Because One Frederick Faust Post Isn’t Enough: The Sacking of El Dorado
“So it will be when we are dead that perhaps our lives will stand for something.”
“A typewriter is almost like a human being to me.”
“Have recently sent thirty-eight poems to our leading magazines and received thirty-eight poems back from our leading magazines.”
“All that can save fiction is enormous verve, a real sweep, plus richness of character, blood that can be seen shining through.”
“Why is my verse so difficult, so dead, so dull to other people?”
—Frederick Faust, from various letters
I was surprised but pleased to see the positive reaction that my post about Frederick Faust, a.k.a. Max Brand, received last week. It was enough for me to want to spend an extra week on the author, specifically to take a closer look at an individual volume of his work. Faust has rarely received this sort of attention, as John C. Hocking pointed out in the comments last week, and so I’ll spend another Tuesday of your time talking about a man who was not only the most prolific of the pulpsters, but one of the most skilled and literary.