Ho-lee CRAP.

UK treasure hunter finds 52,000 Roman coins. (I seem to recall a Roald Dahl nonfiction account where something similar happened, and the Crown got it all, as the person who recovered the treasure 1) neglected to inform the authorities of its existence, hence becoming ineligible for a reward, and 2) left a silver spoon out where it was spotted by an unexpected visitor, who contacted the authorities. Safe deposit boxes, people!)

(And, on a hopefully unrelated note: A fascinating article on art scholarship and forgery.)

exeunt Ellison (from online interactions), stage left

Kristian Bland writes about Harlan Ellison’s exit from the Internet (although his site is still up; apparently, he means Ellison's no longer directly engaging with fans online), sounding more than a little like a warmed-over version of Ellison himself (“chemo-keyboards...?”) in the process.

I can’t speak as to the interactions themselves, as I can’t access them; I will instead note that 1) While Harlan Ellison, even more than most writers, does indeed attract the sort of barnacle troll who will hassle him strictly for the pleasure of hassling him, simply opposing either his views or his (increasingly embarrassing of late, not that he was a model of probity before) public behavior does not in and of itself constitute harassment; and,

2) While I’ve never particularly associated Ellison with the Internet (as opposed to, say, Cory Doctorow), and have had only a peripheral awareness of his online interactions with his fans (including one or two unremarkable exchanges with me), his leaving does make me sad, in a way. As little use as I have more his public behavior of late (the Connie Willis groping incidence of a few years ago being only one example of some extremely unfortunate public behavior), there was a time when his writing taught me more about the potential of the English language than that of virtually any other writer. Particularly in the period from roughly 1965-1985, Ellison’s work had a vitality unmatched in science fiction (or indeed, precious little fiction of any kind). For a writer who so consistently insisted on engaging with his fans, this does seem like a sad and sorry end.