As frequent readers of this blog (a set people consisting exclusively of relatives) will know, I love Edgar Rice Burroughs’ planetary romances. I need to get around to reading the fourth book of his Barsoom novels (Thuvia, Maid of Mars, for you completists out there). But I have never read, nor have I ever been much interested in his Tarzan stories. I remember, when we lived in Norfolk, Virginia, one of our rooms was designated as the library and on the shelves was a Tarzan novel. I think it was The Beasts of Tarzan, but don’t quote me on that. All I remember was a wonderfully lurid, pulpy cover featuring an alligator. My mother, while never actively discouraging from reading it (she never discouraged me from reading anything), did let me know that she felt the stories were racist. So I never read it, despite not infrequently pulling it down from the shelf and looking at its exciting cover. She also told me about Johnny Weismuller and the Tarzan movies, which were sometimes on television on Saturday afternoons.

So, anyway… here’s to you, Mr. Burroughs. Happy birthday.

Also, they showed Land That Time Forgot on tv today. Loved that movie as a kid. The source material? ERB, of course!