Customer Reviews

Life Is But A Scream! The True Story of the Rebirth of Famous Monsters of Filmland

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(3)
2 star:		(2)
1 star:		(13)

 

 

In the interests of full disclosure: I've met Ackerman, thrice professionally and once at a party, and never really hit it off with the man, who I found aloof and self-absorbed. I'm not a friend of his nor even an acquaintance. So why am I writing this? Because I find the whole Famous Monsters feud a fascinating object lesson in the dangers of trying to redress personal grievances using the courts.
 
For that reason, I've read Ferry's book "Life is But a Scream" cover to cover, dispassionately, as someone who doesn't have a dog in this fight. First off, I would say that it is massively entertaining, especially if you take it with a grain of salt as the highly partisan account of a very bitter lawsuit which it claims not to be. The fact that Ferry created such a lengthy memoir, at a time when he seemed to have lost all right, title and interest in Famous Monsters and it looked like Ferry was going to owe a bunch of money to Ackerman as well, shows how much energy the man has, which is probably why he proved such a formidable adversary in court. That he is publishing again under the Famous Monsters imprint is a remarkable development, given what the lawsuit put everyone concerned with it through, himself included. A less determined man would have walked away, but Ferry hasn't, and it seems almost like he can't.
 
That said, the book is unbelievably mean-spirited in its treatment of Ackerman, who, if you listen to the event structure as opposed to the "how could I have known that the green eyed devil of envy was pulsing to life in FJA?" asides, clearly took Ferry under his wing, introduced him to his friends, helped him make a couple of FM-themed videos, and then legitimized the magazine undertaking by his presence when the ever-energized Ferry reactivated Famous Monsters. Ferry's characterizations of Ackerman's motives and his willingness to publish personal correspondences where they support his desire to make Ackerman look bad in public make for juicy reading, but are also appalling in their own way; one has to wonder what, if not respect for Ackerman and his collaborators on the original 200 or so issue run of FM, drew Ferry to want to recreate their achievement?  Which, by the way, he does fairly well, as you'll find if you pick up one of the recent FM issues -- they counterfeit aspects of the old mag in a pitch perfect style.
 
As a writer, Ferry is pretty good at cultivating a narrative voice of seeming openness, so it takes awhile before you realize just how ridiculous even his admitted treatment of FJA was at the time of their association. For example, Ferry goes on at length about his small glimpses into Ackerman's personal life, which seem pathetic rather than decadent, and then asserts that as someone who was running a mag Ackerman was associated with -- but not, it should be mentioned, really being paid regularly to write for -- Ferry felt entitled to forbid Ackerman to engage in activities that would reflect badly on a magazine read by children! It's a ludicrous argument for one sexually active grown-up to make to another, and if memory serves, at Ferry's behest Ackerman even gives in and avoids a "swinger" weekend he'd planned, which hardly makes him seem like the weird old perv Ferry tries to insinuate he is.  
 
Despite the copious use of his name in the initial stages of their collaboration, Ackerman also had articles he prepared for the magazine rejected by Ferry toward the end of their association, which speaks volumes about the lack of respect that had developed between Ferry and the man whose work he was simulating as FM's second generation editor-publisher.
 
A curious sin of omission in "Life is But a Scream" is that Ferry never really gives a very clear idea of exactly how he managed to get all "right, title and interest" in the FM name and mark. Did he buy it from Jim Warren (the original publisher)? No. Warren went bust in the early 80s, and Ferry has a lot of negative comments to make about him as well (except when he wants to credit Warren with inventing FM's wisecracking style, as a way of impugning FJA). Did he buy the title from Warren's creditors? Nope. They weren't using the mark, and apparently weren't interested in using it either. So what happenned? Despite the critical nature of this point for any understanding of the legitimacy of Ferry's claim on FM, the book is vague about it, and doesn't really say.
 
My conjecture: for a small registration fee, Ferry simply re-registered the lapsed FM mark with the trademark office in conjunction with the video projects he and Ackerman worked on together in the early '90s, and when the registration went through at the government office, Ferry decided he could publish a mag too. I would also guess that he leaves this (or whatever else happened) out of his otherwise very detailed history because, set beside Ackerman and Warren's decades with FM, it doesn't seem like a very legitimate claim on the magazine's legacy, whether the legalities say otherwise or not. From a legal standpoint, Ferry may indeed be entitled to FM's mark, but emotionally, it seems a little unfair that he could simply fill out a form and claim ownership to something Ackerman and Warren created and worked on for decades, if indeed that's what happenned (and between the lines, that's what it seems like).
 
One other big beef with this book is that Ferry is a true starf__ker in the worst way, who goes on for pages and pages about the legendary status and magical personal qualities of any B-level star who was willing to sit for an interview with him at FM, or who didn't completely side with FJA when the excrement hit the fan. It is possible to appreciate the careers of people like Gary Owen or Phyllis Diller and to respect their achievements without having to buy into the hagiographic slop Ferry slathers around in his book.
 
That Ferry is, on the evidence presented by his book, such a shameless flatterer of the celebrated may explain the initial attraction between he and Ackerman, but if it does, it is clearly an attraction both men have lived to regret.

This book is one of the ugliest, most mean spirited pieces of filth I have ever encountered.Yet it is essential reading, I think, for anyone who might consider getting involved in the sad world of horror fandom. If you are thinking of attending horror conventions, be sure to read this book first.It might make you think twice about going.Author Ray Ferry has an evil vendetta against Forrest J. Ackerman, one time editor of the 1960s monster mag Famous Monsters of Filmland. This book's sole purpose is to express that vendetta, over & over again. For that, Ferry has been deservedly vilified.But many of the horror fans who sit in judgement of Ferry are themselves guilty of the same baseless vendettas against each other.As a former attendees of horror cons, I saw first hand how fragile the egos & psyches of my fellow fans are.This is a world where obese nerds make fun of each other for being.....obese nerds! A world where people routinely go on vindictive rampages against each other over nothing more than minor disagreements over the artistics merits of a particular film.These rampages include email hate campaigns launched for the specific purpose of turning people against each other.As a horror con attendee I was both subjected too & asked to participate in this kind of behavior. I was vilified for speaking out against all this.There were also times when the viciousness spiraled out of control to such an extreme degree that I lost control of my normally better judgement & lashed back, just as viciously, I'm ashamed to say.It was like a whirlpool that sucks you in.I came to see horror fandom for what it is: a sad, sick world populated by infantile middle aged men who hate each other for no reason at all. Delusional losers who think that they're celebrities when they are not. Sad little men who think they have the power to ruin people's lives, when they don't.Few of them are open to even the remotest possibility of making peace with each other.The hatred is exactly what they want.Life is But a Scream is a tragic portrait of what horror fandom has become.It's poorly written & mean spirited, but it's still an important historical document of a world you'd be better off avoiding.Enjoy the classic horror films, they're wonderful.But for your own good, stay away from horror fandom.

The cover harkens back to the days when we were children and easily scared by the possibility of monsters, and with Forrest Axkerman's magazine FAMOUS MONSTERS OF FILMLAND, which raised the association (at least to me) that all the monsters one was scared of actually lived in Hollywood, perhaps under the Hollywood sign or in a creepy "modern" house like the one Vincent Price lured his victims into in HOUSE ON HAUNTED HILL, or the one that Dr. Hodel lived in according to the book BLACK DAHLIA AVENGER. In any case, this magazine made a permanent association between noir LA and the monsters (Frankenstein, Dracula, the Mummy) that permanently roam little boys' nightmares all across the USA.

But, when you read the book, it's a little attenuated, and there's a lot of quarrelling going on between the author, Ray Ferry, and the kindly old Forrest Ackerman, whom we had always conceived of as sort of a kindly old CRYPT KEEPER, one who knew everybody and knew where all the bodies were buried, in an affable way. But now here he is revealed as a terrible megalomaniac and always preening and vain, a Clifton Webb type if you know what I mean.

Anyhow, Ferry's attack on Ackerman is so severe that one longs for a more objective account of their dispute, but in the meantime one reads LIFE IS BUT A SCREAM as one would HOLLYWOOD BABYLON, more in disgust than with joy.

I was a fan of Famous Monsters of Filmland as a kid, and picked up this book hoping for some nostalgic fun and insight into the magazine by the new publisher. It turned out to be nothing but a vindictive rehash of a legal dispute he had with the original editor, Forrest Ackerman. Like listening to a professional victim complain about how unfairly he's been treated, this is a tiresome vanity project, and I found myself skipping through whole paragraphs thinking, "yadda, yadda, yadda."

Life Is But A Scream is a book cognascenti will automatically love or hate by virtue of its very existence, for it hacks away repetitiously and with a single-minded anger and resentment against one of the icons of sci-fi (the man who coined that genre contraction, "sci-fi", in fact)and the horror sci-fi fantasy world. The taking on of that which hundreds of thousands hold sacrosanct, in and of itself, wouldn't bother me. I have, for decades now, been firsthand witness to the kind of petty, jealous, self-serving sniping that passes for discourse and criticism throughout much of the above-named fan world, that I am not so easily offended or challenged by such behavior. What nettles me, in the long run, is the carelessness (and misspent care) shown in the assembly of this book.

As another reviewer points out, standard oversights in copy editing pile up like cord wood in the course of this books unfolding, until, by the time the 200th occurs, you are ready to throw the book against the wall. Is this evidence of haste in writing this tome (one assumes to "get it out there" and jump-start the money rolling in), or a simple lack of gravitas of any concern willing to take on and publish Mr. Ferry's astonishingly one-note memoir?

And as to misspent care, the plain fact is Ferry's prose is a grinding bore to read. It seems way padded. He tries too hard, and the magic never flows, not for a minute. Take away those numberless times he uses 1000 words to say what 50 would have said very nicely, or seems to forget what he said twenty pages ago and does a kind of instant replay, and you have a long magazine article (MAYBE a two-parter) NOT a book-length piece of writing. To read Life is But A Scream is to feel yourself floating, for pages at a stretch, in an immense horizonless ocean of mediocre (read that "hack" or "agenda-based" or "therpeutic") writing.

Fandom is a place of big, fragile egos and too-quickly paraded delusions of superior intellect and creativity. In this atmosphere, one in which everybody feels they have to have the last word and that their very reputation is staked on the incisiveness of their last faux-MENSA pronouncement (Harlan Ellsion comes to mind here) people are drawn into flame wars in a heartbeat. And through their own misdirected sense of honor, they usually wind up looking deeply silly. Even recognizing that, I think Ferry has bitten off more than he can chew here. His ambition to set the record straight and make it hurt a little in the process is finally done in by simple failure of craft. (Maybe he was too close to the whole thing to give a fair and interesting recounting of it; call it a mind struck inarticulate by overwhelming emotional involvement.)

In the end, the real issue between Forry and Ferry -- which is, who owns the reader equity Forry built up through his wonderfully adroit writing and punsmanship in the 20+ years he edited Famous Monsters-- may get lost. That is the great pity of this book. Words, even an ocean of them, will not serve as a balm for the conscience of one who is wrong.

The only true story re: this book is the way Ray Ferry conned Forry Ackerman & stole the name of FM out from 4E. Those who know the real story recognize Ray Ferry for the sleazeball that he is. The biggest difference between the 2 of them is that 4Es love & devotion to sci-fi ( he coined the term ), monsters & fantasy was a lifelong commitment & dedication that began in 1920s whereas Ferry was in it for the quick buck. IF YOU CARED OR DO CARE ABOUT FAMOUS MONSTERS OR 4E...YOU WILL NOT BUY THIS BOOK !

HAVING OBTAINED FAMOUS MONSTERS IN A HOSTILE TAKEOVER AND THROUGH THE FLEECING OF THE BELOVED FORRY ACKERMAN, RAY FERRY NOW HAS DECIDED TO SHUT OUT ALL THE FANS AS WELL AND MAKE THE MAGAZINE HIS OWN PRIVATE PLACE. EVERY ISSUE THAT COMES OUT IS #1 - OVERPRICED FOR THE AVERAGE FAN, PARTICULARLY KIDS, TYHEREBY LEAVING A DIM FUTURE LEGACY FOR THIS ONCE GREAT MAGAZINE. SURE THE GLOSSY STOCK AND PRINT STANDARDS ARE SECOND TO NONE, BUT AT WHAT COST TO IT'S GROWTH. #2 - DISTRIBUTION IS NON-EXISTANT HERE IN CENTRAL JERSEY (MADE EVEN MORE SHAMEFUL CONSIDERING MR. FERRY'S ROOTS).
AN INTERESTING READ THAT ONLY MADE ME VIEW FERRY AS A THIEF AND POOR OLD FORRY AS A VICTIM. MAYBE IT'S TRUE THAT FORRY MADE A LOT OF DEMANDS AND ASKED FOR A LOT BUT AFTER ALL, WHERE WOULD MR. FERRY BE TODAY IF IT WEREN'T FOR MR. ACKERMAN? PROBABLY DOING PORTRAITS AT THE LOCAL SEARS.
SHAME ON YOU RAY FERRY - THE 'NEW' FAMOUS MONSTERS IS AN IMPOSTER! I'D RATHER READ 'RUE MORGUE'.

The main purpose of this book seems to be author Ray Ferry's hatred of Forry Ackerman, the one time editor of the monster boomer magazine Famous Monsters of Filmland. Ferry dwells on his hate of Ackerman so much that it becomes disturbing and distasteful.Ferry's writing style is over the top in the worst possible way. His other great hate, for Richard Valley of Scarlet Street Magazine, is so extreme as to become cartoonish, and impossible to take seriously. But a quick check of Valley's website, scarletstreet.com, shows Valley expressing the same over the top disdain not only for Ferry but for a dozen other people, most of whom are doing the same thing to Valley!!!This book is a sad and lasting tribute as to what the world of horror fandom has turned into, an endless continuim of hate perpetuated by grown men who should know better.It's an ugly world, this horror fandom, and it makes for ugly, unpleasent reading.

If this had been a rational discourse on the rebirth of Famous Monsters, it may have been well and good. What it is is a personal vendetta carried by one man who felt it was time to speak out after years of silence. Be warned! If you are a fan of the original Famous Monsters and its editor, Forry, don't read this. Ferry is dreaming. He must pull this stuff out of his deepest cesspool of a mind. The guy is a jerk. And not just because of the book. Experts in the field, many who have themselves put out very respectable monster magazines, have nothing good to say about Ray Ferry. To denigrate a man's reputation in this manner, to go overboard and make scandalous innuendos about Forry's personal life and just not Ferry's business dealings with him is unconsciousable. It is just a shame that young readers today, who are so spellbound about the new Famous Monsters, can be so taken in by one man's rantings. And he does it under the cloak of what many take to be professionalism. NOT!!!!!!!!!!

I, too, was sucked into Ferry's world of make believe martyrdom. Then, I wrote an article for FM 247 (How Do You Like Your Horror?) and found out about the REAL Ferry. After being promised a measly $25 for my article, which was heavily edited, I never saw a dime, even after sending several e-mails first asking for, then demanding payment. Many of my e-mails got conveniently "lost" and to this day, I haven't seen a cent. I guess I was luckier than poor Forry - he was bilked out of thousands, not to mention his own house and much of his priceless collection!