[Editor’s note: I don’t hear from Gabriel Hunt frequently — maybe once or twice a year, and always for just a few minutes at a time. He always sounds like he’s out of breath when he calls, and I can usually hear sounds of shouting in the background, usually in a language I don't speak. But one day earlier this year, when I got into the office, I found a letter waiting for me in my mailbox. An old-fashioned blue-and-white airmail envelope with postage from New Zealand; and inside, a two-page, handwritten missive from the man himself. I pass it along to you unedited. — CHARLES ARDAI]
Dear Charles -
Apologies for the long silence! I didn’t mean to worry you. Thank you for the advance copies of CRADLE OF FEAR, which just made it to me here. You did a nice job with that one, and Orbik’s cover is spectacular. (Next time, though, could he make my jaw just a bit smaller? I don’t look quite that much like Bruce Campbell, do I?)
You asked where I’ve been. Always a difficult question to answer, but this time more even that usual. You see, I’ve spent the last little while in Antarctica. Yes: Antarctica. Yes, it was cold. And windy as hell. What was I doing there, you ask. Well.
