What ho old chap, shame you seem to have missed the golden age of British SF when New Worlds SF was still monthly: the argument against sci-fi was being put then, and if I recall correctly the preferred pronunciation was siff.
Thanks for publicising the letter. I knew that Bill's Big Invention (or Innovation) was charging for a software licence so you never quite own what you've paid for, but I hadn't come across this letter which sums it up very nicely.
LA Times covers this well at http://www.calendarlive.com/cl-et-hoax5feb05,0,305 1919.story with the nice info that
;
"To further test PublishAmerica's standards, Macdonald, who compiled the book, left Chapter 21 blank because one writer missed deadline. He included another chapter twice. And he took portions of two other chapters, ran them through a software program that randomly reordered the words, then accepted all the spell check and grammar fixes his software recommended.
The result is Chapter 34, nine pages of disconnected gibberish that begins: "Bruce walked around any more. Some people might ought to her practiced eye, at her. I am so silky and braid shoulders. At sixty-six, men with a few feet away from their languid gazes."
You too can be an author!
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What ho old chap, shame you seem to have missed the golden age of British SF when New Worlds SF was still monthly: the argument against sci-fi was being put then, and if I recall correctly the preferred pronunciation was siff.
So you're the man who japed: excellent stuff. What I'd like to know is, did my favourite SF writer Kilgore Trout also contribute?
Thanks for publicising the letter. I knew that Bill's Big Invention (or Innovation) was charging for a software licence so you never quite own what you've paid for, but I hadn't come across this letter which sums it up very nicely.
LA Times covers this well at http://www.calendarlive.com/cl-et-hoax5feb05,0,305 1919.story with the nice info that
;
"To further test PublishAmerica's standards, Macdonald, who compiled the book, left Chapter 21 blank because one writer missed deadline. He included another chapter twice. And he took portions of two other chapters, ran them through a software program that randomly reordered the words, then accepted all the spell check and grammar fixes his software recommended.
The result is Chapter 34, nine pages of disconnected gibberish that begins: "Bruce walked around any more. Some people might ought to her practiced eye, at her. I am so silky and braid shoulders. At sixty-six, men with a few feet away from their languid gazes."
You too can be an author!