he publication of Abu and the Seven Marvels on March 4 marked the arrival of author Richard Matheson's first and only children's novel. It's a book that has been a long time in coming; more than 40 years separate its inception at the hands of Matheson and William F. Nolan and its ultimate publication by Gauntlet Press.
Perhaps that lengthy hibernation seems a shame to some readers, but it may just be that Abu was waiting for the right artist to bring it vividly to life. After seeing the finished product, it is nearly impossible to imagine a more perfect union than Matheson's prose and artist William Stout's lively illustrations. Together, they've created a fantasy adventure that may well join Aladdin, Cinderella and that bespectacled wizard Harry as one of the classics cherished by children—no age restrictions.
What alchemy brought the man behind The Incredible Shrinking Man, Duel and handfuls of Twilight Zone episodes into the same orbit as the artist who designed the repulsive head alien in Men in Black, and spawned a treasure of laughter, lessons and love? That's exactly what Science Fiction Weekly decided to find out.
Richard Matheson, you've been writing horror and dark fantasy for more than 50 years, but this is your first book written expressly for children. The story is that Abu and the Seven Marvels began life as an idea conceived by you and Logan's Run author William F. Nolan some 40 years ago. What changes has the story undergone since then?
Matheson: It is my first book written expressly for children, with the exception of a short story chapbook, "Professor Fritz and the Runaway House," that Gauntlet is going to give out with the limited edition. Those are the only two.
When I first sold a short story in 1949, I was in the beginning phase of my work, which was to write exclusively short stories in the fantasy/terror area, and then when I came to California I met some mystery novelists and so I wrote some mystery novels. And then I wrote other novels—I wrote a war novel and I went through a phase where I wrote five western novels. I wanted to write a love story, so I wrote Bid Time Return, which became Somewhere in Time. I wanted a haunted house novel, so I wrote a novel called Hell House.
So, it was 40 years ago when the idea of writing a children's novel came to me. Actually, it was intended to be a full-length cartoon, and the story was prepared by me and William F. Nolan. They made a mistake and didn't credit that on the book. In the second printing, which I hope there'll be, it will be "Novel by Richard Matheson, Story by Richard Matheson and William F. Nolan." Nothing has been changed. It's exactly the way it was when I wrote it.
Would I ever be writing another children's story again? I very much doubt it, because the phase I'm in now is, like, metaphysical. I've got a metaphysical book come out called The Path that was published a few years back, and that's more or less what I'm interested in now.
I'm very happy that this is being published. I'd love it, as a writer, to leave a legacy of a classic children's novel. That would make me very happy. If that became a classic and if this metaphysical book affects a lot of people, that'll make me happy, too. Those are the two areas—the rest of the stuff I've written—the scary stuff, the science fiction, the westerns—they're all well done and I'm not sorry I wrote them, but they no longer have any interest to me.
You've had best-selling books, hit movies, classic television shows and now a children's book. What direction is your career headed in now?
Matheson: As far as my profession is concerned, I'm interested in the theater now. I'm planning to concentrate, if possible, almost entirely on theater in the next decade. I have a play which is getting very close to production, called Now You See It. That, too, was written quite a while ago. It was on the verge of production ... oh ... more than 20 years ago. Robert Altman was going to direct it. Jack Palance was going to star in it. Jules Fisher was going to produce it. And nothing ever happened with it. And then the producer I have now read it about five years ago and liked it very much and he's been working on it ever since. I have a director. I have a magic consultant. I have Peter Larkin, who is the number-one set designer in the country doing the sets. I have Jules Fisher again this time, saying he will be happy to do the lighting.
Barry Hoffman of Gauntlet Press has been very helpful to me in the past few years. He has published books of mine that were written ages ago. There was a book that he published last year called Hunger and Thirst, which was written 50 years ago. It sat in a file cabinet drawer for 50 years because my agent at the time said that it was unpublishable and I had so little confidence in my work, I believed him. And my son Richard told me last year or the year before to send it to Barry, which I did, and he liked it very much and it was published. So all these old books are being published. He's doing another one that's about seven-eighths or three-quarters of a novel I wrote many years ago that he's going to release next year.
Barely a page goes by in Abu and the Seven Marvels without a chuckle or a full-out belly laugh. Readers who remember only the Richard Matheson of I Am Legend may be surprised by these comic moments, but weren't many of your famous Twilight Zone episodes a mixture of moral and mirth?
Matheson: As far as comic moments in the book ... Yes, I did write some Twilight Zones with humor in them, and also I've had short stories published in fantasy and science fiction that were humor-oriented. So, it's not that I don't have a sense of humor, it's just that very rarely have I been moved to write something in that area.
Reading this novel I wondered, as I often have, exactly what bedtime story hour was like for your son Richard Christian Matheson as a child. Did you ever try out your own material on him back then? And when did he start coming back at you with his own unsettling tales?
Matheson: There was no bedtime story hour [chuckles]. Richard was just one of four children. I have no idea—I don't think I ever told our kids stories when they were going to bed. They all read, of course, at a very early age. He has a younger brother and a younger sister who also write, and his younger brother just directed his first film.
Richard started writing things when he was just a teenager. It took him years before he organized it into professional work. He worked in collaboration with a young man named Tom Szollosii for years. They worked for Stephen Cannell on a number of series, and they worked at Universal on a number of series. Now, Richard, of course, writes by himself.
Many of the characters in the novel are genuinely horrific—I'm thinking specifically now of the Guardian of the Rose and the Witch—and made more frightening by William Stout's illustrations. Is it more important in children's literature to set up monstrous foes for the hero to overcome?
Matheson: I'm sure that after everything they've seen, children are perfectly adjusted to seeing scary things. They see it on television all the time. In movies all the time. And, if you are writing about a quest by a young hero, what they're coming up against has to be formidable, otherwise it's not that interesting, it's not that involving.
Of course, some of the dangers, such as the Flame Bird, are as exquisite as they are deadly. Did you intentionally choose fire as an example of a beauty that can be admired but not touched?
Matheson: If I did, it was strictly subconscious; I never thought about it.
Speaking of beautiful and horrifying imagery: did you confer with illustrator William Stout on the composition of the artwork for Abu and the Seven Marvels or did you give him free reign to draw what he would from the story?
Matheson: The illustrations are wonderful. He's a marvelous artist. I didn't realize what a long background he had. I just met him a week ago for the first time. He certainly had free reign. The one thing I told him when he drew the Genie, I told him I thought he looked too menacing. I thought he should look older and more beat-up and cranky and everything, which he changed, which became exactly what it should be. That was the only thing I ever said to him, everything else was his own inspiration.
Abu and the Seven Marvels is a children's book, but any work by you is going to be snapped up by fans of all ages. Was there any concern, though, after the events of 11 September, about releasing a novel set in the Middle East? Some readers will recognize Persia as Iran, and some take that region as a whole as a threat.
Matheson: It never even occurred to me. There was no connection in my mind between Persia and Iran.
You have a short story collection just released, Nightmare at 20,000 Feet, which is the title of what may be your most famous Twilight Zone episode. Plus, you have another volume of Twilight Zone scripts due soon. With all the future projects in the works, do you have plans for another children's novel? A young adult novel?
Matheson: No, I don't have any plans for another children's novel. Certainly someday I might, but not at the moment I don't.
With so many of your novels and short stories being turned into feature films, I have to wonder if Abu and the Seven Marvels might be headed for the same destiny. Is that something you'd like to see happen? Would you envision it in live-action or animation?
Matheson: Yes, I hope it will be turned into either a live-action or animation feature. I'm going to be submitting it to various companies within a month or two. The projects, as I say, are strictly theatrical at the moment.
What projects do you have coming up that are in the writing stage? Do you have any plans to collaborate with your son Richard again in the near future?
Matheson: We did collaborate for Barry Hoffman on a short story—he wrote his version, and I wrote my version, then we wrote a script, combining the two versions. That'll be out probably some time this year. But we haven't collaborated for quite a while. He's so busy, I don't think he'd have time.
In terms of a legacy, you do realize that you will be forever known for your Twilight Zone scripts, which hold a very special place in the hearts of many people?
Matheson: Well, yes, because it's run so long that people remember me for that. I've run into young producers who say, "You know, you scared the hell out of me! When Bill Shatner pulled that curtain aside and saw that thing at the window, I couldn't sleep for three days."
But, we never knew at the time that we were involved in something that was going to become a television classic. Every season we were sure it was going to be canceled. People would write letters and it would squeak through by the skin of its teeth.
But isn't that how a classic comes to be? Never knowing at the time that what you are creating is going to last forever?
Matheson: If you thought in those terms you would just write junk. Writers should never think, "Oh boy! I'm writing a classic!" They should just do the best they can with what interests them the most.
It was a lot of fun. It was enjoyable to work on, and the fact that it's still on television is flabbergasting. And people have asked me why and I've said because the stories are interesting.
They also ask me what's the difference between writing prose and writing a script and to me, except for the form, there's no difference whatever. Except that you write less material in a script. You write a little bit sketchy description and the dialogue, whereas when you're writing prose you have to write everything. You're the whole thing—the art director, you're the director—you're everything. But I approach them both the same. When I write a story, I see it in my head, like I'm watching a movie, then I describe what I'm watching. So that writing scripts was never any difficulty for me. The first script I ever wrote was The Incredible Shrinking Man, and I think they let me do it because they had bought my novel and I insisted on doing the screenplay. I think they thought they would just get the whole thing rewritten after I did a lousy job on it and it turned out so well that that got me into script writing. And it came out because writing a script was, to me, no different than writing a book, but the form of the manuscript is different.
I didn't particularly care for the film when it first came out. I didn't realize for its time how unusual it was. It's only as the years have gone by that I realized how well done it was and how unique it was. I very rarely see a film made from a script of mine where I am just totally dazzled right from the start. When Spielberg did Duel I was, of course, totally dazzled. And I liked Somewhere In Time. And I did a script about alcoholism, called The Morning After, with Dick Van Dyke and I was totally dazzled. And a few others ... The Night Stalker, The Night Strangler ... I was pleased with those.
So, when people have asked me how I would define myself as a writer I always say, as a storyteller.
William Stout, the pairing of your artwork with Richard Matheson's prose makes for a perfect marriage in Abu and the Seven Marvels. What was it in the novel that you especially connected with to produce such on-target illustrations?
Stout: Thank you! For most of my life, I have been a huge fan of both Richard Matheson's writings—going all the way back to The Incredible Shrinking Man, I Am Legend and his classic Twilight Zone work—and turn-of-the-century children's books illustrated by such magnificent artists as Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac and William Heath Robinson, to name a few of my favorites. When Abu was first described to me, I saw the illustration of this book as a chance to combine those two loves. Upon reading the book, I was surprised by a humor that harkened back to another great fondness of mine, the Warner Brothers cartoons of the 1940s. I happily drew upon the surprising, rollicking wise-guy quality of those cartoons as another visual influence for my Abu pictures.
Authors always have a definite image in mind for their characters. Readers usually have an entirely different conception of how their heroes and villains would appear, of course. Did you work with Matheson to get his input for the illustrations or do you prefer to work from your own impressions of a book?
Stout: Richard was very kind in allowing me to pursue my own interpretation of his work. I think that this freedom inspired me to do my best work, if only to honor Richard. Richard's only voiced concern was that the pictures capture the humor of the book. That was good advice; I think the black-and-white illustrations especially respect that concern.
Reading the novel, the contrast of styles in such illustrations as the Flame Bird and the Flying Horse reinforces the chameleon-like nature of your artwork. Did you have as much fun creating the images for Abu as it appears?
Stout: Absolutely. I felt the time anachronisms, such as the contemporary references that Richard's characters made in this "ancient" world, gave me the freedom to be as equally free and anachronistic with my pictures. It was pure fun on my part.
One of the most interesting aspects of your illustrations in the novel is the tendency of a character's (or creature's) appearance to belie its true nature. Do you think that lesson will be understood by children? Come to think of it, do you think it's a point adults will ever truly "get?"
Stout: I hate to be so serious when answering questions about a very funny children's book, but I feel it is very important that children understand that in the real world, monsters don't necessarily look like monsters. It is something that I've stressed to my own children, that the monsters of the world very often have a pleasing form—like Ted Bundy or the Enron executives—and that the kindest people have faces and forms that will probably never make the cover of Vogue.
With such characters as the instantly intimidating Captain Brine, this tactic works to great effect. Is the rose-has-thorns message one you make use of often in your work?
Stout: It's in my nature as an artist and entertainer to try to surprise people, to turn their expectations upside down when they least expect it. I think that's reflected in Richard's introductions and portrayals of the characters, too.
The Little Blue Brontosaurus aside, much of your early work was for the adult audience; it's a long way from Little Annie Fanny and Return of the Living Dead to Abu and the Seven Marvels. Are you moving steadily in the direction of children's and family fare or will you still be taking side trips into, say, Heavy Metal territory?
Stout: I have always had complex and varied interests. They are all parts of me, so why deny them? In my work, I hope that I will always be able to move freely between the dark and the light, the adult and the child. I tend to see adult subject matter from a child's perspective anyway, a la "Candide," and see so-called children's works as a way to reach adults. I think you'll find that all of the very best children's literature—i.e., Oscar Wilde's Happy Prince and The Selfish Giant—and cartoons, too (the Warner Brothers and Disney classics), as long as we're on the subject, are appreciated and enjoyed by adults as well.
With so many of Richard Matheson's works making it to the big screen and your own background in art direction and production design for films, I have to wonder if Abu and the Seven Marvels might be headed for the same destination. Is that something you'd like to see happen? Would you envision it in live-action or animation?
Stout: I think that Abu is a natural for the big screen. It's got monsters, heroes, exoticism, humor, fantasy, thrills, adventure, spectacle, a quest and a true-love romance—all of the elements that have traditionally found their way into the hearts and minds of the movie-going public. I think that with today's cinematic technology being what it is that Abu could work superbly as either a full-length live-action or animated feature film.
Abu and the Seven Marvels is a children's book, but any work by you is going to be snapped up by fans of all ages. Was there any concern, after the events of 11 September, about setting a novel in the Middle East? Some readers will recognize Persia as Iran, and some take that region as a whole as a threat.
Stout: When September 11 happened, it immediately occurred to me that this might be the worst possible time to release a children's adventure set in the Middle East. Hopefully, the ancientness of the setting and its kinship to well-beloved tales like Aladdin will separate itself in the public's mind from the tragedies of that awful day. On a more sober, logical level, I think we have to ask ourselves if we will continue to condemn the entire Middle East for the horrific actions of a few extremists who are disconnected from the mainstream thoughts and feelings of the many people who have been our longtime allies.
Speaking of troubled spots, much of your work over the last decade has been aimed at raising awareness of the abundance of life in Antarctica and the fragility of that environment. In fact, you are one of the very few people on this Earth to actually live at the South Pole for an extended time. Did the experience and the pieces you produced there have a major impact on your work as a whole?
Stout: The spectacle of my first Antarctic experience [as a tourist in 1989] changed my life forever. I knew I had to do something to work toward the preservation of this continent and its diverse life forms on behalf of my children and my children's children. I dropped out of a lucrative career in the film business and began to paint. I put together a one-man show of 45 oil paintings depicting the history of life in Antarctica from earliest prehistoric times to the present day. The Natural History Museum of Los Angeles County was the first to host that exhibition, then their Special Exhibits department arranged to have it travel around the world for the next seven years. Through that show, my fine arts career as a painter became established.
I also got involved as a supporter of The Antarctica Project, a Washington, D.C.-based umbrella organization that is coordinating the different environmental groups' efforts to make Antarctica the first World Park. Subsequent trips south to The Ice, as it's called by my fellow Antarcticans, have only gone to reinforce my commitment to Antarctica's protection.
Your paleoart inspired The Land Before Time and Jurassic Park, and can be enjoyed by millions at Walt Disney's Animal Kingdom and perhaps at a forthcoming Dinotopia park planned for Toronto. Are there still more prehistoric projects cooking in your head that you'd like to share with audiences?
Stout: I've been pitching a television series, William Stout's World of Dinosaurs, as well as finishing up a new children's book on dinosaurs. My Dinosaur Sketchbook series is selling quite well; I plan to do more of those. I don't know—I just can't seem to get enough of those critters!
Dinosaurs, penguins, genies—who knows what you will turn your hand to next? What are you at work on now that you can talk about? Books? Television? Films?
Stout: Besides the projects I've just mentioned, I'm also writing and publishing a series of sketchbooks on the great American animal artist Charles R. Knight, collecting his unpublished drawings. The first volume is already out—see it on my Web site: www.williamstout.com—and I'm very proud of it. Knight is the artist who visually defined dinosaurs for the rest of the world with his magnificent paintings and sculptures.
I'm still working on my, unintentionally, long-term book project, which when it's finished will be the first visual history of life in Antarctica. I've also written a live-action Antarctic thriller that my writing partner and I are trying to get off the ground as a feature. I'm participating in a feature-length documentary on climate change and global warming and writing a live-action feature on the war between the early American paleontologists Cope and Marsh.
In the vein of Abu, I've got a series of paintings on my things-to-do list that will depict various scenes from a sequel to The 7th Voyage of Sinbad that I co-wrote with Ray Harryhausen. We'll use those paintings to try to sell the film. I'm also working on a huge coffee table tome of my collected works. I'm always soliciting for mural work; for me, painting murals is so much fun—they're the best! Other than that, there's not much going on!
Also in this issue: Wesley Snipes and Guillermo del Toro
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