Gutenberg Sci-Fi 2
Edwin Abbot Abbot
‘Flatland: A Romance of Many Dimensions’ far predates sci‐fi as any kind of movement—1884. Yet it is squarely Sci‐Fi, far more so than, say, Jules Verne. What you make of it probably depends on you as a reader. It contains social material that, despite it’s satire, would be stickered nowadays with an ‘outdated attitudes’ warning. If you like the works of Jerome K. Jerome or Lewis Carrol, worth a shot. I thought it was hilarious, humane, and it’s scientific scenario is possibly the best education in a subject that should not be neglected, the history of science. Essential?
Poul Anderson
Industrial Revolution has a premise that the basis of entrepreneurialism is little revolutions in the market. At start, story is stagnant, in a framing device with the purpose it seems to be smug. And chunks of the text are made of “What is this for?” exposition, which clunks. But what has to be said is challenging in it’s practical detail and scientific thought about the scenario, in a way no other text on this list so far gets to grips with. And the eventual drama has a balance that makes the other writers here, even Algis Budrys, seem forced—which they are. It’s the only tense story in the list—if you want some drama, challenges, this is the one. This was somewhat confirmed by Duel on Syrtis which is a one‐on‐one hunt which has more of a Western about it than anything in Sci‐Fi, and again M. Anderson makes practical detail, the effect of landscape, and lack of simplistic moral outlook, count.
Another download surprised me. Murder In Black Letter is not SciFi, it is a paperback‐length story which I would shelf‐mark as ‘non‐detective detective’. But I read, and was impressed—I can’t think of any writer here who could manage this kind of mystery and build. Also, there is a pleasing overlay of realism from M. Anderson’s interest in generating character—wasted in a speculative short story—and thoughtfulness in making drama from place. I can’t think who I could recommend to—most readers would like continued resonance in our time. But if you had an interest in how America saw itself in the 1950’s without the insights and challenges of, say, Patricia Highsmith, try this.
There’s over twenty items by Poul Anderson on Project Gutenberg, so plenty to explore.
Issac Asimov
Issac Asimov is probably the most famous writer connected to Sci‐Fi. Which maybe would need to be explained away by saying he wrote a lot, and was active in science as a lecturer, because at this time I believe most people would struggle to name a work by him. ‘Youth’ was written in 1952, at the time the Foundation Trilogy was near‐completed, and it may have seemed possible to Mr. Asimov that he could be, or was, a Sci‐Fi writer‐as‐profession. The story is written in Asimov’s usual clear, dialogue‐driven style, but what stuck me most was the remote approach, which is set into the text—he calls two of his identities ‘The Astronomer’ and ‘The Industrialist’. What is also notable is that the story is a convincing description of children’s outlook. Later, Mr. Asimov would state his disengagement from the new wave of science fiction yet, from this distance, here we have Asimov’s take on that, a refined style, avoiding interplanetary battle for drama on a human level, and what seems to be experience. Also, since the story has monsters and a twist, it will stand as 50’s Sci‐Fi, but is not the later definition of Sci‐Fi at all, it’s psychology dressed with alien curiosity. Worth reading on any level. Let’s Get Together is about a proposed future world‐state where one side is infiltrated by androids that can’t be distinguished from humans. It barely ventures the depths explored by Phillip K. Dick, but on it’s own level is charmingly done.
Only a few works by Issac Asimov on Gutenberg, and some is non‐fiction. But no surprise that the work of this famous writer is copyright‐protected.
Alfred Bester
I go straight to review here. The story was called The Push of a Finger. It’s a long story, near the third of a novel, written in a newspaper slang as good as stage dialogue. If nothing else, the style shows this writer can put that kind of writing down on the page. But this story has more. It’s more or less science fiction in premise, but plays out as fantasy sometimes—check the wonderful machine part way in. It’s also written with a lot of what people call gusto, and the construction is strong, with one idea pushing another, including a joke that really should raise a laugh. If it sparkles less than the Henry Kuttner above, it has good moments, and it’s the most seamless delivery of style, content and construction on this list. The ending is a sock to the gut.
The reason I need to get through the review is that this is… well… ummm… Alfred Bester. Who wrote a novel The Stars My Destination, known in the UK as Tiger! Tiger!, where a similar level of fantasy threads a chain of science fiction episodes, with plot developments almost manic, driven by an anger in the main character that rose at times in the 1950’s, and delivered in shattered styles that do the work in a paragraph. Which novel inspired one of the funniest reviews you will read by Damon Knight (you want the retrospective one), and fans all over the world. If you know of this, then the story I read, above, will prove that Alfred Bester was a craftsman, not a maniac who managed to focus. Though he was perhaps that too. As well as being a mix which is rare, a loyal man prepared to wander into the unknown.
The Unseen Blushers is goofy even by M. Bester’s standards. He’s taken a lame story and made something of it by switching character perspectives (a good ploy). Thus leading to an outrageous piece of self‐promotion that ought to make anyone smile… I write ‘ought’, it could cause devastating scorn. Also contains characters with more depth and drawn more generously than anywhere else here—I’ll leave readers to find out why. If you have any interest in the material on this list, this is worth a read.
There is little work by Alfred Bester on Project Gutenberg. No surprise, because Alfred Bester’s work was scattered across not only publishers and genre, but media. One day, maybe.
James Blish
Damon Knight thought James Blish the sharpest guy in Fifties Sci‐Fi writing. M. Blish was reputedly a important player who edited the book reworks of early Star Trek episodes. I tried a short story, One Shot. This is a different class of writing, dry and scientific, with a neat pulp fiction twist. The story seems more interested in it’s small interactions, the opera an afterthought. Also, the science is casually introduced. A few years later, the book ‘Dune’ gained much attention, and set a standard for unexplained or extrapolated science. This is not to remove credit from the unusual effect of ‘Dune’, which was a nexus of sci‐fi, space opera and mystical writing. But here was this guy, James Blish, doing the same thing, seemingly because he had to write that way. The Thing in the Attic has a poor title, I feel, though this may reveal the materials the author is working from. It’s an other‐world escape fantasy. Nine‐tenths of this, the world‐building and the adventure story, is the way it should be, remorselessly logical from premises, vividly realised, with for‐once plausibly varied characters, and tightly written. It then blows it a little with a talky end that could have been delivered in five sentences. Still, I could have read a book of the bulk of this.
There’s not much of Mr. Blish on Gutenberg. No surprise.
Ray Bradbury
An author from the first wave, the nineteen‐fifties. I’m usually uninterested in ‘influence’, but Ray Bradbury is, alongside Issac Asimov, perhaps the best known writer on this list. But for different reasons—Ray Bradbury was sold as Sci‐Fi that would pass as literature. Partly this was due to his odd style, maybe his unusual concerns, may have been his hob‐nobbing with stars from other media. Damon Knight rejected Ray Bradbury’s writing as having nothing to do with Sci‐Fi. Here and there on this list, I suggest that the movement covered many different styles and stories. Well, here’s something, Rocket Summer is Sci‐Fi, by my or any other specification I can think of. As presented it’s a lazy argument that I’m sure other writers on this list could have bettered without trying. And it lacks any drama at all. But has M. Bradbury’s people‐based style to recommend, and few would have thought of the idea. The Monster Maker has characters that would be poor at the time, have aged badly, and holograms and an idiot plot. Only some writing fluency to recommend.
There’s about fifteen Raymond Bradbury stories on Gutenberg, and likely they’re earlier ones which are a little more Sci‐Fi. It’s an easy way to get to know him.
Leigh Brackett
The work of Leigh Bracket was all through early Sci‐Fi publication, by which I mean the Forties and early Fifties. And, if you like me wondered, that’s the name of a woman. Anyway, I’ve only tried one, so will not generalise. The Blue Behemoth is about a shabby circus that accepts a dodgy proposal for ready cash, a trip that goes badly wrong. No way is this the later science‐speculative fiction—I propose it’s mis‐adventure with fantasy monsters. But hey, wanna know something? It’s got one foot in pulp fiction, bitten down and doubled back, the folks are alright (and wrong), the story is real neat, and there’s magic in the fantasy. Like it seems many others, I wouldn’t be saying no to more of M. Brackett.
There are near‐twenty early stories by Leigh Brackett on Gutenberg. Wouldn’t be surprised if more surface.
Leigh Brackett and Ray Bradbury
Lorelei of the Red Mist is by Leigh Brackett (see elsewhere) and Ray Bradbury. It’s a swords and sorcery affair, with a frame of alternate planet landscape. Which isn’t full‐typical of either author. What’s needed for this kind of thing is a scrap of belief, a consistent physical and dramatic landscape, and some imagination in landscape and tale. There are some marks of both authors at work, and the story has all of this. Maybe the Conan reference is a joke… I’m not close enough to know.
Algis Budrys
The parents of Algis Budrys were high‐ranked diplomats cut adrift by the Second Word War, so he grew up in New York. I tried The Citadel. It’s a long short‐story, made from a handful of characters and a single stage set. It’s neat‐written and the style is all‐American. Perhaps the only oddity is that the identities of the humans in the text have creative touches which may have made me guess this was a British writer, not American. Especially as the writer assumes his readers can follow more, in this case about real‐estate deals, than most authors here. As you read you may puzzle where the story is going—I did—until I realised the author had taken me along and down with care to an unexpected end.
I recall Philip K. Dick (see above) proposed that sci‐fi could be defined as scientific speculation that drives a plot. I’m going to propose this story is not science‐fiction, nor is it is what I found in an interview with Algis Budrys, ‘technological fiction’. It is a psychological sketch, repurposed as a story, then wrapped in inter‐planetary fantasy to highlight the point (or sell the product). If that sounds good to you, make sure you hang in for the end, it’s worth it.
How to set Riya’s Foundling depends on definitions. Personally, I say telepathy, or this presentation of telepathy, is fantasy. That said, the story is a plausible yet bonkers speculation, and the idea, sympathetic and kind, has a dry presentation that never becomes clumsy. Excellent, and an impossible sale. Die Shadow! depends on the lamest idea in fantasy—‘soul’‐suck in contrast to virility—inserts weaponry found in a drawer, and ends with a boss‐battle. Reason for existence seems to be a double‐cross, which may have made a parody, but when character is empty and drama absent, who cares? Useful only to hear a good writer replay every hack in the genre. The Burning World tackles a theme so prominent in Sci‐Fi writing that Damon Knight made it a marker of the genre itself—social revolution. Except M. Budrys reviews the usual fight for freedom into a defence of freedom against revolution—which I should note is a common road in American thinking. As you would expect from M. Budrys, pulp fiction is here only in the plot, the characters have emotional involvement and Eastern European manners. All of this is welcome, and the construction is excellent. But there is something off, and I think it’s that the essential premise, even reviewed, is SciFi hokum. If Algis Budrys has escaped this, it’s a missed opportunity he didn’t write the subtle and great novel it could be.
There are eight other stories by Algis Budrys on Project Gutenberg.
Edgar Rice Burroughs
Edgar Burroughs predates the SciFi Ages by many years. He could be snooty about pulp‐fiction—though whether he was looking down on his audience or the trade, I can’t tell. A Princess of Mars was his first writing published as pulp serial, and one of the first published as a book. It’s worth consideration because later writers are quoted as saying it was influential. Empire scenery is not original, may have been outdated back then, but I can’t speak for this being a sketch of a decaying, as opposed to a remote, civilisation. I also can’t speak for multi‐limbed green and red aliens. References say the romance was new, and the author throws some perhaps‐unusual ideas like incubators. The book is confident at summoning scenarios such as the American outback and warfare basics. The plot moves fast, and is opera—Wikipedia reports Edgar Burroughs accepted suggestions about this, and he has novel, if fantastic, ideas for how to achieve space travel. Some of the action and positioning stretches credibility—the John Carter character gets lucky too often. Though it works for the space‐travel, the plot about breathable‐atmosphere generation is tagged on and jarrs. There are touches of science and, if fantastic in development, these slot into what was known at the time. At base, the book is solid writing, if not outstanding. Edgar Burroughs predates Abraham Merrit by perhaps five years, and this book is more engaged in action, plainer in prose and perhaps aimed at a slightly different audience. With an ending that, if not compelling, is sincere. It’s straightforward, well‐made, has touches of invention and so better than much you’ll find. That said, like it’s hero and aside from insights into the society that made it a bestseller, it’s historical significance is most of what it has to say.
There’s plenty of Edgar Rice Burroughs on Gutenberg so, if you have an interest in these famous constructions, or the origins of Sci‐Fi, this is the place.
John Campbell
John Campbell was, according to those who wrote about him, a big man with exasperating opinions. He became an editor, so stopped writing fiction in favour of winding up other writers. People say his editing made wide changes to the genre, pushing pulp story towards scientific scepticism and realism, ‘Piracy Preferred’ is the first story in a collection The Back Star Passes. The traits are there to see. Here’s a more human‐scale drama, on an earth that can be recognised as our world, which then plunges into page after page of lab reports, as though the aim was to show a book could be written that way. That, plus a vaporised end—it’s intriguing and wayward.
The Ultimate Weapon is a long story where aliens invade the solar system. With little interest in identity or drama, it starts efficiently, but notes some facts about the solar system—“Phobos of course rotated with one face fixed irrevocably toward Mars itself”—and builds these into the space battle strategy. But most of the words are spent on the development of weapons, which has scientific nuggets and words slung into a stew of “using a warpinator and violet sparks we can make a death ray”. That said, these technological descriptions manage to capture aspects of scientific process, even if performed by the usual financially‐enabled hero types (I’m none too sure if the writer is conscious of his pulp‐styling, or if he believes this is how technology evolves). In these two techniques the story is fundamentally different to other alien invasion stories but, despite it’s ending, seems lack the wit that the Ultimate Weapons may be good management and peace. The Metal Horde is much the same stew of technological advance for militaristic purpose. There’s some interesting dope about how material sources and production volumes are important, and how battle formations can be significant. It’s also convincing about the appearance of an enemy, and the manoeuvrers each side in war may make. Overall, like a war‐strategy game written out as text. Story ends with a tail section about a rise of the machines. In this tail section there seems to be something personal, deep and without judgement—it’s memorable. Maybe the best thing of it’d type I’ve read, though Fletcher Pratt’s ‘Onslaught From Rigel’ offers a different sensibility—likely readers would prefer one or the other.