See, I told you it was good.
Edgar Rice Burroughs, mentioned on this blog lately because of John Carter of Mars, gets a nod for Tarzan of the Apes. And Zane Grey, despite a brutal attack on his most famous novel by Brian Leno, sees Riders of the Purple Sage make the list.
Looks like I have read eighteen, for certain, sampled five or six more, and some of the plays I’ve seen but haven’t read the actual play.
On the personal front, I have met only one of the authors — Randy Shilts, who once covered a detective game I did during the heyday of The Suicide Club, though we weren’t telling the reporters from outside that The Suicide Club loomed mysteriously behind the action.
I could have met several more, of course. I once saw Allen Ginsberg through the window in City Lights, the shop was so crowded it looked like the floor might collapse. Ditto Ray Bradbury, coming out of a signing in LA — in both cases, I could have nudged my way in or over for a few words, but I was content just to look at them for a couple of minutes.
On the early lit scene, I’ve been to Ben Franklin’s grave in Philly, which is as close as I’ll get. I never met Hammett, but know his daughter. Never met Jack London, but met his daughter. Never met Kerouac, but met his daughter Jan Kerouac.
This entry was posted in Dash, Lit, News, SFSC and tagged "Zigzags of Treachery", Allen Ginsberg, Becky London, Ben Franklin, Brian Leno, City Lights, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Jack London, Jan Kerouac, Jo Hammett, John Carter, Library of Congress, literary graves, Randy Shilts, Ray Bradbury, Red Harvest, Zane Grey. Bookmark the permalink.