Recently I sent a e-mail to the House of Sinanju at housinan@aol.com. I got reply thats illuminating to Wold Newtonian studys
For those not in the know the House of Sinanju is from the long running adventure novel series: The Destroyer.
As almost always a good summary can be found at Wikipedia
An e-text of a Destroyer short story can be found at sinanju.net. Just like the old pulps.
In my email I commented on how much I enjoyed the books and that I hoped a new publisher would be found soon. At the end though I added a quick question asking if Chiun had asulted Sherlock Holmes.
This comes from the from First, the Destroyer novel #83 Skull duggery where Chiun comments that he worked for Fu Manchu.
Secondly the Fu Manchu novel Ten Years Beyond Baker Street. Which, to the best of my knowledge is the only time in the entire Fu Manchu saga where a Korean is among Fu Manchu's agents. (correct me if I'm wrong)
Out of the email I got the first half was James Mullaney thanking me for my support.
the second half on the other hand:
p.s. From Chiun: Your correspondent asks if the Master ever encountered Sherlock Holmes. I have concluded that this letter writer must be American, for only an American would conflate fiction and reality. For all of you products of the American educational system within the sound of my voice: Sherlock Holmes is fictional, I am real, therefore we have not and can never meet. Fictional characters do not and cannot interact with real ones. You may thank the Master now for he has done you a service by explaining that which the sane parts of the world understand. Go back now to your sofas and remote controls, safe in the knowledge that Yogi Bear, Roger Rabbit and Nancy Pelosi will never leap out of your television screen and maul you in your sleep.
With moderate tolerance for you,
Chiun, Master of Sinanju Emeritus
Okay, since Chiun denies ever meeting Sherlock Holmes (or that he was even a real person) we must assume that Chiun was employed in an unrecorded Fu Manchu adventue. Or that he lied, his published exploits don't exactly show a trustworthy person to say the least.
James Bojaciuk
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Friday, April 17, 2009
The Evil in Pemberley House, Pre-ordered!
I pre-ordered this from Amazon last night.
This is only the third book I've seen that I had to not only buy, but pre-order as soon as I possibly could.
I can't wait for this.
James.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
whats in the box? 04/16/09 Part 2
I went over my memory limt on the last post. Here's the rest of it.
I started reading Loki as soon as I opened the box. Its great so far.
I started reading Loki as soon as I opened the box. Its great so far.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
From Big Brother with Love
This is what happens when I'm bored and don't feel like writing with my own characters. This is for the most part Bond vs. 1984.
Keep is mind this has had little editing.
Bond woke up with his head pounding from the previous nights engagements. It’s that damn soma. He thought to himself. Never again, I’ll stick with the victory gin.
He rolled over and found a surprise, the pretty young new council member, Miss Peel, was slumbering by his side. After the shock passed Bond ignored her and tended to him drink stand.
He poured three measures victory gin into into an oversized glass. After making sure that Peel was still out his reached under his dresser, pulled back the navy blue carpet and brought out an ancient bottle of pure Russian vodka he had procured back is the sixties. He poured two measures into his cup and replaced the rest of the illegal goods under the carpet.
He tore open the government-given daily pack. First item in today’s pack was a reefer. Bond immediately dropped this in the trash can and moved on. Next in the sack was a crudely drawn porn booklet produced by the whores at the Ministry of Truth. The booklet joined the reefer in the bucket.
Bond examined the piece of paper in the bottom of the packet. It was a “personal note from you true and just leader.” The note was printed on paper bearing the cruel handlebar mustached face of Big Brother. Bond considered burning it, but then thought it would ignite the maharani. The note drifted down and rested atop the growing pile in the waste bin.
He raised the goblet to his mouth and began to fill the liquors warm him up. Poor Vesper.
He felt the acute twang one feels when a gun is pointed at their back. Miss Peel was siting up in bed half covered by the sheets; in her hand was a small caliber pistol of German make.
“My dear Mr. Bond, I do believe you are guilty of thought crime. My heavens, you took part of none of our leaders gifts. Tut-tut. And, then Gaul of all Gauls. You don’t offer BB’s Representative any thing to drink. Come Come.”
This would be later on in the story.
He passed young Winston Smith in the hallway. Bond had known Winston’s father well. That worthy man had been killed in the second battle of Briton. He killed twenty invaders before they got him. Although now whenever Smith was mentioned, and that was not often, he was portrayed as a foolish coward who killed his doctor friend then turned the gun on himself so he would not have to face the “liberators” Poor Nayland Smith.
I'm curious to know what people think. Although not the plot so much as the writing itself.
Keep is mind this has had little editing.
Bond woke up with his head pounding from the previous nights engagements. It’s that damn soma. He thought to himself. Never again, I’ll stick with the victory gin.
He rolled over and found a surprise, the pretty young new council member, Miss Peel, was slumbering by his side. After the shock passed Bond ignored her and tended to him drink stand.
He poured three measures victory gin into into an oversized glass. After making sure that Peel was still out his reached under his dresser, pulled back the navy blue carpet and brought out an ancient bottle of pure Russian vodka he had procured back is the sixties. He poured two measures into his cup and replaced the rest of the illegal goods under the carpet.
He tore open the government-given daily pack. First item in today’s pack was a reefer. Bond immediately dropped this in the trash can and moved on. Next in the sack was a crudely drawn porn booklet produced by the whores at the Ministry of Truth. The booklet joined the reefer in the bucket.
Bond examined the piece of paper in the bottom of the packet. It was a “personal note from you true and just leader.” The note was printed on paper bearing the cruel handlebar mustached face of Big Brother. Bond considered burning it, but then thought it would ignite the maharani. The note drifted down and rested atop the growing pile in the waste bin.
He raised the goblet to his mouth and began to fill the liquors warm him up. Poor Vesper.
He felt the acute twang one feels when a gun is pointed at their back. Miss Peel was siting up in bed half covered by the sheets; in her hand was a small caliber pistol of German make.
“My dear Mr. Bond, I do believe you are guilty of thought crime. My heavens, you took part of none of our leaders gifts. Tut-tut. And, then Gaul of all Gauls. You don’t offer BB’s Representative any thing to drink. Come Come.”
This would be later on in the story.
He passed young Winston Smith in the hallway. Bond had known Winston’s father well. That worthy man had been killed in the second battle of Briton. He killed twenty invaders before they got him. Although now whenever Smith was mentioned, and that was not often, he was portrayed as a foolish coward who killed his doctor friend then turned the gun on himself so he would not have to face the “liberators” Poor Nayland Smith.
I'm curious to know what people think. Although not the plot so much as the writing itself.
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