Thursday, May 2, 2024

FORGOTTEN BOOK : ...AND OTHERS SHALL BE BORN

 ...And Others Shall Be Born by Frank Belknap Long  (1968, bound with The Thief of Thoth by Lin Carter)

Frank Belknap Long (1901-1994) was probably best known as a friend and disciple of H. P. Lovecraft, and whose Lovecraftian tales are highly regarded.  Among his honors were the World Fantasy Award for Life Achievement in 1978, the Bram Stoker Award for Life Achievement in 1987, and induction into the First Fandom Hall of Fame in 1977; Long evidently also was given The Edna St. Vincent Millay Poetry Award, but I could find information about that in a brief check of the internet.   Fantasy and horror were not the main output in his seven-decade writing career.  He has also written science fiction, mysteries, gothic romance, poetry, comic books, and non-fiction, as well as pseudonymous work for hire.  Among other works, he helped revise Adolf de Castro's biography of Ambrose Bierce and ghosted (without Fred Dannay's knowledge or approval) two books as "Ellery Queen, Jr."  During the 1950s, he served as associated editor for five fiction magazines, including The Saint Mystery Magazine, Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, and Fantastic Universe.

The last third of Long's life were marked by poverty.  He married Lyda Arco, a Russian artist's representative, in 1960.  She, by all accounts, was a difficult person, but he stayed devoted to her until his death.  Much of Long's literary output during those decades could best be described as workmanlike as he endeavored to put food on the table; his stories and books were always readable but has little literary value.   During his last few he Long resorted to selling his manuscripts cheaply to collectors in order to survived,  After he died, Long was buried in a potter's field, but friends and colleagues moved the remains to a family plot (near that of Lovecraft's grandparents) and raised funds to memorialize his gravesite.

"Workmanlike" but entertaining could well describe ...And Others Shall Be Born.  The short novel appeared only once, in a Belmont Double paperback and apparently has never been reprinted.

Richard Manning is a young reporter who left his native Kentucky to work for big city newspapers in New York and Chicago for ten years.  Three years ago he returned to his home state to join the Lakeview Chronicle, a small but influential newspaper because he felt a need for the more relaxed lifestyle he had grown up with.  But strange things are happening in the Kentucky hills.   Moonshine was always a given in the Bluegrass State, But now the quantity and quality of moonshine coming out of the hills has increased greatly, to an amount that would be impossible for the locals to produce, indicative of a large outside organization.  But there are no strangers coming to the area in numbers that could explain this increase.  Then, too, there are strange reports of gigantic columns of black smoke arising from the hills and disappearing within minutes -- with no evidence of a fire.  And there are the constant wild reports of UFO sightings, something that has been common throughout the country -- this is the 60s, after all.  The small town near these inexplicable happenings is Tannerville, a community that Manning has visited several times and has always found the inhabitants to be friendly and welcoming. Manning's editor sends him to investigate.

Just before arriving in Tannerville, Manning hears a tittering sound coming from his back seat and senses some sort of movement there.  Startled because he knows no one could be in this back seat, he temporarily loses control of his car and crashes into a tree.  A stunned Manning checks his back seat...but there is no one there.  But a little wat from his car is the body of a man.  Alive, thank God.  The man is barefoot and dressed in frayed pants.  There is something wring with his head -- it looks almost microcephalic.  The man is staring at him strangely.  Manning wonders if the man could be retarded.  He also wonders if the man could have been in his backseat and was thrown out by the crash.  Then he noticed the eyes:  They were lidless and sheathed with a thin film like a snake.  He senses that this stranger is somehow trying to probe his mind with his thoughts.  The man's head seems to shift and change shape to resemble a pointed star.  Then the man slowly fades and disappears completely from his view...

Manning tris tp put the entire experience down to shock from the impact.  A blow to the head can bring about some strange temporary thoughts.  He manages to get his car started in heads to Tannerville.

The normally friendly town has become just the opposite.  Manning, who knows a few people in town, is treated with distrust, as a stranger.  One man with a dog releases its leash and the dog attacks Manning while the owner blandly watches.  It's only when Tanner threatens to shoot the dog that the man controls it.  [Snide aside:  Where is Kristy Noem when you need her?].  The townspeople are afraid of the "dunceheads," mysterious people who began showing up in the area just when there has been a rash of break-ins, vandalism ,and physical attacks.  No one knows who these dunceheads,  or where they came from, or where they are staying; most have not even seen them -- in a town of 7000, perhaps twenty adults and forty children have reported seeing these strange men with pointed heads, bare feet, and frayed trousers.  the town is one edge, people are frightened, and most refuse to leave their homes at night.

Then the body of an unknown man was found at the base of a hundred foot cliff.  the body was covered with lacerations as if it had been attacked by a wild animal.  The back of the man's head was crushed by a mighty blow.  Near the body, half-hidden by the brush, Manning found a strange, small metal cylinder.  When he picked it up, it gave him a strong electric shock.  But he physically could not put it down.  The cylinder then began leading him unwillingly away from the scene...


A by-the-books science fictional mystery of its time, perhaps.  But I've always likes Long's writing and  there are far worse ways to spend an evening.

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