it's the price. WT is the highest-priced pulp magazine I know of. Of course I know from long experience that its contents are worth far more than the price. However, the price may keep new readers away. I wonder if you've considered lowering the price and reducing the size—though not the quality. It seems to me that 160 pages is too much anyway. Surely you'll run short of material, printing so many stories each issue. The stories have continued to be swell so far, though. The foregoing no doubt sounds strange, coming from one who has been a loyal supporter of WT for nine years. That I have read it that long shows my feelings toward the publication. Any criticism is made in the friendliest spirit. Congratulations on your acquisition of a fine new artist. Harry Ferman is a genius almost as great as Finlay. Incidentally Finlay's current poetic illustration is tops. The June-July cover puzzles me. It seems to be a composite of several stories, but I can't place the gentleman with the sword and torch in any of the stories. The best story in this issue is Almuric by the never-to-be-sufficiently-lamented Howard. Far Below and The Man Who Came Back take second and third, with Headache close behind. I've been very disappointed in your feature stories recently. The Hollow Moon lacked a lot of measuring up to advance publicity. And Giants of Anarchy is pure drivel—worst in the issue. I like science-fiction when it's well done, but this is hack writing. Every situation is stereotyped. The Binder boys should bow their heads in shame. I'm glad to see Cave again, though his current story is far from being another Dead Man's Belt. Moore was in fine fettle on her return. Hellsgarde was the best in a long time. Why not revive Rald and Elak of Atlantis? Bryan's and Peirce's short stories are worthy of mention. Again de Grandin keeps Quinn from writing his best. The de Grandinless Washington Nocturne was great."
Unweird
R. Wetzel of South Orange, New Jersey, writes: "For well onto fifteen years I have been reading your magazine, reading the stories without the least comment, and now I feel that I might be authorized, as well as any other reader of your publication, to write and tell you how I consider your magazine at present. The first ten years I have always got more than I paid for your magazine, and now I feel that I get just what I pay—twenty-five cents! May I proceed and tell why, taking apart your present issue? Virgil Finlay:—Without a doubt he is a credit to your pages. His pen-and-ink drawings are what your pages long lacked. But his covers are not typical of Weird Tales. Please retain the old cover illustrator, and maintain Finlay's splendid 'tween-cover illustrations. Seabury Quinn:—Having read his stories ever since I can remember, I can say little. If he wasn't good he would not be between your pages. His two inseparable characters are an institution! I can go on and number the many illustrators and good writers, but that would take pages. Finlay, I add, is the best page illustrator you have ever added—but however never change the heading of Weird Story Reprint and The Eyrie. My complaint is brief. Of late years your stories have been leaving the Weird policy and creeping little by little toward the future. Giants of Anarchy by Eando Binder leaves me quite cold. Tell me, what was 'weird' about that story? . . . Typical of Weird (and always finding satisfaction in yours truly) is Peirce's Stroke of Twelve, Johnson's Far Below, Bryan's Sitter in the Mound, Smith's Willow Landscape, and I have already mentioned Quinn's ability."
Ugly-looking Beasts
Caroline Ferber writes from Chicago: "Late again this time—dunno when I'll ever catch up to myself, but will give a few words on the July issue. Ugly-looking beasts, gargoyles what-is-'ems on the cover—ghastly, to say the least—colorful, at any rate. Eando Binder's Giants of Anarchy was amusing and exciting—but not so really weird. I'm still waiting for a repeat of one of those lovely and beautiful tales the brothers Binder can turn out. Now The Sitter in the Mound was really an egger-oner. Indian mounds are a favorite topic—sorta chawed my nails a bit to know if the mound had caved in by the next day and what was about the skeleton's neck and so on. If I weren't doggoned tired
