Gutenberg Sci-Fi 7
Frederik Pohl and Cyril M. Kornbluth
Frederick Pohl and Cyril Kornbluth collaborated now and then, through perhaps seven years. I tried a short story The Engineer. Hard to prise apart at this distance, but an easily sketched and vaguely symbolic future environment occurs in other writing by Cyril Kornbluth, yet the not‐a‐twist end, which is low‐key and a conclusion of drama, may come from elsewhere. Good story.
M. Pohl and Kornbluth together wrote a handful of novels. Of these, Reach For The Stars (magazine‐serialised as Gravy Train) is famous—it shifted maybe 10 million copies. That book is not available on Gutenberg, but to this day is recommended as one of the best SciFi novels. A later novel, Search The Sky is available, and is impressive even now. Ok, the characters are sketchy, but they exist; and the character interaction is melodramatic, but amusing and inventive. The density of exploration in scenario is remarkable, beats near anything listed here. However, liking the book could depend on the plot—a ramble through three or four speculative societies. The end relies on a dubious biological premise, though it could be reworked as an argument for multi‐culturalism.
WolfBane is the last novel M. Pohl and Kornbluth wrote together. It’s usually called a novel, and after serialisation was published as such, but with a central character and shorter length I make it more of a long‐short story or ‘novella’. At base it has a common theme of the time, the importance of American Entrepreneurialism. France‐wise, as America is, this is individualistic. But the first chapters stick out from other writing here because of point‐of‐view writing in opposition. It’s rare enough to see this technique here, let alone in work convincing, sympathetic and inventive. The following chapters suffer from a problem I recall Damon Knight talking about in The Chrysalids by John Wyndham—a creepy beginning, with submerged wrongness, is exposed as plot, which kills the effect. However, Alfred Bester‐like, the authors then make a spectacular set of turns, leading to other moments and images that verge on horror. I’d also note that, despite the reputation of Sci‐Fi writing, this is only the third story on this list with aliens. Aliens way spookier and convincing than anything I have seen in film—script‐writers take note. If you want your Sci‐Fi weird, but can’t get on with Philip Dick, strongly recommended.
Five of the collaborations are available.
Fletcher Pratt
Damon Knight—short story writer, fan, and critic of 1950’s sci‐fi—noted Fletcher Pratt. As I recalled, he listed one of Fletcher Pratt’s books as one of six or so classics of the movement. A later check showed that as not correct, but Knight did devote a chapter to The Blue Star. To get this straight, the book is not science fiction. Damon Knight knew this, and was happy to review what he called Fantasy books, which were part of the same publishing uplift.
Anyway, The Blue Star proposes witchery and magic exist. It also, as these stories often do, throws back to a maybe 1700’s mentality, in 1500’s costume. However, the book takes a turn that is rare, as it holds to a level of social realism. Witchery, as the text sets up, is under control, and in most places illegal. So the book is not of superpowers, and neither is it the outstanding fantasy of, say, The Wizard of Oz. It’s an investigation, or speculation, on an alternative society, much as News from Nowhere by William Morris, or Animal Farm.
To build his world, Fletcher Pratt uses a language distorted from the common. This can be excruciating, but Mr. Pratt has cooked up a modest and inventive stew. To pull a page, the language uses backwards query “”Have you the Blue Star…?”, Anglo‐Saxonism, “She is my sweetheart”, and active verbs, “gripped”. Though there are no language figures, Mr. Pratt is alert to the sound of words in a way nobody else here is. For example, an obvious, “…showed this first visitor to be holding a naked sword, that dripped, plash, plash, on the stone.” And the drama is uncommon, as you know why the people are to do something, but often do not know what they will do. There’s only one pulp fiction move in the plot, and it’s no worse than, and as necessary as, any number of good writers might turn out.
I can’t think who I would recommend The Blue Star to. If it’s Swords and Sorcery you like, there are no dragons or mountains. If you like pulp opera there are no armies or nation‐saving. If you like grand literature, you may get a little fretful about a swim through a world of tall ships and boarding houses. Strangely, a personal response, the book brought to my mind the idea of a light‐hearted Honour Balzac. Lengthy, but I’m glad I read this one.
The Onslaught from Rigel is an early work that pre‐dates the Golden Age of SciFi. Initially, the story irritated, as the proposal is a comet—fantasy pitched as science fiction. Once I got past that, this small novel sticks to it’s proposals. It’s written in a mannered but likeable style—the talk between characters is especially odd but entertaining,
“Who touched off the pineapple, boyfriend?”
A long sequence about weapon conception and building sounds more plausible (for it’s time) than anything else I’ve read. The plot is built from war scenes admirable in their terseness and variety. The author mildly speculates from the bases to work up some dreamy scenes. All in all, it’s perhaps the most enjoyable early sci‐fi effort I’ve ever read.
Fletcher Pratt wrote reams about history and military, but only a few sci‐fi or fantasy works. It is said he shifted concept radically on each one. There’s a handful of works available on Gutenberg.
Lester del Rey
Editor and writer, who invented nonsense about his name (‘Leonard Knapp’) and life. …And It Comes Out Here is the usual illogic generated by time travel. The author good humouredly steps through and about this, salvaging a happy future for all mankind. The social drama is amiable, feels historical even for the time, and in every dimension the thing is twaddle.
I’m going to hand over to an abbreviated quote from Algis Budrys, from Wikipedia,
The typical del Rey character is an individual who is trying to do the decent thing… The typical… problem is that of a good and faithful being trying to understand a complex situation… When he writes a story whose problem becomes apparent only in the last paragraphs, this is frequently the nature of his “trick” ending — the mood is not shock but sorrow…
Could be the plot summary of Victory. Victory is only 70 pages or so, but the shifts of identity is an original form—a mini novel, not a short story. Not for the first time, I say this may be 50’s Sci‐Fi, but it’s not hard‐core—it’s a cultural drama with with a little war strategy thrown in. This story taught me something—this is the first on the list where I felt the text sprang from something the author wanted to say. If you like that more elusive feel, delivered by aliens whose heads look like chickens, recommended. The Course of Logic introduces aliens, we mostly only hear their thoughts, with biological details to purpose. Also a gender‐culture switch to add humour, and yes, those disguised plot moves that leave a character gazing sadly at the night sky. Dead Ringer is an aliens story of ready‐mades well‐assembled (which could be re‐imagined in many styles), with an ending that would bring humanity, so to speak, to many other texts.
Twenty two on Gutenberg, so much to dig.
Anna Sewell
Long before the Sci‐Fi uplift, the 1870’s, Anna Sewell wrote a book. An uncredited comment from Wikipedia,
The book is considered to be one of the first English novels to be written from the perspective of a non‐human animal, in this case a horse.
I’m in no position to say if Black Beauty was the first story written from an animal’s outlook. However, it was and remains a popular work. Though often regarded as a book for children, it is good also for adults. The book is written in a calm, verbose style which starts like this,
The first place that I can well remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it. Some shady trees leaned over it, and rushes and water‐lilies grew at the deep end.
Modern writers may assume some of the thing‐words, and drop the join‐words. But the writing is always precise and vivid. And M. Sewell convinces she knew horses and their lives. As the story progresses, there is a wealth of detail and incident, perhaps of drama low‐key for modern tastes, but drama nonetheless. The story of Beauty’s injury, disfigurement and later treatment is fired by a passion that could only have come from a writer who was herself lamed early in childhood. The submerged appeals for kindness and charity may seen a little naive to modern life, but are gentle and it’s still a compelling argument that good husbandry will lead to good nature.
Now, let me propose this book had been written, perhaps in slightly different style, then released ninety years later? Would it not have been classed as Sci‐Fi? Perhaps not hardcore Sci‐Fi, but projection into the outlook of a horse could be classed as Fantasy. One of the bases of Cordwainer Smith’s Game of Rat and Dragon is to see from the mind of a cat. Plenty of others, for example Robert Sheckley, put readers into alien outlooks or beholding wondrous views. The generality that all fiction attempts this is an assertion towards the banal. But if restricted to the alien view, Black Beauty raises questions about book classification and the cultural status of categories of fiction. Try switching this discussion to multi‐culturalism, then hear the fires explode and rage.
Black Beauty was the written near the end of Anna Sewell’s life, and the only fiction she ever published.
Robert Sheckley
Ask a Foolish Question showed us the future, and has come true. But the future is a drama, and the point is relevant now as it was then. As a guy who knows a bit about this, I thought of what could have been done with this story by the likes of Samuel Beckett or Kurt Vonnegut. This is brushing against Douglas Adams’s territory, a crew of characters more varied then you usually get, and a lively writing style. Intrigued, I tried Keep Your Shape. This takes an idea from a gray area between science and fantasy, metamorphosis, then throws in an original and near‐funny plot drama—it seems that Mr. Sheckley is good at taking the proposition then heading in unlikely directions,
“Interesting,” said the tree…
And Proof Of The Pudding uses a a post‐apocalyptic drama to raise a hallucinogenic drama that is not as acute as Philip K. Dick, but on his territory. The Status Civilization is a cornball from this author, a novel, a prison drama into an invert‐joke society, with stock dramas to a stock end. More Soc‐Fi than Sci‐Fi, nowadays this would be an excuse for violence, but with this author it’s more about amusing social commentary.
The critic Damon Knight gave a mixed assessment of the work of Robert Sheckley. He disliked the non‐scientific propositions of the stories and grumbled the protagonists (when they appeared) were idiots, if bright; but liked the terse telling and logic of plot. Seems to me a difference of weight, not opinion, that I don’t mind the fantasy base and love the Sheckley way with development. If you can live with that, The Leech gives an alien that is at base an action, or one side of a drama, which I find far more compelling than the usual human‐with‐tentacles. Which the author disposes of for a neat ending. I figured an alien by Robert Sheckley would be worth my time. Watchbird suffers from a plot which depends on the characters being idiots. That said, it introduces an anti‐gun and the idea of artificial intelligence. The argument follows the recent debate on artificial intelligence closely so either M. Sheckley was a genius or we are idiots lost in satire, or both. Warm is an oddity even from an M. Sheckley base. It proposes a psychological moment that most people will know, unwraps that moment—with brief references to psychology and a philosopher—then disposes with a cute ending. Sci‐Fi in method, or the ‘parable’ that Damon Knight was unsure about, it’s PsiFi the way it should be done.
There’s about thirty of Robert Sheckley’s shots on Gutenberg, so check in.
Robert Silverberg
Robert Silverberg was a professional writer and—rarely for this at‐base commercial area and without ever having a legendary top hit—made good money. Maybe that was because, even by science fiction (and romance) commercial standards, he wrote more than seems possible for one human. M. Silverberg is also known because, as the age of Sci‐Fi moved into it’s later season of the mid‐Sixties, he shifted concern and style into areas deeper. Master of Life and Death dates as 1957, the end of M. Silverberg’s early period, when the Sci‐Fi market died and for a while he turned to history, pornography and other fields. ‘Master of Life and Death’ is a long story, a mini‐novel, patched together from ready‐mades like spaceflight and immortality serums. It reminds me of a loose generality by Damon Knight, that, on the whole, English and other writers were better at internal drama (‘characterization’) and dialogue, but Americans could get societal drama (‘plot’) moving—because the ready‐mades here have only the bare minimum attention, and the whole thing has an amazing drive. And there is a useful if shallow base about population control.
Over thirty of Siverberg’s earlier work on Gutenberg, so plenty to read.
Robert Silverberg and Randall Garrett
Randall Garrett was Robert Silverberg’s neighbour, and in the early phase they often collaborated and co‐credited. Anyway, Slaughter on Dornel 5 is a very short story, and is Sci‐Fi only in it’s monster‐pitch—otherwise, it’s a bar‐room brawl. Of all the stories I’ve read, it’s the closest to a model of what ‘sci‐fi’ was at the time.
Maybe five or more of the collaborations on Gutenberg, so interesting and rare to get a feel for this.
Clifford Simak
Ah, Clifford Simak. 50’s writer, reputedly an amiable guy, well‐liked, who said he stuck to science. Well, Project Mastodon is the usual nonsense generated by time‐travel, might have been better interplanetary? Never mind. the interest is in the real‐world practicalities and politics involved in colonisation. Wouldn’t get much of a look‐in in most Sci‐Fi. Poul Anderson is I think sharper, and Robert Sheckley more amusingly fantastic, but this is it’s own thing, has a quiet end, and worth the read. The Call from Beyond is in what might be called the Clifford style—interplanetary adventure and fantasy, but only a few characters, concentration on them, less conflict‐drama, a few touches that seem personal like observations on drunkenness—if not finished, he’s onto something. Second Childhood was for me, given my reading so far, a bolt from the unknown. The author starts from the idea of immortality, not uncommon in ‘SciFi’, but fantasy. When are authors going to accept and grapple with… to not go too far, but that yes, catastrophe aside lifespans will increase, but immortality, no? But the author here proposes a difficulty, then offers a part‐plausible and wonderful solution. Best I’ve read so far, and it’s becoming exposed that these reviews do not, as yet, work as map for this author.
Eleven of Clifford Simak on Gutenberg—a reasonable representation.