Published: Thursday, February 17, 2000 
Section: DAILY BREAK  page E1 
Source: BY PHILIP WALZER, STAFF WRITER
Copyright  2000 Landmark Communications Inc.
 

ALMOST 15 years ago in Virginia Beach, John Rosenman was taking his son trick-or-treating on Halloween.  The boy disappeared for a second around the trellis of a house, and an idea bloomed in Rosenman's mind: ``How do you know the kid who appears a split second later on the other side of the trellis is your kid? You don't.''

So emerged one of Rosenman's many short stories. This one was titled ``Daniel, My Son'': ``Not once had anything ever gone wrong. Until last Halloween, three hundred and sixty-five days ago, when he had taken his son about the neighborhood asking for candy . . . .''

By day, Rosenman is an English professor at Norfolk State University, exploring the nuances of Romantic poetry with students. In his off-time, he is a passionate writer of horror and science-fiction stories, sometimes dark, sometimes hopeful:

A boy protecting a snowman against Satan.
An art teacher's stunning resurrection in the Sistine Chapel.
A space crew's sudden decomposition on a planet.
A Halloween nightmare.

A collection of seven of Rosenman's stories, ``More Stately Mansions,'' was recently published by Dark Regions Press in California.   His literary pursuits, he knows, are probably frowned upon in some academic circles (``If it hasn't received the Nobel Prize, it isn't worth much''). Yet Rosenman said he's drawn to the possibilities of new worlds in science fiction and the suffering that besets good people in horror stories.

But don't think he's a gloom-and-doom kind of guy.

 ``He wants the best for everyone,'' said Rosenman's friend Richard Rowand, a Virginia Beach science-fiction writer who wrote the introduction to  ``More Stately Mansions.''

   ``He is an idealist, and that goes for everything he does - whether it's his friendships, his profession or his writing.''

Colleagues at Norfolk State say  Rosenman is ever-willing to offer them rides or sub for them in classes. He has taught at historically black colleges for more than 20 years, believing that is where he can make the most difference.

Despite the ghoulish goings-on in some of Rosenman's stories, he usually doesn't leave the readers with torn-up bodies and tattered psyches. He'd rather not give away his endings, but he said: ``I want them to feel life is worth living; I want them to feel joyful.''

Rosenman, who is 58, says his ``strongest love is teaching'' - though some days he can do without grading stacks of papers.

He grew up in Ohio, received his bachelor's  at Hiram College and his doctorate at Kent State. There, he experienced a real-life horror: One of his students was killed when National Guardsmen fired at anti-war protesters.

``It made me more rebellious, more likely to side with the have-nots,'' Rosenman said. ``You had kids shooting against kids, while the people in charge stood safely aside somewhere.''

After a brief time teaching in Canada, Rosenman moved to two black colleges in South Carolina - Claflin and South Carolina State. After a year at Elizabeth City State University in North Carolina, he came to Norfolk State in
1982.

``Being a good teacher here is especially important,'' he said. ``Many of these students have been deprived, oppressed. They need our best.''

Jaymell Russell is one of the English majors taking Rosenman's English literature course. It's not one of those classes where you can fall asleep, he said.

``He brings it down to a level where you can understand it,'' Russell said. ``He's a student's teacher. He's not the type of professor who says, `I am always right.' ''

Rosenman isn't above stunts like standing on the desk a la Robin Williams in ``Dead Poets Society'' to make a point. Recently, he brought to class an object wrapped in a plastic bag - a symbol of the Romantic philosophy.

What is it? he asked.

``A light.''

``Close,'' Rosenman said, before uncovering a white desk lamp. The Romantic poets directed the light - and their imaginations - to portray reality as they saw it.

He regularly mentions his writing to encourage them to write, too. And his penchant for horror influences his literary selections.

Rosenman often assigns Christina Rossetti's ``Goblin Market,'' a 19th century poem that was treated as a morality tale for children, but is ``saturated'' with dark sexual images. ``They read that and go, `My gosh!' '' he said. ``And that story was read to children by innocent mothers - or were they so innocent?''

Rosenman used to write standard fiction. In 1980, his novel, ``The Best Laugh Last,'' about a disillusioned black college student, was published.  Since then, he's switched to science fiction and horror.

Part of it was his discovery of a galaxy of journals and magazines, such as The Horror Show and Festering Brainsore, unlike the hoity-toity ones that often handed him curt rejection slips. Part of it was his discovery of a new realm of writing, opening up a ``rich universe limited only by the human imagination.''

He loves the idea of ``transformation,'' of showing a world different than the real one. Maybe, he said, it comes from his desire to cast off some of his real-world habits, including impatience and a nasty temper.

Rosenman belongs to the Oceanfront Writers Group, where he is known for his willingness to write and rewrite and revise again. Some stories he's redone five, six times, over 10, 20 years. He'll write anywhere, any time.

``He's not going to like this story,'' said his friend, Rowand, ``but we went to this convention. He had an idea for a story one night. He took a tablet with him to the bathroom, and stayed on the commode for three hours, writing.''

Horror, Rosenman said, doesn't have to be splattered with gore, though he's written a few gory ones - an ugly man who kills beautiful people, a son who slices off his father's hands, only to see them reappear.

His favorite author, in fact, is not Stephen King. King is good, Rosenman said, but he could use a strong editor. He likes Ramsey Campbell, a British author who Rosenman says uses subtlety and atmosphere to large effect.

And horror can have happy endings, though the characters may not fulfill all their wishes. ``We're down from Oz,'' Rosenman said, alluding to the original title of his novel, ``and we'll seldom get 100 percent of what we want.''

Just like the fictional father who lost his son during Halloween. In the story, he sets out to look for Daniel the next Halloween. He has a heart-lifting sighting. But he's not sure.

``Illusions and delusions. Yes, Halloween was like that. You never knew what was going to happen.  . . .''
 

Reprinted by permission of The Virginia Pilot and the original author.
Reach Philip Walzer at 222-5105 or walzer@pilotonline.com