philiP wyliE

Half-Price Books, of course.  Saw this cover . . . 

. . . and--well, what the hell do you think I did, for Christ's sake?  Of course I picked it up.  Read the first few pages and liked the cut of this Wylie fellow's jib--a pretty sharp sort of jib, if that's imaginable--&, cautious consumer that I am, found a nice chair and settled in for a good look before parting with my $5 (American).  Didn't need to look long before I knew that this Philip Wylie was My Kind of Guy.  Matter of fact, I'd rate him up there as one of the biggest smartasses of all time.  (I hope I don't need to explain that that's a compliment.)  

So I put down my $5.30 and went home and settled in for a read.  It was a good read.  I kept itching to write down lines that struck my fancy, but I was also driven to keep reading, so I told my fancy to just wait.  Now I'm 70 pages in, and I had to go on eBay to look fo' so' mo' of this PW-Dog.  And I was in luck and found a lot of 11 books for a mere $38:

Tomorrow!

The Spy Who Spoke Porpoise 

The Best of Crunch and Des

The Innocent Ambassadors

An Essay on Morals

Opus 21

Generation of Vipers

The Disapperance

When Worlds Collide

After Worlds Collide

The Answer

I'm particularly looking forward to reading Generation of Vipers.

I also found out that works by Wylie inspired the creation of

Superman

Doc Savage

&

Flash Gordon.

Not too damn bad, eh?

I am ready to open the Louisville Chapter of The Philip Wylie Appreciation League right now.

Who's with me?

Here's a little bit of Finnley Wren to help you make your decision:

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“It takes six years or more of learning Latin by rote to reach the blushing discovery that Terrence wrote slightly salacious plays.  And by that time, the plays are salacious for it has long been impossible to think of sex as amusing in any aspect whatever.  It is a wonder the brains of little girls and boys do not grow smooth as putty balls, their vaginas heal over (since they are regarded as sores) and their penises drop off (because they are made to seem like ugly tumors).  Some day—some day—if all medieval back-facing is not erased from our society—if we do not begin to contemplate facts and to admit that the truth is exciting and provocative—our fair nation will be overwhelmed and salt sown upon its moldy ruin.  A healthy race will take our property.  And our epitaph will be “Here lies America, stillborn in the little red schoolhouse.”  Or maybe—“Here lies a great nation, slain by Cinderella, Santa Claus, and the Stork.”

(page 105)