mike down personally, it's a four-on-one, then an eight-on-one fight, and no I don't know where the other four swashbucklers came from either, it just kind of happens in the space of a sentence. By now you should realize that we're in the sort of story where this thing can happen and isn't necessarily due to the author being sloppy. Or rather, there<i> is </i>a sloppy author involved, it's just not necessarily Hubbard.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Mike takes down two enemies in a single sentence - and it's not even a proper Hubbard Action Sequence, just "Mike sent the rapier singing into the throat of one and then into the heart of the other." But then he's disarmed and can do nothing but stand and wait for death, only for someone to shout <i>"Stay!</i>" and ride into the midst of the brawl on that horse he heard earlier.<br />
<br />
The interloper is "A flame-headed woman, imperious and as lovely as any statue from Greece," and she proceeds to chew out the "wretches," demand that they return the "gentleman"'s sword, and tells them to "Handle your own bloody business" when they try to protest that Mike is a dirty Spaniard, and threatens them with a gibbet. Which should all sound very familiar if we were paying attention last chapter.<br />
<br />
So the bad guys leave, and suddenly <i>"Swish! Swirl!"</i>, Mike is wearing black silk and a plumed wide-brimmed hat. There's nothing to do but doff the "miraculous hat" and bow before his rescuer, but he's so exhausted that he face-plants onto one of the dead swashbucklers, eww.<br />
<br />
And that ends our chapter. It's take another twenty-something pages for our hero to figure it out, but to us it should be obvious that Mike has somehow wound up in the hastily-assembled pirate story his friend Hackett was on the verge of writing. The ol' <a href="http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/TrappedInTVLand">"Trapped in TV Land"</a> scenario. Except with a book. And it's what may be the first example of such stories. And more entertainingly, we'll see how a fairly normal person fares when trapped in a world of pulp schlock.<br />
<br />
As an aside, I'm calling our main character Mike instead of de Wolf not out of any sense of familiarity with the fellow, but because I don't like starting sentences with lowercase letters. On the other hand, this may be <i>the</i> most sympathetic protagonist Hubbard has ever given us, so it doesn't feel wrong to be on a first-name basis with him.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-one-greatest.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter One</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-three-day.html">Forward to Chapter Three</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-53147096196451374702016-10-12T20:17:00.000-05:002016-12-27T01:05:35.041-06:00Typewriter in the Sky - Chapter One - The Greatest Story Not Yet WrittenWell, let's get right to it, shall we?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Horace Hackett, as one of his gangster characters would have said, was on the spot. About three months before, Jules Montcalm of Vider Press had handed to Horace Hackett the sum of five hundred dollars, an advance against royalties of a novel proposed but not yet composed. And Horace Hackett, being an author, had gaily spent the five hundred and now had nothing but a hangover to present to Jules Montcalm. It was, as one of Horace Hackett's heroes would have said, a nasty state of affairs. For be it known, publishers, when they have advanced sums against the writing of a book, are in no mood for quibbling, particularly when said book is listed in the fall catalogue and as there were just two months left in which it could be presented to the public.</blockquote>
<br />
So let's see - if Horace Hackett is some sort of author stand-in, it's a remarkably self-deprecatory one, what with him wasting an advance and partying dangerously close to a deadline. The last name might be a play on 'hack it,' an expression for finding success at something. Names like Jules Montcalm and Vider Press could be parodies of existing publishers, but I'm not interested enough to read up on the early 20th century book industry. And there's some annoying repetition with the "as one of his characters who had said" gag being used twice in one paragraph. Not a perfect intro, but certainly more interesting than some steely-eyed, emotionally-stunted blond ubermensch preparing to cut down scores of bad guys.<br />
<br />
Hackett, as subsequent paragraphs tell us, is a melodramatic but somewhat popular writer who churns out love stories and gangster tales for other publishers, as well as about one novel per year for Vider Press. His Greenwich apartment's basement studio is filled with unfinished stories, unpaid bills, empty bottles of booze, empty packets of cigarettes, and knicknacks like Colombian saddle bags that have deteriorated until they can be used as rugs. Hackett is trying to act unconcerned about this looming deadline, but he knows "that he had never been closer to getting caught."<br />
<br />
Also, he's wearing a dirty bathrobe. I think if I ever become a pulp writer and get an unexpected visit from my publisher, I'll take a moment to put on some actual clothes if I'm not wearing any at the start.<br />
<br />
So we've got Hackett trying to talk his way out of getting caught loafing instead of writing, Jules Montcalm - whose real name is Julius Berkowitz, and I'm not sure what we're supposed to do with this information - going after Hackett like "a hunter who has just treed a mountain lion and is now training his rifle to bop it out of the branches," and there's also someone named Mike de Wolf sitting at a piano. Mike's playing something quiet and moody, since he's already decided he's going to fail an audition the coming morning. Surprisingly enough, he's our main character.<br />
<br />
Montcalm accuses Hackett of not even having a plot thought out for his story, and Hackett can only "Heh, heh, heh" and look to Mike for back-up while he insists that he <i>totally</i> has a plot, something amazing, probably the best he's ever come up with! Also, would Mr. Montcalm like another drink?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"The plot," said Jules.<br />
<br />
"It's sparkling and exciting, and the love interest is so tender-"<br />
<br />
"The plot," said Jules.<br />
<br />
"-that I almost cried myself thinking it up. Why, it's a grand story! Flashing rapiers, tall ships, brave men-"<br />
<br />
"I already said that in the catalogue," said Jules, hopelessly. "Now I want to hear the plot. I bet you ain't got any plot at all!"<br />
<br />
"Mike! Here I am telling him the greatest story ever written-"<br />
<br />
"You haven't written it yet," said Mike, without turning his head.</blockquote>
<br />
And that's our dynamic for this chapter, Hackett trying to hype something he hasn't started yet, Montcalm pinning him back to reality, and Mike snarking from the piano. It's not a bad dynamic, either.<br />
<br />
Hackett repeats some more catalogue information about the story being set during the pirates' heyday in the Caribbean. The hero is "A go-to-hell, swashbuckling, cut-'em-down, brawny guy" named Tom Bristol... huh, <a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2015/11/under-black-ensign-chapter-1-were-on.html">sounds strangely familiar...</a> Anyway, he's upper-class, of course, and a tactical prodigy, but so hotheaded that he gets kicked out of the service by an evil uncle, which Montcalm complains is what happens in <i>all</i> of Hackett's pirate stories. Hackett gets indignant and defensive, asking if the publisher really thinks he only has one story in him, and starts talking about book sales before Montcalm gets him back on track.<br />
<br />
And this is <i>weird</i>, isn't it? This guy in a Hubbard story is doing things that Hubbard did throughout his career, recycle story elements and put a lot of emphasis on book sales instead of quality. Yet I don't think Hackett is meant to be viewed sympathetically - hell, in a way he's the story's villain, but we'll see more of that later.<br />
<br />
When Hackett gets to the part where Bristol ends up in the West Indies and falls for the daughter of a local merchant prince, Montcalm can already predict the blue-eyed blonde bimbo that Bristol will be paired with, only for Hackett to immediately contradict him and improvise a new heroine, a fiery redhead who can ride, shoot and gamble just as well as any man, and won't let just anyone claim her heart. Montcalm is intrigued but moves on to questions about the villain, warning that after "Song of Arabia" Hackett is going to have to put some effort into the bad guy. So Hackett starts talking about the Spanish admiral Bristol will have to defeat to earn his love interest's hand and a climactic naval battle, but Montcalm points out that this says nothing about the don himself.<br />
<br />
Seeking inspiration, Hackett turns to the other man in the room. Mike de Wolf is actually Irish, but one of the "black Irish," and Hubbard repeats the misconception that this hair color and skin tone is the result of interbreeding with shipwrecked survivors of the Spanish Armada back in the day. The important thing is, Mike could pass for a Spaniard.<br />
<br />
So Hackett spends a fat paragraph describing his villain/his buddy, his "narrow and aristocratic" features, how "his nostrils are so thin that you could see light through them," how he's graceful and well-manned but still a terrific fighter...<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"There's your Spanish admiral. A romantic! A poetry-reading, glamorous, hell-fighting, rapier-twisting, bowing beauty of a gentleman, all perfume and lace and wildcat. There's your Spanish admiral. And he falls in love with this girl when he gets shipwrecked on the island where she lives and she doesn't know he's a don because he's so educated he can speak English without an accent-"<br />
<br />
Mike had begun to glare.<br />
<br />
"You leave me out of this."</blockquote>
<br />
So by the end of this unscheduled literary jam session, Hackett has put enough of a spin on his heroine and villain, and added a love triangle to the big conflict of his generic pirate story, that even Montcalm has to admit that it sounds pretty good. The publisher does voice some concerns about its "color," but Hackett insists that he knows the Caribbean "like I know the keys of my mill," and launches into a rundown of how the story will progress. But his friend is annoyed by how Hackett keeps referring to the Spanish admiral as "Mike" - not to mention Hackett's habit of leaving cigarette butts in half-finished cups of coffee and refusal to wash his bathrobe - and since Mike is already feeling indisposed, he quietly slips off to the bathroom in search of aspirin, unnoticed by the others.<br />
<br />
Now, electricity can do a lot of things. It can reanimate a bunch of dead tissue stitched together, it can give a scientist super-speed, and in this case - well, Mike is fumbling for the bathroom's light, activated by a metal string, and he braces himself against the sink to do so, and zap!<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
He made contact. A blinding one! The light short-circuited with a fanfare of crackling!</blockquote>
<br />
Mike's paralyzed for a few moments, convulsing and forced to listen to Hackett going on about his stupid story, until he eventually collapsed towards the bathtub. He tries to steady himself, but his hands vanish before his very eyes, fading from the fingers down. In fact, Mike's legs are gone, his shoulders are gone,<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There wasn't anything left of him at all!<br />
<br />
The room was wheeling and dipping. He sought to howl for help. But he didn't have any mouth with which to howl.<br />
<br />
Michael de Wolf was <i>gone!</i></blockquote>
<br />
He has no mouth, and he must scream.<br />
<br />
So Mike's gone after a chance zap from an unshielded light bulb, and that's all the author will do to explain how this book's plot gets started. Meanwhile Hackett and Montcalm eventually finish their talk and wonder where Mike went off to, before concluding that he probably got mad after being used in a story. But at least it's a good character, and a good story, right? So the publisher leaves, and the writer, still aglow with inspiration, sits down and begins to clatter away at a typewriter...<br />
<br />
And that's our first chapter, an intriguing look at the creative process with some observations about the industry and a supernatural twist at the end. Say goodbye to Montcalm and Hackett, we won't be seeing them again for a while, which isn't to say that the latter won't have an influence on the story. Tune in next time to see where exactly Mike de Wolf has vanished to.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-intro-thunder-of-keys.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to the Introduction</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-two-mano-mano.html">Forward to Chapter Two</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-36094055318082003412016-10-10T19:57:00.001-05:002016-10-12T20:17:29.712-05:00Typewriter in the Sky - Intro - The Thunder of Keys AboveI think Hubbard peaked in 1939-1940, which makes it a damn shame that he kept writing for decades after that point. Before that period we have <i>Buckskin Brigades</i>, historical fiction that tries to get back at evil white settlers for crimes they hadn't committed by the time the story was set, as well as forgettable pulp stuff like <i>Under the Black Ensign</i>. After that period we have more forgettable pulp stuff such as "Space Can" and "The Slaver," then <i>Ole Doc Methuselah</i> and all its warning signs, before Hubbard goes completely off the deep end and excretes <i>Battlefield Earth</i> and <i>Mission Earth</i> at the end of his career and his life.<br />
<br />
But in that narrow window, there is... well, there's <i>Final Blackout</i> and its boring tale of a bland military hero handily winning every engagement and building a enlightened dictatorship. But there's also those rare few Hubbard stories that aren't <i>entirely</i> incompetent and have parts that actually work. It helps of course that a story that doesn't collapse under its plot problems or unlikable characters counts as a success for Hubbard, but there are chapters of <i>Fear</i> that I legitimately enjoyed, and <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> worked pretty well as a fantasy romp. And now here's this story.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2SE6QkeRAaPfCLg0HgT9YviK28A5dVzkOnhVQdnauqZ3nI2pdpiN10ujTEZH5F7DKSeKnIzTWe8Yq4rPtrFqi47qlNshJ2QHIIcUjpilVOq63bU0WgvtipRNw_8zx25S51f_Axf85QZE/s1600/Typewriter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2SE6QkeRAaPfCLg0HgT9YviK28A5dVzkOnhVQdnauqZ3nI2pdpiN10ujTEZH5F7DKSeKnIzTWe8Yq4rPtrFqi47qlNshJ2QHIIcUjpilVOq63bU0WgvtipRNw_8zx25S51f_Axf85QZE/s320/Typewriter.jpg" width="216" /></a><i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> was published in the November and December 1940 issues of <i>Unknown Fantasy Fiction</i>, which I suppose would make it the last entry of Hubbard's Not Terrible Period, at least among the titles covered for this blog. It's not a normal pulp story, even if it's pretty pulpy. It has fantastic elements in it, but it's not a real fantasy story. It's not billed as some satirical epic like <i>Mission Earth</i>, but it has some wry observations and insightful yet humorous commentary to make. Instead, it's a lot of different things Hubbard's done over his career, but done in moderation. It's also a very metafictional tale, a story about stories in general and its own story in particular, and the whole process of storytelling.<br />
<br />
There's not much to say about the cover other than that I'd do it a little differently. We've got someone in a swashbucklery outfit with a rapier and pistol in hand, flanked by majestic ships of the line, but he's stepping out of some sort of portal showing modern metropolis in the background. It's more thematic than accurate to the story, since there's no magic portal involved, but the thing I'd change would be the expression on this swashbuckler's face. He looks... um, the emotion he's expressing is... let's call it stoic determination. But I'd make him look more reluctant, even panicked, clearly unhappy to be where he is. Because in the story - well, we'll see soon enough.<br />
<br />
The back cover has the tagline "Enter a Gateway to Another World," which again isn't quite accurate, and a plot summary that I'll ignore so the premise comes as more of a surprise. In the blurbs underneath it, Alan Dean Foster calls it both "a writer's nightmare" and "one of the most influential books in modern fantasy." Kevin J. Anderson... man, he keeps showing up, doesn't he? Well, he thinks it's "A true masterpiece of the genre... an exhilarating romp filled with delightful twists and turns." I'd argue that his book is <i>entertaining</i>, if not really thrilling or exciting. On the other hand, unlike many of Hubbard's works there's some real suspense over how or even if the main character can get out of the predicament he's in.<br />
<br />
Another plot summary on the inside book jacket flap that I'll ignore, a section about "Master Storyteller" L. Ron Hubbard on the right flap, and <i>wow</i> that's a goofy picture of a young Hubbard in a hat and sunglasses with a somewhat confused smirk on his face. Kevin J. Anderson with the Introduction again, talking about how he'd been busy doing all these books when a publisher asked him to do a foreword, he agreed that he might be able to work it into his schedule, only to instantly like <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> when he started reading it in the bath. Have to say, my experience was somewhat similar - right at the start I knew I wasn't in for a typical Hubbard story, and was actually interested in what was going to happen when I turned the page.<br />
<br />
Anderson also talks how <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> - actually, Anderson quotes someone else talking about <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i>, excuse me. Anyway, the claim is that the book "anticipates plot gimmicks now popular among experimental metafictionists," which I didn't know was a real word. Now, I'm reluctant to give Hubbard any credit for doing anything good just on principle, but if this is true, we can only wonder what sort of new frontiers in literature he might have developed if he hadn't decided to keep doing pulp crap and eventually come up with alternative sources of revenue. <br />
<br />
Also, Anderson calls Hubbard "indeed a <b>writer</b>," and talks about how prolific the guy was and puts him in a category with Charles Dickens, Jules Verne, and Alexandre Dumas, all "classic authors who wrote quickly and in first-draft form." Which pretty much confirms what I've concluded a long time ago about Hubbard being unwilling or unable to give his stuff a once-over or revise anything.<br />
<br />
But there you have it, a cursory look at <i>Typewriter in the Sky</i> that's hopefully piqued your curiosity. Tune in next time to see what all the fuss is about.<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/10/typewriter-in-sky-chapter-one-greatest.html">Forward to Chapter One </a></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-70534875904291406312016-10-05T21:17:00.000-05:002016-10-05T21:17:03.209-05:00Masters of Sleep - Master of None<i>Slaves of Sleep</i> stands out as a rare Hubbard story that isn't undermined by the author's failures when it comes to science or history, a mostly harmless fantasy romp whose worst flaw is its anticlimactic finale. <i>Masters of Sleep</i>, though, is just a headscratcher. You might think that since it's so similar to its predecessor that it might earn the same "it's average" review, yet the fact that it <i>is</i> so similar in itself raises further questions.<br />
<br />
The obvious one is "Why did this story need to be written?" It was published a decade after <i>Slaves of Sleep</i>, too long for it to be in response to hypothetical reader demand for a sequel. It more or less recycles the previous story's plot, so Hubbard might as well have released a <i>Slaves of Sleep: Anniversary Edition</i> with additional commies and Dianetics references, rather than spending his time writing a "new" tale that hit all the same beats as the last one.<br />
<br />
It's possible that Hubbard earnestly believed that he had a decent yarn
to tell about Palmer and Tiger's further adventures in their respective
worlds, though this would be sad. Sure, there's plenty of works out there in various forms of media that come out every issue/week/year and do exactly what they did last issue/week/year, but these tend to be stories where the hero defeats a bad guy, rides off into the sunset, wanders into a new setting, and finds new evil to fight. But <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> arrived at a very definite Happy Ending, with Palmer/Tiger becoming a better person and securing his/their independence and success. Since there's nowhere to go from there, <i>Masters of Sleep</i> is all about returning things to how they were at the end of the first book. It's not so much about the continued adventures of Tiger-Palmer as it is about Palmer-Tiger <i>re</i>doing his/their previous adventure, which again begs the question of why Hubbard didn't just rewrite that first adventure.<br />
<br />
Another theory is that this was all an exercise in corporate synergy, a way for Hubbard to namedrop Dianetics in a story and try to pique readers' interest so they'd buy his guide to ultimate self-improvement. But if so, it's an uncharacteristically subtle effort, since Dianetics is mentioned less than half a dozen times in the book. There's also the problem, if you're trying to sell your self-help book about purging subconscious negative thoughts until you gain perfect recall and 20/20 vision, of doing so in a fantasy story about souls moving between the world we're familiar with and a world of genies. Readers might get confused, and start to wonder if Dianetics will help them get in touch with their counterparts in the Land of Sleep, or purge those nasty genies from their bodies.<br />
<br />
Now, given how much of <i>Masters of Sleep</i>'s plot revolves around Palmer being in danger of getting his brains scrambled by a quack psychologist, it's possible that this book is Hubbard's first shot in the campaign against psychiatry that would consume much of his later life. But if Hubbard wanted to write an <span class="Latn headword">exposé</span> on the horrors of neurosurgery, is a story about genies and magic diamonds the best way to deliver it? You might as well rail against psychiatry in a book about alien spies trying to prepare Earth for an interplanetary invasion.<br />
<br />
The other baffling thing about this book is how, even as it repeats the story of <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> while ostensibly serving as a sequel to it, <i>Masters of Sleep</i> ignores or changes key facts laid out by its predecessor. The most glaring example of this is the unexplained absence of the Seal of Sulayman, that magic bracelet that Zongri coveted and Tiger used to defeat his enemies and find success. Solomon's emblem is mentioned in <i>Masters of Sleep</i>, mainly in regards to how the Two-World Diamond is a "three dimensional" variation of it, but the bracelet itself is mysteriously absent. No excuse is offered as to why Tiger doesn't have it in the sequel, and Tiger doesn't even acknowledge that he ever used it to get where he is at the start of the story.<br />
<br />
It's like Hubbard realized that a magic bracelet that can knock down walls, destroy ships, and make weapons fall apart in their wielders' hands is something too powerful for the hero to have at the start of the story... but couldn't think of any way to get rid of it, or any excuse for Tiger not using it. Not even a half-assed "its powers faded with each use," or "it mysteriously vanished one morning." So he decided to just not mention it and hope that nobody noticed.<br />
<br />
Then there's the mechanics of the "one soul, two bodies" situation. At the end of <i>Slaves of Sleep</i>, Palmer has been "cursed" by a powerful genie's magic with "Eternal" Wakefulness, which serves to make him a better-rounded person. The story also suggests that this awareness of his dual lives will fade in a matter of weeks, but since the ending is presented as happy, we're probably meant to assume that Palmer's character development - which is to say the Tiger traits he's adopted - will be permanent even if he's not living a continuous consciousness that alternates between worlds.<br />
<br />
Except <i>Masters of Sleep</i> undoes this, and explains that yes, Palmer got less Tiger-ish as time went by and became a meek businessman domineered by his new wife Alice, who turns out to have been a vapid domestic type all along. So when Tiger takes that head injury during his capture at the start of the book and gets hit with that ineffable sense of loss... well, what <i>has</i> he lost? Nothing he wouldn't have lost naturally. And nothing vital to succeeding at the end of this story - there's nothing particularly Palmer-ish about being smart enough to use a magic diamond to banish your enemies. The only chapter Tiger is really influenced by his otherworldly counterpart is when he decides to wait for the genie fleet to attack instead of doing something impulsive, but since the Two-World Diamond leaves his possession before the fleet arrives, and Tiger finds a way to defeat it anyway, he doesn't really need Palmer's help.<br />
<br />
Palmer gets more use out of Tiger's influence when he uses it to break out of the asylum, but he was only put <i>into</i> the asylum after Tiger's influence led him to savagely attack someone. And if the "two souls as one" thing from the end of last book wore off eventually, why is it so triumphant when the same thing happens again this book? Are things different now that Tiger-Palmer has the Two-World Diamond? But if he/they lost the Seal of Sulayman between last book and this one, who's to say Tiger won't lose his latest acquisition in a poker game or something?<br />
<br />
That's the problem with recycling the previous book's plot, there's no character development or anything, so there's no impression that <i>this</i> happy ending will stick when the last one didn't. So after 140 pages of sailing and swordfights and magic rocks and psychiatrists, we end up back where we were at the end of the last book. The only differences are that our hero(es) have a different magic item they may or not be able to hold onto, and Tiger gets promoted from baron to king. So again, what was the point?<br />
<br />
Probably the same point behind most of Hubbard's work, which is to say he was willing to submit it and somebody was willing to publish it. <br />
<br />
On the other hand, there's something reassuring about Hubbard getting back on (out of?) form after the burst of competence shown in <i>Slaves of Sleep</i>. As for the next novel this blog will cover, it's simultaneously an old pulp story like Hubbard's early work and a meta tale about storytelling itself. Tune in next week to see if it turns out more like <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> or <i>Masters of Sleep</i>.Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-2095573291901284602016-09-28T20:14:00.001-05:002017-07-08T11:53:35.202-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Fourteen - Banish My Problems AwayWell, if life gives you an "I Win" button, and has also thrown an enemy frigate at you, it would only make sense to push that button. Especially if this is merely the danger facing the you in one world, and in another world your other body is due to get its brain scrambled by a quack psychologist who stubbornly refuses to see the truth of Dianetics, available now at major booksellers. Also, the frigate is commanded by vengeful genies. Sometimes life is pretty weird.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The diamond blazed in the sunlight, bluer than the deep, whiter than the spray which flew above the reef. In its depths lay the three-dimensional Seal of Sulayman, the monarch who had conquered once all the tribes of Jinn.</blockquote>
<br />
I think there was something about a deity helping Sulayman, though, some unfathomably powerful entity that gave him the magic ring in the first place. But Yahweh or God or Allah doesn't get any credit, at least in this story. Wonder why? Is Hubbard fine with all-powerful ancient kings of legend, but doesn't like acknowledging anything greater than man? Is that why, for all the rants about godless psychology in <i>Mission Earth</i>, religion plays little role in its heroes' lives?<br />
<br />
Just when the enemy ship is about to fire, Tiger looks into the depths of the magic rock, then points it down "in the banishing sign," and while the author is willing to spend fifteen pages on a diagram of a ship's sails and a glossary of nautical terminology, he can't be bothered to spare a single sentence explaining what this arcane gesture is.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Ifrits and Marids of the <i>Ras Faleen! </i>To the center of the Withered Desert all! Go!"</blockquote>
<br />
And they do. Tiger can see the frigate's gun crews standing at their stations, but the genie officer who was about to tell them to shoot is gone, as are any other jinn on the ship. The narration assures us that "if one cared, at the moment, to go to the Withered Desert he would have found a stunned group of Ifrits standing about, naval coats unfitting for that scenery of desolation and sand." Thank you, omniscient narrator, for dispelling any confusion that the Two-World Diamond might have just up and disintegrated the genies or something.<br />
<br />
Oh hey, remember how the Diamond can also swap souls between bodies? "By the Seal of Sulayman!" our hero wishes that he was "the most commanding fellow on the <i>Ras Faleen!</i>" and boom, Tiger takes over some bearded gunnery sergeant on the ship, announces that he's taking command, and browbeats the crew into launching a boat to land on the island. Once they hit the shore where a very confused Tiger-looking person is waiting, Tiger takes a moment to appreciate "how well his body looked despite the sea stains," wow. Then he walks his stolen body to the rock that he was cunning enough to stuff the Diamond under in the split-second between wishing he was someone else and having his soul swapped, un-swaps bodies with the sailor, and uses his natural charisma or whatever to take command of the frigate's crew.<br />
<br />
So two hours later, Tiger and the rest of the survivors from the <i>Terror</i> are aboard the frigate and sailing off to regroup with the rest of the formerly-genie fleet. He orders a signalman to pass on the command for everyone to sail back to Tarbutón, and when the officer protests reminds him to "Sign it 'Tiger.' They'll understand soon enough." He also uses the Two-World Diamond to banish all the jinn aboard the armada, so another two hours later the newly-freed human sailors are just thrilled to follow the legendary Tiger.<br />
<br />
A break in the paragraphs and an undefined amount of time later, Tiger's new fleet sails into Tarbutón's harbor, which is filled with very confused people wondering where all the local genies vanished to. Some cheer when a lookout shouts "It's Tiger!" while others are more hesitant about the notorious troublemaker, but Tiger doesn't need the masses' approval. Instead he has his sailors disembark and ready chains, then uses the Two-World Diamond concealed in a pocket to conjure the former admiral Tombo, Arif-Emir of Balou, and Zongri the recent ruler of Tarbutón. As soon as the ifrits appear they are subdued and bound.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"By Ahriman!" screamed Zongri, age-old enemy of Tiger, "I demand-"<br />
<br />
"Pipe down!" said Tiger. "You demand nothing! By virtue of a power I hold and which you know, I give you your choice between exile and a swift voyage to hell. Before these witnesses assembled, Zongri, declare to me the lordship of your lands or else, by Ahriman, you'll roast!"</blockquote>
<br />
Huh, Hubbard's characters will invoke <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Angra_Mainyu">a Zoroastrian deity</a>, but not the god behind the Seal of Solomon? The god that Zongri was put away for not acknowledging?<br />
<br />
Arif-Emir warns Zongri that Tiger has the magic rock, and so, in all a half-page, both of those genie rulers have ceded control over their realms to this pirate, and Tiger once more banishes them to the Withered Desert. A sniveling Tombo begs Tiger not to send him away with the others, since they'll surely kill him for revealing the secrets of the Diamond.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Tiger looked at him. He knew him for what he was, a Jinn that haunted in human form another world and wore the name of Dyhard.</blockquote>
<br />
Does Tombo even <i>know </i>he's opposing Tiger in the other world as well? I mean, he's not exactly offering to have his human counterpart let Tiger-Palmer out of the loony bin in exchange for mercy, is he?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"All I care to do to you," said Tiger, "is to curse you with eternal wakefulness and memory in another world of this!</blockquote>
<br />
I guess that confirms it, Tombo has no idea of the offenses he's committed in the other world. But he sure as hell is going to be punished for them.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Except for that, you are free. Come lads, pass the word to the fleet to organize their ships and send me in a palace guard."</blockquote>
<br />
So the crowds go wild with cheering for this notorious ne'er-do-well who showed up with a fleet of cannons under his command and browbeat the jinn into handing over their thrones, and who is now going to rule the only two nations worth mentioning in the Land of Sleep. Tiger doesn't shake hands or give any speeches on the policy goals of his upcoming administration, though, instead he pushes past the throng and enters the late Ramus' palace, until he's standing in its empty great hall.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Sulayman! Sulayman!" he said. "By virtue of this diamond hear me where you are in the world of the dead. The Ifrits who rebelled against you stand in the wastes of the Withered Desert. Bewitch them there so they can trouble man no more."<br />
<br />
There was a rumbling sound above him as though the sky was laughing with pleasure at the deed.</blockquote>
<br />
Why the hell didn't Solomon do that when he was alive? What, he couldn't enslave the jinn to build his palace <i>and </i>keep them from causing mischief?<br />
<br />
But that's that. Tiger is now effectively King of Genie World. All those humans he didn't care to free from genie bondage last time around are now fr- are now his subjects. I'm sure Wanna's very impressed by all this, though since she doesn't actually appear in this chapter or get any lines, we can only speculate. So let's see what kind of ruler Tiger wants to be, how he'll lead this cosmopolitan assembly of former slaves into a brave new world of<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jan sat in a hospital bed, a strong and forthright Jan. He seemed bigger than he had and no wonder for he held as well the power of his other self in another world. He was much besieged by callers.</blockquote>
<br />
Or we could cut back to Palmer, sure. The super nerd is quickly recovering in a proper hospital, tended to by a "pretty nurse" who tells him that his leg is almost healed and he'll be able to go home tomorrow. His wife is there, too.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Alice, sitting in a chair at Jan's left, looked fondly at her husband. A definite change had taken place in her. She was her composite self, warm and interested, no longer coldly businesslike, the artistic part of her restored and shining in her glance. She patted Jan's hand.</blockquote>
<br />
Bullcrap. Alice wasn't "coldly businesslike" this book, she was a borderline sociopath more preoccupied with her outings with girlfriends than her husband's head injury or brain surgery. And her "composite self?" She acted that way in the first story, <i>before</i> she knew of her second life as Wanna the vacuous temple dancer. She gets even less out of this 'one soul two worlds' dealie than Tiger does from Palmer.<br />
<br />
Let's wrap this up. A visiting policeman mentions how Davies the commie got arrested in California, confessed to several robberies, and was carrying enough forged papers to get put away for a long time. Also, that cop who shot Palmer is getting reassigned to the suburbs, where he wouldn't be able to do any more harm to rich, influential businessmen trying to chase down and attack someone after violently escaping an insane asylum. A Bering Steam bigwig, eager to appease his boss after the second failed attempt to oust him, talks about how he'll be backing that highway to Alaska and will let Palmer rename that recently-launched ship from the <i>Zachariah Palmer</i> to the <i>Greg Palmer</i> like he wanted. And a newspaper reveals that Dr. Felix Dyhard underwent a successful prefrontal lobotomy after starting to rave about being from another world, "and can be expected to experience an uneventful recovery after which he will be transferred to the state institution until such time as some routine employment which requires little thought can be found for him."<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Poor Tombo!" said Alice.<br />
<br />
Jan went back to reading the comics.</blockquote>
<br />
Cue laugh track while we wonder what happens to someone who's been lobotomized in one world but not the other. Do they alternate between periods of coherent thinking and emptiness, or does the operation damage the very soul? How much is Tombo suffering for the sins of another person?<br />
<br />
But that's it, that's our ending - after a chapter spent chasing after the thing, our hero uses the Two-World Diamond to wish all his problems away. Palmer has retained his wealth and prestige in one world, destroyed the lives of his enemies by a means that cannot be linked to him, and escaped any punishment for vehicle theft or assault and battery or anything. Tiger in the other world has managed to overthrow an entire society with a few commands directed at a magic rock and now faces the challenges of governing a nation with a skillset that consists of sailing, fighting and breaking the law. There was no character development, nobody learned anything - at best our hero(es) recovered to where they were at the end of the previous book.<br />
<br />
And at no point did we learn whatever happened to the all-powerful Seal of Sulayman the previous story revolved around. Only that everyone was wasting their time with it when there was a much <i>better</i> artifact to play with.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-13-race-to.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Thirteen</span></a>Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-80472208383751440882016-09-26T20:22:00.000-05:002016-09-28T20:14:56.888-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Thirteen - Race to the Dead EndWe go from Palmer being shot and arrested in one world to Tiger waking up at dawn in the other, and since he comes to with the echoes of madmen's screams in his mind, we can infer that Palmer didn't lose consciousness after taking the bullet, but got carted back to the mental hospital and fell asleep at a normal-ish time.<br />
<br />
Though I have to wonder, if "Jan the Tiger" is once again aware of his dual nature and the twin worlds inhabited by humanity, why didn't he try to go to sleep early so he could switch to Tiger the Palmer? Get a head start on the search for the Two-World Diamond in Genie World and all that. But that wouldn't make this chapter as dramatic, I suppose.<br />
<br />
Tiger gets up and takes in the crew swabbing the <i>Terror</i>'s deck, and there's some foreshadowing or symbolism or whatever because the sunlight makes it look like the decks are being "scrubbed with blood." And don't bother nitpicking about whether the dawn sun is red or not, let's just appreciate this effort and move on. Tiger immediately goes to find Muddy McCoy, the Genie World counterpart of the communist ex-lumberjack-turned-diamond thief Chan Davies, but he's vanished. Inconvenient, that.<br />
<br />
So up Tiger goes into the rigging to look around and spell out the situation for us. His pirate fleet is making full speed toward the island of Denaise, their base of operations where they can try to make a last stand. Racing them to this destination is Arif-Emir's fleet, which has joined forces with the remnants of Tombo's fleet, "unconditional surrender" be damned. The genie fleets are lagging behind since they had to go around Frying Pan Shoals due to Tiger's roadblock, and the pirates would have been able to make it to Denaise about a day ahead of them, but two enemy frigates have leapt to the front and are slowly gaining on the freebooters. And then there's a complication, a cutter that has ditched the pirate fleet to run for some islands and reefs, a ship that Tiger knows is carrying Muddy McCoy thanks to his patented Tiger Sense.<br />
<br />
Tiger gives his new orders - change course and intercept McCoy's cutter. No, Tiger doesn't know for certain that the Two-World Diamond is with McCoy right now. And no, he doesn't know how to use the Two-World Diamond, despite his hopes that it can magic all his problems away. "But Tiger knew he had to take that chance to save himself in two worlds if he could and to save these buckaroons and humankind as slaves to the Jinn." You know, that thing he didn't do last time he had a terribly powerful artifact in his hand.<br />
<br />
So we get a naval chase as promised in the chapter's title of "The Chase." It's probably exciting if you're nautically-inclined - Tiger tells his men to run out the stern chasers, whatever those are, and then they dump all the auxiliary boats the ship is carrying in order to squeeze every last knot out of it. After a page of this the enemy frigates get in range and start taking potshots, and manage to land one hit on the <i>Terror</i>, but all it does it take down Tiger's "fore-r'yal yard" and kill a
nameless gun crew. Nothing that seriously impacts Tiger's ability to win, just enough to create the illusion of danger.<br />
<br />
Tiger has his men load chain shot, which if you don't know is two cannonballs linked by a chain, which causes the projectiles to whirl around and rip through rigging with ease. The story at least is helpful enough to explain this to us in the text itself, instead of not featuring it in the glossary like most of the other nautical garbage. The bad guys try a proper broadside, but Tiger watches the enemy officers and tells his helmsman to "Brace and trim!" right when he sees the genies give the order to fire, so the <i>Terror</i> dodges all but one shot to the bow. In response, Tiger has his batteries fire and wreck both enemy ships' mizzen and rudder and stuff, inflicting enough damage that they'll have to stop for repairs, if only for a time.<br />
<br />
As the <i>Terror</i> sails on, one parting shot from an enemy ship hits its counter... oh hey, that's in the glossary for once, "(<i>n</i>.) the curved part of the back of a ship." It won't be enough to end the <i>Terror</i> right then and there, but the ship starts to slowly sink even as it continues to chase after McCoy's cutter, while the thief tries to force a retread of Chapter Eleven by losing the <i>Terror</i> in some rough reefs.<br />
<br />
But hey, you know how Tiger has been itching to figure out what the Two-World Diamond actually does? And a couple chapters ago he took a high-ranking genie captive, a genie who had been intent upon getting the Diamond for himself, and knew stuff about it that Tiger didn't? Well, it's only now, when his ship is sinking and the brig is flooding, that Tiger decides to question Admiral Tombo about the Diamond, demanding information in exchange for freeing the genie from a watery tomb. Tombo is hysterical, though, raving about being caught and trapped. Hmm. And there's something about that fanged face that makes Tiger stare for a moment...<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Gripping the Jinn's throat through the bars, Tiger yanked him close. "Tell me the power of that diamond! What can it do?"<br />
<br />
"Let me out! I'm caught! I'm trapped!" screamed Tombo. "Anything, anything! But let me out! He's a maniac! I'm caught, I'm trapped!"<br />
<br />
The phrase about the maniac completed the identification for Tiger. For a moment he had thought this might be the prefrontal case, but that was not so. Tombo was Dyhard in another world! A Jinn!</blockquote>
<br />
Uh... wut?<br />
<br />
Let's rewind to Queen Ramus' talk with Tiger last book. When she discussed the nature of the Land of Sleep and souls and all that, she only described human souls as traveling between the worlds and inhabit different bodies, there was never any suggestion that genies did the same. Why would they need to, when jinn like Zongri are able to physically travel between the worlds? Why would Zongri's imprisonment in a copper jar so terrible if he had another body in another world to fall back to? And if a genie can live tens of thousands of years in one world, how could they live as a brief mortal in the other? Would their soul just go to a <i>new</i> human body each time the old one kicks it? If souls can do that, why does Tiger need to risk his life in this world to save his body in the other world?<br />
<br />
I don't know, maybe Hubbard thought this would be more satisfying for us, allow us to combine all the hate we feel for Dyhard with all the "meh" we have towards Tombo. It's certainly convenient for the author, since it lets our hero deal with both antagonists in one fell swoop. But that's next chapter.<br />
<br />
Tombo tries to resist Tiger's demands for information, since that would betray the entire race of jinn, but when our hero keeps encouraging Tombo's panic by reminding him how he's trapped. the genie spills his guts. The trick to using the Diamond is to make the "banishing sign," whatever that is. Aim it down and the Diamond can send jinn anywhere whether they want to go or not, while if you aim it up, the thing conjures up the spirit of Sulayman himself, who famously commanded the jinn to do his bidding. No magic words required, just flip it one way or the other, and tell it what you want it to do.<br />
<br />
And that's the Two-World Diamond. It moves around between the two worlds when a human has it in their possession, which is how it gets its name, but its main power is over genies. The jinn use it when they grow old and want to steal another jinni's body, but don't want humans to have it because then one could summon the ancient king that enslaved their entire race.<br />
<br />
Arif-Emir wore the thing in his hat. During a parade. Surrounded by cheering humans.<br />
<br />
Hubbard Villains, man. Well, after Tiger learns the secrets of the Diamond, the sinking <i>Terror</i> hits a reef and starts to get battered apart by the surf. As you might expect, Tiger manages to escape the wreck as it disintegrates around him, and soon he, a sodden Tombo, Wanna, Mr. Luck, Stagger Ryan, and probably some nameless background characters, all find themselves stuck in the lagoon of the island McCoy had been running toward. Oh, and Muddy McCoy's ship has wrecked as well, so he's there to be chased down by Tiger, who grabs the thief by the throat.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
But it was not Muddy McCoy's throat he wanted. It was the lump in Muddy's sash. With eager fingers Tiger too unto himself the Two-World Diamond.</blockquote>
<br />
Well, I say "thief," but I guess it was Davies who actually stole the Diamond in the other world, McCoy just woke up with the thing in his possession and decided to run off with it. While pursued by a vast fleet after that very item. And he ran towards a very small island with no escape route. And managed to wreck his ship in the process.<br />
<br />
Or does McCoy even know he has it? Maybe he was trying to save his own skin, hide while the genies took out Tiger, and never knew the Diamond was in his bag. We'll never know, because he isn't mentioned in what remains of the book. For all we know Tiger throttled him and McCoy's corpse is slowly drifting across the lagoon.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Seaward, the <i>Ras Faleen</i></blockquote>
<br />
That's one of the jinn frigates, by the way. The other was the <i>Mount Kaf</i>, if you're interested. It's also the <i>Mount Kaf</i> if you're not interested.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
was standing in as close as she dared, gun ports open, the black mouth of grape-stuffed cannon hungry to cut down the <i>Terror</i>'s crew as it struggled toward the far beach.</blockquote>
<br />
This is a stupid cliffhanger, Tiger just captured the obscenely powerful magic item that gives him control over jinn. If you wanted to have one last page of tension in the story before the ante/anticlimax, end the chapter with him pursuing McCoy as the enemy ship bears down on him, so there's the question of whether he'll get the Diamond back before he's blown apart in a hail of lead and shrapnel.<br />
<br />
Next time, we'll wrap this up in a way that's just as, if not more unsatisfying than the end of the last book.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-twelve-running.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Twelve</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-fourteen-in.html">Forward to Chapter Fourteen</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-47827255188380905482016-09-23T15:31:00.000-05:002017-07-08T11:21:48.286-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Twelve - Running in CirclesOnce again Palmer wakes up with the distinct impression that he was very recently on a boat, only to realize that no, he's actually still stuck in the loony bin. Dr. Dyhard is showing two "internes" the "Let me out. Let me out" guy and complaining if the patient had been <i>more</i> of a schizophrenic then the procedure would be more successful, but stumbles and stammers whenever they ask what was specifically wrong with the guy. Then the muttering patient gets hauled away in a straightjacket so Dyhard can try to cut out whatever part of the brain makes him so noisy.<br />
<br />
Palmer spends a good, fat paragraph reflecting on what he learned of elementary psychology back in 1936, which stressed the importance of the very frontal lobe that these modern quacks are so keen on scrambling, and wonders why anyone would try to cure insanity by cutting up the part of the brain that regulates rational thinking. "Could it be that some of the those 'healers' through long association with insanity were, themselves, no longer sane?" Perhaps. Alternatively, maybe Palmer's old professor was wrong when he concluded that man's mighty frontal lobe "probably contained the ability to rationalize," which <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frontal_lobe#In_other_animals">according to Wikipedia</a> is a view that's been challenged by recent research on great ape brains. Also note that the article doesn't even use the word "rational," and explains that lobotomies and the like were attempts to reduce the patient's distress, not fillet the part of the brain that let them talk.<br />
<br />
Either way, Palmer is not looking forward to brain surgery, especially after the hospital nurses deposit "a something" in the cell across from his that stares vacantly and silently at the ceiling - "The operation had been an entire success." But he doesn't resist when they come for him next, since he figures he should save his escape attempt for a more opportune moment. Which is to say, it wouldn't be very dramatic if he managed to break out before we properly experienced the horrors of neurosurgery.<br />
<br />
Palmer's wheeled into the operating room, Dyhard gets suited up in his surgery kit, and Palmer desperately offers the nurses a bribe to let him go.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I can pay you twenty thousand dollars apiece if you will get me out of here!" he said urgently to the male nurses. "I'm Jan Palmer, head of Bering Steam-"<br />
<br />
"Pleased to meetcha. I'm Rockefeller," said the shorter nurse.</blockquote>
<br />
No, no, you're Rocke<i>center</i>. Can't be too obvious with our satire, see?<br />
<br />
Since that fails, Palmer bursts into action, chopping a "rabbit punch" to hit a man in the base of the skull when he tries to strap him down, then double-kicks the other orderly backwards. He nearly makes it out of the operating room but the guard outside gets him in a bear hug and hauls him back. So he gets strapped to the table with his head held still in a vice, they shave half his hair, and set out the tools for the operation - "a device like a brace and bit which was obviously used to drill a circle out of the skull," as well as some wire loops and knives and hooks. All Palmer can do now is beg his captors not to kill the part of the brain that makes him him, but Dyhard has eyes like someone "in a Roman audience or in a father accustomed to beat his child or an executioner bent on doing his public duty." And personally I would have picked only one of those similes instead of slathering it on that thick, but what do I know.<br />
<br />
A cone shoved in his face hits Palmer with nitrous oxide, and he tries to hold his breath but can't. So, who's up for some brain surgery?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The point of the bit began to screw into his bone. His scalp jerked away from it. He tried to keep from taking another breath but could not. The cone spun faster and faster before him. The bit was finding a hold in his skull and the worm was going deeper. The extension blade began to sweep a circle.</blockquote>
<br />
Somwhat understated and mechanical compared to <a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2012/05/part-twenty-four-chapter-three-surgery.html">Gris' surgery in <i>Mission Earth</i> book three</a>, but more effective I think than a lot of "FLASH!"es and "YEEOW!"s.<br />
<br />
But then... man, I don't know how it works. Two chapters ago it was Palmer hitting his chin on the table that knocked some Tiger back into him, while in this case it's a drill making its way into his skull that accomplishes the same. So Palmer suddenly sees a ship's lantern instead of the anesthesia cone, and is filled with both pain and rage, and flexes his arms, and<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There was the crack and pop of webbing, the rip of canvas jacketing and the snap of laces which went like thread.<br />
<br />
Tiger, strong and mighty, snatched at the auger and twisted it out of his skull! He sent the instrument crashing into Dyhard's face. With a leap he came off the table, leaving the frayed straps behind and with a sudden snatch had in his hands the heads of the nurses. He smashed them together and with a vicious raise of his knees, now right, now left, he wrecked his assailants for days to come.</blockquote>
<br />
Okay, I can get Palmer's "Tiger" personality knowing how to fight better than the meek boat enthusiast. I'm just confused how Tiger was able to use the very same muscles to rip free of his restraints. What's the explanation for that? Does Tiger know how to use Palmer's muscles better than he does, and can get more done with them? Is Tiger pushing Palmer's muscles past their safe limits, like how people in moments of stress are able to lift cars off their loved ones? If so, why wasn't Palmer's adrenaline surge at the prospect of getting lobotomized enough to do the same? And why hasn't any other patient managed to escape this way? What, they couldn't channel Napoleon Bonaparte or whoever to get the berserk strength necessary to break free?<br />
<br />
Whatever. There's a moment of delicious irony or something when Dyhard starts panicking and babbling "I'm caught! I'm trapped!" like Palmer's old roommate, and then a moment of satisfying revenge or something when Tiger jams Dyhard's skull underneath the "steam sterilizer" and slams it with enough force to nearly break the man's neck. Then he rushes out of the operating room and in all of two sentences manages to burst out of the hospital.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
A car was on the drive, Dyhard's.</blockquote>
<br />
How does Palmer know that?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Tiger paused for an instant, disoriented, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. Suddenly, from a dual nature, he became himself a unity anew.</blockquote>
<br />
Yes, somehow Palmer's time in a mental hospital has cured his existential confusion. He is no longer Jan Palmer the millionaire or Tiger the pirate, but Jan the Tiger, the complete package, combining scholarly wisdom with bold action!<br />
<br />
Again. Over the course of this book we've managed to return to where we were at the end of last book.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Insensibly separated after the Curse had unified his two natures once before, Jan the Tiger was oriented well in two worlds. Half of his mind knew suddenly things the other half knew.</blockquote>
<br />
Like whose car that was in the driveway?<br />
<br />
However he knows it, Tiger-Palmer understands that the Two-World Diamond was in Thunderguts' safe in Genie World because it was in Palmer's safe in Human World, but vanished when it was moved from the latter. And since he's about to get attacked by a genie fleet in one world and charged with potentially murder in the other - "for he could not guess whether or not he had killed anyone in that operating room" - he really needs a Dues Ex Machina diamond to save his ass.<br />
<br />
So he drives off for a bit before ditching the stolen car... wait, how'd he start it? Did he pickpocket Dyhard's keys when we weren't looking? Oh, Wikipedia says the first ignition keys were introduced by Chrysler in 1949. Guess with old cars you just pushed a button to start them or something. And Dyhard forgot to lock his doors. Anyway, Palmer-Tiger ditches the car and takes a cab home, pops in and out to throw some money at the guy before the cops find him, then starts looking for the Diamond.<br />
<br />
Alice is there eating supper, but Palmer walks by "without a nod," and her only reaction is to note that "aside from his determined stride and face, he looked just like Jan." No delighted cry of "Honey!" or anything, or even shock that he's back unexpectedly early. She doesn't even remark that half his head and shaved and someone's tried to bore a hole in it. She does follow him into his study, however, where Palmer checks the safe but finds it empty, no surprise.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Who took that diamond?" he said sharply.<br />
<br />
"Isn't it there?" she said.</blockquote>
<br />
And that's these lovers' first interaction after being reunited after some very trying times.<br />
<br />
Palmer belatedly notices that someone's drilled holes in his safe, remembers that the Diamond wound up in the hands of Muddy McCoy in Genie World, and concludes that McCoy and Chan Davies the communist ex-lumberjack are the same person. He asks if Alice has seen "that Commie" around, Alice finally asks what Palmer's doing home instead of getting "one of these splendid new scientific operations that make everybody so well. Didn't you want to go through with it?" Instead of answering "NO!" or slapping her, Palmer just repeats his question, and Alice admits that yes, she hired the guy who hit her husband with a lead pipe, but he quit.<br />
<br />
As a police siren nears and tires come up the driveway, Palmer tells his wife not to let anyone know he's here, then goes to interview The Swede Girl. She's distraught that her "boyfriend" has ditched her, but eventually Palmer "extracted" Davies' location at the Friends of Russia Social Hall. He slips out a back door and gets in Alice's coup, and waits for a moment, expecting the police to be sent away by his wife. Alas, "he had not reckoned upon the propaganda which tells a public about the glories of neurosurgery." PR isn't mentioned by name, but you <i>know</i> it has seduced Palmer's wife and turned her against him.<br />
<br />
With no other options, Palmer guns it and blows past the cops in the front yard, then manages to lose his pursuers by slipping past a train that forces the other cars to stop. In one of those convenient coincidences he reaches the social hall's front steps just as Davies is coming down them, Davies screams and flees when he sees Palmer after him, Palmer rushes after him...<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
There was the crack of a pistol shot. Jan's leg buckled under him. He fell. There was a slam as Davies made the back door and vanished and then two police officers were standing over Jan, steel bracelets ready. There was a click and Jan's arms were cuffed behind his back.</blockquote>
<br />
One of the officers is named Mike, just like the pair that arrested Palmer back in <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> chapter two. An intentional call-back, a little bonus for his fans? Or is Hubbard so uncreative that he's reusing names without realizing it? At any rate, they talk about how this guy is "Screwy as a bedbug on the subject of Commies" and gets ready to send Palmer back to the good Dr. Dyhard.<br />
<br />
And so the theme of going in circles continues, as Palmer is hauled back right to where he'd escaped from. But it's the journey that's really important, right? <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-eleven-into.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Eleven</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-13-race-to.html">Forward to Chapter Thirteen</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-60523154635263711782016-09-21T20:28:00.000-05:002019-02-03T18:30:29.838-06:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Eleven - Into the Frying Pan and Out of ExcitementIt's an indeterminate amount of time since last chapter, a consequence of the author abandoning a POV that alternates between Palmer and Tiger whenever one goes to sleep and his decision to fast-forward through "several" days of Tiger's pirate fleet waiting for their enemies to attack. So Palmer's been in the loony bin for what, a week? Longer? And it was only after banging his head last chapter and channeling Tiger's sauce that he finally gave Dr. Dyhard an excuse to scramble his frontal lobe? And Alice <i>never checked on her husband</i> during all this time, not even once?<br />
<br />
Anyway, after <i>x</i> many days spent waiting, a lookout finally spots sails on the northern horizon, lots of them. It's Admiral Tombo and the fleet from Tarbutón, twenty warships against Tiger's six mangy pirate vessels - our hero has doubled the size of his fleet at the expense of some merchants, see. It's for a good cause, though, freedom and all that.<br />
<br />
Tiger gives Stagger Ryan an order to steer for a weather gauge, which isn't in the glossary because up yours, and then tells Wanna to get below before the shooting starts.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"I won't!" said Wanna. "I've a right-"<br />
<br />
Tiger picked her up like a chip and sped down the ladder with her.<br />
<br />
Sullenly she permitted herself to be deposited.</blockquote>
<br />
Tiger tries to explain that battles are <i>dangerous</i>, what with the cannonballs and grapeshot flying everywhere, but Wanna doesn't wanna sit in her cabin and wait to sink, and starts to cry. Tiger tries to reassure her, tells her that in a worst-case scenario she can hang on to the table, which will float, and gives her a knife to defend herself, but-<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"You are abandoning me," she wept logically. "You mean me to be cast up adrift on some foreign shore, alone, friendless and hungry, pray to anyone who-"<br />
<br />
"Stow that," said Tiger.</blockquote>
<br />
Sometimes less is more. The anti-psychology tracts in this book are more effective than <i>Mission Earth</i>'s because they don't go overboard and accuse the entire field of being a genocidal Nazi plot. Similarly, <i>Masters of Sleep</i> makes me despise women not because they're psychotically-jealous, mind-controlling slatterns, but simply because they're self-centered, easily-deceived, and generally useless.<br />
<br />
Tiger checks the cabin's safe to see if there's any treasure he can give Wanna to shut her up, only to find the glittering Two-World Diamond "slowly materializing" in front of him. He's astonished and relieved, reaches out to pick up the magic rock that can solve all his problems, but the diamond vanishes just before he can touch it. How inconvenient.<br />
<br />
We get about a page of Tiger ruminating, first on how the diamond disappeared before it was halfway finished materializing, then he thinks back to the off-screen battle for the <i>Graceful Jinnia</i> in Chapter One and how... oh, really? Apparently, Tiger's problems, re: something ineffable missing from his personality, only manifested after he took a head injury from a marid's pike during his capture by Arif-Emir's forces. Much like how Palmer picked up Tiger traits after hitting <i>his</i> head last chapter. So all Tiger needs to do to set himself straight is to headbutt a wall.<br />
<br />
He doesn't do that, though, and just gives some of the gems and junk in Old Thunderguts' private stash to Wanna in case of an emergency, tells her to put them out of sight and shut up, and heads back abovedeck. Stagger Ryan asks if Tiger really means to commit to this unbalanced fight, and Tiger admits that he "overplayed a hand," waiting around for a magic rock to appear and fix things, and now they've got no choice. <br />
<br />
Then a new character appears warning that they're getting close to Frying Pan Shoals. To summarize two pages of dialogue: Mr. Luck is the nickname of a cabin boy whose father was Thunderguts' navigator, and picked up everything his old man knew. He doesn't bother to introduce himself by his real name, and Stagger Ryan explains the kid got his nickname by using astrology to predict that Thunderguts would die by necromancy. This makes Tiger immediately like the kid, because 1) he was absolutely right and 2) he was bold and honest enough to give bad news. And it happens that this kid knows a lot about Frying Pan Shoals, namely how wide and deep the safe channels through them are.<br />
<br />
So you can guess what we're doing for the next eight pages: big, fat paragraphs of boats sailin' around.<br />
<br />
Tiger orders his fleet into the shoals, following his ship as Mr. Luck calls out directions. The ship turns one way, stuff is done with the rigging and sails, the ship turns another way, more nautical stuff happens. The pirate fleet threads its way through the difficult waters in a line, while the enemy fleet, which has now grown in size to twenty-seven ships, manages to follow. Then two pages after Tiger's fleet enters the shoals, Hubbard remembers to mention that one of the pirate ships refused and made a run for it, only to get intercepted and annihilated by a pair of frigates. No, he couldn't move that segment to a more logical place, that's the sort of thing an author who believed in proofreading and revision would do.<br />
<br />
Tiger transfers from ship to ship, giving mysterious orders to each before staying on the rearmost vessel. Boats move through the water, some called luggers, other brigs. Ships furl and kedge. Tiger does something with a lanyard. It's all the excitement you'd expect from an action sequence partially-translated from another language, where you have to keep flipping through a dictionary if you want to figure out what the hell is going on.<br />
<br />
But to summarize four pages of boating: Tiger has his three rearmost vessels ground themselves against the shoals, forming a barricade the pirates can fight from. The genie ships don't realize what's happening until it's too late and most of their ships have committed to working their way through the shoals, but decide to fight anyway. Then there's a tremendous naval pile-up when one of the men-o-war in the middle runs aground, followed by a typically one-sided Hubbard battle in which pirate sharpshooters are able to pick off genie officers without taking fire themselves, and when the jinn forces send a landing party to clear the barricade of beached ships, they get wiped out in one blast of grapeshot. No, none of the genie ships can use their cannons to blast apart the pirates' improvised fortress, not even the ones that didn't make it into the shoals before the trap was sprung. And don't even <i>think</i> about any of these supernatural creatures using any sort of magic to save themselves.<br />
<br />
So at the end of the day, Tiger has taken Admiral Tombo hostage and gotten him to surrender after <i>slightly</i> stabbing him - only an inch of steel, just the tip, babe - and now has six new men-o-war under his command and four thousand human sailors eager to work for a proper captain instead of some stinkin' genie. But when he regroups with the <i>Terror</i>, Stagger Ryan rains on his parade by reminding him that there's still Arif Emir's fleet to deal with. I'm not sure how many ships the guy has, since Ryan mentions both "twenty-two sail" at the north end of the passage and "fifteen more men-o-war," but either way it's more ships than Tiger has.<br />
<br />
Boy, do you think Tiger can triumph against unfavorable odds? Especially right after we've seen him do exactly that, with less resources than he has now?<br />
<br />
This Tiger stuff is boring. Let's go back to Palmer and rant about lobotomies some more.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-ten-fun-times.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Ten</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-twelve-running.html">Forward to Chapter Twelve</a> </span> </div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-56551876386874250772016-09-19T15:41:00.003-05:002016-09-21T20:28:55.889-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Ten - Fun Times in Balmy SpringsAnd now we're back to the part of the book that it feels like Hubbard was most interested in writing, his exposé on the horrors of psychology and mental health. Palmer is stuck in a small, padded room, bored out of his mind while Dr. Dyhard asks him simple questions like how many fingers he's holding up and what time does his watch indicate. The psychologist is disappointed that Palmer keeps getting the answers right - how's he going to talk Alice into paying for a big, expensive procedure if there's nothing wrong with the patient?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
All his reputable colleagues had adopted Dianetics sometime since and were prospering. Dyhard had never prospered. Too thoroughly bad a surgeon to remain in the A.M.A., he had taken up neurosurgery and from this had degenerated into country work and was almost outlawed for his belief that socialized medicine should be adopted by his brethren. They, feeling that Dyhard's type could not support a personal practice and must therefore lean on the state, spoke to Dyhard on professional occasions only. But Dyhard was somehow not averse to maintaining his own side practice whenever he could get a patient and had therefore short-circuited Jan from the state institution to Balmy Springs, where, with skill, he could run up a considerable bill.</blockquote>
<br />
While we're no strangers to Hubbard's hate towards the mental health industry at this point, it is remarkable how different this early "satire" is from his final work. In <i>Masters of Sleep</i>, the destructive quack psychologists are a small minority, diehards like... Dyhard, who clings to backwards and barbaric procedures like lobotomies while his colleagues embrace the enlightenment of Dianetics and become wealthy and successful and handsome and great in bed and so forth. Hubbard's optimistic and operating under the assumption that his revolutionary new self-improvement program will transform the world for the better. But fast forward thirty years to <i>Mission Earth</i> and Hubbard casts <i>all</i> psychologists as irredeemably evil perverts and murderers out to do as much harm as possible, who know that their talk about man being a soulless animal is nothing but lies, but keep spreading this false gospel anyway.<br />
<br />
Guess that's what happens when the "experts" dismiss your work as a pseudoscience instead of embracing the truth.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Palmer's so bored that he's got an elbow on the table and his chin propped up in his hand, but he slips and bangs his head. And with this sudden blow comes some curious sensations - he thinks he sees a lantern swinging overhead, and can feel a ship moving beneath him, and can smell the sea salt on the air. It only lasts for a moment, but afterward Palmer feels for the <i>n</i>th time that "he was somewhere else," and "the feeling that he was strong was stronger." In other words, head trauma has knocked some Tiger into him. Between this and Tiger getting Palmer-ish last chapter without the Two-World Diamond in his possession, I'm starting to question why the stupid rock is necessary to the plot. Beyond providing a Deus Ex Machina to solve Tiger's problems, I mean.<br />
<br />
So when Dyhard does the finger question again, Tiger-Palmer replies "six," and when asked the time says it's "Twenty-six bells!" before telling the psychologist to scram and demanding a meal. Dyhard is delighted at these signs of a persecution complex, conversion of the auto-erotic libido, and so forth. The doctor flees before Tiger gets violent, only to return with the owner of the facility, a Mr. Sharpington, who is eager to agree with Dyhard's diagnosis.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"There he is," said Dyhard. "See that scowl? All classic paranoid schizophrenics have that scowl. All of them."<br />
<br />
"Hmmm, yes," said Sharpington, hoping that Dyhard wouldn't kill this patient on the operating table. Patients were getting scarce since Dianetics. Only the electric shock and surgical failures of the yesterdays were taken to private and public institutions now and this Palmer was worth two hundred a week for the time he was here. Of course, on the brighter side, if whatever neurosurgery Dyhard tried came out with the usual lack of success, Palmer would be here for the rest of his life, a zombie without will or coordination, a drooling thing which would have to be fed like a baby and wear diapers.</blockquote>
<br />
So Sharpington just "Hmm, yes"es and "Indeed so"es as Dyhard blathers on, and they schedule an operation for tomorrow, so long as Sharpie gets his 10%. They leave, and Palmer finally gets his meal, though he has to eat it with a guy in the next cell constantly jumping around and screaming. When he asks a guard about it he explains no, normally people get all quiet after their lobotomy, that guy just "ain't got good sense or gratitude." Palmer attempts to bribe the guard to send a message to his wife, telling her to bring that diamond he had to him for a cool thousand dollars, but the guard isn't willing to take an IOU after getting burned in the past, and since Palmer doesn't have any cash on him, no dice.<br />
<br />
With that attempt at escape thwarted, Palmer can only sit in his little padded room and worry. First he wonders whether he's already been "treated" and that's why he feels like he's lost something important, then he spends some time listening to a neighbor endlessly repeating "I'm caught, I'm trapped! Let me out! Let me out!" How can such a thing happen to a man in the United States, how can someone have his rights stripped away by a doctor's diagnosis and a relative's consent, even criminals are subject to a trial before being punished, etc.<br />
<br />
Needless break in the paragraphs, then another page denouncing psychology and neurosurgery. Forgive me for not being very interested in this stuff, it's just that, well we've seen it all before. After going through <i>Mission Earth</i>, it's hard to be engaged by this comparatively-restrained rant. Nazis aren't mentioned even once! How am I supposed to concentrate on Palmer/Hubbard's fearful questions of what happens to a soul after a lobotomy when the author doesn't try to tie the procedure to a global conspiracy trying to wipe out the human race?<br />
<br />
Okay, real talk - there's actually a key difference between <i>Masters of Sleep</i>'s anti-psychology rants and <i>Mission Earth</i>'s, and it's not just in how much spittle is flying out of Hubbard's mouth. <i>Masters of Sleep</i> is somewhat timely. If my minutes of Wikipedia research have left me properly informed, this story came out when public opinion was starting to turn against stuff like lobotomies as a cure for various behavioral ills. So when Palmer unsuccessfully tries to pick the locks of his cell-<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
And as he stood there a stretcher was wheeled by. On it was a young girl. Blood had spilled and caked from her swollen eyes. Her temples had been scorched by electrodes. Her mouth was slack and one arm dangled rigidly. A transorbital leukotomy, on its way to a cell, a woman, made a zombie forever, her analytical mind torn to shreds, ruined beyond repair.<br />
<br />
Jan became sick at his stomach.</blockquote>
<br />
-the passage might be part of a movement that was accomplishing something positive, convincing readers that such procedures should be, if not banned outright, then reserved for very special cases, and not to be undertaken lightly. Also, it's much more effective, when you're trying to expose the evils of psychology, to portray something that actually happens instead of casting psychologists as people who are <i>trying</i> to kill their patients, or who would be delighted if a doctor made a snake appear out of a patient's skull, all after some thirty years of advancement in the fields of neurosurgery and mental health.<br />
<br />
So what I'm saying is that in this one chapter of <i>Masters of Sleep</i>, Hubbard might done more than in all ten books of <i>Mission Earth</i>. Give the man a round of applause, everyone!<br />
<br />
We wrap up the chapter by ditching Palmer and checking on Alice. She's got her girlfriends over, who are chatting about how the labor unions ought to be machine-gunned, or how their cousin got electroshock once and now she doesn't complain about her husband's drinking, or anything for that matter. Alice just repeats what Dr. Dyhard said about her husband being scheduled for "a little operation. A minor thing," that will nevertheless cost ten thousand dollars, but at least it will make Palmer better-adjusted. I'm still annoyed that Alice went from someone who questioned authority figures and turned on her crooked boss to someone who implicitly trusts someone trying to charge her thousands of dollars for a medical procedure without telling her too much about what he'll be doing. But I guess that girl on the stretcher isn't the only character to have gotten her brains scrambled.<br />
<br />
The only significant development in the non-Palmer section is that The Swede Girl and Chan Davies the ex-lumberjack are there too, and Davies learns from Alice that she's recovered Palmer's belongings from the police, and then learns from his girlfriend that it's being kept in a safe behind a picture frame. So he decides to head to town to meet up with some skilled associates of his.<br />
<br />
And there we have it, the set-up for the final four chapters of the book. In Genie World, Tiger's meager fleet of free men is due to be attacked by an enemy armada, while in Human World, Palmer's got mere hours to live before his higher brain functions get shut down by steel and electrodes. And the deciding factor will be the Two World Diamond, coveted by a dirty commie and carelessly guarded by Palmer's worse-than-useless wife. It's a race against time to see which half of our protagonist can get his hands on the thing everybody wants and magic all his problems away in an unsatisfying and anti-climactic fashion.<br />
<br />
Feels weird to have a Hubbard chapter that spent so much time condemning psychology without mentioning homosexuality. I mean, why didn't Dr. Dyhard try to turn Palmer gay? There's already a moment where our protagonist admits that the constantly-muttering guy in the cell across the hall "had not been bad-looking," so there might be some latent homosexuality to build upon. What happened in the thirty years between <i>Masters of Sleep</i> and <i>Mission Earth</i> to add promoting gayness to psychology's sinister agenda?<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-nine-i-refuse.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Nine</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-eleven-into.html">Forward to Chapter Eleven </a></span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-44955463845723611782016-09-16T14:36:00.003-05:002016-09-19T15:41:55.439-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Nine - I Refuse to Call Them "Buckaroons"We interrupt this withering satire<span style="font-size: small;"> of primitive psych</span>ology to check in on Pirate King Tiger. Hubbard gives us a page's worth of belated background for these pirates, how they started out as revolutionaries under Emperor Lenny... sigh... but their zeal faded when they discovered how much easier piracy was, then Lenny and his loyal officers suddenly fell ill and died, allowing someone named Stahlbein to take over and turn a bunch of escaped slaves into slavers themselves. Eventually Stahlbein took on the name Thunderbolt, and... yeah, that pretty much covers it.<br />
<br />
So see, it's alright that Tiger used magic to force ol' Thunderguts in a duel and stab him in the heart before he knew what was going on, since we've now learned how the former Stahlbein probably killed the good pirates and turned them into bad pirates. And no, Hubbard couldn't have given us this information in earlier chapters, because then <i>this</i> already dinky chapter would only be four pages long.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Tiger is able to whip the crews into shape and inspire them to fight for freedom again, so the ships are cleaned and reorganized and all the pirates are thrilled to be sailing with a purpose instead of lounging about. Good thing too, because Tiger expects a Jinn fleet to show up in a few days that will outnumber then twelve-to-one. The only bright side is that the genie ships' human crews might defect to the pirates once they realize this is a fight about liberty or something.<br />
<br />
What about the diamond, though? Well first, it's vanished once more, as Tiger finds out when Wanna asks if he'll let her wear it when they're home agai- Wanna, honey. "Home" is under the control of Tiger's mortal enemy. You and he are sailing with a bunch of outlaws that have sworn to overthrow the jinn tyrants of this realm. So are you so optimistic that you're assuming that Tiger will defeat the forces of geniekind, defeat Zongri in Tarbutón, and go back to a somewhat normal life in whatever dwellings you were able to hold onto after he lost his barony? Or are you so dense that you haven't quite grasped the current situation?<br />
<br />
Anyway, Tiger tries to produce the diamond but can't find it, and McCoy hasn't stolen it either, so he can only conclude it's "playin' games" with them.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"Maybe it has a spirit that carries it," said Wanna thoughtfully. "In the temple we had three talismans that had spirits which took them around. I remember one of the girls had the office of feeding one of the spirits."<br />
<br />
"Probably it was a priest," said Tiger, who cared little for superstitions of the Jinn.<br />
<br />
"No, they were real spirits. One of them sang awfully cute."<br />
<br />
"I'll bet he did," said Tiger. "But that isn't solving where that diamond goes."</blockquote>
<br />
Is it me, or does Tiger seem really dismissive of his <strike>wife</strike> consort here? And why is he being so quick to roll his eyes at Wanna's story as some superstition or trick? The genie goddess turned out to be controlled by chains and levers, true, but Tiger saw firsthand how Queen Ramus was able to transform herself into a beautiful woman, so it's possible there is more to Wanna's wandering talismans than a corrupt priest moving them about when no one's looking.<br />
<br />
But back to the diamond. Tiger is certain that the Two World Diamond has some magical powers, and he was hoping to do some quiet tests to try and work out how to use the thing to his advantage during the inevitable naval battle, but that isn't an option now. Again, there's no continuity with the last book, no admission that Tiger used a similar artifact to wreck an entire enemy fleet. He wasn't even hoping to use the diamond to pull the nails out of enemy ships, but was thinking more about how it moved Wanna and Tombo and Malek around.<br />
<br />
So Tiger is uncharacteristically troubled. There's also some uncharacteristic sympathy between Tiger and his unknown human world counterpart, as the sailor has been suffering an unexplained headache all day, feels strangely thoughtful and cautious, and is troubled by "Dim recollections of things he felt he had never seen or done," a sense that some vital part of him has returned but is in danger. Which would mean that now that the Two World Diamond is <i>gone</i> Tiger is finally feeling his connection to Palmer, who has similarly lost the thing in his world. So you just need to handle the thing for a bit to get your two-souls aligned, and then it's okay if you lose it?<br />
<br />
And that's the situation in Genie World - Tiger's fleet is preparing for battle, which will either begin a campaign that could see him in control of the sea lanes and thus the world, or he'll get curbstomped by sheer numbers. There's nowhere to run, no magic diamond to bail him out this time, and he has a headache. And so days pass, with the pirates waiting for the enemy to appear... huh. First time we've fast-forward like this without switching to Palmer each time Tiger calls it a night.<br />
<br />
Well, as we've seen, consistency isn't one of this book's strong points.<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-eight-alice.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Eight </span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-ten-fun-times.html">Forward to Chapter Ten</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-196163935457463870.post-37529944206831608732016-09-14T21:31:00.000-05:002018-04-06T12:52:10.068-05:00Masters of Sleep - Chapter Eight - Alice Makes Everything WorseTiger presumably has a decent night's sleep as the newly-installed emperor-admiral of a pirate fleet, while in contrast Palmer regains consciousness in his living room as a doctor prattles on about the marvelous design of the human skull and how Palmer might have died if the blow that knocked him out had fallen an inch to the right. His servants carried him there after discovering him sprawled on the floor of his study, and now there's a crowd that includes doctors, police, and a weeping The Swede Girl apologizing and hoping she won't get blamed for her boyfriend's attack. Alice is of course horrified, tending to her husband and-<br />
<br />
Oh. Wait. No, that's not what she's doing.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Alice sat at a secretary desk writing notes of invitation to a tea party and commenting sideways now and then on her amazement that Jan would lie down in his study all night without calling anyone and on her concern that he might miss out on a board meeting scheduled for that afternoon.</blockquote>
<br />
I just wonder what happened in the decade between this and <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> to make Hubbard hate Alice so much... oh, right, bigamist marriage in 1946, belated divorce in 1947, so at the time this was published Hubbard's second marriage was on its way to collapsing the next year. Yeah, that might explain some of this.<br />
<br />
In the midst of this commotion, Palmer is gloomily focused on that stolen diamond, which he <i>knows</i> is the key to reversing the terrible change in his life, the way to restore that nameless thing that has been lost. He staggers up to his room to shave and change out of bloodstained clothes, while The Swede Girl follows him around and wails, and when he finally returns to the main floor, all Alice can say is that she hopes he feels better and can he be a dear and take these letters to the post office on his way to work?<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
Jan took the letters. He was about to reply submissively when he astonished himself. "Mail your own damned letters!" he said. "What the Great Horn Spoon's the idea trying to make me run your errands? What am I, an errand boy? And as for you," he roared, turning on the Swede girl, "go down to your galley and stay there and shut up that confounded yapping! And if I ever catch you haying around with another condemned Commie I'll give you exactly what you deserve, a taste of the cat! Now!" he barked, dropping the letters and thrusting Alice aside, "get out of my way and stay out of my way."<br />
<br />
He left and the two women promptly collapsed into one another's arms in an orgy of tears.</blockquote>
<br />
Good name for a rock band, Orgy of Tears. But yes, Palmer seems to be channeling Tiger here, which is to say he's being a dick, but in a commanding, heroic manner. Which means that he must have the Two World Diamond on his person somewhere, since Tiger took it off McCoy last chapter. But it'll be another three pages before Palmer actually checks his pocket and finds the thing.<br />
<br />
So he goes to work, despite his terrible head injury, because what kind of millionaire executive would take a day off? He hits his office "like an Alaskan <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Williwaw">williwaw</a>," decisive and invigorated. He sweeps all the letters and such off his desk and starts pressing buttons. It's time for some <i>changes</i>, dammit, starting with Bering Steam supporting a project to build an Alaskan highway instead of "a military miscarriage designed to favor Canadian mining interests," like the rest of the board favors. But instead of getting members of the board, Palmer instead encounters a union delegate from the Friends of Russia Communist International Objectors Seaman's Union Local No. 350, someone who believes "anyone who belonged to a democracy or indulged in trade was a capitalist and that only Communists were free and he believed besides that the only way Communism could make the world free was to enslave it and the only way to do that was to set up a super-capitalism called Sovietism." And man, you know you're in for some good satire when the author is using economic concepts that don't actually appear in textbooks.<br />
<br />
This little commie, one Simon Lucar, comes in to complain about Bering Steam's discriminatory hiring practices - why, this American company refuses to employ anyone who isn't from the United States! Palmer has no time for this foolishness, and when Lucar calls him a racist, he punches the guy clean through the glass door to his office, then picks the union delegate up and throws him across the door. Yeah! Take <i>that</i>, communism! This is democracy and freedom in action, solving disagreements through force and demonstrating the rightness of their cause by attacking anyone who defies them!<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<br />
"I'll get you!" whined Lucar, struggling up.<br />
<br />
"Go to hell!" said Jan.<br />
<br />
Lucar instantly collapsed. He collapsed in a very peculiar way. He collapsed as does a man when he is dead.</blockquote>
<br />
Uh oh.<br />
<br />
In Palmer's defense, it's only after he checks the guy's pulse, confirms he's dead, and shakily reaches for a handkerchief that he realizes he's once again holding that magic stone that does dangerous things when you speak carelessly around it. He knows that the battery he just committed wouldn't be enough to kill Lucar - "Besides, it was impossible to kill Commies with a tap on the head." - so he must have sent his soul somewhe<span style="font-size: small;">re with the magic diamond.</span><br />
<br />
By this point other people in the office are starting to gather around the scene of the crime and send for police and paramedics, so Palmer has an audience as he experiments with commands. "Come back from hell!" doesn't work, but "I conjure you to return from hell!" causes "the Commie" to shudder back to life. Lucar immediately screams and recoils from Palmer, and orders the approaching police officers to arrest him. "He suddenly went crazy! Insane!" And while the police are reluctant to get involved, since Palmer is of course the very rich president of Bering Steam, when a dazed Palmer admits that yes, he <i>did</i> attack Lucar, they have to cart him off. Lucar has no residual ill-effects after a taste of the fire and torment that awaits the godless communists, but instead continues to crow about Palmer's fit of insanity.<br />
<br />
In all of a paragraph, Palmer gets taken to a police station and processed, and the diamond is confiscated and placed in a safe along with the rest of the contents of his pockets. He expects that his attorney will get him out in no time, but that darn board of directors is up to its old tricks again, and sends someone else instead.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
The psychiatrist was a very learned man if not quite bright. He examined the idea that the blow on the head might have unsettled Jan's wits but being a rather backward individual the psychiatrist had neglected to read anything about Dianetics, though it was well known to his fellow psychiatrists.</blockquote>
<br />
This is Dr. Dyhard, who like Doc Harrington last book wears pince-nez glasses, but while our previous psychiatrist had the excuse of ignorance when it came to his diagnosis, Dyhard just refuses to see the light and embrace Dianetics, whatever that is. He examines the case, and how Palmer was accused and jailed for murder last book, and declares the man a paranoid schizophrenic who feels persecuted by communists, who are of course harmless. Fortunately he has a solution: a transorbital leukotomy, a procedure involving electric shocks and metal in the frontal lobe, after which Palmer will no longer be troubled by any delusions. A lobotomy, in other words. <br />
<br />
And there's the "This is not a real operation!" and "But the frontal lobes are what makes man a thinking animal!" and the like from our hero, while the psychologist villain explains that "Men think and men go insane, therefore thinking is insanity" and "if you think you or anybody else can question our right to do these things you are mistaken" and so on. Nothing we haven't seen/will see in <i>Mission Earth</i>, in other words. And even though Palmer doesn't want his brains scrambled, it turns out Dyhard already contacted Alice, who tearfully agreed to put Palmer through an operation to cure his fits of rage under the logic that "if a psychiatrist said so, it must be so."<br />
<br />
Nothing about Palmer's strange personality shift, how he seemed to be channeling a salty sailor that morning. Maybe the fact that he was actually yelling at his wife trumped what he was yelling. <br />
<br />
Palmer gets outraged that he's lost his civil rights by being declared insane, Dyhard gets enraged at Palmer's rage and tries to grab him only to get punched for his trouble, allowing the psychiatrist to call the guards for help and feel vindicated that his patient is "hopelessly insane. A classic paranoid schizophrenic." So Palmer's screwed. All he did was scream at his wife and servant, throw someone through a door and against a wall, and now these maniacs are calling him some sort of dangerous psycho! Once he gets his magic diamond back and regains the power to manipulate human souls, I'm sure he'll be able to prove his sanity.<br />
<br />
We get a break in the paragraph before checking in on what some other characters are up to. Lucar gets a bounty of rubles for getting a capitalist thrown into jail, while Chan Davies - oh, did I not mention that two chapters ago? Well, that communist ex-lumberjack who stole the diamond from Palmer is named Chan Davies. I was a little unsure whether it was his name or if that was the identity of The Swede Girl, so that's probably why I didn't mention it.<br />
<br />
Anyway, Davies is upset when he finds out that his stolen diamond has in turn been stolen from him, but he's pleased to hear the news about Palmer's incarceration, and goes back to the Palmer residence to regroup with The Swede Girl and comfort her for being a victim of one of "Jan's racism rages." Alice, as per her new role for this book, apologizes to the lumberjack for Palmer's accusations and assures him that any charges will be dropped, then agrees when he offers to be her "bodyguard" as she goes to the jail to recover Palmer's possession. The lumberjack does a lot of wriggling during this, because remember he has lice. This is probably a metaphor or something about communist parasites leeching the lifeblood from capitalist democracy. And don't bathe.<br />
<br />
So Alice and Davies go to the jail, not to visit Palmer, of course, but to take his stuff home, including that big-ass diamond. But a sergeant explains that the diamond is such an irregular find that without a receipt or information about where it was bought, they can't let it go, especially if it was in the hands of "a nut--excuse me--of a prisoner." And since Palmer is incommunicado at the "spinbin," the police will have to go through a list of stolen gems to see if they'll be able to release the diamond.<br />
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
"That's illegal," said Alice.<br />
<br />
"That's good sense," said the sergeant. And as far as he was concerned the interview was over.<br />
<br />
Alice shrugged, put the wallet and small possessions in her purse and guarded by a tragically disappointed Davies, drove back home again.</blockquote>
<br />
Note that Alice doesn't ask if <i>she</i> can get in touch with Palmer, purely to ask where he got the stone instead of checking in on his condition, she was asking whether sergeant could do it. Now, Hubbard is doing his damnedest to make Alice as unlikable as possible, and while I'd love to spite him on general principle... well, he's just done too good a job. Alice in this story is as much an obstacle to our protagonist as the book's outright villains, and we can't even say she has good intentions because she shows so little interest in her husband's well-being. What's worse, she's being inconsistently obnoxious - before she was a domineering housewife bossing around her hubby while she loafed around with her girlfriends, now she's bowing to this psychiatric authority figure and weepingly consigning her husband to brain surgery.<br />
<br />
Hubbard has created awful female characters before, of course - the Countess Krak, Teenie, Chrissie, and so forth - but what makes Alice stand out is that last book she <i>didn't</i> suck. She had character development when she found the strength to stand up to her boss and save Palmer's bacon. She had good points as well as flaws, such as her inexplicable attraction to Palmer in his weenie phase. And here she is, two-dimensional and worse than useless. The disgust is deeper because we know what was lost.<br />
<br />
Though it's still unclear <i>how</i> it was lost. Palmer reverting to his previous characterization makes sense because he forgot he was Tiger. But Alice wasn't nearly this bad before she learned about her dual life as Wanna the temple dancer, so how has forgetting that made her so obnoxious?<br />
<br />
If <i>Slaves of Sleep</i> was Hubbard's <i>Super Metroid</i>, <i>Masters of Sleep</i> would be his <i>Metroid: Other M</i>. <br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-seven-from.html"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Back to Chapter Seven</span></a><br />
<div style="text-align: right;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://missionspork.blogspot.com/2016/09/masters-of-sleep-chapter-nine-i-refuse.html">Forward to Chapter Nine</a> </span></div>
Nathan Johnsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09504332787476259342noreply@blogger.com0