Jayaprakash Satyamurthy
Knivesout no more
Pugmire's photo of S.T. Joshi in a Ctuhlhu-esque mood reminded me of this.
I still remember the excitement (and envy!) my friends and I felt when the Penguin editions of H.P. Lovecraft's stories were released and we discovered that the world's leading Lovecraft scholar was someone from our own neck of the woods.
The Joshi bio in the Penguin books is fantastically uninformative about the man himself; photos and information about Joshi were impossible to find online at the time - or even if they were somewhere out there, none of us had acquired sufficient net smarts to find the damned things.
As one does, I conceived a rather fanciful image of Joshi in my mind, drawing on stereotyped images of the Indian intellectual and the Western academic. I imagined a lean, spare man with a broad high forehead, well-oiled, neatly combed hair worn down to the shoulders, thick glasses with black frames, a snow-white french beard depending down from his chin to abut on his shirt-front, garbed in an aging tweed jacket, indifferently patched here and there, sweater-vest, corduroy trousers and, for some reason, brandishing a big black umbrella.
What a workshop an idle mind is!
As it turns out, the only detail I got right was the forehead, which is indeed rather broad and high.
I still remember the excitement (and envy!) my friends and I felt when the Penguin editions of H.P. Lovecraft's stories were released and we discovered that the world's leading Lovecraft scholar was someone from our own neck of the woods.
The Joshi bio in the Penguin books is fantastically uninformative about the man himself; photos and information about Joshi were impossible to find online at the time - or even if they were somewhere out there, none of us had acquired sufficient net smarts to find the damned things.
As one does, I conceived a rather fanciful image of Joshi in my mind, drawing on stereotyped images of the Indian intellectual and the Western academic. I imagined a lean, spare man with a broad high forehead, well-oiled, neatly combed hair worn down to the shoulders, thick glasses with black frames, a snow-white french beard depending down from his chin to abut on his shirt-front, garbed in an aging tweed jacket, indifferently patched here and there, sweater-vest, corduroy trousers and, for some reason, brandishing a big black umbrella.
What a workshop an idle mind is!
As it turns out, the only detail I got right was the forehead, which is indeed rather broad and high.