Most of all, I feel that Mr. Moorcock's battle between good and evil is a sad story. If it did happen in some early world of supernatural twi-light, a lot of men died in vain.
Elric fought for a decent world of the future, one that he would never enjoy. What did we get? Buchenwald, the atom bomb and brain-washing. Perhaps Mr. Moorcock's world has something? Could the sorcerers have done much worse than that?
THE ZENITH LETTER
by Anthony Skene (1924)
"Woodlands"
Oakhill Gdns
Woodford Green
Essex
2.7.24
Dear Mr. Young,
Many thanks!
The Editor of the Union Jack of course receives letters from readers galore as to his yarns and most of them have something to say about Zenith.
They are not all complimentary, some are very much the reverse; but the Albino is usually liked (or disliked) very much indeed.
That shows, I think, that to them, as to you-and me, Zenith is a living man. It is impossible to feel strongly about a phantasm.
One likes appreciation naturally. Literary art, so far as I understand it, is translation, by means of words, from the mind of the writer to the mind of the reader, of certain interests and emotions. When I read that for you Zenith lived, I was delighted to perceive that, so far as you were concerned, I had succeeded.
In 1913, I encountered, in the West End, a true albino, a man of about fifty-five.
He was a slovenly fellow: fingers stained with tobacco, clothes soiled by dropped food. Yet he was dressed expensively, and had about him a look of adequacy.
I should have forgotten him in a day or so; but when, an hour afterwards and five miles away, I sat down to have my lunch, he walked in to the restaurant and sat himself within a few feet of me.
This coincidence made an impression upon my mind, and when I needed a central figure not quite so banal as Blake for the U.J. stories, I re-created this albino fellow "moulded nearer to the heart's desire."
As I expect you will agree, Mr. Young, the lordly crook exists in most of us, only he is shackled by conventions and virtues. The Jekyll-and-Hyde trick of setting him free is, of course, a trick of the writer's trade. One cannot, alas, have the excitement of a crook's brief life in actuality; but one can, vicariously, with arm-chair and cigarette, experience not only the actions thereof, but the re-actions also. I am telling you what you have already divined.
Regarding my novels, I regret to inform you that I have written none. The disgusting truth is that novel-writing does not pay. I have planned a novel, and soon I shall write it. I think it will be good, but I do not expect to make more than PS50 out of it. That's that. I have to live, Mr. Young. Novel-writing is an expensive hobby.
Otherwise, you appear to have read all my long stories. In my opinion (which is probably unreliable on the subject) the best chapters I ever wrote were the first one of two in "The Case of the Crystal Gazer" and the best yarn "The Tenth Case" (published immediately after "A Duel to the Death," in 1918). The Editor liked "The Curse of the Crimson Curtain" (published recently).
In addition to these Union Jack, etc., yarns I have written nothing but newspaper articles, and one or two "shorts" not worth mentioning.
I have a single copy of most of my Zenith yarns, but I need these frequently for reference, and further copies are, I fear, largely out of print.
I am now writing an S.B. Library story of which, when it is published, I should like to send you a copy.
That I have awakened so strong an interest in one who is, obviously, intellectually superior to the average reader of the Union Jack, I find both flattering and stimulating.
Sincerely yours,
Anthony Skene