Gutenberg Sci-Fi 4
Harry Harrison
Mr. Harrison was one of those blokes who you’d probably say you were glad you knew him. A conventional enough upbringing lead him through the Army. It was here that he started to display what Theodore Sturgeon called the ability to ‘ask the next question’, that is, do not buck out at the most comfortable reasoning. Mr. Harrison had this in spades. He came to frustration in the Army, had little good to say of them afterwards, but had the smarts not to trade as a flower‐tossing doom‐monger.
Mr.Harrison’s prose is neat, correct, and not remarkable. That puts his work ahead of two out of three books on the shelf. His books are sewn from pulp fiction stock, and his characters only exist as a twist in the fabric. Odds on, he’s heading towards drama with a point. For example, far as I know Harry Harrison never wrote a story about time‐travel. Like all true sci‐fi writers, he knew time travel is nonsense, not interesting nonsense, and had he been here I guess he would have added that it was indulgent too.
Harry Harrison wrote one of my favourite pre‐teen books, ’The men from P.I.G. and R.O.B.O.T.’—his style was spot‐on for pre‐teens. I read Deathworld, his first novel. It’s got a central identity who is good at what he does, naturally, but with a trace of immorality. Said identity winds up on a planet that has, alongside thunderstorms and volcanos, double gravity. Mr. Harrison makes nothing of this, but I couldn’t stop grinning all the way as our man staggers to the library, gets carted from place to place in the back of lorries, and is hopeless throughout. Would that modern film scripts had the guts or humour. As the plot zips along, I started to wonder about Mr. Harrison’s inspiration—is this an allegory about the Irish Troubles or, to some, civil war? Or another similar conflict?
I also tried a long short story, The Misplaced Battleship. In honesty, unless you count a scenario in outer space, this is not a sci‐fi story at all. But it rings as true as a magnet clamped to steel. And, typically, it is a lean and straightforward show of an drama that would improve many a novel. Incidentally, this is one of the short stories that lead to ‘The Stainless Steel Rat’.
I then tried another novel, Planet of the Damned. This was Mr. Harrison’s third novel, and the start fooled me—it’s camp as a tent. Was this Harry Harrison? Then a turn of explanation, which opens a scenario, switches setting, and slings the reader into the plot. I wish I could ask Mr. Harrison what happened here. His jaunting ideas are thickened by circumstance into text that becomes personal drama. This book will not convert the uninterested, and I think it’s off‐beam for his subsequent readers, but no other writer on this list, or script‐writer of so‐called ‘Sci‐Fi’ films, can pull this off,
Now they want to fight a war with your weapons, and for this you are going to kill my world. And you want me to help you!
And then there is the short story that started The Stainless Steel Rat. The idea here is… if early pulp fiction was compromised heroes, why not have compromised heroes in space? Though not marketed as such (as far as I know), the author in the style of early teenage books lays it on with a trowel—the Rat can disguise himself, is neat at martial arts, can handle weapons, build devices, is an expert at robbery and a liar. Almost certain the author is taking a dig at the narrow sociology and militaristic bent of much space‐based science fiction. Despite the fact Harry Harrison had his reasons, I’ve always found the title clumsy. Aside from that, it’s written in a home‐made slang that, unlike conscious mimicry, stands up today. It has a neat rick ending. It’s the cannon, man.
There’s a lot of Harry Harrison on Gutenberg, The ‘Deathworld’ followups are missing, as is the bulk of ‘The Stainless Steel Rat’, which may yet be copyright. But I doubt you can go wrong.
Robert E. Howard
Gods of The North is a reprinted story, introduced by an apology from the magazine, “…this strange story…”. Perhaps genuine at the time, the introduction is kinda awkward, a negotiation of expectation by a brand. This story is not ‘strange’, it’s fantasy cast as epic, a fairytale of Gods and Men. People argue if R. Howard was a good writer or not—naysayers say he never developed technique, defenders say he was practised. Damon Knight took both sides, arguing Robert Howard could add fairydust, but praising Lyon Sprague De Camp’s editing for it’s precision and words. Personally I thought this story had conviction, is told in a lean style, and has drama that near‐nobody on this list can summon. These are goods that do not get description or credit. Listen, Robert Howard wrote the Conan stories, and you got to start from the fact they had magic in them.
Red Shadows stars Solomon Kane, unlike the later carefree Conan, an obsessed revenger. It’s utterly convincing—for fans who would like Frank Miller in the jungle with giant apes, this is a good one. The Devil in Iron is a mid‐period Conan, with six‐foot women, magic unconsciousness, jungles and abandoned cities. I’ll propose that though this is Conan in full flow, the character is part of wider drama in a consistent fantasy landscape—I think this is part of why these stories stand while ‘superhero’ stories don’t.
Damon Knight
Mentioned a few times, Damon Knight was, like James Blish and L. Sprague De Camp, one of the all‐activity enthusiasts of the 50’s sci‐fi movement. If you can get your hands on it, I recommend his book of criticism, In Search Of Wonder. It’ll blow your memories of school essays clean away. Sadly, I’ve lost my copy.
I tried a longish short story, Special Delivery. First thing to say is that it has a central idea which, a few years later, would provide the base for some of the most memorable horror stories ever made. But Mr. Knight doesn’t play for horror, he plays for domestic frustration. It’s a fantasy, but the word you might use is ‘urbane’. These are some of the most likeable characters in this list. Now, characters are not necessary for Sci‐Fi, but here all is to purpose and, as a description of domestic frustration not to mention witty plot development, it’s involving. The snipped ending is as neat as it comes. What I found lacking, though, is that Mr. Knight’s engagement and generosity, so useful for his work as a critic, leads to a magpie style. He doesn’t get weight behind what seems to be a story with meaning for him. For what it’s worth, the idea of ‘the book’—you’ll know what I mean if you try reading—is clever, but also mundane.
I also tried another short story The Avenger This makes an impression quite unlike any other story on the list—it is a horror story written in horror style (interesting contrast to the above), with a narrator‐driven twist. An original twist on some big stories of the era, it’s effective, but doesn’t stick like some J. G. Ballard or William Gibson’s Hinterland. Maybe Damon Knight didn’t quite believe in this one, and it is more of a technical trick?
Project Gutenberg lists a handful of other short stories by Mr. Knight.
Cyril M. Kornbluth
The Marching Morons starts from what I find to be a corrupt and scientifically indefensible premise. That premise appeals to people on a deep but day‐to‐day level, so this short story has been very popular. What comes of this is some of the best writing in this list, a step above the solid‐competent. It’s also funny, a wit‐driven attack on the future‐fantasy genre. As such, worth comparing with The_Gernsback_Continuum by William Gibson, a different response to the same impulse.
If you are involved with SciFi With These Hands is a must‐read. Why? Because when the author was writing, the technology he described could and did not exist (though the practice was a societal trend). And now, as I write (2021, seventy years later), the technology has become available. In the last five or ten years. This makes the story a strange read. A sense of time is disrupted, as the story is present—do I, the reader, live in what I think is now, or post‐war? Using an unsubtle drama the story is well constructed, and it’s clear M. Kornbluth is one of the sharpest stylists here—a touch of concrete detail, an impulse, the rhythm of the city. If you are here for the wonder, and can handle a different subject, shovel off the download rate and try.
The Luckiest Man in Denv plays a neat trick on the reader, not signalling how it’s plot will meet an abrupt end. Well, perhaps there are a few signs. It also contains one of the most original world‐building ideas in this list, which sits in the background but is essential to the plot. The Psychological Regulator is good writing but takes three quarters of it’s length to reveal it’s trick—it’s going to take a dramatic convention of much sci‐fi hokum twist the end into something that represents both sides of the drama. It’s clear that M. Kornbluth knew how to shape these things from the inside‐out.
On Gutenberg, there’s only eight items by Cyril Kornbluth. He died very young, of a heart attack, but wrote enough. I have no quick explanation.
Henry Kuttner
It’s probably impossible to know what Henry Kuttner wrote—he used fake names like modern people trade brands, and reams of the output was co‐written, on reliable report, with his wife Catherine Moore. But the first novel has always been in my head, a sci‐fi blast of planet colonisation called ‘Fury’ that delivers pulp fiction in a thunderous sci‐fi environment—it could be a film by Paul Verdhoeven. Damon Knight thought the team together was the business. I tried The Ego Machine, a long short‐story. It’s very Fifties American, obsessed with the film industry and the star making machine—funny even today, polished, and lively as whisky soda. Well, M. Kuttner was an immigrant… Thunder in the Void is an interplanetary travel story. What’s interesting here is that the author introduces aliens—not necessary—then uses these on low‐key stock character and scenario proposals with a little melodrama to coax out a story. There are several little miracles of interplanetary travel story on this list, all different, and this is one of them. Noon is Empireland, and starts with the oldest trick of all, to fall into a dream, from where I thought there could be no rescue, but then arrived an idea of perfection‐as‐stasis and the story went somewhere to reach it’s flammable end—or maybe that was the idea from the start.
There’s not much of Henry Kuttner or his wife Catherine Moore on Gutenberg, which is a surprise. You’d think Gutenberg was the place.
Henry Kuttner and C L Moore
As noted, telling work by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore apart is difficult. Happy Ending is attributed originally to Henry Kuttner, but but Gutenberg references Moore/Kuttner. It’s a story that starts with it’s end, stars a robot, and stacks on time travel then powers of hypnosis and teleportation, As SciFi it’s nonsense that exploits it’s possibilities until the start, which is at the end. Mindbending.
R. A. Lafferty
The Six Fingers of Time uses two story ideas—time as flexible perception, and physical deformity as mark of talent—to pursue a story that could best be called Speculative Fiction of Theology. TheoFi? You heard me right. M. Lafferty’s style can seem clumsy, then you realise it is precise, careful and consistent. The characters are unlike in that they are not smart, agile or obsessed. The end asks you‐the‐reader to work out the implications of the characters refusal to endorse supernatural force. With it’s initial hook, it’s easy to see how this story got published but, even in the wide landscape of SciFi, it’s an outlier.
It would have helped me, so I’ll say—the title of Aloys is the name of a central character. The story has a subject about which much more should be written (on this list are far too few examples) the psychology and culture of science. Accept the amusing nonsense framework and a twist of melodrama and the story is true. As seems usual for this author the end is both something you need to work for yourself and hugely challenging—me, you and the world will be better for it. In The Garden is a rethink of the world‐building of others—rather than Empire or ancient‐history, the author locks into The Bible, then after some funny inter‐character talk pulls out the rug not once but twice. Never clearer that this author works in reverse to other writers here, as careful style wraps sucker‐punch ideas.
…and there’s seven more on Gutenberg.
Murray Leinster
Not the most famous of 50’s writers, but successful, Murray Leinster wrote by the yard. For anybody. To give you some idea, he turned out more than sixty novels, and that was before you count the articles, short stories, play scripts, and more. Interestingly, although his writing career pre‐dates the commerce of science fiction, he seemed to like the form—he was not a dabbler or evangelist.
I plucked from the barrel, The Pirates of Ersatz. The book is an adventure story in outer space. It doesn’t have the sharps of Harry Harrison, or the outlandish fantasy some of these novels can create. But it makes up for that with an even‐handed approach to society—the worlds the protagonist crosses vex him. And there is a practicality to the inter‐planetary setting that is thoughtful and maybe original—struggles with equipment and communication, opportunities and setbacks—what might it be like to skim the atmosphere of a planet in a spacecraft?—none of which you will find elsewhere. It’s ‘Biggles in Space’ and I have a place for that.
Project Gutenberg lists forty‐one works by Murray Leinster, many of them novels, none of which have heavy downloads. It is a little academic mystery—who is doing this work? Anyway, there is a load of it, though I can’t vouch for the others.
Fritz Leiber
Fritz Leiber was not a typical pulp fiction writer, being linked to theatre, film, and a writer of journalism. He wrote not only sci‐fi, but was knowingly a fantasy man, sourcing the Swords and Sorcery genre. I tried A Pail of Air. It’s a good sci‐fi story, with interesting style and a non‐pulp payoff which stands out a mile. That Fritz Leiber runs on non‐pulp fuel is obvious. His people do not ‘recoil in shock’ or ‘feel faint’ when they hear the words of others. I tried Dr. Kometevsky’s Day in which moon‐shattering proposals work out as drawing room comedy. Fritz Leiber also has an inclination towards submerged metaphor, which explodes throughout the descriptions of inter‐planetary travel in The Snowbank Orbit. That story also comes to a non‐twist end that most writers would not consider. The 64‐Square Madhouse shows another mark of M. Leiber’s work—like The Snowbank Orbit it is not only deeply researched, but M. Leiber finds ways to turn that research into propositions. This very long short story is particularly interesting because the science has come true, and did not work out as he described. However, before you dismiss the story for not being ‘prophetic’, consider that the dynamics M. Leiber constructed are still being played out today. And they are too‐seldom discussed—read this and you’ll learn something useful and unusual about computing. The Big Engine is a short sketch, psi‐fiction, thought‐provoking and well‐made. The Green Millennium is a novel, one of M. Leiber’s earlier. It plays out round the question “Where’s the cat?” A spectacular mix of Sci‐Fi and Fantasy where the mix is deliberate, not a muddle. It’s from what Damon Knight called the ‘Gonzo’ school of Sci‐Fi,
Dytie opened in the air a small doorway that was black as ink, and climbed inside. She turned round… urged “Come in, Phil”, and stretched a white arm… down to him.
No reviews anywhere, but with Leiber’s people, colourful writing style and ideas arriving every paragraph, fans shouldn’t hesitate.
And then there is Conjure Wife. This was a serialised novel, likely Fritz Leiber’s first. The basic idea is a sweet spot hit. Witches exist, but rather than being some old‐time sorcery tale, Fritz Leiber proposed witches exist today, so moved his scenario into a modern environment. It’s a very rare case of an artwork that can be verified as influential—several films have lifted the basic idea which, knowing or unknowing, remains a source for all ‘modern sorcery’ stories; and it’s not too much of a stretch to claim The Stepford Wives was a sharp recast of Conjure Wife’s psychological base. Nowadays the book’s college‐campus setting is self‐important and, though the characters are lively and their struggles convincing, the text doesn’t escape these limitations. Also a lack of body‐horror, political terror, or dramatic tension make the book more charming than scary. But there is a wealth of idea and human drama and, as Damon Knight wrote,
…the shocker at the end of Chapter 14, I am not ashamed to say that I jumped an inch out of my seat…
As good now as then.
There’s a lot of Fritz Leiber’s work on Gutenberg, though mostly short stories lifted from magazines.
Judith Merril
Organiser and anthologist, politically active and co‐writer of a few novels and a handful of short stories… Judith Merril was important without necessarily being a writer. The Lonely shows some of what she was. First, it has a inlaid document structure which is not of Sci‐Fi culture, more literary. And makes alien comments about sexuality. I don’t think either of these make it a better story, but what does tell is the dose of realism which makes the story more, not less, ambiguous and mysterious.
Only two Judith Merril entries on Gutenberg, but there’s not much out there.