Charles Foster Kane had two sleds.The first one, the famous one, had a name. The second—an unwanted Christmas present,obliquely advancing the plot,briefly revealing character,the forgotten foil to an unseen past— it too had a name. Continue reading Crusader by Chris Fahrenthold
The sin of not unknowing sleights of hand that trick the trick of nature from her lair is not so much original as planned, a plot to lose the exit, not the bear. The greatest generation’s triggermen, who wring their hands and necks in equal measure, ask only that you thank them now and then for loosing here on Earth unearthly pleasure. So what redeemer … Continue reading On Fission by Chris Fahrenthold
