Robert Albert Bloch was a prolific American writer. He was the son of Raphael "Ray" Bloch (1884, Chicago-1952, Chicago), a bank cashier, and his wife Stella Loeb (1880, Attica, Indiana-1944, Milwaukee, WI), a social worker, both of German-Jewish descent.Bloch wrote hundreds of short stories and over twenty novels, usually crime fiction, science fiction, and, perhaps most influentially, horror fiction (Psycho). He was one of the youngest members of the Lovecraft Circle; Lovecraft was Bloch's mentor and one of the first to seriously encourage his talent.He was a contributor to pulp magazines such as Weird Tales in his early career, and was also a prolific screenwriter. He was the recipient of the Hugo Award (for his story "That Hell-Bound Train"), the Bram Stoker Award, and the World Fantasy Award. He served a term as president of the Mystery Writers of America.Robert Bloch was also a major contributor to science fiction fanzines and fandom in general. In the 1940s, he created the humorous character Lefty Feep in a story for Fantastic Adventures. He also worked for a time in local vaudeville, and tried to break into writing for nationally-known performers. He was a good friend of the science fiction writer Stanley G. Weinbaum. In the 1960's, he wrote 3 stories for Star Trek.
Corrsponded with legendary horror writer H.P. Lovecraft for many years. Despite reports to the contrary, the two never actually met. However, their correspondence resulted in Lovecraft naming a character after Bloch, that of Robert Blake. Bloch also wrote a number of stories within the Lovecraftian Cthulhu Mythos himself, inventing his own infamous book "De Vermis Mysteriis", which was similar to Lovecrafts own "Necronomicon". He was, however, close friends with the last surviving man to have actually met Lovecraft, comics editor and literary agent Julius Schwartz. For many years Schwartz traditionally joined Bloch and family in Los Angeles for Thanksgiving dinner at Blochs home in the Hollywood Hills.
(September 1994) Died peacefully in his home in the Hollywood Hills with his beloved wife, Elly, by his side. Before his death, he announced to the Literary world his terminal diagnosis and published an essay on his feelings about approaching death just a short time before he passed away in OMNI Magazine. Much of his best and most rare works have recently become available in new or first time editions which would have pleased him immensely.
Children: daughter, Sally, from his first marriage.
Guest of Honour at "DCON" science-fiction convention (July 8-11, 1971, Dallas, USA)
Guest of honor at BYOBCON V science-fiction convention (Kansas City, Mo, July 18-20, 1975), where it was announced, "The author of Psycho is in this hotel. Shower with a friend".
Wrote a large number of short stories which revolved around the Jack the Ripper murders.
Had no formal education beyond high school.
Said to have based the Bates character from "Psycho" on the outwardly mild-mannered real-life serial killer Ed Gein.
Laboriously turned out the majority of his work on an old manual typewriter.
Sold his first story to the pulp magazine Weird Tales in 1934.
Close friend of actors Basil Rathbone and Boris Karloff.
Comedy and horror are opposite sides of the same coin.
I discovered, much to my surprise - and particularly if I was writing in,the first person - that I could become a psychopath quite easily. I,could think like one and I could devise a manner of unfortunate,occurrences. So I probably gave up a flourishing, lucrative career as a,mass murderer.
I have the heart of a child; I keep it in a jar on my shelf.
Despite my ghoulish reputation, I really have the heart of a small boy. I keep it in a jar on my desk.
The man who smiles when things go wrong has thought of someone to blame it on.
Friendship is like peeing on yourself: everyone can see it, but only you get the warm feeling that it brings.
Funny how we take it for granted that we know all there is to know about another person, just because we see them frequently or because of some strong emotional tie.
why do we personify time? Is it because we’re afraid to admit that our lives are measured by an abstract force that neither knows nor cares about our entry into existence? Or our departure into death? Time is our mysterious master giving it a face and hands we attempt to transform it into our servant.
We all go a little mad sometimes.
Evil exists everywhere. Sometimes I think our limited senses are designed to protect us from awareness of its presence. We trust them to provide us with knowledge but it may be that they block out realization of horrors we cannot bear.
I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.
Horror is the removal of masks.
The room was plainly but adequately furnished; she noted the shower stall in the bathroom beyond. Actually, she would have preferred a tub, but this would do.
The man who can smile when things go wrong has thought of someone else he can blame it on. .
