Re: RARA-AVIS: DAN MARLOWE and BLACK LIZARD

From: DJ-Anonyme@webtv.net
Date: 08 Feb 2008


Steve,

I have both Gold Medal versions of Name of the Game is Death, but I don't have the Black Lizard version to compare them to. However, some time ago, I posted this comparison, so perhaps you can tell us which BL used:

I recently found a copy of the 1962 The Name of the Game is Death. I haven't read it, yet, but I have compared it to the copy I already had:
"Copyright 1962, 1972 . . . Printed in the United States of America January 1962/January1973" The story is exactly the same. The earlier one has one extra chapter, but that is only because the later edition combines Chapters VIII and IX. However, the book has been extensively rewritten, from first page to last. The language of the earlier one is a bit more clipped, more "just the facts" simple sentences, but longer paragraphs. Here are two examples. The first two paragraphs from 1962: From the back seat of the Olds I could see the kid's cotton gloves flash white on the steering wheel as he swung off Van Buren onto Central Avenue. On the right up ahead the strong late September Phoenix sunshine blazed off the bank's white stone front till it hurt the eyes. The damn building looked as big as the purple buttes on the rim of the desert. Beside me Bunny chewed gum rhythmically, his hands relaxed in his lap. Up front, in three-quarter profile the kid's face was like chalk, but he teamed the car perfectly into a tight-fitting space right in front of the bank. From 1973: From the back seat of the Olds I could see the kid's cotton gloves flash white on the steering wheel as he swung the car from Van Buren onto Central Avenue. The strong, late-September, Phoenix sunshine blazed off the bank's white stone front till it hurt the eyes. The damn building looked as big as the purple buttes on the rim of the desert. Beside me Bunny chewed gum rhythmically, his hands relaxed in his lap. Up front the kid's face was like chalk, but he teamed the car perfectly into a tight-fitting space right in front of the bank. So it's close, but subtlely different. SPOILER ALERT And the last chapter, from 1962: I was in black darkness for six months. I may have gone a little crazy, too. I gve them a hard time. I went the whole route: baths, wet packs, elbow cuffs, straitjackets, isolation. I stopped fighting them a little while ago. They don't pay much attention to me now. Even before I could see again, I knew what I looked like. I could feel the reaction, when a new patient was admitted, or a new attendant came on duty. Hazel came to see me four or five times. I refused permission for her to be allowed in. They don't know that I can see again, that I'm not crazy. They think I'm a robot. A vegetable. I'll show them. I have a hermetically sealed quart jar buried in the ground up in Hillsboro, New Hampshire, and another in Grosmont, Colorado, up above the timber line. There's nothing but money in both. I don't need it. All I need is a gun. Some one of these days I'll find the right attendant, and I'll start talking to him. It will take a while to convince him, but I've got plenty of time. If I can get back to the sascccck buried beside Bunny's cabin, plastic surgery will take care of most of what I look like. With a gun, I'll get back to it. That's all I need--a gun. I'm not staying here. I'll be leaving one of these days, and the day I do they'll never forget it. And from 1973: I was blind for six months. I may have gone a little crazy, too. I went the whole route: baths, wetpacks, elbow cuffs, straitjackets, isolation. I stopped fighting them a while ago. They don't pay much attention to me now. I knew what I looked like even before I could see again. I could tell from the reaction when a new patient was admitted or a new attendant came on duty. Hazel came to see me five or six times. I refused to consent for her admission. They don't know that I can see again. That I'm not crazy. They think I'm a robot. A vegetable. I'll show them. There's a hermetically sealed quart jar buried in Hillsboro, New Hampshire, and another in Grosmont, Colorado. There's nothing but money in both. I don't need money. All I need is a gun. One of these days I'll find the right attendant, and I'll start talking to him. It will take time to convince him, but I've got plenty of time. Plastic surgery will take care of most of what I look like if I can get back to the sack buried beside Bunny's cabin. With a gun, I'll get back to it. That's all I need--a gun. I'm not staying here. I'll be leaving before too long, and the day I do they'll never forget it. Again, same content, slightly different presentation. Nothing had to be changed to make it a series. As a matter of fact, the prologue in my copy of One Endless Hour (March 1969/January 1973) begins with yet another close, but not quite the same, version of the last chapters of Name of the Game. I don't have the Vintage edition, so I can't tell you which version they use, one of these or yet another one. Mark
 



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