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Richard A. Lupoff's long literary career has included novels and short stories in various genres (mysteries, SF), non-fiction, and work as a magazine editor, on occasion evincing an affection for literature's pulpier side. He's written non-fiction books about Edgar Rice Burroughs and comic books (All in Color for a Dime), and contributed stories to collections intended as homages to various older authors such as H.P. Lovecraft, Robert E. Howard and Philip K. Dick.

Claremont Tales cover

Claremont Tales is a collection of stories intended to span Lupoff's career, with pieces ranging from one of his earliest published stories in 1952 ("Mr. Green and the Monster") to a couple published as recently as 2000 and one that sees its first printing in this collection ("The Monster and Mr. Green" -- a sequel, obviously). The stories aren't exactly evenly distributed: after 1952, the next story chronologically is from 1977! The collection also attempts to show the stylistic range of Lupoff's writing. As he explains in his introduction, the stories were selected, in part, for their diversity. Most still fall into the speculative fiction category, ranging from hard science to contemporary fantasy, but with at least one straight detective story slipped into the batch. As such, the collection is a grab bag of hits and misses -- appealing because, like the ubiquitous box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get, and disappointing for precisely the same reason.

Lupoff kicks things off with an introduction, and provides brief intros to each individual story as well. There have been debates, off and on, about whether an author should indulge in such personalizations. And though there are some writers who come to mind who definitely shouldn't, I lean towards approving of them, enjoying the insight into the process behind the prose, and into the person himself. I read more than a few Harlan Ellison collections in my misspent youth. Yet, now, I often find myself with a stronger recollection of Ellison's in-your-face editorials than the stories themselves. Lupoff's introduction mixes humour, nostalgia, and a touch of attitude to make for a pleasing foyer leading to the rooms of fiction beyond.

Lupoff acknowledges he has sometimes been accused of putting too much emphasis on style. I took that to mean that in his decision to try different types of stories, he maybe errs too heavily on the side of evoking a supposed idiom.

Certainly that was my feeling with respect to the first two stories, "Black Mist" and "The Second Drug," which are both murder mysteries.

An SF tale as well as a whodunit, "Black Mist" takes place at a Japanese outpost on a Martian moon. Lupoff seems to be affecting a slightly stilted, impersonal style that might be intended to evoke a colorless translation, as if it were a real Japanese story retold in English. Though a clever approach, it results in a story that lacks passion, and the characters -- particularly the one who (eventually) emerges as our hero -- lack definition. There are also some technical problems. I've read more than a few reviews in my time where a reviewer berates the storyteller for errors in his or her story, and in so doing simply reveals the reviewer's ignorance of the subject matter -- and I'd hate to fall victim to that particular hubris. But there were places where I found myself questioning Lupoff's knowledge of Japanese customs, particularly as regards the criminal underworld. And since the mystery hinges on these matters, it made it awkward for me. As well, a greater mystery, involving ancient Martian artifacts, is left unresolved.

"The Second Drug" is pure detective fiction and pulpy nostalgia, set in the first half of this century with an archetypically flamboyant and eccentric detective investigating a locked room mystery. Again, Lupoff's fidelity to a style hurts the piece, as he affects a stiff, clunky prose that evokes some pulp-era writers. Since those same writers were inspired by previous writers, it seems an imitation of an imitation. Put another way, there's more of Seabury Quinn than Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at work here. Lupoff also chooses to underplay the story's potential creepiness. An investigator suspects a vampire attack (for reasons that are questionable at best) yet never does the hero -- and by extension, the reader -- seriously entertain such fantastical suspicions.

Far better are some later stories, where Lupoff unleashes a more eccentric, off-kilter imagination that put me in mind of Philip K. Dick or even, in spots, of Doris Piserchia. "At Vega's Taqueria" and "Lux Was Dead Right" provide some of the otherworldly escapism that Lupoff promises in his introduction. "At Vega's Taqueria" may not be the freshest story in this collection, but Lupoff effectively creates a sense of disorienting paranoia around a character who finds himself slipping from reality to reality, his surroundings becoming increasingly bizarre. "Lux Was Dead Right" is told with a decided twinkle in the eye, painting a portrait of outrageous intergalactic events (and a civilization ruled by a telepathic egg!) while mixing it with the mundanity of low-life hustlers familiar to any age.

"The Tootsie Roll Factor" effectively creates a confessional voice as a chronic gambler reflects on his life while holed up in a Las Vegas hotel, out of money, but maybe not quite out of luck. "I Don't Tell Lies" and "Mr. Tindle Departs" suffer a little from a certain familiarity, particularly the latter with its standard tale of a henpecked nebbish who finds escape, but both keep you turning the pages which, after all, is what storytelling is about. Unfortunately, the sequel to the latter story, "Mr. Tindle Returns," reads too much like what it was: an afterthought.

A couple of stories intended to be in the Lovecraftian vein, "Documents in the Case of Elizabeth Akeley" and "Discovery of the Ghooric Zone," don't really generate what is surely at the heart of Lovecraft: spookiness. "Documents in the Case of Elizabeth Akeley" is intended as a sequel to H.P. Lovecraft's "The Whisperer in Darkness," while seeming to diverge from some of the ideas in the source story (I took the liberty of seeking the original out before starting on Lupoff's piece). Perhaps the lack of a creepy mood (until near the end) may be attributed to a decided humourous tone Lupoff takes, as if the story is as much a gentle spoof of Lovecraft as it is a homage. "Discovery of the Ghooric Zone," meanwhile, shares a trait with "Documents in the Case of Elizabeth Akeley" in that much of its dramatic core is based on a knowledge of Lovecraft, as future space explorers discover a planet Lovecraft had written about centuries earlier. As a stand alone work, it threatens to have as much broad-based appeal as would a story about Dr. "Bones" McCoy's childhood to a non-Star Trek fan.

"Discovery of the Ghooric Zone," despite being steeped in Lovecraftian ideas, is actually much more comfortably paired with "The Child's Story," also in this collection. Both stories are set in the far, far future, where earth, and her people, are almost unrecognizable to us now. As works of imagination, they are intriguing. As works of human drama, they can be a tad distancing.

Rounding out the collection are the career bookends of "Mr. Green and the Monster" and "The Monster and Mr. Green" -- and, admittedly, I'm not sure what to say about them. They mix nostalgia and alternate realities, but I'm just not sure I "got" it.

Claremont Tales may not be an unqualified success, but with a range of stories from those that conjure up TV's Twilight Zone to bizarre visions of the distant future, from hard SF to a locked room mystery, the book is an agreeable tome to have on the shelf, to delve into from time to time, never sure what you'll find next. And Lupoff, more often than not, stays true to an old fashioned story telling sensibility of just that: telling a story. For the most part, you don't find yourself turning the last page of a story and, scratching your head, saying "huh?" -- which is definitely a plus. The presentation is attractive, and the use of illustrations at the beginning of each story such as one might find in a magazine is appealing. Now if I could only figure out what the title meant. . . .

 

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A writer and critic, D. K. Latta's fiction has appeared in Adventures of Sword & Sorcery, On Spec, Challenging Destiny, and many others. His short story "Pvt. Parker, Missing in Action" was published in Strange Horizons. He is a contributor to Pulp & Dagger, a Webzine devoted to modern pulp-era-style adventure stories and serials.



D.K. Latta writes SF & Fantasy stories as well as reviews & essays about books, audio dramas, graphic novels, and Canadian film & TV. Books include a collection of his Canadian film/TV essays and anthologies imagining a decades-spanning Canadian superhero universe. He has a day job, obviously. More on his writings can be found at  http://www.pulpanddagger.com/dk_latta.html
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