_Weird Tales_ has on hand "The Hand of Wrath" by E. Hoffmann Price.... He and Otis Adelbert Kline have collaborated in a Mexican weird novelette. It features Bart Leslie--Two Gun Bart--one of Kline's heroes. You will recall that he was featured in "The Demon of Tlaxpam" in WT a few years ago.... Price has also collaborated with Frank Belknap Long, Jr., on a weird novelette which is on a "visit" to _Astounding Stories_. He is about to write a serial and a novelette; interplanetary, and Far East, respectively.
Forrest Ackerman can produce, at his pleasure, hour long programs, of weird and fantastic voices and sequences. He has recently added to his set of sound-discs from "Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde", the complete set of records from the weird-scientific film drama, "Frankenstein". He also possesses the thrilling story of Im-Ho-Tep--the Egyptian, dead 26 centuries, returned to life--featuring the weird voice of Boris Karloff; "Murders in the Rue Morgue" and the grotesque "Old Dark House".
Two youthful Merritt fans burglarized the basement of a certain Carnegie Library and made off with old _Science and Inventions_ containing "The Metal Emperor".
Robert E. Howard's occupation is fiction-writing, though he helps his father (a physician) attend to a small farm on the outskirts of Cross Plains, Texas. He is 27 years old and has led a somewhat roving and adventurous life. He is an amateur athlete and boxer; is very fond of fighting and believes barbarism to be preferable to civilization. He is a profound historic student, and an authority on the folklore and tradition of the Southwest.
August W. Derleth is 24--U. of Wis. graduate and lives in Sauk City, Wis. He is gaining fame in magazines of select quality with serious reminiscent regional fiction and poetry. He writes mystery books besides fantasy.
We have been told that literature dealing with the imaginative and fantastic is out of favour among the Intellectuals, whoever they are. Only the Real, whatever that is or may be, is admissible for treatment; and writers must confine themselves to themes well within the range of statisticians, lightning calculators, Freud and Kraft-Ebbing, the Hearst and McFadden publications, NRA, and mail-order catalogues. Chimeras are no longer the mode, the infinite has been abolished; mystery is obsolete, and sphinx and medusa are toys for children. The weird and the unearthly are outlawed, and all mundane impossibilities (which, it may be, are the commonplaces of the Pleiads) have been banished to some limbo of literalistic derision. One may write of horses and hippopotami but not of hippogriffs; of biographers, but not of ghouls; of slum-harlots or the hetairai of Nob Hill but not of succubi. In short, all pipe-dreams, all fantasies not authorized by Freudianism, by sociology, and the five senses, are due for the critical horse-laugh, when, through ignorance, effrontery, or preference, they find a place in the subject-matter of some author unlucky enough to have been born into the age of Jeffers, Hemingway, and Joyce.