OFFICIAL
BRIAN LUMLEY NEWSLETTER
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VOLUME 4, ISSUE 3 |
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APRIL / MAY 2001 |
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OFFICIAL
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Inside This Issue....
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FEATURES: |
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Welcome once again to Necroscope News, the place to find the latest news from the GrandMaster of Horror and his minions. Speaking of those minions, we welcome a new one this issue as a regular columnist: Nathan Murray. Look for his Nightmares and Other Notations in this and upcoming issues. What's happening on the site right now? Not much. We've all been too busy reading Necroscope: Avengers, as well as other Lumley notables for a certain upcoming project. The free time has been few and far between, and just not that many updates to the site have been needed the last couple of months, thank goodness. How can I be reading Avengers you ask? It hasn't been released in the US yet, right? Well, just order it through the site from Amazon.co.uk, if you don't feel like waiting for the Tor edition in the US. If International orders aren't your thing, grab The Whisperer and Other Voices from Amazon.com until Avengers comes out in May. If you haven't yet listened to The Whisperer on the site - jump over to the Media section of the site and hear Brian tell this eerie tale. You can also read the jacket notes from the US and UK covers of Avengers on the site in the Necroscope area, as well as preorder the US version. The MessageBoard. One of the most visited places on the site. Last month I redesigned the graphics on the board in preparation for the new software upgrade that I thought would be done by now. Oh well, rather have a late good release than an on-time buggy one, right? It looks like sometime in the next month we should take the plunge because the bugs seem to be getting smaller in the code. One other thing with the MessageBoard: If you are a new user, please do not try to register with a web-based email address. I will not accept them and will delete the information that is provided. This is for the safety and security of the members of our Board; people using web-based email can usually escape blame for any unlawful actions, while ISPs will usually take responsibility for their members, if that need be. I hope you understand my stance on this and respect my wishes. I am trying to avoid problems we have had in the past. One other thing regarding the site: Whoever the individuals are who are trying to hack the site, your IP addresses have and are being logged. We request that you cease all activity. The polls were taken down because of these individuals and will not be put back up because of it. If anything should go wrong with the site, these people will be prosecuted. If anyone has anymore information about these activities, please email webmaster@brianlumley.com. Until next time Lumlians...as always, enter of your own free will. This is your Wolfe signing off.....  |
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Tempus Fugit, as the Romans might have said. And indeed it do. Another two months gone by -- one sixth of the spin around our parent star -- a couple of full moons waxed and waned -- a mere blink of Infinity's Eye -- a few dozen species extinct -- some twenty thousand acres of rain forest now an invisible but very deadly part of the greenhouse envelope -- and here's me preparing a couple hundred mainly unimportant words, just a paragraph or two, for the next Newsletter. Morose? Who, me? Naaah! Just a wee bit tired, then? Well, perhaps. For a guy who's supposed to be semi-retired, (hah!) my life seems just a little bit more crammed each and every day. On the other hand, I sometimes stop to ask myself "if you weren't doing this, what would you be doing?" Going nuts, in all likelihood! See, it's a matter of habit: since I've been creative for thirty-odd years, it's so much easier to continue than to stop. But now that the Lumley Companion is filling in certain blanks in my life -- and taking the strain of what would otherwise be an utterly unthinkable absolute cessation -- well, it's like a reprieve. I know I've got to stop, but this way I can apply the brakes slowly so as not to go careening off the tracks. That was the idea, anyway -- but damned if I don't seem to be picking up speed! I've read over the submissions for this issue ... what can I say but there's a load of budding writers attached themselves to Shadoe's show. But don't get me wrong: that definitely isn't a hint; I'm not anyone's mentor. (As my own worst critic I know that I'd do terrible things to anyone else's work!) But really, I don't think there's a whole hell of a lot separating some of you "columnists" from the professional writers; maybe a little experience, maybe a smidgeon of maturity ... or maybe a simple lack of that all important tempus which these days (for me especially, or so it seems) is the fleet-footed fugitive. For yet again: the more time I have to fill, the more work there is to fill it... I've been considering all the scrappy little stories I wrote -- quite a few, actually, and a good many that aren't too scrappy, at that -- which have never been published anywhere but this or that fanzine or one-shot "little" publication. If I pulled them all together they might make a nice book by Fedogan & Bremer or some such publishing house. The last time F&B did a book by Yrs. Truly it was A Coven of Vampires ... and that was the year they won a World Fantasy Award. Hmmm ... maybe I should approach the boss man there, one Philip Rahman. (I could blackmail him about the details of a seafood supper we, er, enjoyed on ye Olde Fisherman's Wharf in Monterey.) But none of that is news, and time's still flying... Out of the blue, this nest of beautiful little paperback books came in, all in Chinese except for the title in English (along with the title in Chinese) on the colorful jackets. Indeed one of the jackets is a Frank Frazetta, I swear! A Conan if ever I saw one! And the author's name is in English, too, but hidden away where it's almost unnoticeable. My name. Six books -- all six of the titles in the Titus Crow (or "Cthulhu Mythos") series -- and all published at the same time, apparently. And my agent tells me that she's received the first of the Necroscope series, too. Haven't seen those yet, but if they are as nicely done as these Mythos books ... well I'm very impressed. The production values are really first class! And of course China promises to be a huge market. E-Branch: Invaders has undergone something of a metamorphosis of its own, at least in the UK paperback form. It's now Necroscope: Invaders, with a jacket by Paul Stanczykowski. Since I "discovered" Paul I feel right proud of this one: an excellent jacket in the "skull" motif made famous by Bob Eggleton in the USA. I know you'll join me in hoping that Paul goes on to much greater things... Speaking of Mr. Eggleton, he and his charming Australian missus were over in UK for a brief visit and a little business just a couple of weeks ago. Since we only get together at conventions, and then maybe only once a year, it was an ideal opportunity to go spend a few short hours and have a meal together. (They were flying out the next day.) It was also my chance to pick up a couple of Bob's jacket paintings from my books, namely Fruiting Bodies and The Whisperer. These horrifically beautiful renderings join the rest of the treasured Eggleton gallery on my walls. Bob, it was great to see you and yours again. Here's looking forward to the next time. Minneapolis, maybe...? I know Silky's going to talk about the signings in London and Birmingham, so I'll leave that out. But yet again it was great fun to mix it with the usual suspects -- and to meet a few new ones. ***** And that's all my tempus expended. Sorry to cut it short this time around, but I really must fugit. Semi-retirement? Hah!
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Fellow Lumlians... Where do I start? Lot's of things have been happening since the last newsletter. The business: First, there was the London signing back in the beginning of February. That was very nice and it was great to see the group together again. Second, two weeks after London we had the Birmingham signing. That was very good as well; there was the same group again, plus a few new attendees. It's always great to see all the fans, both old and new, and nice after the signings to hit the nearest pub, chill out for an hour or so, and get into some really good conversations. (Get those questions you've always wanted to ask answered by the man himself.) Thirdly, beginning of March, we went up to London for just one night to spend the evening with Bob and Marianne Eggleton. We also picked up two original paintings from Bob. Fruiting Bodies and The Whisperer. Yes, our walls are graced with the most horrible, beautiful paintings. Unfortunately, due to unforeseen circumstances (pressure of work) we won't be doing the Aberdeen trip. However, have you all been over to the MessageBoard recently to see all about the Halloween Bash? It's in Settlement and the topic is obvious. All fans are welcome, even if you can make it across the Big Pond. And from what I can see, some of you are planning on coming. Great; Brian and I will be attending and everyone is looking forward to it. Although it's seven months away ... that really isn't that far off. By the time you read this the guys from Möbius Entertainment will have been down for a visit to discuss business on the Necroscope CD-Rom. We are all still busily working along on the Brian Lumley Companion. Looks like it's going to end up being a rather large tome. Deadspeak in hardcover is being released by TOR December of this year. Psychomech is scheduled for a re-print in trade paper in August this year. Cover by Bob Eggleton. Necroscope: Invaders, (formerly E-Branch: Invaders) New English Library in UK has rejacketed, retitled and reprinted as of April 1. Cover by Paul Stanczykowski. Avengers hardback and Defilers paperback are soon to be released by TOR. Necroscope, Vamphyri! and The Source have now been published by Timun Mas in Spanish paperback. Earlier, on the MessageBoard I told you about a little overview Brian did for Amazon.co.uk. It is now officially on the site and be reached at: http://www.amazon.co.uk/exec/obidos/ts/browse-books/63/ref=b_c_bc_bbci_3_14/026-4732592-4480447 The artwork is being discontinued. Sets are no longer available and prints Nos. 1, 2, 3, 4, 7, 8, 9, 11, 14 and 21 are sold out. You have until April 5 if you want to order anything because that's the end. And if you decide to order you only have two weeks from the date you order to get your payment in. I don't know if I'll be doing any more art in future, but if I do the prints will not be sold as any kind of numbered set, they will be individual and although they will retain the actual label description on the back, they won't be numbered. There are still Deadspeaks and Autograph Packages in the Store. And something new will be coming later this year. And now, the lighter side: Time to start getting the garden in order for planting. Lots of new fence panels to paint this year. Some nasty winds over the winter demolished half a dozen. We also need to replenish the frame for our runner beans. Ahhhhhh, nothing like growing your own food. I just wish we had the kind of weather that's good for tomatoes. We haven't had a good enough summer since 1995. I've been telling Brian for the last couple of years I wouldn't do tomatoes from seed anymore ... but he talked me into it again. This is most definitely my last year for planting them from seed. It's too time consuming and my kitchen table turns into a greenhouse for a month. It's all that transplanting from pot to pot, you know ... next year it's buying hardened-off plants. Runner beans (similar to Italian style green beans) you plant in a pot and two weeks later you're putting them out in the garden. Nice and smooth. They go out first week in May and by end of July you can start to harvest, get them all the way through September. I did however pick up some windowsill tomato seeds. I'm told that if you wait and plant them in July you'll have fall toms. Great; now that is worth a try... Greece is coming up soon. I can't wait to get into that sunshine. My bones are aching for it. What a difference some sunshine makes. We'll only be going once this year. But there are other places we want to go and we can't do them all. My parents will be coming over in July. This will be their last trip across the Big Pond. They're 80 now and it's just too much of a hassle with all the hustle and bustle of traveling. Not so much the flight because they can direct from Baltimore to Gatwick, London. It's all the trains shuffling back and forth once they get over here. It's bad enough for Brian and me, and anyone who lives here knows what kind of problems we've been having with the rail system over the past six months. Well, Railtrack have promised after Easter all the maintenance should be done but we've still got speed restrictions in effect. What used to take us three hours to get to London we now have to plan on four or more. Which pretty much covers things this time around. May you all be well and happy. Until next time...  |
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Gurgling Streams of UnconsciousnessI’m watching snow flurries race sideways, from East to West, outside my study window. Thousands of howling spawn of the winds drop out of the race and pass out over my lawn. Thousands more already resting there. I wonder what Hank Silberhutte would think of all this snow. I’m sure to him it would be nothing, what with his wife being the daughter of Ithaqua, and all. What’s a little snow to him? I hear two to three feet of cold, white powder is expected fall, as much as, two or three inches per hour at times. Or so the meteorologists say. Why are they called that? They study the weather, not falling debris from outerspace! Later, I’m outside in my driveway. Its long after sundown. A growling orange snowblower rattles before me. Two sweeping, hornlike handles are gripped tight in my gloved hands. Five semi-cleared lanes run the length of my driveway now. I’m tired. I’m wet. I’m freezing. I don’t feel any of it. I’m floating in a post-pardum euphoria. The psycho/physio high gained by coaxing, pushing and dragging the snowblower through midget-sized drifts of snow, slush, and ice. I watch my deep breaths plume from my mouth and rise up. My glazed eyes lock onto the full moon hanging by a cosmic nail in the clear night sky. A curious halo rings Luna and I can almost hear the battles in the Moons of Borea. I’m hypnotized by the red and purple halo. At least, a part of me is – the other part of ‘me’ detaches from my body and watches me watching this spectacle of color and light. I want to fly up to Luna and join her forever. I’d settle for being a constellation by her side. I try to and I snap out of my reverie. The gods failsafe for overactive imaginations. I shut off the snorting snowblower and wrangle it back into the garage. The machine reminds me of my grandfather. I never got to know him. He died when I was seven or eight. I can count on two fingers my memories of him. Anyway, he had one like it (the snowblower), but like him, to me it seemed larger than life. I wish I could speak to him for just five minutes. I would ask him what he thought of me. Was he happy with the way I’ve turned out? I read – somewhere – that in death the dead go on doing what they did in life. My grandfather built highways. That is how he supported his wife, his son, and his three daughters for years and years. He died building a highway. Did he still build highways in the afterlife? Or, did he have secret ambitions that only in death he was free to pursue? I’d like to know. Then I’d know something about him that none of my older cousins and relatives know, unlike the reverse way it really is. But the Necroscope is just a book. I’m lying in bed staring up at the Möbius Continuum of my ceiling. My satiated wife, curled by my side, rides her ship of dreams somewhere out on that somnolent horizon. I’m trying to go to sleep, but I can’t find the door. In another room a mantle clock chimes a single hour and I remember a movie I once saw with Don Knotts and Tim Conway as bumbling detectives who investigate a haunted mansion. The mansion’s occupant, a giggly, elderly woman, sneaks around via secret doors hidden within huge, ornamental grandfather clocks. I follow her through one and I realize I’m dreaming now. The vast reaches of space slide by my snug cocoon. I relax and enjoy the ride. There’s my grandfather tending his garden. A shimmering bottle of golden Schaefer beer in hand. Tall wooden stakes separate the beans from the tomatoes from the lettuce. He waves me over. Thank you, clock of dreams. What will be, has been. |
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Our Future Bodes well.Well here we are again another newsletter. The Necroscope saga has now come to a close. The final book in the saga has been released and we now know the outcome of the travails of the new Necroscope Jake Cutter. Normally I would write a little book report here telling everyone what has happened and how the story went. However, this time I will not do that. I just can’t, you see its just too good to spoil. If you haven’t read it yet then you are just going to have to wait until you buy the book to find out what happens. Believe me it is well worth the money. The saga is complete but the story is not finished. At the close of the Necroscope saga we are left with many more adventures and a world of stories untold. But they can be filled in with our own imagination. As I finished the Avengers it left my mind filled with ideas of what could and what might happen. And for me that is wonderful. I have always said that Brian has given me many wonderful stories to read, but he has also given us many adventures to imagine. So what is on the horizon now that the Necroscope saga is complete? Plenty, Tor is going to be busy republishing a lot of Brian’s work that has disappeared into the mists of time. Stories that haven’t been printed in the United States, and books that have gone out of print. The Psychomech series is one of those series Tor will be reprinting. It has been rather hard to find in recent years so there may be a few of you who haven’t read them yet. It may not be a new book, but if you haven’t read them then they’ll be new to you. They are doing them in a trade paperback format that will be really nice. Bob Eggleton will be doing a jacket for them. When all of them are released the covers will fit together to form a complete cover spanning the entire series. For those of you who have read them, the books will be a nice addition to your collection. They are really worth reading if you haven’t got to them. Understatement I know, all of Brian’s stories are gems to read, but hey I might as well say it anyways. If you enjoyed the Necroscope saga I’m sure you’ll like this series as well. With the close of the Necroscope saga I got to thinking about all the ways my life has changed since starting to read the Necroscope series and I was reminded of the other reprint Tor will be doing this year. I am speaking of course of Deadspeak. Now I know a lot of you might have the Kinnell Hardcover for this book, as do I, but I can’t wait to get the Tor version as well. I’m a Lumley addict if there ever was one. For me though this will be very special indeed. Why might you ask? Well Deadspeak was the very first Lumley book I ever read, and so it holds a special place in my heart. If it were not for seeing that book I may have never read any of Lumley’s books. Now I’m sure I would have seen him eventually, but it was this book that first got me hooked. Many, many books later I am still reading his books. It is without a doubt a major turning point in my life. Sounds silly to some maybe, but it was this book that sparked my imagination and spurred my mind to flights of fancy. I have told Brian once that it was his writing that made me want to become a writer. Before reading his books, I enjoyed writing and conjuring new worlds and characters, but never thought of making it a career. After reading his works I rethought what my aim in life would be. Now I hope to one day write stories and fire other peoples imagination as well. It gave me the hope that one day I too could do what this man does. Strange place to find inspiration you may say, but inspiration comes in many forms and many faces. For me it was Brian Lumley and the book Deadspeak. For this reason and this reason alone that book is dear to me. So that on the day Tor releases it in a hardback it will have a special place on my bookshelf. I have a pretty good collection and have some pretty hard to find copies of Brian’s writings, but this is my so called Grail! Maybe I’m a romantic, but that’s how I feel. One day in the future when I am a director and writer in my own right (I hope that that day comes) it is this man and that book that I will point to when asked where it all began. Since that day I have had many other great things occur which have each taken me steps forward. A few years ago I found this wonderful website and started talking to a man who calls himself ShadoeWolfe. Since then we have become friends and I have helped him in whatever way I can to help him make this site the best it can be. He works tirelessly and I am proud to have any part in this great site and the newsletter. Just last year I had a special treat. I was able to meet Dave and Robb in Corpus Christi, we had a great time and they are really great guys. At the same time I was able to meet my mentor Brian Lumley and his wonderful wife Silky. I have already talked about that meeting in a previous article, but to say the least it was a dream come true. To be able to sit and talk with a man who inspires you is a great thing. To sit and have a drink with him is even better. Brian is as down to Earth as a man can be, and as a fan it is great to have an author who cares so much for his fans. For myself it was great to meet a man who listened to me and gave me advice on how to make my aspirations come true. It is these seemingly small things that make people what they are. It is easy to get discouraged and misdirected by life when trying to obtain the things you want. But I will always have Brian’s books and Brian himself now to keep me on the road I want to travel. For this I thank you Brian. And for that I will always remember Deadspeak as the germ that started my dreams. So least to say I can’t wait to get the hardcover. Well enough of that. I prattled on a little bit, sorry about that. But it is something to think about as well. I wanted to give you all a peek into why I love this website and this newsletter so much. I doubt Brian knew that what he wrote did that for some, but it does and it has. I know from speaking to Robb that Brian has similarly helped him in his aspirations to write as well. Brian’s books hold great stories and when you read them enjoy the fuel it adds to your imagination. It is our creativity that propels humans forward. I am rereading the Necroscope series at the moment and it always fascinates me that I find something new each time I read them, they are just that good! So when next I write I’m sure I be looking into the outré again. Remember to fuel your imagination, drive your spirit, and feed your mind. And when reading Lumley, leave the lights on after dark. |
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DarknessWhat? who?...where am I? Oh wow, this is weird, I can't move...oh yes, I can...oh no wait, my body? wha...? where is it? where is my body? oh my god! I don't have one! My fingers? No, I'm paralyzed? I can't be paralyzed, I need my fingers, I have to play my piano. But I'm thinking, I can hear myself think, so I should have a body right? I can hear people, yeah there's a lot of people out there, so I must be hung over or something. I'm laughing now, that was quite a scare! At least it was a good party, I'm just trying to remember where the party was. The
voices are getting closer, oh thank you, thank you God, so at least they'll
get me out of here and I can go have a shower and get rid of this awful
feeling. Why is it so dark? Must be heavy curtains. Oh damn its cold now...so
cold, I can't take the cold, I faint. "Poor soul, she doesn't even realize it", says a voice, gruff and heavy with time. "We'll help her", said another, more lighter voice. I open my eyes (I think) to see, and I can't. "Where are you", I said. "Right here", said the light voice. "Right here next to you dear". At this point, I freak out and demand to be let out and let go of. I can't see anyone but I can feel this atmosphere, pity maybe? I don't understand, I don't get it. More voices come out of the darkness, sympathetic, mourning voices, now I've totally had enough and try to get up. But, wait...damn..I really can't get up, I really don't have a body anymore, I still think I'm hung over but what did I drink? "Do you know where you are?" said a voice. I jumped a mile out of my skin (did I?) and stammered that I had no idea. Again, the atmosphere, people shaking their heads, tut-tutting, I could hear them say "it's a shame, she doesn't even know it, such a waste". I ask out loud what the shame is, I beg them to just stop the joke, I plead with them that I'm tired, I just want to go home. I feel someone next to me, well, sort of anyway, I can sense it. I hear a big sigh and the gruff voice speaks to me. "My child, you really don't know where you are?". I shake my head then I remember than I don't have a head but he seems to have heard me anyway. "You have joined us on the other side my dear, can you remember what happened?". Again, I shake my head. What did he mean 'the other side'? Had I joined a cult or something? I heard more voices, nice ones, they were all nice, it was a little warmer now. The
gruff voice was talking to some other voices, I could hear them arguing,
saying that I had to be made to remember because that would make it easier
for me. Remember what? I have no idea what they are talking about, I don't
even know where I am. Now I'm mad and I let it show. LightHow
long had it been? I had shut them out at the start, but then I got curious.
I could hear them talking of someone who could help me? Help me how? I
don't need help, I need a drink. If I was dead, why would I need help?
They said he was here, he was here to help me. Who? Why did I need help?
But you know, I was getting warm, the cold was seeping away from my bones
and it was a good feeling. I felt a warm honey glow all over me and the
voices were getting more and more excited. Then I heard him. "Can you
tell me your name?", he said. The voice was warm, and so caring, so gentle.
I stammered my name out to him and I felt him smile at me. "Do you remember
anything at all?". I told him I didn't and then asked him who he was.
He told me his name was Harry and he could talk to dead people. At this
point I had to control myself not to break down again. I felt his warmth
envelop me, it was so nice, so tender. He told me that while I was in
this situation, it didn't mean that I couldn't be what I wanted to be
in my own world. He told me many others had gone on in death as they had
in life. Physicians still practiced, jockeys still ran races, teachers
still taught and so on. He told me I could still write music if I liked.
That made me feel better. This Harry was an angel! A massive
thunderbolt out of nowhere killed me instantly and that was it, that was
why I was here. Harry then explained to me that he had to go, there
were so many people dying and he had much work. I know he had to go but
I didn't want to let go, I was afraid that I would get cold again. I begged
him to stay but he had to go. I felt his gaze, his warm touch on my mind
and then he was gone. |
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TributeIt seems like forever that I’ve been reading his books... certainly, while kids at school were reading Blyton and Potter, I was scaring myself silly by reading books that were far too old for me! As I grew older, my love for his work increased... luckily for me, he had written an enormous amount of books, so there was plenty to keep me happy. Even so, I re-read each book many times for the sheer joy of it. One thing I had noticed about him was that he never seemed to age in his photos. Sure, his hairstyle changed to suit the decade’s fashions, but other than that, he hardly seemed to change, I could only conclude that his writing career had been good to him, or that he photographed well! My love of reading paid off, I developed my own style of writing and submitted regular articles to several magazines. I replaced my tatty old paperbacks with hardbacks, and picked up several rare books in auctions. I even got myself a computer and hooked up to the net, which was great. I found out loads of info about him that I didn’t know, and managed to complete a series of books that were impossible to find in this country, thanks to a website dedicated to him. Eventually I plucked up the courage to send an email to him, just a note to thank him for the hours of pleasure his books had given me. To my surprise I received a prompt reply, along with an invitation to a book signing... I didn’t need asking twice! Now have you ever met anyone who you can just talk to for hours and feel like you’ve known them for years? This is how I felt when I finally met him. We talked at the book signing, and later over several beers in a local pub. Afterwards I realized that I was shaking like a leaf. I hadn’t realized that I was so nervous... or was it just my age catching up with me? I laughed at the thought... I was only 21! Over the next couple of years we became firm friends, my favorite writer and I. I met him often, in my role of fan and friend. At first I didn’t even notice the increasing number of lines around my eyes, and even when I did, I assumed they were laughter lines... laughing was something we did a lot of. It wasn’t until we had been friends for 4 years that I noticed a curious side effect of our meetings... I would generally feel debilitated and weak for days afterwards. I would gradually recover my strength, but then when we met once more I’d be knocked back again. Strangely enough, he always seemed to look well. The long smoking and drinking sessions never appeared to touch him. I plucked up the courage once to ask if he’d been receiving some sort of cosmetic enhancement, to keep him looking young. He just laughed that hearty laugh of his, but later I saw him looking speculatively at me. That was 11 years ago. A couple of days ago I received a letter. With the letter was a photo of a man easily in his 70s. But as I read the letter, a lot of things were made clear to me. It was sent to me from the daughter of the man in the photo, who had died 5 years ago ... at the age of 39! This young lady had been researching all the friends, past and present, of my writer friend since her father’s demise. Her father it seems had been a friend of his too, and his health had deteriorated rapidly, as mine had...and as had the health of some 20 men and women before me! I tried to read the rest of the letter, but my eyes aren’t what they used to be. A gust of wind blew suddenly and whipped the letter from my frail shaking hands, as I sat in my wheelchair outside the pensioners’ home where I now reside. No one I tell believes that I’m only 36, not when they see my pale wrinkled skin and snowy white hair. Or when I show them the picture of my writer friend in his latest book, looking barely 40... |
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Nobody was watching as Samuel worked on the gradually rising mountain of ash below his car window. He’d smoked almost a full packet since parking opposite the church three hours ago when the casket was delivered. ‘What’s keeping them?’ He asked himself as he lit yet another cigarette. He hadn’t made it to St Mary Magdalene’s in time to sneak in and watch the ceremony, but he'd know when they left and would follow them to the cemetery. People wanted to know what happened as they put to rest that which everyone loved; everyone living and dead... A gust of wind caused Samuel to pull his collar up tight at the back of his neck as a shiver ran up his spine. ‘Picked a good day for it, dour and grey, looks like bloody rain’s on its way too,’ he said, to no one in particular, indeed there was nobody around to say it to. People would be in their homes, holding their loved ones. It wasn’t often you put to rest an idea that changes the way people think and see the world around them. An eerie quietness descended; Samuel shuddered again as he looked up at the old Gothic church, at the decapitated gargoyles (with a wry grin), at the weathered details, at the broken stained-glass windows, at the ancient head-stones, the names on which were long-lost ... to most anyway. Lost in his thoughts, it took a while for Samuel to notice that the heavy oak doors had been opened and people were slowly filing out, forming a black-clad corridor along which the pall-bearers to carried the open-casket through. ‘Open-casket? Must be a trick of the light...’ Thought Samuel as he squinted his eyes for a better look. Why hadn't he remembered the damned binoculars? The hearse passed, its black curtains closed, its driver unrecognizable through the tinted windows. Samuel waited for the slow-moving cars to pass with his head bowed (he’d see the faces at the grave-yard) before pressing the ignition button and silently turning his car onto the wide road and following the procession. The necropolis was only two miles away, but it took twenty minutes to arrive there – nobody lined the streets – nobody was there to lower their caps – nobody to hold their children still. There weren’t any gravediggers waiting either; the only people out today were here, parking their cars, steadily making their way through the cemetery gates. A huge man blocked Samuel’s way as he tried to enter the gates. Samuel was about to say, ‘People have the right to know...’ but he received his answer before the words left his lips. ‘You will make no noise, you will not interfere, you will show the respect due to the occasion and that which we are burying.’ And with that the enormous man stepped to one side and allowed Samuel to pass before locking the wrought iron gates. Samuel rushed between the grave markers to catch up with the procession disappearing into a copse at the far side of the morbid field. Out of breath he entered the copse, stood with hands on knees desperately trying to recover in time to hear the ceremony. He made his way behind the circle of people, pulled his yellowed, dog-eared notebook from his pocket, his pencil from behind his ear, and listened... ‘The Words of Power have already been spoken. The prayers have been delivered. The songs have been sung. ‘All that remains must come from you all here...’ From the back Samuel had trouble seeing within the circle; it was as if they didn’t want him to – understandable really, but all the same. On his toes he could make out the vicar's gesture to the people on his left, nodding at them ... it was time for them to be heard. Kathy, aka Emaleth: How can you sum up in a few words what the Necroscope Series means? Maybe this... ‘What will be has been, and what has been will be for the future.’ Brian, aka Canker: I find myself before you in conflict. I feel very fortunate that I have had the opportunity to "get to know" the Necroscope story. It, in itself, was and is something that I will cherish always, but as we draw to this inevitable end, I find myself saddened to know that it will in fact be the end. The characters, the worlds, the horror ... it will forever be with me as a testament to the pure genius of a truly incredible vampire story. With everything there must be an end, but with one of the greatest stories ever told it is difficult to accept. Let me just say to the newly departed... Thank you. Thank you for the days and nights reading and learning of your lives and ways. Thank you for the stories and the moments that I reflected on them. Most of all...Thank you "Lord" for creating and allowing us to experience this all through your eyes. Shroom: Farewell to old friends who traveled with me on many a journey, entertaining me and relating to me many tales of strange lands and dark times... But, like all great storytellers you knew when the tale had concluded, knew that the lights had to be extinguished; left me lying scared in my darkened bedroom, imagination burning, wanting to hear more. Even now the tale is finished, the words linger. Necromantic whispers never to be forgotten. Goodbye. Johnno: Thirteen books and the end of an era. We have seen many characters come and go. No hero or villain can escape an untimely demise at a stroke of Brian's pen. If all the characters had died of old age I'm sure the Necroscope series would not have been as popular. Likewise if the book was used to cash in on a well known winter holiday season and called "Necromas". However I digress, all works of art must come to end. In some ways this is a good thing, for only on completion can you stand back a look at the overall masterpiece. Personally I don't think I've seen the end of the Necroscope or his companions. Getting in touch with a Necroscope or a Vampire is as easy as opening a book. Just between you and me, I have discovered a little secret. You can read books again and again. SpOOkshow: A sad time. A time for reflection and recollection. Events of this nature and magnitude always bring a certain sickly, dizzy feeling to me. The End. Plain and Simple. No More. Grief is a natural thing, so nothing more natural than to feel grief at the passing of something that you've come to love. Still it feels somehow... inappropriate, in some strange fashion - for in reaching the End, you've also reached fulfillment, and that's cause for a certain measure of bittersweet joy. The body might be lying still and cold in the grave, so to speak, but nothing is truly dead as long as we remember it… Nathan: The time has come, Lords and Ladies, to bid a final farewell to an old and trusted friend. We could go on and on with clichés about 'better places' and 'being together again someday soon', but I think the appropriate thing to do here is to talk about the joy and overwhelming terror (which are one and the same for many of us) that the Necroscope and its players have brought to our lives. Nothing has occupied my mind more in the last few years. Nothing has changed my life in so many ways. Nothing has ever inspired me to such a maximum degree. Nothing could ever replace the spot in my soul that will forever be occupied by this dead thing before us. Nothing will ever make me forget. And so...It seems I must use an old cliché after all...Necroscope may have passed, but it will live in our memories forever. RIP, old friend. Goth Girl: 13... a witches dozen of Necroscope books. Appropriate somehow that this would be the point at which the series ends. Don't get me wrong... I could read them forever, but as the old saying goes... "Always leave them wanting more!" And while the series has ended, completed it's full life cycle, I'm not going to leave its space in my life unfulfilled. There's a depth to the Necroscope Series that begs closer examination, and one of my favorite indulgences is to leave the world behind for a while and start to plough my way through the series again from the very start. So while we still have the books, the Necroscope lives on... --- There were others, those who simply could not find the words. The last person had spoken. The last eulogy delivered. There were those who were in tears. Those who offered comfort. Those who procrastinated about leaving the still open grave. As the circle thinned Samuel made his way to the edge, for all that it was his job, for all that deep inside he felt that he too should be at home with his family, still he had to pay his respects. Still he had to say ‘good-bye.’ At the grave he didn’t want to open his eyes, didn’t want to believe what lay within, didn’t want to accept the end. He felt a hand on his shoulder, turned and looked into the eyes of the man who had blocked his way at the cemetery gates. ‘It is alright, it is like you thought – people have to know.’ The big man smiled warmly and Samuel was filled with a sensation of serenity. He turned back to the grave and gazed upon an open casket, looked into the eyes of the interned-- --And said farewell to Darcy Clarke, Zek Föener, Boris Dragosani, Malinari, Ben Trask, Canker, Turgo, Shaithis, Shaitan, Thibor Ferenczy, Bonnie Jean, Fess Ferenc, Jake Cutter, Sandra, Brenda, Faethor Ferenczy, Anne-Marie English, Nestor, Radu, Nathan, Harry Jnr, Janos, Yulian Bodescu, Alec Kyle, August Möbius, Gregor Borowitz... More, more, ever more eyes Samuel looked into until the face stabilized, settled on the cool and deep blue of Harry Keogh’s... ‘Farewell…’ |
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FULL CIRCLE.With the coming of Avengers looming in front of me a couple of months back, I started feeling a little depressed. The saga that has been such an inspiration to me was coming to an end and all I could think was ... What now? The only thing better than re-reading the Necroscope books is to read a new one! But ... there will not be a new one after this! So what do I do? I could re-read the Psychomech Trilogy like I've been meaning to. Or, I could read some of the short story books I have on my shelf that I have yet to pick up due to certain other obligations. Eventually I will do just that, but I just couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom at the thought of having nothing more of Harry, Nathan, Jake, and E-branch. And of course the Wamphyri, and the seemingly endless struggle to eradicate them from two worlds. There was just too much left open for Avengers to be the last one. It just couldn't be! But if it really is ... what next? Thinking about these things reminded me of another time, oh around eleven years ago when I awoke on February third of nineteen hundred and ninety. I had been wondering just exactly what the blazes I was going to do. I was seventeen and thought I'd already read everything worth reading. I had devoured all the King, Koontz, Barker, McCammon, and many others that I could find. But I was in desperate need of something new. As per usual on my birthday, I would receive, later in the day, a gift certificate for twenty five dollars at Waldenbooks from my Aunt Tamsen in California. I impatiently waited for the mailperson to arrive, and when he did, I immediately hit the bookshop at the mall. I stood there, in the fiction section, looking and looking and searching and cursing, not being able to find anything at all of interest to me. Then I noticed a couple I'd seen before. I had seen these two books, at the bottom of the shelf, countless times before, and always picked them up simply because the skulls on the front were eye-catching, but had never bought them because, having been suckered by artwork in the past, I assumed that was all it was ... an author trying to make money from a book with a really cool cover. What a stupid mistake that was!! All that wasted time!! As you might guess, with no other choices, I opened it up and started reading Necroscope. It blew me away from the beginning! I stood there in the bookshop and read halfway through the second chapter before the clerk came over and told me I had to buy it to read it! With Dragosani poised with his straw and Mikhail wiping the vomit from his mouth, I could hardly put it back on the shelf! So, I bought it ... along with another one that I couldn't pronounce the name of. Having no idea they were related in any way, I took them home and devoured the first one in three hours ... but it wasn't enough! I needed more of this new found horror that was so smartly written. It had it all ... top rate horror, intrigue, fantasy, science fiction, and espionage all wrapped up into one fabulous tome. So, on to the second one, which to my surprise, was just that... more!! One tome indeed!! Finishing up with Vamphyri, (or Wamphyri, as it should be) I went on a search for more books by this man, Brian Lumley. I found two more at that time and bled them dry in no time flat. The thing was only getting started! Are you kidding me?! A Source World? And Harry ... changing? More! More! Only this time I knew there'd be more. With nothing more available at the time, I read them all four in succession again. By the time this was done, Deadspawn was released and that was the topper! I had never read anything even remotely this good. I started touting it to all my friends and even recruited a couple of Lumlians. (This not being an easy thing to do when you tell them they're already five books down!) The Necroscope was finished so I went on another search for more and acquired all three Psychomech books, which I devoured at once, and was still not in the least bit disappointed. Three years went by, in which I got back into the King thing a little bit and re-read The Five a couple of more times, but it just wasn't the same! I needed more! But Deadspawn had finished it, right? Well I thought so. Until my birthday of ninety four. Once again I found myself at Walden's, gift certificate in hand searching through the shelves for something new ... anything new ... and I saw it. "What's this?" I wondered, "A new book by Lumley? Blood Brothers? Holy cow!! A year old!!!" I was dumbstruck! Why hadn't I seen this before?!? And ... Nathan? Wow!! I nearly caused myself permanent damage in the rush to my couch and lamp! This is where the waiting started. I was extremely unhappy. Not with the book, you understand, but the cliff! And the hanging from it! The end left me dangling so badly I threw it down cursing once again. Now I don't normally treat books in this manner, so maybe that gives you an idea of my displeasure. But ... in hindsight, maybe it was for the best that I hadn't seen Blood Brothers before. I still had a good four or five months before The Last Aerie was released, but that sure beats a year or more! I was in hell. I kept myself entertained, throughout the long year between each book, by re-reading them all, in order, as usual. But it was taking me longer with each new book and I had found another book that also helped to pass the time quite nicely ... Demogorgon. Oh yeah, happy days!!! Sometime after The Lost Years and Resurgence, I finally got e-mail at my regular job, but no internet. I asked a friend if he could log on his computer and try to find a website where I could get an e-mail address for Brian Lumley. He could, and did. I proceeded to write to the man I now considered The Master, and proclaim myself to be his Number One Fan ... which I was ... and still am!! I got a prompt response from someone named Silky who I mistakenly took for someone who answers e-mails for authors. Rough job, I thought. Another stupid mistake. I later found out that this was The Master's Lady, and following some correspondence with them both, discovered that she was just as friendly and down to earth as Brian himself! To begin with, I was a fan of Brian Lumley, the author. Now I was a fan of Brian Lumley the author and the man. The books, the website, the generosity, the modesty and gratitude towards fans, and last but certainly not least, his Lumlian Family from the MessageBoard. There is nothing about this Great Storyteller that could be improved! Many things have happened to me since my 'official' arrival into the Lumlian Family back in June of 2000. I have made a rapid ascension in the ranks of Lord Lumley and have gone a long way (in my somewhat humble opinion) toward proving my status as His Number One Fan. I was able to make it to a book signing in Las Vegas with over thirty books which Mr. Lumley was only too happy to sign and someday I might even tell you all about it. But for now... ...here I am, that's me. I have come Full Circle. I have delved into the world and worlds of The Dreamlands Series, The Titus Crow Trilogy, and The House of Doors ... both visits. I have finished Avengers, and am left wondering ... What next? I have my short stories, of course, that will keep me busy for a while, but still ... What next? I'd thought Necroscope was finished after Deadspawn ... and again after Bloodwars. Is this really it? Well He says it is ... so it must be. But remember ... "what will be ... has been..." ...but this time 'round the merry-go-'round, I have no need to seek a new author. |
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To finish off this newsletter, we bring you the people involved. If you have a question for anyone, please e-mail them and let them know about it.
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All Material Contained Herein is Copyright © 1998-2001
Brian Lumley
Not to be reprinted or reused in any form, print or digital, without permission
Well
- what can I say? IT'S HERE!!! The final chapter in the Necroscope
Saga can now be yours. Necroscope: Avengers - the
final novel in this series is now shipping in the UK from Hodder
and Stoughton. You can order the 
The
collection The Whisperer and Other Voices is now shipping
from Tor in hardcover! You may now order