If you haven’t read Matthew Hughes’ The Other then, on the bright side, you have something to look forward to.

Of course if you have read The Other, there may still be a bright side: because although they haven’t (yet?) been collected in print you can now download ePub formatted digital versions of seven short stories about the more or less hero of The Other, Luff Imbry from their publisher, Angry Robot Books.

They’re each less than a dollar (if my inner currrency exchange is working) and they will fit just fine on your Nook, Sony Reader, iPad, or anything else that can read an ePub book, including your computer.

Luff Imbry is a bit of a rascal. He’s an antiquities trader who specializes in recently redistributed wealth and, sometimes, in wealth that hasn’t quite yet been redistributed, but could be. He’s a gifted forger, too, and in that (at least) he reminds me of Jonathan Gash’s Lovejoy mysteries… though since he’s quite gifted in the girth department, Luff Imbry may be more of a heavyweight.

Angry Robot’s FAQ also suggests the stories may be available in the Amazon Kindle Store, but as you can probably see from that click I couldn’t find them there. Maybe they’ll show up in the near future.

Hughes’ Archonate novels are often compared to the science fiction and fantasies of Jack Vance, and with good reason; in fact we discover along the way that the Archonate’s Earth may even be the Old Earth of Vance’s Dying Earth stories… just a little while before the balance of the Universe shifts back to magic (or "sympathetic association") from its more rational state of science.

They’re fine stories, and wonderfully well told, and you just ought to go and read them if you haven’t. A good place to start might be Majestrum.

You’ll see in the talk that Publishing 3.0 (more labels!) is supposed to be an upgrade for the role of publishers in which books themselves become just one aspect of the relationship between readers and writers; in which that relationship has now become the focus of publishing, since so many large and small interactions within that community – including the sale of books – can be sources of profit for a publisher.

But if, like me, you’re left scratching your head and wondering first, what that means, and second, why a publisher deserves to monetize every aspect of the relationship between authors and their audience, well, your head is just going to get scraped bare from all the scratching. The answer isn’t in there. The subtitle of the talk is "From Gatekeeping to Partnerships", but it sounds more like "From Gatekeeping to Super-Gatekeeping".

Like the music industry, the book publishing industry probably feels as though it’s besieged by new technologies and the uses we find for them. Nash’s "Publishing 3.0" seems to be a response that’s in direct opposition to the way things are headed. By "the way things are headed", I mean that we seem to be on the verge of a world where there are no gatekeepers; where, for better or worse, artists are left to deal directly with the community. This requires marketing, which is one of the traditional roles of a publisher; but it’s by no means certain that publishers will be the ones doing that marketing. The "Publishing 3.0" of Cursor looks like a plan to establish a whole new level of gatekeeping in which every interaction between writers and their audience is owned by the publisher. That’s why I called it "Super-Gatekeeping".

What would publishers bring to the table, to make that look like a good deal for the writers and their readers?

There is just the glimmer of an answer – to half that question, anyway – in a post at Nash’s own blog.

For writers…

No more life-of-the-copyright contracts.

Instead: three year contracts.

Yup, from a contract that locks you in till seventy years after you’re dead, to a three year contract. Renewable annually thereafter. Which means after three years you can walk. Or stay, but stick it to us for better royalties because there’s gonna be a movie. Or stay with us because with all the additional formats and revenue opportunities we’re creating above and beyond what any publisher has to offer, you’re making more money than ever before.

This seems to translate to "We will own every cell in your body, but only for a little while". It doesn’t take too long a trek down memory lane to recall how many writers and artists were willing to do original work for hire just because they had to and how this sometimes left them excluded from very lucrative extensions to their work (Siegel and Shuster, or Jack Kirby, are the obvious examples in comics publishing). So in a Cursorized world, maybe creators would figure that assigning a publisher complete and total ownership – which might be temporary – is the price of doing business.

Nash’s talk establishes some comfy small press credentials (starting a publishing company during the night shift at Kinko’s) but the end product seems like something out of a dystopian novel. I don’t mean that in a good way, if you were wondering.

And with "dystopian novel", I seem to have come full circle and landed on the back of HiLoBooks. I wish them well, especially if they didn’t really mean for us to believe in those book covers. But I’m not sure about the company they’ve chosen to keep. I suppose that (their authors being dead, after all) one half of my misgivings about Cursor are unfounded in HiLo’s case. That leaves a not inconsiderable amount of discomfort, though.

Badass Digest has dug up the very first appearance of Buck Rogers on the movie screen in a short film produced for the 1933-34 Chicago World’s Fair that you can now view in all its rough-hewn glory.

Notable is the space battle, featuring bunches of miniatures that could just be the same toy rocket ships that were part of the Buck Rogers merchandising empire.

Here we see Doctor Huer, musing at some (interminable) length about the mystery behind the attack of the Tiger Men of Mars.

I think there may be a couple of mistakes in the accompanying text – for example, the Just Imagine
rocket ship was reused in the Flash Gordon serials, and I can’t think of any sets or miniatures from that film that showed up in Buck Rogers. Though admittedly, I might also be wrong. It’s certainly true that all of these serials recycled some of the same sets and costumes that were warehoused and rented out after the collapse of the silent epics of the twenties.

It’s the space battle that really stands out here: I was amused to find the same grinding propeller sound effects for the rockets that we heard a few years later in the serial – or was that Doctor Huer’s cosmic television tuner? – but all in all they didn’t do badly for a low budget effort from 1933.

The cynical among you might call it “The most stupendous animatic of all time!” but – as can happen – the cynical among you would have gotten it wrong.

That’s because Doctor Professor’s Thesis of Evil is meant to be a motion graphics film: it’s not an approximation of a full motion movie. I’ve mentioned this project before and just as I did then I have to stress how the excellent lighting and artful use of motion graphics make Doctor Professor a real treat to watch. The filmmakers chose a limited medium and then they just plain hammered on those limitations until they’d turned them into strengths. Which is, after all, what you need to do.

I missed the announcement that the film was complete, in early December. Unfortunately I’m also missing the finished film – it’s off on its adventure at the film festivals. So if you happen to be in Norway on January 17-22 you ought to do what I’d do, which is to hike over to the Tromsø International Film Festival and catch Doctor Professor’s screening there. It’s already been shown at the Helsinki Short Film Festival and, following that festival’s first showing, in theaters across Finland. But I guess we both missed that.

In the meantime, enjoy this teaser trailer. There’s another one over at Doctor Professor’s Web Site of Infamy, which is a name I just made up.

I can’t say it’s unique, because even if I ever knew that Berni Wrightson never did another science fiction story that would have been so many brain cells ago that there’s no way I could remember (hey, it was the ’70s). But at Golden Age Comic Book Stories you can see what has to be a very rare thing – Wrightson’s best known for his horror comics, after all, so the space suits and interplanetary rocket in "Breathless" are a real rarity.

One thing I really love in this one is the way he’s spotted his blacks and used rim lighting in a very Wally Woodish way, while the inking is still that nice juicy Wrightson brushwork.

This story first appeared in a magazine called Web of Horror in 1970. I don’t remember ever seeing that one (or I’d have been reading it) in what I do remember as racks full of Warren’s Creepy and Eerie.

Over at The Intrepid Engine, an unattributed matte painting was a mystery that was happily solved with Tineye’s excellent image search tool. Tineye examines an image and returns a series of matches from the web: it’s a great way to re-identify some of the countless pictures on the web that have lost their makers through thoughtless reposting.

And this turned out to be a very happy find. It was the work of Yanick Dusseault, production artist, matte painter, and now an art director at Industrial Light and Magic. The image at the right is a part of that original mystery picture; it looks a lot like Gotham City in Christopher Nolan’s Batman films. Curiously, those films don’t show up in Dusseault’s extensive credits – even though The Lord of the Rings, Gattaca, Pirates of the Caribbean, Revenge of the Sith, and a gazillion other amazing films do. So go figure.

But anyway it’s inevitable that the image above is the one that grabbed me, since I’m always up for The World of Tomorrow.

In my entire life there have been only twenty seconds when I wanted to work in film, and I got over it immediately. But I always enjoy the work that these folks do, and here, especially. Dusseault’s gallery is a wonderful, ongoing body of work.

About all I found to like in the Star Wars prequels were the matte paintings and complete shots of the cities; that and, okay, the one scene where Obi Wan used his Jedi trickery to convince a lowlife to rethink his life (there was a whole and much more interesting movie in that single scene, I thought). It’s a pleasure to get a peek behind the curtain at one of the people who brought those places, and others, to life.

Okay, this is clearly what I need, because simple obsession and tunnel vision still don’t quite get me where I need to go.

A short article at A Great Disorder about Hugo Gernsback’s peculiar invention for screening out, um, everything, with the judicious application of absolutely mad science. Or anyway, mad ironmongery.

Did you get that? Hello? SCREENING OUT EVERYTHING! HEY! I’M TALKING TO YOU!

Via boingboing.