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1955: Amazing Stories

For our Best of 1955 group read I thought I’d look over some of the less successful science fiction magazines published that year. I started with Amazing Stories. Howard Browne had been editing the magazine since 1950 but would leave in 1956 to move to Hollywood to become a moderately successful TV scriptwriter (Maverick, Cheyenne, Bourbon Street Beat, 77 Sunset Strip, Mission Impossible, Mannix, The Rockford Files). Browne helped Amazing Stories transition away from the pulp format and its obsession with the Shaver Mystery. He began 1955 with this editorial:

In the following issue Browne promised further improvements which included a book review column and a fanzine review column. Throughout 1955 the letter column kept growing, and it was apparent that Amazing Stories had its faithful fans. To help members of my reading group get a sense of the magazine, I made a .pdf file that had the covers, table of contents, book reviews, fanzine reviews, and some letters of comments from the seven issues of Amazing Stories from 1955. Get the file: 1955: Amazing Stories Overview. If you want, you can read the seven 1955 issues at the Internet Archive.

Despite Amazing Stories being the first magazine devoted to publishing exclusively science fiction, and its fame in science fiction history, damn few stories have been reprinted from its pages. In its early years, Amazing mostly published classic reprints by Wells, Verne, and others. Just look at the table of contents from two anthologies devoted to collecting the best of its stories:

Amazing Stories: 60 Years of the Best Science Fiction (1985) edited by Isaac Asimov and Martin H. Greenberg.

  • The Revolt of the Pedestrians • (1928) • novelette by David H. Keller, M.D.
  • The Gostak and the Doshes • (1930) • short story by Miles J. Breuer, M.D.
  • Pilgrimage • (1939) • novelette by Nelson S. Bond
  • I, Robot • (1939) • by Eando Binder
  • The Strange Flight of Richard Clayton • (1939) • short story by Robert Bloch
  • The Perfect Woman • (1953) • short story by Robert Sheckley
  • Memento Homo • (1954) • short story by Walter M. Miller, Jr.
  • What Is This Thing Called Love? • (1961) • short story by Isaac Asimov
  • Requiem • (1962) • short story by Edmond Hamilton
  • Hang Head, Vandal! • (1962) • short story by Mark Clifton
  • Drunkboat • (1963) • novelette by Cordwainer Smith
  • The Days of Perky Pat • (1963) • novelette by Philip K. Dick
  • Semley’s Necklace • (1964) • short story by Ursula K. Le Guin
  • Calling Dr. Clockwork • (1965) • short story by Ron Goulart
  • There’s No Vinism Like Chauvinism • novelette by John Jakes
  • The Oögenesis of Bird City • (1970) • short story by Philip José Farmer?
  • The Man Who Walked Home • (1972) • short story by James Tiptree, Jr.
  • Manikins • (1976) • short story by John Varley
  • In the Islands • (1983) • short story by Pat Murphy

The Best from Amazing Stories (1973) edited by Ted White

  • No Charge for Alterations • (1953) • novelette by H. L. Gold
  • The Augmented Agent • (1961) • novelette by Jack Vance
  • The Misfit • (1963) • short story by Roger Zelazny
  • The Dowry of Angyar • (1964) • short story by Ursula K. Le Guin
  • Placement Test • (1964) • novelette by Keith Laumer
  • The Horn of Time the Hunter • (1963) • short story by Poul Anderson
  • Phoenix • (1963) • short story by Marion Zimmer Bradley and Ted White
  • Rogue Psi • (1962) • novelette by James H. Schmitz

Not exactly classics, are they? And most of the stories by well-known authors were early works. So, I wasn’t expecting much when I went looking through the issues that came out in 1955. I found that most of the stories have never been reprinted since their publication in Amazing in 1955. And those few that were reprinted were reprinted in Amazing or other cheap reprint magazines.

I’ve always wondered why stories from Astounding/Analog, F&SF, and Galaxy have dominated the table of contents of anthologies published before 1970. Still, since my reading group will be discussing the best science fiction short stories from 1955, I thought I’d give Amazing Stories a look over. The first story of 1955 was:

I read “. . . now you don’t” by James Leland, to get the feel for things. You can read it online. This story is Leland’s only entry in ISFDB.org, and it gives no biographical data, so I don’t know how old he was. In 1955, most of the stories in Amazing were written by just a few writers, with several of them also packing the issues with pseudonyms. I’m guessing Leland was made up name. Since many of the stories have a New York City connection, and written by a small group of writers, I’m assuming they all knew each other and the editor. They appear to be young, smart, and precocious, but not very experienced or sophisticated. Maybe a little street wise, or trying to pass that off.

The writing for “. . . now you don’t” is not good, but it is readable, and even fun. I’d call it good bad writing. Leland has obviously seen the Frank Capra film, You Can’t Take It with You, and builds the setting and mood of “. . . now you don’t” around it. To add science fiction, he took H. G. Wells’ The Invisible Man and spiced it up with some Thorne Smith naughtiness. The story is just a tiny bit risqué, throwing in a few bits of innuendo. Leland tries to sound well-read by throwing in references to novels people read in college, but the story really reflects being well-read in pulp fiction.

I get the impression from looking through the stories that these guys were mostly would-be writers and used Amazing Stories as a practicum. Quite a few famous writers got their start with Amazing, but quickly moved on. There were no famous names in the 1955 issues, but there were in the 1954 and 1956 issues — such as Philip K. Dick and Frank Herbert.

The writer I was most interested in was Paul W. Fairman, who would become the editor of Amazing and Fantastic after Browne left in 1956. He was also the first editor of If. Fairman sometimes used the house name Ivar Jorgensen, which other writers also used. Using the Jorgensen name, Fairman published “Deadly City” in the March 1953 issue of If. That was one of my favorite stories from 1953, and it was made into the film Target Earth in 1954. That was one of the first science fiction movies I saw as a kid back in the 1950s. Fairman also wrote about twenty forgotten SF novels, many coauthored with Lester del Rey.

Fairman had seven stories published in 1955, three in Amazing and four in Fantastic. I figured I would start with those three stories to see if any of them were worth remembering in 2023. Amazing Stories was a decent place to start a writing career but a terrible place to be left behind.

Fairman published “The Cosmic Frame” in May, a story about two teenagers on a date who run over an alien in a Packard. The alien’s companions take an interesting revenge on the kids. In September, Fairman wrote about a more complicated alien invasion in “One Man to Kill.” Finally, in November, he told a man from Mars story, “The Man in the Ice Box” — although the superintelligent alien in this story wasn’t really from Mars. Because the four stories I’ve read by Fairman all involve invasions from space I could think of him as Mr. Alien Invader.

The three Fairman stories from 1955 Amazing were all readable and entertaining enough if you shut your critical eye. They were about as good as an average TV show from the 1950s. All three would have made middling episodes of The Twilight Zone, especially “The Man in the Ice Box,” which started out like a humorous TZ but ended with a nice philosophical punch. “The Cosmic Frame” would have made a TZ episode with a horrifying twist ending.

However, none of the stories I’ve read out of Amazing from 1955 have any sparkle or pizzazz. They were okay hack writing. Back in the 1960s when I first discovered Amazing and Fantastic, it was in used bookshops, and I could get them for a dime. I like the ones edited by Cele Goldsmith. Then I started buying the new ones edited by Ted White. They were never as good as F&SF, Galaxy, or Analog, but they were fun. I don’t know if I should admit it, but I found the stories from Amazing 1955 more entertaining than many of the intellectual/literary stories in The Big Book of Science Fiction or The World Treasury of Science Fiction — both anthologies that tried to impress that science fiction is sophisticated, worldly, and diverse.

If you liked the old Winston Science Fiction series from the 1950s, you might like Amazing Stories from the 1950s too.

I haven’t found a story yet that I’d make a case it was one of the best SF stories of 1955. I’d rate them all 2+ stars, which is my way of saying they were less than professionally written, but likeable. I consider 3-stars to be competent and professional. A plus means I found a story likeable. I’m going to keep reading from 1955 Amazing for a bit longer.

James Wallace Harris, 8/26/23

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“Party Line” by Gérard Klein

“Party Line” by Gérard Klein is story #49 of 52 from The World Treasury of Science Fiction edited by David G. Hartwell (1989), an anthology my short story club is group reading. Stories are discussed on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “Party Line” was first published in French in Fiction (March 1969). It was translated into English in 1976 for The Best from the Rest of World: European Science Fiction edited by Donald A. Wollheim.

This is the second appearance of Gérard Klein in The World Treasury of Science Fiction. See my earlier review of “The Valley of Echoes.” After I read that story, I bought two of Klein’s novels, but I haven’t read them yet. I’m not sure I would have done that after only reading “Party Line.” However, one of those novels, The Day Before Tomorrow has a blurb that could fit with “Party Line” — “To Dominate the Future — Change the Past.”

“Party Line” uses one of my favorite science fictional concepts — having a future older-self influence a younger-self. Jerome Bosch is working in his office when he receives two phone calls on two separate phones. The phone in the left hand tells him he’s going to receive a terrific opportunity, and the one is the right warns against taking it.

Jerome Bosch is also a writer. He fantasizes at work about having all his time free to write. And I must wonder if Klein was working in his office one day, daydreaming this idea about himself and deciding to work it into a story. At first, it felt like “Party Line” was something Philip K. Dick would write. But then the dominant mood of the story shifted to indecision, paranoia, and fear, which is still PKD’s territory, but the story felt weirdly different, more like Kafka.

The first caller calls back and tells Jerome if he will only do what he says, his books will be made into movies, he will become rich and famous, and have lots of women. Then the other caller calls back and tells him something terrible will happen. For the rest of the story Jerome can’t decide.

I liked “Party Line” until I got to the end. Unfortunately, it’s one of those stories that promises a lot, but doesn’t know how to deliver on its promises. “Party Line” does have an ending, but one, I thought Klein had to scrounge up when he discovered he had painted himself into a corner.

I wrote an older self advises younger self story when I was at Clarion West. The problem is people seldom take advice. I wondered if someone would take advice from themselves. Klein complicates the idea by having two versions of his future self give him advice. That created a lot of tension for the story, but I wonder if “Party Line” would have been better if Jerome had only gotten one phone call from the future. How many people would jump at getting everything they wanted if they got a message from their future self?

The idea of an older version of a person trying to influence their younger self is a challenging problem for writers. David Gerrold did an excellent job with it in The Man Who Folded Himself. But to fully explore the idea, I think people should read Replay by Ken Grimwood. It’s not the same exact idea, but it works out the same philosophical problem. The idea needs novel length to work out.

I believe my disappointment with “Party Line” is because Gérard Klein should have made it into a novel and worked out a satisfying ending. However, I might reread “Party Line” in the future and see it differently. Maybe my future self will understand it better.

James Wallace Harris, 8/26/23

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Group Read 63: The Best SF Short Stories of 1955

Over at the Facebook group Best Science Fiction and Fantasy Short Fiction I’m about to lead Group Read 63 starting September 7th. It will be devoted to the best short SF stories from 1955. We have four moderators, of which I’m one. We take turns leading our Facebook group in reading an anthology, or other collections of SF short stories. I’ve decided my group reads will become an ongoing project of reading the best short SF of the year starting in 1955 (which was when the Hugo Awards began). We won’t use a specific anthology but use the Classics of Science Fiction database. Most of the stories will come from the anthologies pictured above, but we hope they are widely found in many anthologies and online. Participation often depends on the availability of stories.

To keep Group Read 63 reading list short, to around 15-20 stories for each year, the minimum number of citations in the database was set to 2. You can use the List Builder to see the stories for each year. Set the Start Year and End Year to the same year (in this case “1955”), the Minimum Citations to “2,” and Citation Type to “Story.” If you set the citation to one, you’ll see all the stories in the database from 1955. If you click on “Show Citation” you will see the citation sources.

Here’s our reading list for 1955 ordered by number of citations. That gives us twenty-two stories, of which we’ve previously read and discussed seven. For Group Read 63, we’ll read the fifteen we haven’t discussed before. Here they are with their start discussion dates:

  • 09/07/23 – “Allamagoosa” by Eric Frank Russell
  • 09/09/23 – “Nobody Bothers Gus” by Algis Budrys
  • 09/12/23 – “The Tunnel Under the World” by Frederik Pohl
  • 09/14/23 – “A Canticle for Leibowitz” by Walter M. Miller, Jr.
  • 09/16/23 – “One Ordinary Day, with Peanuts” by Shirley Jackson
  • 09/19/23 – “The Cave of Night” by James E. Gunn
  • 09/21/23 – “The Darfsteller” by Walter M. Miller, Jr.
  • 09/23/23 – “The Dead Fish” by Boris Vian
  • 02/26/23 – “Delenda Est” by Poul Anderson
  • 09/28/23 – “Dreaming Is a Private Thing” by Isaac Asimov
  • 09/30/23 – “Home There’s No Returning” by Henry Kuttner, C. L. Moore
  • 10/03/23 – “Judgment Day” by L. Sprague de Camp
  • 10/05/23 – “The Short Life” by Francis Donovan
  • 10/07/23 – “The Short-Short Story of Mankind” by John Steinbeck
  • 10/10/23 – “Who?” by Theodore Sturgeon

The seven previously discussed stories will be reviewed on 10/12/23. They are (with previous discussion link):

My turn to lead a group read comes up about four times a year, which means the years 1956-1959 will be covered next year in 2024. That’s assuming the group likes this idea.

I plan during the weeks we’re discussing the stories from 1955 to have an ongoing thread where people can write about any story they’ve read and admired from 1955. And I will have another thread discussing what was happening with science fiction in general in 1955, with a focus on SF magazines.

What I’m hoping to achieve is an ongoing study of the evolution of science fiction starting with the year 1955. The Facebook group is open to anyone, but if you join, please answer the two questions. We use those two questions to weed out spammers and let people know our group is focused on science fiction short stories. (For people who hate Facebook, we try hard to police the group and keep out spammers, trolls, self-promoters, and off-topic comments that ruin the atmosphere of the group.)

Here are the posts we’ve made planning the project. As we discuss stories they will be automatically added to that link.

To get you interested in 1955, here’s Rich Horton’s review of the 1956 Hugo Award. He goes over the winners, finalists, and stories he thought should have been considered.

I also hope to review the stories individually here for this blog.

James Wallace Harris, 8/24/23

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“Nobody’s Home” by Joanna Russ

“Nobody’s Home” by Joanna Russ is story #48 of 52 from The World Treasury of Science Fiction edited by David G. Hartwell (1989), an anthology my short story club is group reading. Stories are discussed on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “Nobody’s Home” was first published in 1972 in New Directions II, an original anthology edited by Robert Silverberg.

“Nobody’s Home” is one of those science fiction stories where the author tries to cram in as many speculative ideas into each sentence and paragraph as possible. Joanna Russ paints us a picture of a utopian future where the Earth’s population is vastly smaller, and everyone is rich enough to do whatever they want. The whole of humanity routinely wanders across the face of the Earth via teleportation booths, seeing sites, having casual affairs, pursuing hobbies, whims, and vocations. If they wanted, they could view twenty-five sunsets from various locations around the world in one twenty-four-hour period. And they can choose any environment, no matter how extreme, in which to build their abodes.

Janina, our main character, is highly intelligent and lives in a family commune that includes numerous kinds of marriage arrangements, hookups, and parent-child relationships. Their family name is Komarov. This reminded me of the group marriages in “The Star Pit” by Samuel R. Delany. Household members speak in clever repartee that challenge each other in verbal games. The parents are all geniuses, and their children are even smarter.

So, what kind of problems mar this bright future? Well, the commune gets a visit from a young woman named Leslie Smith, who is ordinary. I assume Leslie is like one of us from the 21st century. She’s not that smart, not that good looking, not that clever. She can handle monotonous work tasks and enjoys herself by pursuing boring solitary activities. She can’t play the verbal games, nor can she pick up on the household’s carefully crafted social customs. Leslie is a bringdown to have around. The group tries to be kind to her, but in the end, they decide to pass Leslie on, like so many others have done with her before.

I’m curious why Russ wrote this story. Russ was a highly intelligent woman, so I wondered if the story was inspired by having to deal with a dull house guest. Or did she imagine a far-out future and wanted to point out that present-day plebians like us wouldn’t fit in with the hoi polloi of the future.

I know I couldn’t keep up with the future world of “Nobody’s Home.” I struggled to read the story slow enough to decipher all the alluded to ideas that Russ presented.

But, what about the title “Nobody’s Home?” Could Russ have intended something different? Could the unease the Komarov family felt when Leslie shows up be caused by them recognizing their own lack of purpose? That instead of no one being at home in Leslie’s head, that there’s no one home in their commune, or even Earth?

Joanna Russ is famous for her feminist fiction, but I didn’t feel this story was about feminism. This is the third time I’ve read this story and I’m still not sure what it’s about. It could be an attack on the high-tech fantasies science fiction writers love to give to the future. I imagine if you’re a science fiction reader who feels like a Slan, then maybe you see there’s nobody home regarding Leslie. But if you’re a critic of science fiction, you might think there’s nobody home with these Eloi-like beings of this future.

James Wallace Harris, 8/23/23

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“How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface” by Stanislaw Lem

“How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface” by Stanislaw Lem is story #47 of 52 from The World Treasury of Science Fiction edited by David G. Hartwell (1989), an anthology my short story club is group reading. Stories are discussed on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface,” a 1964 Polish story was first published in English in Mortal Engines in 1971.

I won’t argue that “How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface” is not science fiction, because people are tired of me doing that, but just listen to this audiobook version of the story in Mortal Engines.

I found Lem’s prose charming and dazzling, and “How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface” is a fun fairytale about a cybernetic king who captures a human for his collection of curiosities. Unfortunately, the wily human tricks the king’s daughter into giving him her windup key and forces the king into letting him go. But the human doesn’t keep his part of the bargain to return the key. The princess winds down, and the king announces to his kingdom that anyone who returns the key can marry his daughter.

Hartwell’s introduction makes me wonder why he included this story in his anthology.

My hunch as I read “How Erg the Self-Inducting Slew a Paleface” was Lem holds science fiction in contempt, and his story is poking fun at science fiction readers. Now, that’s not saying this story isn’t impressive. Of course, Lem shows quite a bit of disdain for humanity too. But read this page to see if you agree with me. This could be my own aging cynicism reading into Lem, so you decide.

I liked this story despite it not being the kind of story I wanted to find in this anthology.

James Wallace Harris, 8/22/23

p.s. – I missed reviewing several stories from The World Treasury of Science Fiction because I’ve been having back trouble and can’t sit at the computer for long, and for two weeks we lost our connection to the internet. I might go back and review them in the future.

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“Weihnachtabend” by Keith Roberts

If not read carefully, “Weihnachtabend” by Keith Roberts will come across as just another alternate history about Hitler winning WWII. “Weihnachtabend” is more subtle, it’s an alternate history where England and German never fought, but made an alliance, and eventually ruled over Europe together. They called their alliance the Two Empires, graphically symbolizing it with the Lion, and the Eagle.

I have read many books and watched many movies and television shows set in England in the mid-20th century. And one historical event that has come up often is when Neville Chamberlain signed the Munich Agreement in 1938. Roberts imagines what if peace between Germany and England had played out, and, if the English fascists had come to power. In the alternate history timeline of this story the Munich Agreement is The Cologne settlement.

Roberts writes beautifully, painting with impressionistic details rather than flatly telling us what happened.

“Weihnachtabend” by Keith Roberts is story #44 of 52 from The World Treasury of Science Fiction edited by David G. Hartwell (1989), an anthology my short story club is group reading. Stories are discussed on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “Weihnachtabend” was first published in New Worlds Quarterly 4 (1972) edited by Michael Moorcock. You can read it here. “Weihnachtabend” is also in The Grain Kings, which collects seven of Keith Roberts stories. It’s currently available for $1.99 at Amazon for the Kindle edition.

I highly recommend reading “Weihnachtabend” before reading my essay for two reasons. First, this story is a masterpiece of alternate history and is well-worth reading. Second, it’s a test of reading ability. The story is not hard to read, but instead of just telling what’s happening, Keith Roberts gives us pieces to put a mental jigsaw puzzle together. The story is dense with clues and implications about history and people.

“Weihnachtabend” tested my reading ability, and I didn’t do very well on my first reading. The title means Christmas Eve — I had to look that up. I read the story slowly, trying my best to understand it, but it wasn’t until afterwards that all the subtle aspects were revealed when I read Paul Kincaid’s review. I was further enlightened by Joachim Boaz’s review.

Clarity came with my second reading, and even then, I’m not sure I saw everything Roberts intended. I’m learning in old age that fiction needs two readings before you begin to understand it. It’s a shame that knowledge has come so late in life. No matter how hard I try to become a better reader, and I’ve been trying my whole life, the only thing I keep learning is how bad my reading ability still is and how much more I need to learn.

Keith Roberts’ fiction is a great test for understanding what you read. I’ve read his fix-up novel Pavane and a couple other stories. His prose is dense with layers and depth. Roberts also has a great imagination and creates beautifully visual scenes. If only someone would film his stories.

“Weihnachtabend” opens as Richard Mainwaring and Diane Hunter approach Wilton Great House while riding in a chauffeured Mercedes. Right from the beginning Roberts presents the constant presence of paranoia. Richard notices that the communication channel between the back of the car and the chauffeur is always open, and the chauffeur is listening. Before they get to the country house — I picture it as a manor house of the aristocracy, they come to a wall with watchtowers and pillboxes, and guards with machine guns. The guards speak German.

Richard gives his identity card which says: “Die rechte Hand des Gesandten.” We learn that Richard is the right-hand man of the messenger, and we’re eventually told his title is “Personal Assistant to the British Minister of Liaison.” The identity card also tells the guard Miss Hunter is from his department. (I’ve completely forgotten my high school German, so I had to depend on Google to translate. Knowledge of most of the German phrases in the story aren’t needed to understand the story, but not all.)

Diane is extremely nervous, but then so is Richard. Why is he nervous if he’s a top dog in the ruling political party? Diane is a beautiful blonde who Richard had known long ago. She belongs to someone he knew, a man named James, but for this trip, she is with him.

As the story progresses, we learn we’re in England, but it’s years after the period we know as WWII. England and Germany rule Europe. They fear America. But for some reason, the alliance is dominated by Germany, and the English leadership speak German. There is unrest in England and elsewhere, but the leadership maintains order much like the authoritarian rule in Nineteen Eighty-Four. At the top is King Edward VIII and a Fuehrer named Ziegler (I think. It’s confusing about what happened to Hitler, or who is the Fuehrer. Hess is deputy Fuehrer.) We know it’s decades later because they have large screen televisions, and rollneck shirts. I assume this means a turtleneck which was trendy in the 1960s, and around the time Roberts wrote the story.

Roberts doesn’t have a specific message in this story. He just paints a tableau. Richard, in the end, has something to say to the reader, but what he says, we’ve known all along from our history.

What makes the story compelling to read is figuring out what is happening to Richard. At first, it’s just a Christmas Eve party for extraordinarily rich people. Richard is given a Lamborghini by his boss. There is a description of a brutal hunt, and a bizarre Christmas tradition for children. Richard and Diane have sex, and we feel they are old lovers who are finally going to get together. Then Diane disappears and Richard becomes unhinged, eventually confronting his boss with a Lüger.

As I’ve said, the story has many layers. Like in Philip K. Dick’s novel, The Man in the High Castle, there’s a meaningful-to-the-story book like The Grasshopper Lies Heavy. However, instead of being from another timeline, Toward Humanity is from Richard’s own timeline. The writer’s name is Geissler, and his book is banned. Richard finds this dangerous volume planted in his room. It’s published by the Freedom Front. Richard doesn’t know if his party is testing him or if the opposition is trying to recruit him.

And Richard wonders why he’s so lucky to suddenly acquire a beautiful blonde. Is she who she says she is, or is she a plant from his party to test him, or an agent of the Freedom Front? Blondes are a reward to good party men, easily bought and traded. When Richard’s blonde goes missing everyone wants to pretend, she never existed.

Along the way, we are given clues about this world with quotes from Toward Humanity. Here are three quotes:

The Cologne settlement, though seeming to offer hope of security to Jews already domiciled in Britain, in fact paved the way for campaigns of intimidation and extortion similar to those already undertaken in history, notably by King John. The comparison is not unapt; for the English bourgeoisie, anxious to construct a rationale, discovered many unassailable precedents. A true Sign of the Times, almost certainly, was the resurgence of interest in the novels of Sir Walter Scott. By 1942 the lesson had been learned on both sides; and the Star of David was a common sight on the streets of most British cities.

---

In 1940, her Expeditionary Force shattered, her allies quiescent or defeated, the island truly stood alone. Her proletariat, bedeviled by bad leadership, weakened by a gigantic depression, was effectively without a voice. Her aristocracy, like their Junker counterparts, embraced coldly what could no longer be ignored; while after the Whitehall Putsch the Cabinet was reduced to the status of an Executive Council …

 
---

Against immeasurable force, we must pit cunning; against immeasurable evil, faith and a high resolve. In the war we wage, the stakes are high; the dignity of man, the freedom of the spirit, the survival of humanity. Already in that war, many of us have died; many more, undoubtedly, will lay down their lives. But always, beyond them, there will be others; and still more. We shall go on, as we must go on, till this thing is wiped from the earth. Meanwhile, we must take fresh heart. Every blow, now, is a blow for freedom. In France, Belgium, Finland, Poland, Russia, the forces of the Two Empires confront each other uneasily. Greed, jealousy, mutual distrust; these are the enemies, and they work from within. This, the Empires know full well. And, knowing, for the first time in their existence, fear …

We doubt Richard is persuaded by this political rhetoric. The ending of the story is quite dramatic. The final scene also reminds me of the final message of Nineteen Eighty-Four. I must wonder if Keith Roberts was commenting on the current political climate in England of 1972 when and where he wrote “Weihnachtabend.”

I know in 2023 there is much distrust of government everywhere. Was Robert’s paranoia any different than an average citizen? Who really controls us?

James Wallace Harris, 8/16/23

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How Should We Judge Heinlein’s Stranger in a Strange Land in 2023?

I recently watched a devastating “review” of Stranger in a Strange Land on YouTube. (Watch it below.) The short film summarized the plot of the novel, but in a way that made the story ridiculous. When I first watched it, I didn’t think the sarcasm and satire was unfair. I first read Stranger in 1965 when I was thirteen, and I loved it. I’ve reread it many times over the decades, but with each rereading I became more disappointed with the story. So, the criticisms made by Overly Sarcastic Productions resonated with the memories I have of listening to the audiobook version in 2004, and my last reading in 1991. Even though Robert A. Heinlein is still my favorite science fiction writer; I haven’t liked his books published after 1959 for a long time. However, I’m wondering if I shouldn’t reevaluate that dislike.

Today, I started reading A Martian Named Smith by William H. Patterson, Jr., the man who wrote a two-volume biography of Heinlein and who edited The Heinlein Journal. I wouldn’t call Robert A. Heinlein: In Dialogue with His Century an official biography, but it was written with the support of Virginia Heinlein. Patterson makes a great case that Heinlein was trying something quite different with Stranger, and it shouldn’t be judged like traditional science fiction. Patterson considers Stranger to be a classic satire, and that the satire has a different structural form than the novel.

In the 1960s and 1970s, Stranger in a Strange Land might have been the most famous science fiction novel. It was a cult classic on college campuses and embraced by many in the counterculture. I’m not sure Heinlein liked that. It was also embraced by the growing libertarian political movement. The more Heinlein was embraced by the Right, the more readers on the Left moved away from his works. That put me in a bind. I’m liberal. What eventually happened is I focused on his books published before 1960.

But I thought of something today. Stranger in a Strange Land could be considered an early work of New Wave Science Fiction, at least by some of its goals. The New Wave movement wanted science fiction to move away from pulp writing, escape from the old tropes in science fiction, embrace the latest literary standards, experiment in new forms of writing styles, deal with emerging social issues, and be more relevant. Heinlein was obviously doing all that with Stranger in a Strange Land. The New Wave was mostly out of England, and on the left politically. Heinlein made public proclamations that divided the science fiction community between conservative and liberal, so no one considered him New Wave at the time.

Patterson, in A Man Named Smith makes a very intellectually grounded case that Stranger in a Strange Land works on multiple levels, some of which are deep and seldom observed. What if Patterson is right? What if my liberal leanings are prejudicing me from giving the novel a fair chance? To find out I’ll need to reread the book, even both versions, and read Patterson’s book, along with other critical works and studies on the novel. That will be a huge project. That means this blog post will have another ongoing series — and I have too many of those unfinished right now. I’ve been meaning to get back to my Rereading Heinlein project. I expected to reread Stranger in a Strange Land after I read everything Heinlein wrote before it. I’m still stuck in 1940, where I planned to read “The Devil Makes the Law” (renamed “Magic, Inc.”) next.

I also got inspired to reread Stranger in a Strange Land this week when I watched the above video review. Then I read an essay on Book Riot where the writer was proposing to replace eight classic literary novels, four of which are among my favorites. I wrote about this on Auxiliary Memory, where I criticized younger writers for wanting to replace older books they hated, with newer books they loved. I said, if you want to replace a classic, it should be from the same years as the original work and cover the same thematic territory — that classics are how we view the past.

Then I read Joachim Boaz’s review of Davy by Edgar Pangborn. He called it a masterpiece. That led me to finding my copy of Davy and begin reading. It’s quite an impressive novel, but what’s interesting is its overlap with Stranger in a Strange Land. Both are about young males and their education before they become revolutionaries and try to create new social systems. Both these books precede the counterculture of the 1960s by just a few years. At first, I wondered if modern woke readers would accept Davy as a substitute science fiction classic for Stranger in a Strange Land. But if you read my essay linked above, you’ll see that I don’t believe in removing classics from the canon, but adding works that will supplement that.

I believe Stranger in a Strange Land, Davy, and The Man Who Fell to Earth by Walter Tevis make an interesting trilogy of works that reflect the early 1960s in science fiction. To write that will be another huge writing job that will take a lot of researching, reading, and writing. And I unfortunately have dwindling physical and psychic energy.

When I was growing up in the 1950s and 1960s Heinlein was considered the top science fiction author by most readers, even if they didn’t like his books. He was just that successful. He was made the first Grand Master by the SFWA in 1974.

Ever since Stranger in a Strange Land was first published, it was considered controversial, and even polarizing. Since the 1960s, Heinlein’s reputation has been in decline, but that might be relative. So many new writers have had so much success that Heinlein just had much more competition. However, in the 21st century there does seem to be a growing dislike of Heinlein among younger readers.

I love studying how books become popular and how they are slowly forgotten. Is Heinlein and Stranger on their way out? Or is there something to that novel that will keep people reading it for another century? I want to think about that.

Right now, people focus on Heinlein’s flaws. But what about Heinlein’s virtues?

I also want to think about the differences between what makes a literary novel a classic and what makes a science fiction novel a classic. There is an overlap in reasons, but each form has its unique qualities that determine whether they will become a classic novel. I believe literary novels must give significant insight into their story’s physical setting, and both the time in which the story is set, and when it was written.

We judge science fiction stories over their plots and ideas. But what if what makes a classic science fiction novel the same as what makes a classic literary novel? What does Stranger in a Strange Land say about America in 1961, and the decade before when Heinlein was writing it? My guess is it is something like what Pangborn and Tevis were saying. It’s going to take a lot of deep reading for me to find out.

James Wallace Harris, 8/12/23

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Offline From the Hive Mind

We’ve been without our connection to the internet for ten days now, and it will be many more before we are reconnected. I type this with one finger on my iPhone.

I’ve been sidetracked from my reviewing projects, making me restless. Living without the internet is revealing, reminding me of life back in the 1980s, but it also shows just how much I depend on high-speed internet in my daily living.

I can’t pursue my social media activities, stream TV, music, audio books, or chat with Alexa. I’m cut off from my security cameras, printer, and cloud storage. My tablets are useless. I can write with Word like it’s 1989 but the results just sit on the hard drive.

I can turn on a Wi-Fi hotspot on my phone, but the one bar service only lets Microsoft Edge run in an unusable slow mode. There are so many background processes going on in a modern computer that they need high speed internet to function.

I’m left feeling restless. I would be feeling much worse if I didn’t have my iPhone. This experience has shown me that I’ve built a life around being connected. But it also makes me wonder if I shouldn’t reevaluate how I live.

I grew up addicted to television and now I’m also addicted to computers and the internet. We’re evolving towards a hive mind. The second AT&T repairman who came to the house told me he likes living in the country and getting away from computers and networks. I don’t know if I could do that anymore.

You’d think I’d just read books, but my feelings of Internet withdrawal won’t let me. I wonder how long it will take to get over that. Could I ever go back to living like we did in the 1980s, or 1970s?

I’m trying to imagine a society where the only people you talk to must be in the same room. It boggles my mind.

Just imagine living without smartphones! Or even cellphones. I’ve tried watching over the air TV but it’s abysmal. I’m back to playing CDs and DVDs, but it’s so damn restrictive. I wonder what life would be like if I was limited to vinyl, paperbacks, newspapers, and TV from an antenna. Hell — thing about going back to typewriters!!!

They say you don’t know what you miss until it’s gone. Damn, those old sayings can be painfully true.

James Wallace Harris, 8/8/23

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Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill

I’ve been craving a new science fiction novel, at least something less than ten years old. I admit, I’ve been stuck in mid-20th century science fiction, and I’m mostly out of touch with 21st century science fiction. I have read forty or more science fiction novels that were published after 2000 — the more famous ones — but there’s been thousands of science fiction novels published since then. I’m feeling out of touch with current science fiction. I keep hoping to find a new science fiction novel that will dazzle me like the science fiction novels I discovered as a kid in the 1960s. I’m beginning to feel that won’t ever happen again.

Sea of Rust as Sci-Fi

Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill came out in 2017. I picked it to read because I watched a couple YouTubers review it positively, and because it’s about robots after humans have gone extinct. I love that concept. It’s slowly growing into a mini-sub-genre. One of the earliest stories on this theme is “Rust” by Joseph E. Kelleam from 1939. (See my short review.) Another is “Who Can Replace a Man?” by Brian W. Aldiss from 1958. Of course, the real classic is City by Clifford D. Simak, but the theme is only used in the fictional intros that tie stories together. Those intros describe a world without men occupied by robots and intelligent dogs. There’s also “Three Robots” an episode in the Netflix series Love, Death + Robots based on a John Scalzi short story, and the more famous film, Wall-E. And Rudy Rucker’s Ware Tetralogy eventually gets into this theme too. There are many more.

Sea of Rust is a fun adventure story about a cadre of armed robots helping a robot, Rebekah, on an important mission to save free robots from an OWI (One World Intelligence – think Borg for bots). Their destination is in a wasteland called Sea of Rust, formally, the American Rust Belt. That’s the territory were crazy robots go, and where poachers go to kill the crazy robots and harvest their parts. Sea of Rust feels a bit like a Mad Max film, but instead of people surviving a harsh desert post-apocalyptic environment, it’s robots. It especially reminded me of Mad Max Fury Road, only because it becomes an endless race of good guys being chased by bad guys.

The main POV character is Brittle, who started out as a caregiver robot for humans, but after their extinction, becomes harden, surviving by killing other robots for their parts. Her nemesis is Mercer, another caregiving robot who is also a poacher. They want to kill each other to survive. When the OWI, CISSUS, attacks a holdout for free individualistic robots, these two joins up with Rebekah, 19, Herbert, One, Two, Doc, and Murka. At first Brittle goes along to survive another day, but eventually believes in Rebekah’s mission too.

Sea of Rust also feels like a western, with parallels to The Magnificent Seven, because of a group of diverse misfits, some of which aren’t so nice, work together for a noble cause. Each has their weapon of choice. Sea of Rust also remind me of many war movies where a squad of soldiers are on a suicide mission, and one by one get killed off.

I recommend Sea of Rust to readers who like action-oriented science fiction like what they see on television or at the theater. It’s fun. It’s nowhere near as fun as We Are Legion (We Are Bob) by Dennie E. Taylor or Hail Mary by Andy Weir. But it’s like them in that Sea of Rust is breezy and entertaining.

When I ask myself why We Are Legion (We Are Bob) and Hail Mary are better books, it’s because I admire their main characters, and envy their skills. They are positive. Brittle is a mass murderer of humans, and robot con artist and murderer. It’s strange how much modern fiction features heroic bad guys.

— Beyond Here Lie Spoilers —

Don’t read beyond here because I’ve going to be critical of Sea of Rust, but most of my criticism doesn’t apply to the average science fiction reader, especially those who only read for fun and don’t want to get overly analytical. It might seem like I’m attacking Sea of Rust but I’m using it as an example, to explain the kind of science fiction I want to read.

Sea of Rust as Speculative Fiction

I like science fiction that speculates about real possibilities. Very few science fiction novels do this. Most science fiction takes a fun theme and produces a new variation. Sea of Rust is about robots, but the robots in science fiction aren’t like the robots we see in the real world. Nor are fictional robots anything like what current robots will evolve into. I find that disappointing.

In Sea of Rust all the robots act like humans wearing robot suits. There is some minor speculation, but science in the novel seemed inspired by the average PC user, and not computer scientists. The technical terminology doesn’t go beyond CPU, RAM, memory, hard drive, and core. It’s just a fun story, a light-hearted thriller with lots of guns, and gun battles. Similar visually to what people see in video games.

All the robots in this story have human qualities, and that’s my main critical issue. I’m disappointed that science fiction writers don’t or can’t imagine robots with non-human qualities. I can’t think of any robot story where the robot isn’t anthropomorphized. Is that some kind of barrier writers just can’t break through?

The idea of intelligent robots existing after humans is extremely fascinating. What kind of civilization would they build? I can’t believe it would be a cliche Mad Max post-apocalypse. I doubt robots will ever have gender or even be able to comprehend it. I doubt robots will have emotions or be able to comprehend them. None of the experiences we get from being biological creatures will be understandable by AI minds.

I’m waiting for science fiction writers to imagine states of mind that robots will evolve. I’m waiting for science fiction writers to speculate how robots will think differently from us. Sure, this will be hard, as hard as humans imagining the umwelt of octopuses.

Now that I’m an old science fiction fan, I’m beginning to see the limits of what science fiction can achieve. What I want probably needs to come from speculative nonfiction, and not speculative fiction.

My other major problem with Sea of Rust is its use of guns. We live in a culture that has a lust for guns. It’s a kind of pornography. But the use of guns in fiction is a kind of crutch, at least to me. Too much fiction is based on gun violence. Too much plotting and plot motivation centers around gunplay.

Conflict is vital to fiction, but too many writers depend on gunplay as their basis of conflict. Consumers of books and movies can’t seem to get enough of fiction with gunplay, so it might be silly to criticize the use of it. But I’m bored with gunplay-based conflict. I’m also reading Raymond Chandler books this summer, and they have extraordinarily little gunplay in them, and they are considered the gold standard for hardboiled detective mysteries.

Sea of Rust would have impressed me if Cargill had imagined robots involved in some kind of conflict that was realistic for evolved AI minds, and that didn’t involve guns or kill or be killed. I’m guessing robots won’t be violent like us because they won’t have our genetic disposition for xenophobia, greed, reproduction, and territory.

It could be, at 71, I’m finally outgrowing science fiction. I don’t want that to happen. I’m like a religious person that’s lost all their faith, and should be an atheist, but I can’t give up my upbringing. What I want is science fiction that will validate my belief in science fiction again, but Sea of Rust didn’t provide that. I know many young people consider this a 5-star read, and I do recognize it has the qualities that would appeal to many readers. So, don’t take my reaction as a buyer’s guide.

I wrote this review using Sea of Rust to explain where I’m at and what I want from science fiction. Thinking about novels about robots, I’m not sure science fiction has ever dealt with them in a realistic way. Asimov, Williamson, and Simak certainly did not. Neither did Philip K. Dick.

Living in the 2020s has brought us real robots and Artificial Intelligence, as well as commercial space exploration. Reality is leaving science fiction in the dust. I keep waiting for science fiction to catch up to reality and leap into the future again. I’m starting to think that might not even be possible.

Yes, I hunger for new science fiction that realistically speculates about the rest of the 21st century, but I just can’t find any. I’m beginning to wonder if science fiction has ever realistically speculated about the future.

James Wallace Harris, 7/25/23

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“Poor Superman” by Fritz Leiber

“Poor Superman” by Fritz Leiber is story #34 of 52 from The World Treasury of Science Fiction edited by David G. Hartwell (1989), an anthology my short story club is group reading. Stories are discussed on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. “Poor Superman” was initially titled “Appointment in Tomorrow” and published in Galaxy Science Fiction (July 1951). It was reprinted and retitled in the 1952 anthology hardback Tomorrow the Stars edited by Robert A. Heinlein. You can read the story online at Project Gutenberg. You can listen to a radio show adaption of “Appointment in Tomorrow” from X Minus One. You can find ebook editions here to download.

I will refer to the story as “Poor Superman” instead of its original title “Appointment in Tomorrow.”

I read “Poor Superman” years ago when I read The Best Science Fiction Stories: 1952 edited by Everett F. Bleiler and T. E. Dikty. I didn’t remember anything from then when I read it again yesterday, on Friday. After that second reading, I had a vague feeling of reading it before and thinking it a so-so story. But this time I thought there was more there, but found the story confusing to read. I started thinking about it. Then today, Saturday, I read it again, and it all clicked. I would have said on my first reading I would have given the story 3 stars. On the second reading, I realized it was approaching 4 stars. On my third reading, it’s a 5-star story. I believe I needed to know what was in the story before I could understand reading each line of the story. Now it works word by word, line by line.

Fritz Leiber’s story, “Coming Attraction” is one of my all-time favorite science fiction short stories. It appeared a year earlier than “Poor Superman” in Galaxy. David Hartwell in his introduction suggests that they are both set in the same fictional post-WWIII universe, but I thought “Poor Supermen” only hinted at a few of the ideas from the earlier story.

Unfortunately, where “Coming Attraction” was dazzling, vivid, and dramatic on first reading, “Poor Superman” was talky, full of infodumps, and somewhat confusing on first reading. My second reading was really like another first reading. However, on this second reading, I sensed it was a far more ambitious story. “Coming Attraction” is about a British man meeting a woman in New York City in post-atomic war WWIII. It’s about a personal conflict between two men and a woman. “Poor Superman” involves a power struggle at the top of society between the Thinkers, who currently influence the party in the Whitehouse, and scientists who wish to unmask the frauds the Thinkers are perpetrating to maintain that political power.

It took a third reading to get who was who, all the implications, and to understand the reasons for all the infodumps. “Poor Superman” is an attack on science fiction, science fiction fans, as well as other kinds of believers, including religious, political, and philosophical. It’s more than cynical, it’s harshly realistic. You might think that Lieber supports science and scientists, but he’s brutal on them too.

Now “Poor Superman” needs a lot of setting up to really appreciate. It helps to know what was going on at Astounding Science Fiction magazine, where the editor John W. Campbell, and many of his writers were promoting the pseudo-science Dianetics. Many science fiction writers and readers from the 1940s believed that mankind was about to discover vast psychic powers that would change the world. Leiber doubts this.

Here’s how Leiber described his post-WWIII America of this story:

It was America approaching the end of the Twentieth Century. America of juke-box burlesque and your local radiation hospital. America of the mask-fad for women and Mystic Christianity. America of the off-the-bosom dress and the New Blue Laws. America of the Endless War and the loyalty detector. America of marvelous Maizie and the monthly rocket to Mars. America of the Thinkers and (a few remembered) the Institute. "Knock on titanium," "Whadya do for black-outs," "Please, lover, don't think when I'm around," America, as combat-shocked and crippled as the rest of the bomb-shattered planet.

In the real world of 1951, the cold war was heating up, now with two superpowers with atomic bombs, both of which were racing to develop a thermonuclear weapon. The United States was consumed by anti-communist fervor, with the HUAC witchhunts well underway. Americans were paranoid and frightened — grasping at religion, the occult, UFOs, ESP, faith healing, science fiction, and other forms of quackery. Many science fiction stories during these years were written about civil wars fought by the faithful against scientists. Heinlein was predicting his “Crazy Years” stories in his Future History series. Andre Norton would soon publish The Stars Are Ours! about scientists being hunted down after a theocracy takes over America. Leigh Brackett would publish The Long Tomorrow in 1955, about America reverting to an Amish-like society.

I wish Leiber hadn’t named his Dianetics-driven characters Thinkers. It’s too easy to confuse them with the Scientists, whom most people think of as big thinkers. I wished he had called them the Psychics, Mentalists, or something closer to what they represented. It’s a shame he couldn’t have called them The Scientologists – I don’t think they were using that name yet in 1951, but that label perfectly describes his characters. What would you think about reading “Poor Superman” today if he had written a story about Scientists versus Scientologists?

In “Poor Superman” the Thinkers believe they are developing powerful mental abilities. Americans believe that Thinkers are superior, and they influence political power. The Thinkers maintain the public belief in their superiority by claiming to have a giant two-floor-sized supercomputer that can answer all questions, and by faking space missions to Mars where they claim spiritually advanced Martians with ESP powers are teaching them their secrets which they will soon give to everyone.

This is a great setup for a story. The Galaxy editors introduced it with two questions: “Is it possible to have a world without moral values? Or does lack of morality become a moral value, also?” Think about those two questions. They are perfect for asking ourselves in 2023. It’s possible to substitute Donald Trump and his MAGA followers for the Thinkers in “Poor Superman.” If you do, it might make you admire “Poor Superman” more. And anyone reading or rereading Stranger in a Strange Land should get to know “Poor Superman” first.

The trouble is, I found “Poor Superman” confusing to read at first. Of course, this might be entirely my fault. There were too many weird made-up names that I couldn’t keep up with. I kept forgetting which character belong to which group. And there were times I just didn’t get the scene. It wasn’t until my third reading that “Poor Superman” became crystal clear like “Coming Attraction.”

An example of confusion from Friday’s reading is when they give questions to the supercomputer, Maize.

From a new Whitehouse, the President and his general staff observe while the daily questions are submitted to Maize, in what I assume is broadcast to Americans too. Instead of typing the questions, the questions are entered by taping. My guess is Leiber meant to imply writing in the future is done on spools of magnetic tape. But that’s only a guess. Then we are told:

Meanwhile the question tape, like a New Year's streamer tossed out a high window into the night, sped on its dark way along spinning rollers. Curling with an intricate aimlessness curiously like that of such a streamer, it tantalized the silvery fingers of a thousand relays, saucily evaded the glances of ten thousand electric eyes, impishly darted down a narrow black alleyway of memory banks, and, reaching the center of the cube, suddenly emerged into a small room where a suave fat man in shorts sat drinking beer.

He flipped the tape over to him with practiced finger, eyeing it as a stockbroker might have studied a ticker tape. He read the first question, closed his eyes and frowned for five seconds. Then with the staccato self-confidence of a hack writer, he began to tape out the answer.

For many minutes the only sounds were the rustle of the paper ribbon and the click of the taper, except for the seconds the fat man took to close his eyes, or to drink or pour beer. Once, too, he lifted a phone, asked a concise question, waited half a minute, listened to an answer, then went back to the grind.

Until he came to Section Five, Question Four. That time he did his thinking with his eyes open.

The question was: "Does Maizie stand for Maelzel?"

He sat for a while slowly scratching his thigh. His loose, persuasive lips tightened, without closing, into the shape of a snarl.

Suddenly he began to tape again.

"Maizie does not stand for Maelzel. Maizie stands for amazing, humorously given the form of a girl's name. Section Six, Answer One: The mid-term election viewcasts should be spaced as follows...."

But his lips didn't lose the shape of a snarl.

What I didn’t realize on my first reading today was the fat man in shorts was answering the questions for Maize. It’s obvious when I reread it, but it wasn’t on first reading. I thought he was a computer operator that retyped the questions into the computer. What we learn from this is the Thinkers are faking they have a supercomputer.

We also learn they are faking missions to Mars. An astronaut and his cat go up and just orbit the Earth while biding time. He pretends to have gone to Mars.

A scorecard of the characters:

  • Jorj Helmuth – Thinker (40 years old, with a body of 20, and a mind of 60)
  • President of the U.S. and staff – unnamed
  • Maizie – supercomputer AI (faked)
  • Morton Opperly – wise old physicist
  • Williard Farquar – young ambitious physicist
  • Jan Tregarron – fat man in loud shorts who is the mastermind of the Thinkers
  • Miss Arkady “Caddy” Simms – seductress, spy, femme fatale

In a conversation between Morton Opperly and Williard Farquar, we learn something about the conflict between Thinkers and Scientists:

"But what are we to do?" Farquar demanded. "Surrender the world to charlatans without a struggle?"

Opperly mused for a while. "I don't know what the world needs now. Everyone knows Newton as the great scientist. Few remember that he spent half his life muddling with alchemy, looking for the philosopher's stone. Which Newton did the world need then?"

"Now you are justifying the Thinkers!"

"No, I leave that to history."

"And history consists of the actions of men," Farquar concluded. "I intend to act. The Thinkers are vulnerable, their power fantastically precarious. What's it based on? A few lucky guesses. Faith-healing. Some science hocus-pocus, on the level of those juke-box burlesque acts between the strips. Dubious mental comfort given to a few nerve-torn neurotics in the Inner Cabinet—and their wives. The fact that the Thinkers' clever stage-managing won the President a doubtful election. The erroneous belief that the Soviets pulled out of Iraq and Iran because of the Thinkers' Mind Bomb threat. A brain-machine that's just a cover for Jan Tregarron's guesswork. Oh, yes, and that hogwash of 'Martian wisdom.' All of it mere bluff! A few pushes at the right times and points are all that are needed—and the Thinkers know it! I'll bet they're terrified already, and will be more so when they find that we're gunning for them. Eventually they'll be making overtures to us, turning to us for help. You wait and see."

"I am thinking again of Hitler," Opperly interposed quietly. "On his first half dozen big steps, he had nothing but bluff. His generals were against him. They knew they were in a cardboard fort. Yet he won every battle, until the last. Moreover," he pressed on, cutting Farquar short, "the power of the Thinkers isn't based on what they've got, but on what the world hasn't got—peace, honor, a good conscience...."

But what appeals to me, is Fritz Leiber’s take on science fiction and science fiction fans. Over the past couple of years, as I’ve been reading, and rereading 1950s science fiction, I keep getting hints that some science fiction writers were developing cynical attitudes towards the genre. At one point, Jorj Helmuth thinks to himself:

He switched out all the lights and slumped forward, blinking his eyes and trying to swallow the lump in his throat. In the dark his memory went seeping back, back, to the day when his math teacher had told him, very superciliously, that the marvelous fantasies he loved to read and hoarded by his bed weren't real science at all, but just a kind of lurid pretense. He had so wanted to be a scientist, and the teacher's contempt had cast a damper on his ambition.

Then in a desperate speech to Jan Tregarron, Jorj Helmuth explains why he created the Thinkers:

"Our basic idea was that the time had come to apply science to the life of man on a large scale, to live rationally and realistically. The only things holding the world back from this all-important step were the ignorance, superstition, and inertia of the average man, and the stuffiness and lack of enterprise of the academic scientists— their worship of facts, even when facts were clearly dangerous." 

"Yet we knew that in their deepest hearts the average man and the professionals were both on our side. They wanted the new world visualized by science. They wanted the simplifications and conveniences, the glorious adventures of the human mind and body. They wanted the trips to Mars and into the depths of the human psyche, they wanted the robots and the thinking machines. All they lacked was the nerve to take the first big step— and that was what we supplied."

You can see L. Ron Hubbard here. You can see John W. Campell. And maybe even some Robert A. Heinlein.

There’s a reason why the story was retitled “Poor Superman.” And there’s a good reason why H. L. Gold didn’t want to use that title. Any science fiction fan would understand what it meant in 1951.

I need to read “Poor Superman” again. The ending is not ambiguous, but I wonder if it shouldn’t be. Poor Superman turns out to be Jorj Helmuth because Caddy puts the gun in Jan Tregarron’s hand. But if we weren’t told that one bit of information, and we only knew Caddy had the gun, who would have been Poor Superman? Jan or Jorg? Jan acts like a Nazi, and they thought of themselves as supermen too.

This is a great story. It just took three readings to discover that. I wonder what more readings will reveal. I need to read more stories by Fritz Leiber, especially more of his work from the 1950s.

James Wallace Harris, 7/22/23