![]() I wasn’t comfortable with the time or the language or the feel of things. And I tried, of course, but somehow they didn’t work for me as they had for Dumas or Stevenson. Here were the kind of stories I wanted to write. Enough, already, of great white whales and repressed women wearing scarlet letters. Now here, I believed, were stories worth reading. Each new tale seemed more exciting than the one before. What marvelous adventures! Ivanhoe, Quentin Durward, The White Company, Sir Nigel, The Black Arrow, Treasure Island, The Count of Monte Cristo, The Three Musketeers, and on and on. I was about fourteen when I discovered Sir Walter S cott, Arthur Conan Doyle, Robert Louis Stevenson, Alexander Dumas, and all the other eighteenth- and nineteenth- century European adventure-story writers.
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