![]() It’s the stalest of clichés but ‘There are some things the human mind is not meant to know.’ That I had received a letter from the West Coast doyen of Modern Horror fiction, Fritz Leiber, was remarkable in itself, as I had no doubt that his fan mail was copious and a burdensome duty m ore honoured in the breach than in the observance, but to have succeeded in unnerving the fictive conjurer of the dark arts of Megapolisomancy was to be regarded, I congratulated myself, as a palpable hit. ![]() But are They not all-wise, all-knowing? Yours respectfully Fritz Leiber The Dark Arts of Megapolisomancy. ![]() Your photostat of the Sterling Corrigenda momentarily induced, I candidly admit, a mild attack of the jitters when I saw the amendment your revisionist specter had ‘ordaineth’. ![]() After thanking me for my aerogramme of the previous month, my correspondent concluded:Īs I have written elsewhere, there is no solace in the professed wisdom maturity confers when we are powerless to challenge the paranatural forces that taunt our moribund sonorities, never mind that they issue as Divine Incantations from the poeta laureatus of Friscan Bohemia. ![]() It was a Friday of a famous landslide election victory, I remember, and the clamour of doltish triumphalism in our street continued to oppress me until the arrival of an airmail letter franked San Francisco June 1983 proved a welcome diversion to lighten my sombre mood. ![]()
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