Heart of Darkness-Part Two

Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad (1899) can be read simply as an adventure story, even if there is more to it than that. Like much of the best literature, it can be read at more than one level. Good genre fiction works that way, too. Merely sensational things are soon forgotten. Things of quality stick. Things with depth stay with you.

In Conrad's novella, a seaman named Marlow, beginning in England, sets off for the Continent to secure work, then journeys to the west coast of Africa to carry out his assignment. He soon finds that he is to repair a boat, then to take it upriver to a remote place where a mysterious and intriguing character named Kurtz resides. Conrad spent nearly twenty years of his life as a seaman. Those years included a monthlong trip up the Congo River and other trips across the world. Many of his works are about men and ships at sea.

Again, not everyone can be Joseph Conrad, nor can everyone be Herman Melville or Jack London, who also went to sea, or Ernest Hemingway or James Jones, who went to war. But a writer ought to be able to draw from some other experience besides reading comic books, watching TV shows, and playing video games, which is how many of the authors in the Cosmic Horror Issue of Weird Tales seem to have spent their lives. Their characters follow their lead. Too many of them seem wrapped up in themselves. The lead characters in "A Ghost Story for Christmas" and "Night Fishing" are examples. Kurtz is one wrapped up in himself, too--everything to which he refers is his--but Marlow recognizes him as a great man. And he is (possibly), though great in a terrible way. One difference between Kurtz and too many of the characters in the Cosmic Horror Issue (their authors, too) is that he has gone somewhere and done something. They apparently have not. They have remained where they are, wrapped up in themselves, turned inward upon themselves like the worm uroboros. The old saying is that a man wrapped up in himself makes a small package. That is too evident in the pages of Weird Tales #367 and apparently, too, in the lives of its contributors. There are exceptions, but perhaps only barely. I will add that you don't have to look into your own navel and pick at your own little scabs, you don't have to examine your self-made inner voids when there is a whole world out there brimming with mystery and adventure. Even if you are bound to a place and a way of life, you might still let loose your imagination upon it. Good authors do that.

* * *

Another problem with the Cosmic Horror Issue of Weird Tales is that it is shamelessly, perhaps thoughtlessly, commercial. Its authors place the names of commercial products in their stories as if they had been paid to do so. In contrast, there is only one brandname in Heart of Darkness, Martini-Henry, the name of a rifle. That's a concrete detail. It's not product placement. In general, I think using the names of weapons, cars, cigarettes, and alcoholic drinks is probably okay in a work of fiction. The list of acceptable brandnames used after that must be, I think, pretty short, especially in a short story.

Joseph Conrad was conservative in an old-fashioned sense, meaning that he was aristocratic, perhaps reactionary, certainly skeptical of progress, and suspicious of liberal values. People seem to have forgotten that what they call capitalism is a liberal rather than a conservative institution. In Heart of Darkness, Marlow shows his disdain for commercialism and a relentless chasing after money. Most of the commercial products in his tale are cheap and lousy, or useless, like the pieces of brass wire used to pay African natives. There is one exception: ivory.

"The word 'ivory' rang in the air [Marlow remembers], was whispered, was sighed. You would think they were praying to it. A taint of imbecile rapacity blew through it all, like a whiff from a corpse." (Dell, 1960, p. 53)

That "imbecile rapacity" is seemingly everywhere in this world. That's just how it is, I guess. We are all human and so necessarily broken, warped, twisted, and fallen, at least in our worst moments and by our worst instincts. Art is supposed to rise above these things. But when an author of fiction uses a half dozen or more brandnames in as many pages of his or her story, you can't help but smell the whiff of the commercial corpse. People have forgotten God, yet still pray to the golden calf of money and material objects. And not just material objects but commercial material objects, objects--products--with brandnames. Many of those branded products have become not material at all, yet still have the same taint and whiff. And now human beings seem to want to transform themselves into branded products, to make of themselves mere objects. Anyway, I think that authors should cease with the product placement and the thoughtless and shameless deployment of brandnames. And editors should make sure that they do.

To be continued . . .

The Heart of Darkness in a Signet edition, date and cover artist unknown. I have altered this low-resolution image from one I found on line. Whatever you do, don't take this as a true representation of the original book cover. (I wish people would scan their images instead of taking photographs of them.) 

Original text copyright 2025 Terence E. Hanley

Heart of Darkness-Part One

In thinking and writing about the Cosmic Horror Issue of Weird Tales (2023), my thoughts went pretty soon to Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. Published first as a three-part serial in Blackwood's Magazine (Feb.-Mar.-Apr., 1899), Heart of Darkness first appeared in a hardbound edition in November 1902. Even if you haven't read Conrad's novella of an upriver trip in colonial Africa, you probably know its most famous line of dialogue, Kurtz's last words: "The horror! The horror!" That line and the greater theme of Heart of Darkness are what led me from cosmic horror to Kurtz's horror.

Not everyone can be Joseph Conrad. In fact, only Conrad was Conrad. But it would do for aspiring authors to read as widely as possible and to learn whatever lessons they can by doing so. One of the things lacking in the Cosmic Horror Issue is substance, or weight. As I wrote before, that issue is pretty thin in terms of its content. Some of its stories are very thin. But there is real substance in Heart of Darkness. Although it isn't heavy, it has weight. It's also very well written and stylistically polished. The opening, in which a cruising yawl called the Nellie, bearing five men, comes to rest in the sea-reach of the river Thames, is beautifully done and almost perfect in its depiction of a scene to which I have never been witness and probably never will be. But in reading I was almost there, and so might you be, too.

Heart of Darkness is a tale. It's very much like a weird tale in its structure, theme, plot, and atmosphere. Or maybe the weird tale is like this and other tales in that they are told in a certain way. This tale is actually a tale within a tale. Marlow is one of the men aboard the Nellie. He tells his tale to the others, including the narrator. You could call this a framing device. It's also in the club-story format, even if the telling isn't done in a club setting. I have a yellowing copy of the Laurel Conrad edition published by Dell in 1960 (cover below). The cover art is by Richard Powers, who created so many science fiction and fantasy covers. On page 32 is the phrase "tellers of tales." The word weird appears four times, twice in describing incantations. There is presaging of weird fiction in the Heart of Darkness, especially of the tales of H.P. Lovecraft and Robert E. Howard. 

Many authors of dark fantasy and other dark sub-genres love their darkness. Marlow's first words are of darkness and of the depths of time. His tale begins in its telling on a river to the sea. The tale itself is about a trip in the opposite direction and on a different continent, from the ocean into the darkness of the title. But there was once darkness where the five men have come to in their boat, for this, too, was once the home of what Marlow calls savages. And civilized men--Romans--once came here in their ships, just as Europeans had done and were doing in Africa in his time. Marlow points out to the men hearing his tale, "But darkness was here yesterday." (p. 30) His awareness of time isn't quite cosmic, but it is at least historic, prehistoric, atavistic. Marlow speaks of that long-ago time and place:

"They [the Romans] were men enough to face the darkness. And perhaps he [a Roman] was cheered by keeping his eye on a chance of promotion to the fleet at Ravenna by and by, if he had good friends in Rome and survived the awful climate. Or think of a decent young citizen in a toga--perhaps too much dice, you know--coming out here in the train of some prefect, or tax-gatherer, or trader even, to mend his fortunes. Land in a swamp, march through the woods, and in some inland post feel the savagery, the utter savagery, had closed round him--all that mysterious life of the wilderness that stirs in the forest, in the jungles, in the hearts of wild men. There's no initiation either into such mysteries. He has to live in the midst of the incomprehensible, which is also detestable. And it has a fascination, too, that goes to work upon him. The fascination of the abomination--you know, imagine the growing regrets, the longing to escape, the powerless disgust, the surrender, the hate."

Darkness--journeying away from civilization and into mystery, savagery, and isolation--fascination with what awaits and what lies along the way--the witnessing of abominations--encounters with the incomprehensible--these are some of the same subjects of weird fiction.

To be continued . . .

Original text copyright 2025 Terence E. Hanley

Jessie Bond (1894-1991)

Jessie C. Bond Munroe
Aka Bonnie Bee, Bonnie Bond, Bonnie Munroe
Fashion Artist, Illustrator, Poet, Painter
Born January 4, 1894, Decatur, Illinois
Died January 20, 1991, Palm Beach County, Florida

She was born in January, married in January, and died in January, and so in January I will write about artist and poet Jessie Bond. She was born on January 4, 1894, in Decatur, Illinois. Her father, William Branham Bond (1853-1913), was a millwright. Younger than her husband by a generation, Jessie's mother, Flora Etta (Williams) Bond (1871-1949), was a solicitor of public houses and later kept boarders. (Maybe those two things are the same.) Jessie Bond lived in and received her schooling in Decatur, Illinois, and St. Louis, Missouri. By 1920, she and her mother were in Indianapolis. Flora Bond lived on Massachusetts Avenue in that census year. In 1930, she resided on 30th Street, just west of Meridian Avenue. By then her daughter had gone far from home and would soon be herself a mother.

Jessie Bond is someone new to me. Her last name is in Jaffery & Cook's Collector's Index to Weird Tales. I found her first name in the Internet Speculative Fiction Database. Jessie Bond had six known illustrations in Weird Tales, from December 1924 to March 1925. These were in Farnsworth Wright's first half-year as editor of the magazine. I pretty quickly found an artist named Jessie Bond who lived in Florida. But was she the same Jessie Bond? What could her connection have been to Weird Tales? Then I found that Jessie Bond had moved to Florida in late 1924 from Indianapolis. I also found that she had studied at the John Herron School of Art in that same city. Remember that the editorial offices of Weird Tales magazine were in Indianapolis from 1923 to 1926. Weird Tales and Farnsworth Wright had addresses in the Circle City during those years, and they found artists among its residents, including William F. Heitman and George O. Olinick. Jessie Bond was one of them, too.

To start again, Jessie Bond went to school in St. Louis. In 1918-1919, she studied at the John Herron School of Art in Indianapolis. (One of her classmates was Hoosier cartoonist Russell Berg [1901-1966].) Jessie worked as a staff artist at the William H. Block Company department store in Indianapolis. Founded in 1874 by an Austro-Hungarian immigrant, Wilhelm Herman Bloch (1855-1928), the Wm. H. Block Co., or Block's, was a mainstay in downtown Indianapolis for many decades. I remember going there with my mother when we were children. Maybe that was the first time I ever rode in an elevator. I remember full-page, hand-drawn fashion advertisements for Block's clothing in the Indianapolis Star. These were a mainstay, too. The Block's building, located at the corner of Illinois and Market streets, was designed by architects Vonnegut & Bohn, the Vonnegut part for Kurt Vonnegut, Sr. (1884-1957). He was the father of author Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. (1922-2007), who found success early on in the pages of slick magazines and probably never had to turn to the pulps for income. I wouldn't rule out that he read Weird Tales as a child. I wonder if he knew that "The Unique Magazine" had originated in the city of his birth.

About the time that October turned into November 1924, Jessie Bond moved from Indianapolis to Miami, Florida. She must have been joyous in her move from a midwestern November to an eternal far southern summer. In a contemporaneous newspaper feature article, she was quoted as saying, "I find that I go at my work here with a different spirit. Miami is a playground, and that spirit seems to unconsciously enter into one, until one ceases to take even work seriously, and one does it more for the joy of accomplishment."

By the time she moved, Jessie must have already established a connection to Farnsworth Wright and Weird Tales. He was brand new as editor in November 1924. She had one or two drawings in each issue from December 1924 until March 1925, including two in the January 1925 issue. One of these was for "The Specter Priestess of Wrightstone" by Herman F. Wright. Herman F. Wright is an unknown author. I wonder now if he was actually Farnsworth Wright--F. Wright--in disguise. Wright had another work, a poem called "Two Crows," in that same issue. This was published under his pseudonym Francis Hard.

For five years Jessie Bond worked as a fashion artist for William M. Burdine's Sons department store in Miami. She also conducted the fashion page at the Miami Herald for one season. On January 11, 1928, she married New York native Robert Morris "Bob" Munroe (1896-1971) in Broward County, Florida. He worked as a newspaper columnist and as the director of advertising and publicity for the city of Coral Gables. Their son, John Macgregor Munroe, Ph.D., born on February 2, 1931, died just three years and three months ago, on November 4, 2021, at age ninety. He was a musician, educator, and choir director. He named one of his own daughters Bonnie, presumably after her grandmother . . .

Bob Munroe was a humorist and poet. His wife was a poet, too. Jessie Bond wrote under a pen name, "Bonnie Bee." She was also called Bonnie Bond and Bonnie Munroe, and she had poems in the New York World, the Tampa Morning Tribune, and Florida Poets--1931, edited by Henry Harrison. Bob and Jessie Munroe were acquainted with Vivian Yeiser Laramore (1892-1975), the first and only female poet laureate of the State of Florida. Vivian wrote about both of them in her column "Miami Muse," about Florida poets, in the Miami Daily News. Imagine a time when there was poetry in newspapers and a newspaper column was devoted every week to poets and their work.

After the birth of her son, Jessie became a portrait painter. She liked to collect seashells, and she loved the subtropics of Florida and the Bahamas. She seems to have lived in Florida for the rest of her blessedly long life. Jessie C. Bond Munroe died on January 20, 1991, in Palm Beach County, Florida. She was ninety-seven years old.

Jessie Bond's Illustrations in Weird Tales
"Fairy Gossamer" by Harry Harrison Kroll (Dec. 1924)
"Phantoms" by Laurence R. D'Orsay (Jan. 1925)
"The Specter Priestess of Wrightstone" by Herman F. Wright (Jan. 1925)
"An Unclaimed Reward" by Strickland Gillilan (Feb. 1925)
"The Magic of Dai Nippon" by J.U. Giesy (Feb. 1925)
"Black Curtains" by G. Frederick Montefiore (Mar. 1925)

(Of the six authors listed above, two--Harry Harrison Kroll and Strickland Gillilan--can be classed as Hoosiers. If Herman F. Wright was Farnsworth Wright, then that would make three. The FictionMags Index lists another credit for Jessie Bond, illustrations for "New Stories of Gilbert and Sullivan," with Rupert D'Oyly Carte, J. M. Gordon, Isabel Jay, Henry A. Lytton, and Courtice Pounds, published in The Strand Magazine in December 1925.)

Further Reading

• "Business Girls Sound Praises of Work and Recreation in Miami" by Isabel Stone, The Herald (Miami, Florida), November 15, 1924, page 4-B.

• "Miami Muse: A Weekly Column Devoted to Florida's Poets" by Vivian Yeiser Laramore, Miami Daily News, March 26, 1933, Society Section, page 11.

• "Miami Muse: A Weekly Column Devoted to Florida's Poets" by Vivian Yeiser Laramore, Miami Daily News, September 22, 1935, page 7, which includes some of her poems.

• "Gables Artist Plays Role of Santa To Give Orphan Long-Sought Lessons" by Judy Whitney Malone, Miami Daily News, December 15, 1939, page 19. 

Jessie Bond Munroe, aka Bonnie Munroe, in a newspaper photo accompanying the feature article "Gables Artist Plays Role of Santa To Give Orphan Long-Sought Lessons" by Judy Whitney Malone, in the Miami Daily News, December 15, 1939, page 19.

Original text copyright 2025 Terence E. Hanley

Armstrong Livingston (1885-1948)

Robert Armstrong Livingston, Jr.

Author, Businessman

Born August 16, 1885, New York, New York,

Died February 7, 1948, Manhattan, New York, New York

Robert Armstrong "Ray" Livingston, Jr., known as a writer as Armstrong Livingston, was born on August 16, 1885, in New York City. His father was Robert Armstrong Livingston, Sr. (1854-1913), a New York State assemblyman. Both were part of an old and very prominent family in New York State. Among their relatives were the Roosevelts.

Armstrong Livingston was educated at St. George's School in Newport, Rhode Island. He worked in the insurance business but was more well known as an author, mostly of mystery and detective stories. His story "As Obligated" in the January 1925 issue of Weird Tales was his only one for that magazine. He had dozens of others in All-Story Weekly, Clues, Detective Story Magazine, Gaiety, Metropolitan, Saucy Romantic Adventures, and other titles from 1918 to 1945. From 1922 to 1945, he published at least sixteen books:

• The Mystery of the Twin Rubies (1922)
• On the Right Wrists (1925)
• The Ju-Ju Man (1926) (with Thomas K. Griffiths), originally serialized in Argosy Allstory Weekly beginning June 17, 1922.
• Light-Fingered Ladies: A Detective Story (1927), originally serialized in Detective Story Magazine beginning August 14, 1926.
• The Guilty Accuser (1928)
• The Monk of Hambleton (1928)
• The Doublecross (1929)
• The Monster in the Pool (1929), originally serialized in Detective Story Magazine beginning January 21, 1928.
• Trackless Death (1929)
• The Murder Trap (1930)
• In Cold Blood (1931)
• Murder Is Easy (1933)
• Magic for Murder (1936)
• Night of Crime (1938)
• The Murdered and the Missing (non-fiction; 1947) (with John G. Stein)
• The Case of the Walking Corpse (1945)

On April 23, 1911, Livingston married Gladys Patten Grover in New York. He and they lived in Cuba, Bermuda, Algiers, Nice, Monaco, and other places. They later divorced. On December 30, 1926, Livingston remarried. His new wife was Ruth Stevens Dorr.

Livingston's life was short. He died on February 7, 1948, in Manhattan, at age sixty-two. He was buried at Green-Wood Cemetery in Brooklyn, New York.

Armstrong Livingston's Story in Weird Tales
"As Obligated" (Jan. 1925)

Further Reading
Look on the Internet for discussions of Livingston's mystery and detective novels.

Magic for Murder by Armstrong Livingston, "A Cavalcade Book," No. 2, date of publication and cover artist unknown. 

Text copyright 2025 Terence E. Hanley

Weird Tales in 1925

Happy New Year to Readers of Weird Tales!

I finished up last year by writing about the one-hundredth anniversary issue of Weird Tales, published in 2023. I will have more on that issue and some ideas connected to it, but I would like to write about other things for a while and get away from that dreary parade.

The first issue of Weird Tales was published in March 1923, thus the first calendar year of "The Unique Magazine" was not a full one. There were only eight issues published in 1923. Weird Tales almost came to an end in its second year. There was a three-month gap during which there weren't any issues published at all, and so only seven appeared in 1924.

Nineteen twenty-five was different, for that was the first full year of Weird Tales, with issues in every month. Twelve more full years would follow, making thirteen dozen issues in all during those years. Nineteen thirty-eight, during which Weird Tales was purchased by Short Stories, Inc., was the last full year of the magazine. I doubt there will ever be another. We just don't have it in us to write enough good stories or to publish and purchase enough issues for that to happen. That's a shame, I think, but not really necessary.

The January 1925 issue has a science-fiction or science-fantasy cover. Illustrating "Invaders from Outside" by J. Schossel (Joseph H. Schlossel [1902-1977]), it may have been the first magazine cover of any kind to show pointy-eared space aliens. Schlossel's aliens, drawn by cover artist Andrew Brosnatch (1896-1965) (below), look suspiciously like the gray aliens of flying saucer folklore--or vice versa. As I have said before, aliens and their spaceships must be imagined before they can be seen.

That January issue was the first to have letters in response to the return of Weird Tales in November 1924, this under its new editor, Farnsworth Wright. "The Eyrie," subtitled in the table of contents as "A Chat with the Readers," included letters from seven readers. At least four of those readers were also writers of fiction, three of them for Weird Tales. "The Eyrie" is no longer a place for readers to let their ideas and opinions be heard. Instead it's one in which the editor gets to hear himself talk, I guess because he likes so much the sound of his own voice, even when he doesn't have anything very interesting to say.

There were other developments in the magazine world in 1925. On February 21 of that year, The New Yorker, a quintessential slick magazine, made its debut. The New Yorker has been published continuously since then. Weird Tales of course has not been. Weird Tales was originally a pulp magazine but is now also a slick. The New Yorker is a far cry better than the current Weird Tales, which is really just Weird Tales in name only, with a few of its former trappings still in place. I'm not sure which magazine has come down more in the world.

Like Weird Tales, President Calvin Coolidge got his start in 1923. On March 4, 1925, he was inaugurated into his first and only full term as president. The 1920s would thereafter gallop to a close, which you could say came a little early, in late October 1929 when the stock market crashed. During those years, Weird Tales was reaching its peak. The style of the 1920s and '30s was Art Deco, one that got its name after an exposition that opened in Paris on April 29, 1925. The Art Deco style made its way into Weird Tales, too, for example in the art of Hugh Rankin ( 1878-1956). In between those two events, on April 10, 1925, the culture of the 1920s put forth an exemplar of its literature in F. Scott Fitzgerald's great novel, The Great Gatsby. The Great Gatsby has its detractors. I'm not one of them. I have read The Great Gatsby three or four times. I am astonished at how modern it is, even after a century, and how radically different it must have been from some of the stuffy literature of its time. I can't say that Fitzgerald or Hemingway, Faulkner or Dos Passos, had any influence at all on the men and women who wrote for Weird Tales, but I'm not sure they could have avoided the effects of living in the great and roaring milieux of the 1920s.

Text copyright 2025 Terence E. Hanley

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year!
From The Parisienne Monthly Magazine, January 1916.

Terence E. Hanley December 31, 2024-January 1, 2025

Art in the Cosmic Horror Issue

Most of the art used in the Cosmic Horror Issue of Weird Tales is unsigned. I presume it to be the work of the design director, Jeff Wong. I believe this is the same Jeff Wong who has worked in television and feature film animation, as well as in product design. If this is he, then all of this fits the pattern in Weird Tales #367, which is that the contributors to this issue are mostly movie, television, and comic book people and not primarily writers or illustrators of prose fiction. Jeff Wong has his own website. He lives in Pasadena, California.

Most of the art here appears to be digital. One exception is the cover art by Mike Mignola. Mr. Mignola's original art is for sale on line. In looking at an image, I see that it is real art on paper, drawn in the dimensions of a comic book page. I see also that his design has been expanded to more nearly squarish dimensions for the audiobook version of this issue. If I had to guess, I would say this was done so that the audiobook version has the same dimensions as a record album cover.

There are other illustrations in the interior. Five are previous covers of Weird Tales, from the original run of the magazine, 1923 to 1954, including one by Joseph Clemens Gretter, aka Gretta (1904-1988). He was a fellow Hoosier. He also assisted on or ghosted Ripley's Believe It or Not!  I mentioned Robert Ripley the other day. The only other interior illustration that is not a Weird Tales cover or a new work is an uncredited illustration of the Pied Piper of Hamelin.

That lack of giving credit to artists is and always has been a problem. An artist is a creator equal to (or even greater than, in commercial terms) an author or poet. Not crediting artists for their work should be a crime. Being an artist, I admit my bias.

I wouldn't rule out that some or all of the digital works in Weird Tales #367 were actually created by artificial intelligence or AI. As an artist of real works on paper, which are created by the human mind, heart, and hand, I have to object to AI-created artwork. But the world seems to be rushing towards AI. The dinosaurs, Luddites, and Jeremiahs among us are not going to stop that from happening.

At least two of these presumably digital illustrations incorporate images created by others. One is a television screenshot of actor John Mills in the British show Quatermass (1979). I neglected to mention that the plot of that show involves the harvesting of human beings by outer-space aliens. As in other stories in the Cosmic Horror Issue, this idea--that we are property--is Fortean.

The other sampled image is of the painting Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth (1948). That one accompanies another story in which an alien presence, originating in the Void, exploits humanity.

Finally, there is one illustration that refers to the work of another artist or designer. This is the final illustration in the magazine, a takeoff on the Nirvana album cover Nevermind (1991). I wrote about that the other day, too.

Here and Hereafter by Ruth Montgomery (Fawcett Crest, 1969). The cover artist is unknown. This is obviously an homage to Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth. You might also call it a swipe from Wyeth's work. And maybe it's a swipe of Frank Frazetta's cover illustration of Kavin's World by David Mason, also published in 1969. But then Frazetta's cover may also have been a swipe of a comic book cover by Malcolm Kildale, from 1941. You can see those images by clicking here.

I'll close by once again pointing out that there are pyramids on the cover of the first-anniversary issue of Weird Tales, from May-June-July 1924, and there are pyramids here in (almost) the last entry I have on the 100th-anniversary issue of May (supposedly) 2023.

Text copyright 2024 Terence E. Hanley