Picture this: Sinclair Lewis, the hard-hitting word slinger of the American novel and playwriting scene, so intertwined with his portable typewriter that he hauled the damn thing with him on his honeymoon in 1928. It’s like the guy couldn’t leave home without it.
You’d think his fresh spouse, the razor-sharp journalist Dorothy Thompson, would’ve called foul. But no, she just shook her head and laughed. Love’s strange like that, I suppose.
Despite the romantic allure of newlywed bliss, our man Sinclair managed to sneak in a little keyboard time. Yeah, he’d hole up right there on the steps of their caravan, a custom-built beast that stretched seventeen feet from bumper to bumper. They’d packed this metallic cocoon with all the amenities of a cozy bungalow—think snug living room, a fully-stocked kitchen, all the usual stuff. They were, after all, embarking on a summer-long odyssey through the rolling green landscapes of England and Scotland. Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?
The caravan, it seems, was designed with everything a wanderlust-struck couple could need for a three-month tour. Well, almost everything. In a comedic twist of fate, the architects seemed to have missed one critical detail—no damn typing room! But when you’re Sinclair Lewis, anywhere can be a writing den. And that, folks, is how you churn out magic in the face of life’s charming absurdities.
Now, imagine this: You’re Sinclair Lewis, hunkered down on the steps of your caravan, churning out literary gold on your portable typewriter. And, let’s be honest, maybe these sessions were a welcome breather from the euphoria of newlywed life. A bit of solitude to refocus, reaffirm your commitment to the written word. Sounds like a slice of nirvana, doesn’t it?
Just as things were starting to get comfy, a curveball. A letter from a female fan lands in your mailbox, and boy, she’s got an offer that’s hard to ignore. She’s throwing herself at your feet, promising to play the role of your secretary. And she’s not just talking about typing up manuscripts and fetching coffee. No, she writes, “I’ll do everything for you – and when I say everything, I mean everything.” Now that’s dedication. You can practically hear her batting her eyelashes through the page. (One might speculate that her interpretation of “everything” might extend as far as topping off his whiskey glass.)
Dorothy Thompson’s response to the wannabe stenographer:
My dear Miss:
My husband already has a stenographer who handles his work for him. And, as for “everything,” I take care of that myself — and when I say everything, I mean everything.
Dorothy Thompson (Mrs Sinclair Lewis to you.)
And so it goes.
Stephen Graham Jones, a Blackfeet Native American, has written a terrifying story about a spirit that seeks revenge. The Only Good Indians won both the Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson awards for best horror novel at last year’s Horror Fiction Awards.
Earlier this year, British-American author Catriona Ward released her third literary horror novel, The Last House on Needless Street. Ward previously published two novels, Little Eve and Rawblood.
“Horror is in a very exciting place,” says Neil Mcrobit, who hosts the Talking Scared Podcast and interviews some of horror fiction’s biggest names. Frequently mentioned along with Rebecca Netley’s novel The Whistling is The Haunting Season, which collects the stories of authors such as Andrew Michael Hurley, Imagin Hermes Gower, and Bridgett Collins.
Paul Trembley, the author of one of the scariest novels out there, A Head Full of Ghosts, says, “With so many new voices being published, there’s never been a more exciting time for horror readers.” Tembley suggests two debut novels, Violet Kupersmith’s Build Your House Around My Body, about two young Vietnamese women going missing decades apart; and Gus Moreno’s This Thing Between Us, a genuinely creepy novel about grief and a widower fighting the evil that inhabits the smart speaker in his house. Jones also recommends Haley Piper’s Queen of Teeth, which revolves around a woman discovering teeth between her thighs, and Shane Hawke’s Anoka, a collection of Indigenous horror stories.
Author Jonathan Sims, who wrote Thirteen Stories, and hosts horror podcast The Magnus Archives, has an interesting view of how the horror market is currently changing. He says that many of the best horror writers are not on shelves, but online. He points to podcasts such as Pseudopod and Nightlight as examples of where readers can find some of the most exciting voices in horror.
Adam Nevill, whose The Ritual ended up on the big screen, recently self-published his latest novel, Cunning Folk, which follows a man who suspects that his hostile neighbors are in control of evil forces.
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Coyote Canyon Press just published the first of two novels by Hermann Hesse, an endeavor we’re calling our Hermann Hesse Project. Just published is Gertrude. The text for this edition is taken from Adele Lewisohn’s translation of 1915, Gertrude and I, published in New York by The International Monthly.
Gertrude was the first novel by Hermann Hesse published in English and not part of an anthology. The novel deals with the destructive nature of love, its central theme the narrator’s enduring and hopeless passion for Gertrude, whom he meets through their mutual love of music. “Music was important to Hesse,” says Thomas Fasano, who wrote the Introduction to the book. “As a child he loved to listen to the church organ, learned to play the violin, and developed a passion for Chopin. His interest in music and painting and his lifelong association with musicians and painters greatly informed his writing.”
Fasano writes in the Introduction:
Hesse’s pre-World-War-I heroes are esthetes who live only in their own world of dreams, who shrink before bold action. Temperamental artists, they are paralyzed by their chronic indecision and consumed by loneliness—timid souls to whom the art of life and the art of love are forever unobtainable. They ask little of life and expect much. Such is the nature of the child of nature, Peter Camenzind, and the timorous composer, Kuhn. Such too was Hermann Hesse.
The second book in the Hermann Hesse Project will be a rediscovery of sorts: In The Old Sun, a novel published in English over one hundred years ago and essentially lost since then — until now. We’re planning a beautiful edition of the novel both in hardback and Kindle. In The Old Sun was actually Hesse’s first book published in English in the United States. It was part of an anthology called German Classics and has never been published as an individual book until now.
Nathaniel Hawthorne’s “Rappaccini’s Daughter” is a rich and darkly morbid story that showcases Hawthorne’s art at its most sensuous and florid. It is the story of a beautiful young woman in a poisonous garden, and its gorgeous and lethal beauty are wonderfully done. The story is a sinister one in that the growing signs of the deadliness of Beatrice, and inevitably of Giovanni himself, accumulate with a horrid insistence.
Beatrice’s father is Professor Rappaccini of Padua, who raised her from childhood among deadly plants and flowers of his own creation in order to endow her with “marvellous gifts against which no power or strength could avail an enemy.” Giovanni, a young student, unaware of the secrets of the garden, is deeply attracted to her extraordinary beauty and her intimate tending to the beautiful plants. Gradually he becomes aware of the deadliness of the garden, and despite the warnings of Rappaccini’s rival, Baglioni, Giovanni continues to pursue her until he eventually takes on her deadly power. When he finally realizes the extent of his contamination, he urges her to drink with him the antidote prepared by Baglioni. She drinks it first, and “as poison had been life, so the powerful antidote was death.” The story ends with Baglioni’s horrified yet triumphant cry: “ ‘Rappaccini! Rappaccini! and is this the upshot of your experiment?’ ”
Trailer for the German musical “Rappaccini’s Daughter”
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