"Comes Now the Power" by Roger Zelazny

 

First appeared in Robert A. W. Lowndes's Magazine of Horror, finalist for the Hugo, reprinted by Lee Harding, Matthew Berger, Alexander Klapwald, Kenneth Sharp, Brian Attebery, Ursula K. Le Guin, Tracy Hickman, Margaret Weis.

 

Summary:

A man, who used to have telepathy, has forgotten how to do it. He finds a female mind who is able to do it, so he seeks her.

Discussion (Spoilers):

After a few failed connections, the man connects and she helps him breakthrough whatever was blocking him. However, he learns she is a young woman, hopitalized and dying, so his connection brought her memories of his life, so before her death, he gives her all that he has.

This is a wonderful, efficient little tale. I'm conflicted. It does a beautiful job executing the story in an emotionally impactful way. Any complaint would be negligible. However, is it one of the great tales? Does it resonate past its confines? Emotionally, yes. Is it a classic that makes you ponder the outcome in some meaningful way? I'm not sure that it does except to a minor degree. However, its inclusion--and a number of these brief, impactful tales--is a kind of challenge. What kind of story does belong? Does it need to be of a certain length? Fredric Brown's "The Weapon" is just a few pages long, but it wouldn't surprise me to be in such a major anthology like Norton's considering the way it forwards an integral question, better than stories 10x its length. What makes a major work? Something to ponder. 

Also interesting that this originally appeared in a horror magazine but there's really nothing of horror in it. Perhaps the major magazines passed on it--which boggles the mind--and Lowndes took it despite the lack of horror. 

(It appears that the title changed over the years and at one time had "and strange stories" which would makes more sense. Perhaps it was trying to hop on the horror train and dropped the original title.)

"The House the Blakeneys Built" by Avram Davidson

First appeared in Joseph W. Ferman's The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. Up for the Nebula award, it was reprinted by Edward L. Ferman, Martin Harry Greenberg, Carol Mason, Patricia Warrick, Brian Attebery, Ursula K. Le Guin.

 

Summary:

 Two couples of colonists (one pregnant) arrive on a planet and find a road that leads to a castle [they seem uncertain if that's the correct term]. They want to build a house beside the Blakeneys's, a very strange extended family--presumed to be inbred after living alone together for so long--speaking a pidgin language. The Blakeneys came here to escape persecution.

When the foreigners arrive, they are welcomed. But then the new colonists go to build their own house. The Blakeneys seem less responsive, the new colonists borrow a few necessities and promise to repay. The foreigners plan to have their kids intermarry to avoid the Blakeneys for a time, but eventually they'd have to marry to improve genetic rigor.

Discussion (with Spoilers):

We are meant to think of the nursery rhyme "This Is the House That Jack Built," which is a cumulative tale. This sort of song opens simply, gradually accruings wilder and wilder causalities until it becomes the Butterfly Effect, where a flap of a butterfly's wings causes a typhoon halfway around the world.

The parallel here is similar in that what we are initially given is a simple family who seem to welcome new colonists when they are a part of the family or home. But as soon as they have a house apart from theirs, they attack. The chain of causality is not immediately apparent, but there seems to be a critical system of governance that has been violated making the new colonists worthy of death. With some irony (or maybe none, that is, it is part of the causality), the Blakeneys now persecute where before they were persecuted. Or were they? Was it their behavior that caused people to persecute them?

Perhaps one could leave it there, but this introduces the central issue with the Norton anthology. This is a strong tale. And the verbal pyrotechnics are a joy. I would not protest reading this in a Norton, but it doesn't establish what's going on. What an anthology purporting to establish SF as a field. What does that mean in other Nortons? Usually, one establishes the various movements and the major players.

Where James Gunn's anthologies succeed where others do not is that he grabs the central works that made people talk when they appeared. Le Guin's is more of a side-bar: Hey, these were good, too. Le Guin's can only work if you establish what the main line SF is. 

Only if and when you do that does this story gain more power. True quill SF establishes colonies. People work together. They build a community. That's what the new comers plan to do. The older colonists look like a group who has fallen into disrepair--in knowledge/know-how, in language, and in social etiquette. The new comers expect--as most readers might as well--that they have knowledge to trade with the older colonists that they might grow together and strengthen the community as a group. That this expectation is thwarted makes this story novel and provides context. This is the main quality lacking in this anthology. If you have a story that thwarts an expectation, first we need a story that creates such expectations. We can't assume, which is sort of the point of the story: assuming others expectations/knowledge (or lack thereof).

 

"Space Is Deep, Man": To the Stars, or Return to Tomorrow by L. Ron Hubbard

 First appeared in John W. Campbell's Astounding. Was up for a Retro Hugo.

Somewhere far into our future, Alan Corday is in love. Despite being one of the few well educated and well bred tenth class in his day, Alan has no money to court her, so he is going to Mars to seeking his fortune. However, all that is changed when Alan has a black cat cross his path, hears piano music and steps into a packed bar that's otherwise strangely quiet, all listening intently to the music coming from the piano

In this short novel, Alan is taken on a long trip--that is, he's taken on a ship that has a distant destination. Can he get the crew to mutiny and take the ship back? Or should he just bide his time and hope his future wife is still waiting for him?

This is definitely a classic. According to the prefatory material, it was popular with readers at the time. It's easy to see why. 

The story didn't kick in until the piano scene--page 9 out of 210, about 4% in--but otherwise, it rocked. 

To compare the different titles is fascinating. Return to Tomorrow may be the more intriguing although I'm torn between which works better. It's fascinating that it underwent a transformation and returned to the original. Did the author return to his original? Or was one title forced on him?

The quote in my title is part of the opening line from the prologue, which actually says "Space is deep, Man is small and Time is his relentless enemy." As a reader and writer of poetry, I just loved the partial quote, which is perhaps too colloquial but also profound in its own way. While the prologue isn't bad and in places profound, I wonder if it hampered the tale from being more fondly remembered. After all, the story is the equal or near equal of the other works nominated.

I spent a good deal of time thinking about where it belonged in the pantheon of SF. I recently read The Time Machine by H.G. Wells, which is also known as classic (but perhaps not his best), and To the Stars hangs with Wells in scope and speculation in similar if different ways. It's true that Wells inspired what came after, but a number of space-travel-relativity stories have borrowed from this predecessor as well. Speaking of tributes, Hubbard has a tiny tribute to Tom Godwin's "The Cold Equations"--and there is a link, but perhaps more in theme than in plot.

Having recently read Frederik Pohl's best well remembered early classic, "The Tunnel Under the World," I find this hangs well with that. Arguments could be made about which is better.

Is it a must-read? I'll leave that for others to decide. Is it a classic that will repay your time? Absolutely. The reason it may not have been reprinted as heavily as some might be that it would consume half of most anthologies.

Some readers might object that women don't feature more prominently, but considering when it is written, they do play critical roles--some of whom tug at our heart although there is one I'd have liked to have seen her play a more prominent role as soon as it was clear what role she was playing although one might say the text let us imagine that role.

Highly recommended.

Review: The Road to Sugar Loaf, by Eric T. Renolds

Eric Reynolds, as a writer, has been published in Galaxy's Edge, Sci Phi Journal, Starship Sofa, and various anthologies. He has published Arthur C. Clarke, Lavie Tidhar, Nisi Shawl, Elizabeth Bear, K. D. Wentworth. Michael Burstein, Rudy Rucker, Stephen Baxter, Tery Bisson, G. David Nordley, Tobias Buckell, Frank Wu, Jay Lake, James Van Pelt, Eric Choi among others. But he's published anthologies of writers who are a complete unknown--at least to me.

Reynolds's writing is not far from his own personality. Simple, sweet, clear, straight forward. Here's a taste from early in the story:

During the fourth week of school, lockers and the lingering scent of freshly painted walls greeted civics teacher George Fielding as he walked the long, echoing hallway. He stopped outside Principal Holt's office when Violette emerged and handed a string-clasped envelope. He peeked inside to find Suffrage leaflets and other printed materials.

Violette looked around the hallway. "It arrived today from The Kansas Equal Suffrage Association," she whispered.

He thanked her and continued to his classroom where several students stood laughing next to the open door. They looked away when he approached. Upon entering the classroom, some students tried to suppress their snickering. Their glances toward the blackboard revealed what amused them.

George saw a caricature of himself wearing a dress while holding a sign that said, "Women Vote."

He smiled and turned to the class. "I see some of you are interested in Women's Suffrage, and I commend the artist for making more handsome than I actually am, but that dress should persuade you not to pursue a career in fashion design."

The narrator voice of the story melds perfectly with its era. At first, being from a different era, my brain's knee-jerk reaction was to question the novel's overall tone, but then I realized that it fit well. In fact, it's a bit annoying when writers try to make the past sound like the present. Reynolds's voice captures a slice of the past and brings it to us, more than a century later.

Reynolds relates the story of not just the vote in Kansas but across the fruited plains. The characters march to Washington and get thrown in jail under difficult circumstances, fueled by determination and will through protests and hunger strikes. His characters, particularly the women, are strong and well drawn. The quiet scenes were some of his strongest.

More variety, particularly among the men, might have been preferable. I met men, not from that era but immediately following the one Reynolds describes, and I still recall a gentleman joking that my grandmother thought women shouldn't have the right to vote. I turned to her, but she didn't respond, which sheds a lot of light on how people felt and behaved toward this era. There could have been a range of motivations for either party--from being totally true to totally untrue and a million subtleties between. He was clearly amused while my grandmother suppressed any response. Neither had been born during the movement, yet here it still impacted their conversation, decades later. For me, this showed more variations in character than what one might think from a casual glance.

Like a lot of other writers, writers meet writers in the course of writing. It's a small world. I edited a small journal, Mythic Circle, which required a theme of myth. He wrote a small tale set in space where myth was featured. I liked it but requested revisions. He obliged. I showed it to the lead editor and professor, Gwenyth Hood, who also liked it, and we published it. 

It may have been Eric's first publication. He may have told me that, years later, to my surprise. Possibly I am mistaken. But it was solid work if memory serves. I wouldn't have published it had I thought otherwise.

I didn't publish everyone. I had a writer of some note whose work I've praised in public. But none of the things he submitted quite fit. He was a little irked by that. I was a little surprised, too, that I hadn't, but I think if he'd have sent ten works, I'd have found one that felt right. Not unlike Picasso, he was going through a period--a style not so much to my liking.

Eric and I may have met in an online workshop, later at a convention by chance. He and his wife and kids made for an attractive family. This photo is a more recent one. He had more and darker hair back then.

Eric, later, started his own press, publishing original anthologies of speculative fiction, and in a few of these, published stories of mine, so full disclosure. 

Also full disclosure: I have a relationship with you all as well. So I try to direct the people who might be drawn to Eric's work and steer away those who would not. You have enough information to see which you are.

Eric Reynolds has published two other historical novels: The Lost Town of Garrison (a time-travel novel) and The Legend of Mulberry School (a paranormal novel).

"When I Was Miss Dow" by Sonya Dorman

 

First appeared in Frederik Pohl's Galaxy Magazine. Made the first ballot for the Nebula and nominated for the Tiptree Retrospective award. Reprinted Brian W. Aldiss, Harry Harrison, Judith Merril, Pamela Sargent, Brian Attebery, Ursula K. Le Guin, Ellen Datlow, Heather Masri,  Lisa Yaszek.

 

Summary:

Aliens, who trade with humans, can change shape and gender--a bit like squishing play dough through a plastic "factory" into whatever shape desired. Despite being initially reluctant, one of the aliens enjoys becoming Miss Dow who takes a liking to the doctor she is supposed to work for.

Discussion (spoilers):

She forms an attachment both to the doctor and to her form. It anticipates Ursula Le Guin's The Left Hand of Darkness by several years and one might guess it had some influence on the novel.

Ah, now this belongs in an anthology (or at least one could see why it might be included) like Norton's. It belongs in a year's best. It is the cream if not the crème de la crème. It made the first ballot, but if you see which tales beat it out for the Nebula, you'd understand. However, as a subgenre that gained importance with the Tiptree award. You can see, from the novelty of subject matter, why Aldiss and Harrison decided to bump aside the finalists to reprint this instead.

If one takes The Left Hand of Darkness to be seminal, then this is the seed that must have spawned Le Guin's work.

"Feather Tigers" by Gene Wolfe

First appeared in Bruce McAllister's Edge. Reprinted by Terry Carr, Brian Attebery, Ursula K. Le Guin.

 

Summary:

 Quoquo, a blue alien the shape of a "child-sized" bunny, is investigating Earth after a catastrophe has wipe most life other than plants which have grown wild and thick.

Humanity has left behind intelligent machines, but Quoquo doesn't find them all that useful, saying that they lie.

Proudly, Dondiil, another blue alien, has been breeding domestic cats for 40 orbits of their home world, so that they now approximate the kind that would have existed in the area [Vietnam].

Discussion (Spoilers):

Quoquo takes a blaster into the jungle and clears a path for himself. However, Dondiil has let his genetically modified tigers to escape. Quoquo blasts them until he realizes he's been hallucinating at least some of them. Finally, at his death understanding some human concepts.

Quoquo--whose name approximates "whichever" or "whatever"--has a hard time believing human culture. He's trying to be objective but failing. His name in his own language may be an intensifier: "Quo" now with even more "quo."

Humans do things that don't make sense like having a "Paris, Texas" that has nothing to do with "Paris, France" and what the aliens think they know about the species such as cannibalism, is applied over a time and circumstance and in a way that distorts understanding. Perhaps this is why Quoquo thinks the skyacht lies to him. The history is too complex, too broad and too thick to be easily understood. 

"Feather tigers" is another of those strange humans topics where humans see something where there is nothing. Only when exposed to a similar environment is Quoquo able to understand--albeit too late.

The ship is described by some unnamed narrator as being like the phoenix, and so too is the environment returning to what it once was--even if using animals different from the ones before.

This is a solid story. But Wolfe has others, better. The more I read The Norton Book of Science Fiction, the more I sense they are the B-sides of SF: These stories deserved more attention, which is great, but the book has a grander title with a presumed grander scope. No doubt the old reviews still exist. I do know some professors of the time professed their appreciation of the book. 

I've been reading the opening essays, which are informative, and establish the parameters of selection, and perhaps this urgency to get on the right side of politics held the book back from being something closer to what the book title proclaims. There's nothing wrong with what they're wanting to do, but it requires a different title: Forgotten or Neglected Stories of an Ethically Kind SF. At least that seems to be the best title for the moment. Maybe I'll have another later.

"The Life of Anybody" by Robert Sheckley

First appeared in Sheckley's collection, Is That What People Do?, reprinted by Brian Attebery, Ursula K. Le Guin, Stefan Dziemianowicz, Martin H. Greenberg, Robert Weinberg.

Summary:

Sometime in the near future, people will have TV cameras show up in your living room. You have to be natural or they'll cut away. Better to have bad ratings than none at all. Nobody wants people acting differently than they normally would.

Discussion (Spoilers):

The couple know they are boring, so they spice up their lives in case the cameras come calling again. 

Sheckley had already predicted reality TV before most writers, but here the speculation is that we are actually boring, which is sort of interesting. The shows people watch are more interesting than most people's lives.

However, to become interesting, people would have to fake their lives, which is what we get from most reality TV--people behaving unnaturally to create drama that might get people watching your reality show.

For so short a story, the tale accomplishes much.

I am going through the Norton anthology, story by story, to get a sense for the modus operandi. They seem to be seeking shorter works, provocative works, and possibly works that present gender in a certain manner. There is no particular gender issue at play except maybe the wife chooses not to stir up marital strife for the sake of ratings.

But Sheckley has had better stories than this, so it's odd that this one is selected. Maybe this is the academic aspect, allowing professors to select this among other TV tropes.

The other possibility is that stories were selected to make them easier for non-SF readers; however, you'd think that a course in SF would be more interested in making a splash as opposed to easing people into the waters (especially by 1960-90). When this was published in 1993, most readers would have already been exposed to far stranger SF on TV and movies.