Rice Burroughs uses ‘gorgeous’ too much. The proof-reading of The Mars Trilogy 2 is sloppy. The plotting is ingenious. The footnote on Mars linear measurements confusing. The philosophic dispute in Thuvia, Maid of Mars between etherealists and realists is interesting. The author thinks telepathy a crude way of communication between man and animals. It isn’t at all crude. He just doesn’t know it. When Rex jumped up to bite Ian Thompson on the cheek he kept his eye on me to make sure he was doing it right.
In the prelude to The Chessmen of Mars, John Carter says he crossed the void between Earth and Mars in spirit, despite arriving with a body there, an impossibility. Last time he came back to his body left here, leaving no body there. This time he’s come back with his Martian body and inanimate accoutrements, having imagined the latter into matter as he learned from the bowman imagined by the etherealists but who stayed materialised and went on to imagine other bowmen himself. That a once imagined character should have inherited his author’s ability to imagine characters who can stay materialised stretches belief, like a Hamlet going on to write plays, but I suppose if an imagined character can stay on as real, there’s no reason why he shouldn’t have the ability to realise who he imagines. It may be that he can is why he’s the one materialised bowman to stay materialised after his usefulness is over. This goes one better than the etherealists of the author’s last book with two species evolving together as one. Greater Helium is as bad as Greater London: seven assassinated in ten days.
The letter from Helium at the beginning of The Mastermind of Mars makes clearer any fighter dying who worships war and its god can by faith and prayer make the transition to the planet named after him. The characters have to change because the story stays much the same: love lost, denied or the beloved’s body gone awol and by heroic effort on the heterosexual hero of narrow hips’ part regained, gained or restored. What do you expect? The author churned out seventy-three novels. Like American films, his characters’ answer to everything is violence. It isn’t made explicit how letter and manuscript of The Mastermind was delivered to Edgar Rice Burroughs. One suspects, from what John Carter said at the beginning to the previous novel, the manuscript of which it may be presumed he brought with him, that this time, for this one, once written, it was reimagined in its entirety and transmitted to Earth where it, as an inanimate object, would materialise. I worried about the smelliness of the bed clothing which was never washed but is aired. I thought the characters might be noisome too. Incidence of their washing is rare and they go about naked. Food prevails without specificity except for unpalatable tubers. The narrative mocks religion, then goes on to use its falsity to resolve the story of the last novel In this trilogy satisfactorily.