"Adeste Fideles" or "A Martian Christmas" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Ellen Datlow's Omni. Up for a Locus. Reprinted by Datlow and David Hartwell. The title is Latin for “O Come, All Ye Faithful.”

 

Summary:

 Henry Steegman is a construction engineer--that is, he drove tractors that bore holes through the deep rock of Mars. He and the Mars colonists have accidentally imbibed water contaminated with radioactive products so that they are all dying off. Meanwhile, it's Christmas and the inhabitants are celebrating. Steegman drives off on his tractor to make a number of discoveries.

 

Discussion with Spoilers and analysis:

 The first discovery is what appears to be a department store. Of course, everyone back on Earth is excited about Mars again. After people try to take credit and keep Henry from exploring his discovery for himself, presumably due to the advanced state of his illness, he goes on a second expedition, this time presumably finding the Martians himself where no one else can take credit.

The story defies any wisdom about writing I've heard. First, the character's goal is submerged (not fully conscious) and, if anything, is more ours than his. Second, the plot doesn't follow anything that plotters would say is a good plot--following no real established patterns that I can see. I can't see any literary writers finding it a knockout--and the majority of SF readers probably wouldn't either. It is a kind of literary SF, thought-provoking in a subtle manner. The thought provoked (or theme) is actually far outside whatever goals or conclusion the character himself may have come up with.

But it satisfies, in a few ways that stories have--one of the best of that collection. If I had to throw it against most SF stories, it would be at least in the top 10%. We need a definition of story the encompasses this kind of work.

There is, what may be, a flaw here in the main plot. Why a department store? Maybe because humanity at least used to flock to department stores during Christmas? Or is it because these aliens are just pets of another species? This is a minor blemish and doesn't much distract from the work as a whole.

My own idea about how the story satisfies: 1) mystery. Pohl has mined this territory in the Heechee series. 2) We are affronted on the character's behalf since he doesn't seem to care himself, but clearly Pohl knew we'd feel that way and had a road named after him.

Now the theme--the third way the story satisfies--is weird in that it is not so much connected to the character or our feelings about the character. This theme comes from the title--at least this is my reading. It's the opening story in the collection and the final vignette "The Huddling" (discussed here in a week, more or less) seem to confirm this (the two most important spots in any fiction): We now have a new savior whose ways are superior to ours. We need to learn their ways.

That may be, to wrestle with Pohl's theme, but if one savior failed to convert the masses toward his superior ways, why should we suspect these aliens to be any better at improving humanity?

 

 For links to other stories in this series/novel and comments on the novel they make, follow this link.

"Sad Screenwriter Sam" vs. "Sad Solarian Screenwriter Sam" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Edward L. Ferman's F&SF.

Summary:

Sam is a screenwriter. After the discovery of the Martians, he wants to capitalize on this and make a new movie, which is essentially Edgar Rice Burroughs' Mars. He has to get past his agent's and director's reluctance to sell it.

Discussion with Spoilers:

All is for naught. The aliens look nothing like those of the real Martians once the photos come out--more like seals. They can't even be made sexy.

Like Pohl's tribute to Doc Smith in "The High Test" or to Jack Williamson in "The Mayor of Mare Tranq," here is a tribute here to Burroughs--the popular appeal, its power. But also it bears a critique to the aliens in Burroughs' Mars, their realistic possibilities (perceived, of course, since we have no aliens to compare to).

Side-bar: This story may prove interesting to compare and contrast against Geoff Ryman's "The Film-makers of Mars" (audio link).

What's interesting about the story's appearance in the novel, The Day the Martians Came, is that the story is streamlined just to this bit of narrative, which is interesting but not necessarily profound. What it loses in profundity, it gains in a smoother narrative that works better in this novel atmosphere.

This spurred me to speculate that this may have been Pohl's original core of the story--a narrative he found compelling, but missing the necessary piece to elevate it from the ordinary. Here it is one example among several of the impact of species of creatures that impacts without ever having set foot on planet Earth, as yet. A rather intriguing prospect in that light.

While we don't other possibilities that Pohl may have tried, we do have the original publication, which has our protagonist, Sam, being studied by aliens who will use his character to decide whether humans are worth saving or destroying. Once our alien protagonist knows Sam and his fellow Earth inhabitants are doomed, he wants a different Earthling to examine, but he cannot. Earth is doomed. 

But the interesting bit is that the death ray won't arrive for 64,000 years. (If that information that was beamed to them also took 64,000 years, then that would mean Earth has 128,000 years to prepare after Sam's departure. So a story that began, announcing humanity's doom actually ends in the possibility of hope. This is fascinating, but it does bog the narrative down.

One suspects that this core of the story was looking for another part to give it significance. The original is in some sense the more powerful, but also perhaps a swamp of narrative.

While the great-aliens (who seem to be in the same galaxy but maybe on the opposite side) part of the story seems not to be wholly lost. It survives in a few conspiratorial mentions. See the comments on the story "Saucery" for more on this.

 

For links to other stories in this series/novel and comments on the novel they make, follow this link. 

5 Stories: The Confluence of "Best of Frederick Pohl"s

Here are the five stories that Lester del Rey and James Frenkel agreed were among Pohl's best.  Of course, del Rey did not have the advantage of knowing Frenkel's choicees and Frenkel did. So del Rey may have influenced Frenkel to one degree or another, but it's hard to say. Frenkel seemed to have wise things to say about some of these, so it seems not necessarily a compulsion or influence but a selection.  

What's interesting is finding great works of SF that other editors missed.

• Let the Ants Try • (1949) • 

This is a solid story if problematic. Still interesting. I suspect that Pohl's saying this was his first good story may have influenced the editors' choice.

• The Day the Icicle Works Closed • (1960) •  

Creative pyromania. Perhaps a little messy, coloring outside the lines. But perhaps charming because of this. Influenced a minor pop/synth/alternative band who had a handful of international hits. One would want to reread out of sheer pleasure of its inventive spree.

• Speed Trap • (1967) • 

• The Day the Martians Came • (1967) • 

While I can see why some editors and award-voters might have passed on these, the above two works are truly great works of SF that require careful reading. Not to be missed, just because others may not have been paying attention.  

• Day Million • (1966) •

Pohl's most lauded work. Perhaps overrated (a perspective dependent on aesthetics over politics). Thought-provoking, yes, but passable fiction. Because it is much loved by some, it may be need to be included in any Pohl retrospective. I will give a few more empathetic reads and offer a third assessment at later date. (link to the tougher assessment of "Day Million")

"Speed Trap" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Playboy. Reprinted by the editors of Playboy. Jack Dann, and Gardner Dozois.

 

Summary:

Dr. Grew is headed to a conference to speak, but ends up in a conversation with two other bright minds about Grew's theory that people could become several times more productive if they could get rid of the obstacles that arise when people become more productive--things like conferences themselves. 

Studying this material overnight, Larry Resnick dies, having fallen from the balcony.

Discussion and Analysis with Spoilers:

Presumably this idea was spawned by Fred Hoyle, astronomer and SF writer, who presumably said the universe conspires against human productivity. 

Pohl makes the conspiracy literal, as opposed to figurative or jocular version that Hoyle proposes.   

What makes the story compelling is its ambiguity. We are probably meant to think that it is the universe conspiring against us. But it is also possible (even more probable) that we ourselves are responsible. But a third, sinister possibility exists that the person who hired Grew is the person who murdered Larry Resnick and is trapping Dr. Grew in a position that keeps him from accomplishing much in the field. And they would also be the recipients of other researchers in the field. These other possibilities make it a more fascinating story.

The name Grew suggests not only growth (perhaps former growth) but also a shiver/shudder due to fear or cold. 

Lazlo brings to mind Victor Lazlo of Casablanca, who is both a friend and an enemy. Ramos suggests branches.

"The Day After the Day the Martians Came" or "The Day the Martians Came" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Harlan Ellison's Dangerous Visions. Reprinted by Rich Jones, Richard L. Roe. Both Lester del Rey and James Frenkel thought this one of Pohl's best.

Summary:

A deceptively simple tale of a hotel manager, Mandala, and Ernest, the bell captain on the day after the aliens came as people joke about the arrival of the new aliens found on Mars.

 

Discussion:

Ernest, an African American, is grateful for the jokes about the aliens so that he's no longer the target.

While not speculatively inventive, the story may be one of Pohl's better velocity exercises as the length supports the story told here.

While this works as a short story, it may come as some surprise that it spawned a story-suite/fix-up, The Day the Martians Came. The second title seems to be what the story goes by after the first appearance. But the first may be the better selection. It suggests the after effects of a big event. The ripples of such an event. This latter choice emphasizes the theme here, so it's a bit of surprise that the story takes on the lesser secondary title. Perhaps it has something to do with capturing the "novel" or story collection, but I suspect that readers would still connect this tale as the cornerstone of the larger work.

For links to other stories in this series/novel and comments on the novel they make, follow this link.

"The Meeting" by Frederik Pohl and C. M. Kornbluth

First appeared in Edward L. Ferman's F&SF. It won a Hugo and was up for the Locus. Reprinted by Lester del Rey, Terry Carr, Isaac Asimov, Fred D. Miller, Jr. and Nicholas D. Smith. Selected by James Frenkel as one Pohl's best. 

 

Summary:

Harry Vladek attends meetings about "Exception Children" to seek advice from professionals about what to do to help his child. He and his wife are faced with a difficult decision about what to do with their child who lacked normal developmental progress.

 

Discussion and Analysis with Minor Spoilers:

Most readers will need to read this two or more times. Part of this is that the story doesn't reveal what's at stake until the end. The other part is that it is carefully written.

James Frenkel writes that this story:

"is a a thoughtful, challenging story about a modern dilemma with no easy answers."

Context:

About a century ago, relatives in our own family had a couple of children with learning disabilities. They traveled across the country to various "experts" who claimed they could help their kids. Without success. They hired private tutors who struggled in a manner that made the parents let the tutor go.

This would be some of the difficulties parents were facing a century ago and, to some degree, when this story was written.

In 1964, Congress passed Economic Opportunity Act of 1964, which included Head Start program. In 1975, Congress passed the IDEA or the Individuals With Disabilities Education Act. Moreover, Roe v. Wade is making its way to the Supreme Court. The year this story won the Hugo, Roe V. Wade became an important if controversial ruling that lasted five decades.

Within these barriers, this story exists, and for my money, it's a powerful glimpse into the challenges parents might have had in this extrapolation. Who knows? It might still lie ahead.

This has uncanny parallels to Kazuo Ishiguro's Never Let Me Go, but the narrator here doesn't direct us toward feeling a certain way toward the decision, facing our protagonists (although the decision and perspective here is firmly in the parents' point of view). Of course, the lack of compelling the reader toward any perspective neither necessarily makes it a better story nor does it necessitate that the readers have no perspectives of their own. Moreover, a reader does not have to side with an author, but there is power in this story for not taking a side. Perhaps it helps to step into the protagonists' shoes.

Some extrapolation may be required, but the story has relevance for today. Even if it hadn't, place within context, it should remain a powerful tale worth reading.

"Creation Myths of the Recently Extinct" by Frederik Pohl

 First appeared in Stanley Schmidt's Analog in the Probability Zero section. James Frenkel considered it one of Pohl's best.

 

Summary:

Aliens see a planet they want to get rid of all life. How do they manage to do it.

Discussion:

Where the story goes is predictable. More for the completist reader of Frederik Pohl.

The title is fantastic but strange. Whose myth is it? The aliens'? The humans'? 

If humans, it's not a creation myth but a destruction one, but how would they write it? If aliens, it's not really a creation of the species. A creation of one particular planet, true, but that's not what we generally consider a creation myth--the start of everything, usually. There's also a problem of this not feeling anything like a myth.

Perhaps even our idea of a myth will change, but that seems hard to believe if the original myths remain.

"The High Test" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Shawna McCarthy's Asimov's. Reprinted by Cynthia Manson and Sheila Williams. Selected by James Frenkel as one of Pohl's best.

Summary: 

Jim Paul has a doctorate, but instead of working on a planet with 80% unemployment (his degree didn't help gain employment, anyway), he goes off planet to teach the rich how to navigate their spacecraft--one a rich, spoiled brat; the other a Fomalhautian who seemed the more reasonable of the two. It turns out Jim Paul's initial readings of both students were incorrect.

 

Discussion:

This pairs well with Pohl's "The Mayor of Mare Tranq" and his "Sad Solarian Screenwriter Sam"--both referring to other writers as tributes, which elevate the stories somehow. Here Pohl channels E.E. "Doc" Smith, remotely--even composed Doc's own typewriter. 

It has touches of Doc with the mundane love story and the aliens injected into this larger scope that feels significant yet light and domestic at the same time. Pohl makes it his own--leaning on the informal voice in these letters to home and the lighter aspects of the narrative so the significance is buried. 

While not a major story, it has charm.

"The Mayor of Mare Tranq" by Frederik Pohl

This first appeared in Roger Zelazny's  The Williamson Effect, a tribute anthology to Jack Williamson. James Frenkel thought it one of Pohl's best. The writers collaborated on ten novels between 1954-1991.

Summary:

Jack Williamson, in this alternate universe, becomes not a writer, but a military man in the Army Air Corp From there, he pulls off a few miracles that did not occur in our world.

Discussion:

The first miracle is a political event that every writer of a certain age talks about--"Where were you when...?"--and the second miracle is one that every SF writer of a certain age talks about. 

The amazing thing is how, on the one hand, it pulls off the expected. On the other, it is a touching tribute to one of the major SF writers of the 20th century, often stating how they'd have done it differently. How could one story occupy two diametric positions?

To see how Pohl handles another story tribute (E.E. "Doc" Smith), click to see "The High Test"

or check out his Edgar Rice Burroughs tribute (and critique) in "Sad Solarian Screenwriter Sam."

"The Hated" by Frederik Pohl

Originally appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted by H. L. Gold in a magazine retrospective and by Robert Hoskins. Read online here.

 

Summary:

What happens to a crew bound for Mars, after years of living together?

 

Discussion (Spoilers):

This is a masterwork of voice and psychology. Pohl speculates that long-term, cramped living conditions might lead to hatred toward the people you live with--from a sneeze to a cough--leading to murderous intent. Psychologists think they've accomplished some greater good, but they very well may not have.

"Shaffery Among the Immortals" by Frederik Pohl

 

Originally appeared in Edward L. Ferman's F&SF. Reprinted by Isacc Asimov and Edward L. Ferman in different retrospectives. It was up for the Nebula. James Frenkel considered it one of Pohl's best.

Summary:

 Jeremy Shaffery is a jack of all sciences and master of none. He attempts cock-eyed experiments with outlandish predictions in hopes that one of his crazy theories pans out. He has a theory that he looks and acts like Einstein and tries to be Einstein, but all of

 

 Discussion (with spoilers):

This quote captures the tone, the protagonist's incompetence and treatment yet his persistent, resilient attitude (which makes him look the part of an educated fool--in multiple senses of the term): 

“ 'Your trouble, Jeremy, is you're a horse's ass.' But he knew that wasn't it. Who was to say Isaac Newton wasn't a horse's ass, too, if you looked closely enough at his freaky theology and his nervous breakdowns? And look where he got.” 

Only one experiment works, sort of. He's been irradiating mushrooms to make them hardier except they've become infectious, kill him others exponentially, and becomes his claim to fame, however dubious, as they name the plague after him.

The story is perhaps too long for what it accomplishes, but it actually has some contemporary relevance to the challenges and difficulties in modern academia.

It also straddles two modes of writing--combining how he used to write toward how he would write. It has satire, but also combines a newer style of writing SF that becomes more and more meticulous, perhaps to the betterment of some works and detriment to others. "The Merchants of Venus" falls on the side of strength, here less so. But the story is effective enough, nonetheless, to catch the attention of several editors and writers. 

In terms of the story's ideas accomplish, it feels closer to one of his "velocity exercises." Contrast this to something like "The Tunnel Under the World" or "The Day the Icicle Works Closed" which are comparatively idea-rich.

 

"The Day the Icicle Works Closed" by Frederik Pohl & The Icicle Works (Band)

 First appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted in a retrospective by Isaac Asimov and Martin H. Greenberg. A British band, The Icicle Works, borrowed the name for their name. Both Lester del Rey and James Frenkel collected this as one of Pohl's best.

Summary:

A lawyer, Milo Pulchur wants to understand what is really happening to young people who have been arrested for kidnapping in order to escape their homeworld, Altair Nine. What they are doing to make money and a chance misunderstanding (of who Milo is) leads him to understand what is going on.

 

Discussion (part 1 -- the Title: meaning for the story and the band):

1.a. The Story

It's hard to say what Pohl meant by the title. The icicle works is an excuse to explore a completely different idea. Even "Day" could mean the day or a period of time though it must mean the later since the actual day is irrelevant to story. It probably should say "the day after" so that consequences after the death (rather, so called "death") of industries could be discussed.  

Apparently on Altair Nine ("Altair," some sources say, is a falcon; some a flying eagle. Google Translate simply calls it "birds" which coincides nicely with The Icicle Works most famous song "Birds Fly"--however, the "Nine" suggests eight others had this same idea or perhaps that they are the eighth colony of the original Altair planet), ice formed around airborne organic particles with antibiotic properties and fell as snow. This was presumably processed by the icicle works and became the planet's only export. A way of processing the chemicals synthetically called the Gumpert Process made the exports unnecessary. However, it doesn't make sense that a distant planet would export such a chemical over interstellar distances and hope to make  a profit unless it was insanely pricey and had insanely valuable antibiotic. That Pohl dreamed up and killed this industry suggests he was less interested in the industry than in the consequences for its lose. 

Because the industry is a larger part of the title than it contributes to the story itself, a term which sounds absurd without the elaborate explanation, suggests that Pohl may have had other intentions such as creating 1) a mystery, 2) a joke, 3) a mood, 4) a culture, 5) readerly estrangement, 6) some combination of the above.

1.b. Icicle Works, the Band 

The band The Icicle Works seem to have chosen it for similar reasons. In a 1984 interview, lead singer/guitarist/keyboard player Ian McNabb, said he liked "silly names" for bands. He called the book "nonsense," which may or may not be dismissive of the work, but it sounded like it, which is odd since Pohl may have used the term in the same way. On the other hand, perhaps "nonsense" was the sense he was seeking--or sense through nonsense. It may be that McNabb himself never read it, but a band member had. Or maybe he'd loved science fiction (as a 2023 interview suggests by a band putting on an act with an SF theme) and just went perusing books for a title that fit what they were trying to do.

Their top British charting single (#15), for instance--"Love Is a Wonderful Colour"--shows a kind of lyrical synesthesia (if one could transfer an emotion to a color), creating a kind of, in SF terms, estrangement. It treads near but isn't nonsense, asking people to return to love after difficulties.

"Birds Fly (Whisper to a Scream)" is perhaps their most famous in the world, charting in the Top 40 for the US and Top 20 for Canada, having appeared in Stranger Things (season 2). The title originally was Elvis Costello's, but they took off the "From" which opens it more meanings (or perhaps none). At least part of their modus operandi seems to be thwarting meaning, but there may be some sense of self-definition, of encompassing/accepting all emotions. Perhaps the lyrics are of the type that allows the listener to pour in their own feelings and come up with their own meaning.

Pohl's story didn't seem to have an immediate impact on the genre except for del Rey who first selected it as one of his best. Even then, it didn't see a reprint until after the band's appearance, which Pohl quite rightly took some pride in, especially since it had moderate impact on the culture in the early 80s. The band, too, should probably embrace its namesake.

Discussion (part 2 -- the story itself -- spoilers):

What happens when an area's industry, known for this one thing, dies?

There a number of ghost towns that may be one answer, if not the primary one. Perhaps Pohl is exploring the process before it becomes a ghost planet. People are resorting to crimes in order to survive and escape. But even the rich are resorting to crime in this case. Using the poor who are selling their bodies as victims for whatever they plan to do while in this disguise.

However, it turns out the Gumpert Process is a sham, rigged so that the real criminal could buy up shares in the company. For some reason, this gets the kidnappers off the hook for their crime (presumably they would not have tried to kidnap if it hadn't been for the true criminal).

I'm not sure if I've seen this SF trope of "riders" from this angle before. This may be why Lester del Rey chose it, and part of the reason why Asimov and Greenberg chose it for theirs.

It may not be one of the greats of SF, but certainly one of the more inventive and fascinating.

Fantastic Planet or La Planète Sauvage

In honor on Stefan Wul (pen name of dental surgeon and SF writer Pierre Pairault) on his 102nd birthday, we will discuss the movie based on his novel, Oms en série: Fantastic Planet. The script was written by Roland Topor and the director, René Laloux.

It won the 1973 Cannes Film Festival's Grand Prix special jury prize, was nominated for Nebula and British Fantasy awards. Rolling Stone listed as #36 among the greatest cinematic animations.

The main plot involves the Oms who are human-like creatures who have been enslaved as pets by the larger blue Traags, who have technology, power, strength, and size over the Oms. There is little one could do to exercise one's independence from the Traags. Our protagonist manages to escape and tries to convince and help the Oms have their independence.

Paradoxically, it is both a strange and familiar film. A number of factors contribute to this. 

1. the animation itself. It is both two-dimensional and three, sliding between them in the same frame
   
   
2. both surreal yet standard SF. So many of the events that strike us bizarre could really be standard biological behavior in an ecology we are just encountered--cruel and heartless even among the intelligent species
   
   
3. sexualized yet in a biological manner. Certainly, in 1973, this would have been standard preoccupation in much art of the era, but it is less provocative than mundane as if it were meaningless to the players
   
   
4. heartless everywhere yet, here and there and ultimately, humane
   
   
5. bewildering yet understandable. It seems to suggest that this distant alien although the beings may look like us, have minds far removed from our own. Yet one hardly needs to understand anything of what the characters say to get the gist of the story. In fact, much of the storytelling seems to through us off the scent.
   
   
6. described, apparently, as needing to be watching with mind-altering narcotics. But this isn't true. However, even the aliens partake in inhaling some cloudy substance.

Both sets of aliens are us. We are sometimes the powerful, sometimes the weak. Yet even the weak have strength and the powerful are powerless in certain regards.

Being at the tail end of a strange decade in the arts, which this seems to attempt all of the various rebellion's the arts were participating in at the time. Even a kind of cross-dresser, who seems initially oblivious to his dress until his fellow Oms mock it. The film is like an Easter egg, full of the things that was meant to take it out of its time made it fully part of that time. And yet there are interesting, science-fictional apparati to appreciate.

If you are looking for something strange, here you go.

"Patron of the Arts" by William Rotsler

First appeared in Terry Carr's Universe anthology series. Reprinted in retrospective collections by Donald J. Pfeil, Lester del Rey, Terry Carr, Isaac Asimov, Thomas F. Monteleone. It was a runner-up for the Hugo and Locus award (according to ISFDB) and a finalist for the Nebula.

Background:

 Rotsler's art appeared in fanzines and was his first major impact on the genre, winning ten major awards from Locus and Hugos between 1971 and 1997. He did cartoons and made movies, of a kind [IMDB]. They don't seem to be high art although I doubt he'd have agreed when he made them, based on some of my readings of his own writings (see some of his quotes in the Youtube video below). Quotes like these (and perhaps this one from the story) seem to have made him an attractive person to be around:

"[Y]ou might be without money, but you are not poor."

"Bohassian Learns"--a story preceding this one in time and development--is discussed here. It suggests more about the writer's character and thought process.  

The author grows as a literary artist in later novels, but it retains a very uncluttered SF style from the 70s.

This story seems tailor-made made for a man like Rotsler: A story about art, written by an artist. Except the writing is less artsy than philosophical--almost dialectical. One of my favorite quotes is this (albeit, from the novel, not the story), which I thought prophetic:

 "Today the artist who cannot master electronics has a difficult time in many of the arts."

This next quote may or may not be true, but at least it illustrative of the writer and perhaps the story itself:

"The artist doesn't see things, he sees himself."

Rotsler's best quotes seem to set up expectations and break them in the next with some revelatory insight into the arts or human nature (as the first above and, again, see more quotes below).

A number of artists have had to work in electronic mediums to pursue at least the financial benefits of living the artist life although, no doubt, some artists have escaped having had to do this.

The novel bogs down in its own dialectic, bit at points it articulates some cogent points about art that's fascinating to ponder. One almost wishes this were Rotsler's Leaves of Grass that he kept tinkering with advancing, revising until it was a masterwork.Still it has much to recommend. What's most fascinating is how this is a doorway into the mind of an era.

You can see this in the image above, in Fred Pohl's "Day Million", in Terry Carr's "Dancer and the Changer Three" and in the movie Fantastic Planet. They all reach for the ineffable, which is cool albeit at times they purposefully obscure what could be made clear. One part was nudging boundaries wider thanks to "obscenity" court cases like Allen Ginsberg's Howl, which led to others pushing the envelope. Sometimes just putting a thing in a story was enough for some to call it art--no matter the quality. The other part was the Vietnam War and narcotics and reason and defiance of things like story structures and any other reason to offend people gave some reason to call it art. Probably a safe bracket around this era might be 1965-1975. 

But it bleeds out a little before and a little after. Take Terry Gilliam's 1981 movie, Time Bandits, for example. The irreverent surrealism of Monty Python lingers, sensing it in 1981. I don't think the former ways were abandoned so much as transformed, altered, shifted. Perhaps too much presence of what might offend was eventually seen as just bad art, and they wanted to refocus on the art of the thing itself. Where Monty Python and the Holy Grail has a cornucopia of brilliant wit, but Time Bandits has the stronger, more unified story. Which is better art? It depends on what you value.

This doesn't mean that because someone bought into one or more aspects of counterculture that they bought into all. William F. Nolan and George Clayton Johnson's Logan's Run, the movie, is part of, speaks for and speaks against such counterculture. It is a fascinating beast. (The novel feels less cohesive, a bit too picaresque, but maybe it might have made more sense if we were reading it in that era.)

This story is Rotsler's one-hit wonder and he mainline's into this vein of the zeitgeist. Probably part of the reason is success in the other arts. In 1968 he has a documentary capturing the culture of its time, a documentary that may have excited Harlan Ellison to collaborate with Rotsler.

The aformentioned style and development as a literary artist and the tapping into the zeitgeist of his day may go some way the lifespan of its reprints ending in 1977. That doesn't mean it isn't a story worth reading, but that it should be read within its context, its background.  

 

Summary:

Brian Thorne, a patron of the arts, has various discussions with the artist, Michael Cilento. Cilento makes sensual portraits of people and transfers them into vivid, technological cubes called "sensatrons." Thorne encourages Cilento to make one of Madelon Morgana, a woman whom Thorne marries and wants immortalized to let others know she is his "as much as she could belong to anyone." As a patron, the art he helps create will make him immortal as well.

Further Analysis:

At least, two musical artists make guest appearances [David] Bowie as a butler of sorts and Earth Wind & Fire as a location (name altered to keep with what the "ancients" once thought to be the four elements of nature).

Cilento agrees to take on Morgana, but only if he can have her in other ways. Thorne assents because he wants the art. The final work becomes the greatest of its kind. Cilento gives the work to Thorne only because Cilento is taking Morgana--an act which haunts Thorne, painful as his surname.

One can see why it was held in great esteem. The ending is emotional, as editors point out, but not necessarily in some profound manner. Effective. It's his ars poetica giving one a sense of art in his time and outside it. If you are looking for stories with statements on art, here's one.

 

Quotes:

"[Art] was 'mine' only in that I could house it. I could not contain it. It had to belong to the world."

"[Great art] is different each time, for I am different each time."

"[H]e is an artist of his time, yet like many artists, not of his time."

"[T]he reality of art is not the reality of reality."

"Bohassian Learns" by William Rotsler

First appeared in Ted White's Amazing. Reprinted by Martin Harry Greenberg, Joseph D. Olander, Patricia Warrick, Isaac Asimov.

Summary:

A baby is born:

"Bohassian was being born and he didn't like it."

The first telepath sloshing happily in its womb encounters not only light but his first minds.

Analysis (with Spoilers if that's possible):

A brilliant opening, if you'll pardon the double or triple entendre.

This is the third of Rotsler's stories, and only that was more reprinted. It seems to be as much about itself as the author learning his trade. That language is rudimentary but fits with a subject: the awakening of a mind.

The flaw here (or at the unexplained) is that it suggests that the mind only awakens when given birth. Why then? Why not before? Why not after?

But it remains fascinating. How would the telepath first awaken and how steep would that learning curve be? It probably not understand its relationship to the world and may well destroy, if it could, minds it perceived as potentially harmful although, not being telepathic, how would they know that a telepath existed unless the unformed mind communicated in some fashion? But it seemed like it was more probing other minds than communicating. However, the portrayal is convincing: Were telepathy real, something like this might occur, allowing us to recognize them.

A Google search yielded so few instances of "Bohassian" that one can reasonably guess the origin: Igor Bohassian: an essayist first published two years after this story, writing about various science issues such as the energy crisis and that the pyramids were actually astronomical observatories. The writer seems reasonably intelligent although the conclusions don't feel especially unusual. 

Two possibilities: 1) Igor is a friend perhaps encountered at a science fiction convention. 2) Igor is a pen name of the author or a friend. Since so few instances of the name occurs, I'm learning toward the latter. The surname suggests "bohemian" which, according to Oxford, means "a socially unconventional person, especially one who is involved in the arts"--a definition with two parts, both of which strongly correlate with Rotsler. Bohassian writes something shy of a dozen articles then disappears. So either Igor is Rotsler or someone with strong spiritual kinship. Given that the name doesn't appear in Google, it seems most probable that Igor is Rotsler. 

As mentioned earlier, one of Bohassian's article discussed the Egyptian pyramids and other ancient cultures. For further evidence, see his story "Patron of the Arts":

"The very old civilizations interest me the most.... Babylon, Assyria, Sumer, Egypt, the valley of the Euphrates. Crete seems like a newcomer to me. Everything was new then. There was everything to invent, to see, to believe."

One expects some seismic story shift, inverting our readerly expections, but none arrive. There are no surprises. It just presents the idea itself . While profound and thought-provoking, it doesn't feel like an ending. Perhaps it was part of something longer he'd wanted to develop and decided to send it off, as is.

Rotsler's most famed story--"Patron of the Arts"--will be discussed here shortly with further thoughts on the writer and character.

Time Bandits--analysis

 

In 2017, Terry Gilliam was inducted into SF Hall of Fame and received the 2009 BAFTA Fellowship for lifetime achievement. In 1976, he shared with his co-writer Terry Jones, a British Fantasy award. For Time Bandits, he received a nomination for the same award. Empire magazine listed it as #22 of children's movies, and as Time's "Top 10 Time-Travel Movies".

Time Bandits, I loved as a kid, as much as I loved nearly all of Terry Gilliam's work, even the ones I'm not supposed to. As a kid, I must have loved all the crazy plot shifts in Time Bandits, which still are fun. It retains some thought-provoking good vs. evil, bunched at the end. This is the only film I can recall where the protagonists were all short. But why wasn't I disturbed about the ending as a kid?

It has fallen on my nebulous list of films, from the upper stratosphere of brilliance--probably due to the semi-picaresque nature--but not as far as I'd thought.  

The following spoilers may affect some people's enjoyment, but for those who want to keep their enjoyment active, it should enliven their viewings. I leave some key things out, but of course, you can watch the movie yourself and return to read.

First, it opens with a marvelous commercial where it talks about how wonderful modern conveniences are, how they free up our lives so we can live as we want to, and we get to view a family watching TV and/or reading what seems, not necessarily life enlivening stuff (which is an alternate interpretation of the title). The wife complains about differences between a neighbor's and her microwave--one being 7 seconds faster at heating up. And of course, this calls into question what we are freeing up our lives to do. The speed of the microwaving suggests that the timeline begins in some near future (Yes, I realize, this scene is a joke, but it's also serious in terms of contemplation. So much information in so tight a space.)

There's a TV show called "Your Money or Your Life," and I must admit to not fully grasping this one, which must be critical. Clearly not a game-show phrase, but what a robber says when he wants you to choose between giving him your money or dying. But here, it's a game show. I don't think there is (in the movie's universe or any other) a realistic game show unless again that society is less interested in human life that people are willing to gamble their life on a TV game show, which I'm dubious about. Whenever we do see these game shows in literature, I think we only buy into them when there is an element of coercion which does not seem to be happening here. Unless I'm mistaken. Maybe life means less in a world of convenience (or so Gilliam predicts?). But if we simplify this as a metaphorical choice between things (You can work for a good living or live a life that involves family), then I'd buy into the equation, but I doubt you could make a game-show out of that. That, though, is an interesting way to frame our lives. I'll return to this in a different section.

The game show comes into play toward the end when the evil one appears with his parents, but first we have to discuss reality.

What is reality and what is imagination? On the kid's [Kevin's] wall are drawings and images of everything he's about to experience. Is this a dream, a lively imagination, or reality? But the father suggests that it is all real by saying Kevin is making a lot of noise in his bedroom. The only explanation is that these fantastic events are reality. Yet how did he "predict" these events in the past with his drawings? So is it real or not? My feeling is that we are meant to these are imaginings fleshed out in reality since there often is evidence proving fantastic events even after everything has been reset to reality. Of course, it's possible that we are still within a dream world, but then we have no idea what reality is in this world.

So when his parents appear as part of the game show, we learn that they were part of the illusion of the evil one. But if true, why were they drawn to touch the pure concentrated evil?

It's hard to know what to make of what happened to Kevin's parents? Is it all a dream or imagination, or did imagination create reality, or did a capricious god who seems to be restoring order in other ways, suddenly allow this tragedy to occur? If so, why? Caprice? Anger over behavior within someone else's imagination or illusion?

We laugh at us humans in the opening scene, at our "problems," but then we have arrive at the end with a more serious problem and it's related with a similar jocular tone. Do we laugh again, or do we pull back a bit and wonder about how we should feel given the circumstances? Is the first scene altered in our mind? or the last?

Fascinating to ponder, whatever our conclusions.

 

"Midas Plague" by Frederik Pohl

Originally appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted in several major retrospectives, by such editors as Arthur O. Lewis, Jr., Ben Bova, Gregory Fitz Gerald, Brian W. Aldiss, Kingsley Amis, Robert Conquest,  Isaac Asimov, Martin H. Greenberg, Charles G. Waugh. Lester Del Rey selected it as one of Pohl's best.

 

Summary:

The "Midas" world is one where energy is so plentiful, that to be a good citizen means consuming more. The more one consumes, the higher one rises on the societal ladder. How does one consume ever more? If one cheats to get ahead, how does one hide their misdeeds? Surely, the evidence of their guilt

Commentary with Spoilers:

First, we should point out the famous fairy tale of Midas, who had the golden touch. Everything he touched turned to gold, making him very rich... until he touched his daughter, suggesting that greed may make us regret how it affects other parts of our lives.

Pohl takes this fairy tale and completely repurposes it. Note what the titles are for anthologies and collections it was reprinted in (he named two of them): American Utopias, Nightmare Age, The Case Against Tomorrow. Now some seem to suggest he does not mean the world he proposes, but the subtitle of Nightmare Age--"Tomorrows... we may be building today!" suggests that his aim seems utterly realistic. I also like that someone thought this deserved a place among utopias, not dystopias.

There's some truth here, but of course it's exaggerated for effect. The coolest thing about this short work is that what starts as a dystopia ends as a kind of utopia. It looks like doom for our hero who at first tries to make it through honesty and is forced by unsavory characters who trick his wife into forcing the couple into having to consume more. So he has to cheat, using robots to help him achieve this end. As he's hailed as a hero of consumption, the noose of his getting caught is cinching around his neck... until it turns out that they knew all along what he'd been doing and were impressed, starting to employ his techniques for consumption. 

Absurd but strangely delightful. It's difficult to explain the metamorphic shift in storytelling as we learn we weren't living in the morality of the dystopia but a true if bizarre utopia. Little wonder it was listed as  one of the great short works in the history of SF.

"The Tunnel under the World" by Frederik Pohl

Originally appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted in several major retrospectives, by such editors as Arnold Thompson, Brian W. Aldiss, Kingsley Amis, Susan Morris, Orson Scott Card, Tom Shippey, Isaac Asimov, Martin H. Greenberg, Brian W. Aldiss. Lester Del Rey selected it as one of Pohl's best.

Read online here.

 

Summary:

On June 15th, Guy Burckhardt wakes from a dream about an explosion, to a world that's off. One example would be a loudspeaker outside advertising "Feckle Freezers! Feckle Freezers!" repeated over and over that comes off angry, if not insane. Guy goes about his day attempting to make it as normal as possible but the oddity of existence keeps rearing its head until Guy meets someone who will help him piece together what this world is all about.

Commentary (with Spoilers--don't read this if you haven't read the story):

Guy is told that they've been asking questions about the world and it's always June 15th. Everyone remembers the June 14th explosion and keeps waking up here. He's taken to the underground tunnel where all is revealed in several frame by frame revelations. Not only are they all dead, but are tiny figures (robots) on a tabletop, part of an experiment in advertising.

If one were to limit one's self to just one Fred Pohl story, this may be it. Super cool. Comparing it to "The Midas Plague," it is half the length, but the speculation does feel more concentrated and, therefore, more awe inducing. Still "The Midas Plague" is worth reading, but this one is tight.

My only complaint is that there should feel like there's a gradual change to the changes in advertising, adapting to the subjects, so that it becomes impossible to be sure about any aspect of reality--at least that's how I'd write the movie version.

Pohl clearly has an aversion to advertising despite or because of having worked in it (see also "The Midas Plague" and The Merchants of Venus). He would have been born before the proliferation of ads and grown up with radio and catchy jingles and phrases that  people paid for to get customers to remember their products when they entered the store. It must have been jarring to move from a world where it didn't exist to emerge into a world where it did. Whereas later generations may understand where he was coming from, but accepted the ads as the price one paid to get listen to their favorite radio programs or watch TV shows. Nonetheless, our distrust and/or dislike of ads is mixed with our understanding why they exist.

But it's strange what advertising is foisted upon these people whose after-life is spent in a kind of advertising hell. There's coercive methods of ads, to what end? Perhaps they are testing out a kind of oppressive tyranny, seeing to what extremes they can press on people without making them snap.

The term "Feckle Freezer" is curious. They are frozen in time and place and thought. "Feckle" may be altered from "fickle" (erratic) or "fettle" (fitness) or "feck" (value/worth). It seems to be also have a corrupted term in Scotland suggesting one's mettle, to withstand adversity with resilience. Combing all of these definitions has a powerful effect. The sellers want to suggest one thing, but the buyers hear something else. Or maybe it's just meant as a nonsense word that is meant to suggest it has meaning. The cumulative effect is powerful.

There are a number of stories that begin questioning reality especially in the modern era, especially in the works of Philip K. Dick. Perhaps advertising, according to Pohl, is at least one root cause of our losing our grip on what reality is.

"Fermi and Frost" by Frederik Pohl

First appeared in Shawna McCarthy's Asimov's. It won the Hugo and was up for the Locus and SF Chronicle awards. Reprinted in several retrospectives, by Gardner Dozois, Arthur W. Saha, Donald A. Wollheim, Isaac Asimov, Sheila Williams, Martin H Greenberg, James Frenkel, Jack Dann, Mike Ashley.

 

Summary:

Nuclear war wipes out most of humanity and friends, including their supper. A small remnant escapes to Iceland.

Discussion (Spoilers):

When this appeared, nuclear holocaust stories had been appearing since the bombing of Hiroshima (see Pohl's earlier "Let the Ants Try" which provides an interesting contrast--optimistic about surviving nuclear bombing, but not so lucky about what might follow). Many worried about not just about the survival of themselves, but also human species. Some may have more optimistic than they ought to have been.

While not a difficult story, it can be read too hastily. One might miss choices of tone and word choice. In a sense, there is no story. There is, but it is subverted, short changed. If someone insists there is a story, ask them to summarize it.

There's a boy, but he's sentimentalized, orphaned, helpless, wet. We're told he's nine then reminded he's young. The opening line: "On Timothy Clary's ninth birthday he got no cake."

We have an omniscient narrator who drops into the minds of many. Then we switch to Harry Malibert, a scientist who runs a radio telescope in Arecibo. We think we've finally got our protagonist. But not exactly. We're given the nigh impossibility of survival. Probably it is set in Iceland for its geothermal activity so there is a remote chance of survival, a source heat and energy that is not reliant on the sun.

Then there's the issue of tone: "Get away! Climb the highest mountain! Drop yourself splat, spang, right in the middle of the widest desert! Run! Hide!" 

All of those exclamation marks. Due to juxtaposition, it suggests that some leap off the mountain. But "splat?" 

A few paragraphs later, it suggest that Timothy "might have wound up in the plane of refugees that reached Pittsburgh just it time to become plasma." Just in time? Plasma? There's a dark humor here at work. It discusses all of the likely outcomes where he'd die, but then writes:

"he might have been given medicine, and oufnd somebody to protect him, and take him to a refuge, and live...

"But that is in fact what did happen!"

At this point, we doubt that any kind of survival will happen, and that last line, a little glib, remarking on the improbable chance that something good would happen. That last line is repeated at the end, where we have even less faith. But he adds, "At least, one would like to think so." This final sentence rubs a little of the dark humor off. It feels more honest in its feigned hope even though it has provided ample evidence that it won't.

This wasn't the only nuclear-worry story to catch the Hugo's eye that year. David Brin's The Postman also took home a trophy. This was probably part of the zeitgeist, worrying over the arms race build-up. See the cover story in the image above.

At any rate, what makes this story successful is knowledge of the subgenre (post nuclear war stories), knowing the common tropes found in such stories. "Let the Ants Try" subverts the subgenre as well with the thwarting of hope for human survival, but part of the success of that is also knowledge of other stories. But this one takes a hard, realistic look at our optimism. It is the Uber-story, paradoxically superseding all others yet entirely depending on knowledge and existence of that subgenre.

"Let the Ants Try" by Frederik Pohl [as by James MacCreigh]

 First appeared in Paul L. Payne's Planet Stories, reprinted by Pohl himself, Robert Silverberg, and Algis Budrys. Read online.

Summary:

After a nuclear war, the radiation creates ants with lungs. Two men, including Dr. Salva Gordy, see this as an opportunity to go back in time.

Discussion with Spoilers:

This seems to be Pohl's mash-up between H.G. Wells' The Time Machine and his "The Empire of the Ants." Without lungs, there is a limitation to the size an insect might grow, hence the spontaneous of lungs in ants--however improbable.  It may still be that mash-up, but apparently it began as several Midtown Manhattan discussions between himself and George R. Spoerer (not known to be a writer--the only info that I can seem to find is that he was 16 years Pohl's senior and had an apartment at one time in Brooklyn's Jackson Heights). Another source points out stories that precede this one as the inspiration, but Wells' supercedes them all and being the more famous and more reprinted, perhaps a more likely source. Wells, after all, is mentioned in the story.

The idea is to take these ants back in time and release them and occupy the human beings throughout history in wars with the ants, thereby preventing nuclear war. 

This seems a half-baked idea, especially how far back in time he goes. More likely, three scenarios would occur: 1) The ants eradicate the humans, 2) the ants are still battling humans, perhaps preventing educational/technological progress, 3) one species domesticates the other into companions or as a beast of burden, 4) the humans eradicate the ants.

Only in scenario 2 is it possible that the nuclear bombs are not created. Apparently, the ants can manipulate equipment and reverse engineer technology (although presumably using different appendages), so they seem just as likely to build a nuclear bomb at some point, making the whole project foolhardy. 

I had assumed, at first, that the clip below was the goal, thanks to the title. So I was surprised that the protagonist cared what the ants did to the humans since humans had destroyed the world (whatever the ants did would have to be better), but rereading I paid better attention to how he simply wanted his family back. Note the first "Salva" which in Spanish means he/she/it saves (although that could have referred to the ants as well.)

Therefore, apparently, the unnamed narrator titled this story--as well as having written it since who else was left to write it? But of course that means they went back to different timelines to witness events and assumed what other people were thinking.

Pohl himself was the first to reprint his  own story (Silverberg followed 20-odd years later). I'll let the cover of that anthology speak for what he thought about his own story. He said it was the first story of his he thought worth preserving

In the 1977 movie adaptation of Wells' "The Empire of the Ants," characters welcome their new ant taskmasters which The Simpsons famously allude to where they stirred up a number of memes, decades later:

"Growing up in Edge City" by Frederik Pohl

Originally appeared in Roger Elwood and Robert Silverberg's Epoch. It was up for a Nebula. James Frankel considered it one of Pohl's best, collected it in Platinum Pohl.

Summary:

In a highly regimented yet protective mechanical society, a young man routinely hides his location from his proctors and goes off exploring Edge City. There he meets Dropouts, people like his parents who somehow were unfit for society.

Discussion:

Whoa, Nelly. This one is fire. Definitely, experimental in style--these solid chunks of text that give us insight into this isolated mind that one expects to be influenced in one direction--toward a sensitive feeling toward people who had been kind to him--but instead he lies about having met them and when he is older and in power, is driven to attack the people who had invited him to live with them and be loved. This is paradoxically moving and excruciating. The style is so uniquely tied to everything about the story. Brilliant. Not one of the greatest of the greats, but well worth the time.

"Day Million" by Frederik Pohl

For more a deeper look and for other ways of seeing this story, see this post.  It has been viewed ~1500 times.

First appeared in Frank M. Robinson's Rogue. Reprinted in nearly a dozen major retrospectives, byAnn VanderMeer & Jeff VanderMeer, James Patrick Kelly, John Kessel,  Leigh Ronald Grossman, Arthur B. Evans, Gardner Dozois, Martin H. Greenberg, David G. Hartwell, Kathryn Cramer, Ursula K. Le Guin, Brian Attebery, Robert Silverberg, Josh Pachter,  Martin H. Greenberg, James E. Gunn, Patricia S. Warrick, Joseph D. Olander, Brian W. Aldiss, Harry Harrison, Pamela Sargent, Robin Scott Wilson, Damon Knight, Dick Allen, Donald A. Wollheim, Terry Carr, Val Clear. Both Lester Del Rey and James Frenkel considered this one of Pohl's best.

Summary:

In the near or far future, a boy and a girl fall in love. But they are not like any boy or girl that we today might know.

 

Discussion:

The Aesthetics:

Someone asked me what the most disappointing but most lauded story I've read. This one came to mind. The biggest problem is the lack of fictive dream as John Gardner called it.  We never get to fall in love with our characters who are supposed to fall in love with each other. This was my complaint although one might focus on other issues. I don't care if I agree or disagree, but the aesthetics should be up to par. One could slip into and out of the fictive dream, which would probably be the best scenario in a situation like this, no matter how difficult the future might be to explain.

One major unanswered question: How and why is the narrator talking to us in this way? What is preventing our understanding? It addresses us (if we indeed are the adressees in the speaker's tale) as if we will object, but I doubt few SF readers actually ever do. If only the story were more pinned down in time and place, it might have suggested more of the fictive dream.

This suggests that the story is aimed in a different direction. Much as I like stories that break the fictive dream, we are rarely immersed in it here. Pohl could have done so as he had the skill, but chose not to. Perhaps he didn't want to. Why not? Did he not want or was he incapable of delivering the strangeness? Was he writing at the edge of what he could comprehend? Or was he purposefully thwarting expectations?

Robert Silverberg praises this "style" in Worlds of Wonder, yet almost in the same breath suggests it shouldn't be done again.

In this era, a number of writers were trying to rewrite what fiction means. This is probably why Harry Harrison and Brian Aldiss included it in the Nebula Award anthology, despite it apparently not making the cut. It may have been considered part of the New Wave, which Aldiss (especially) and Harrison sometimes championed.

The Thumbed Nose at Normies:

The British New Wave was more aesthetically driven while the American New Wave (exemplified by Harlan Ellison's Dangerous Visions) was more taboo driven. This story conveniently fits both parameters. Clearly there was cross-pollination between the two. It feels like a Dangerous Visions story, and perhaps it helped launch the idea in Ellison's brain.

This was first published in the men's magazine--intended as a rival to Playboy--as edited by Frank Robinson who was gay, which is a curious combination yet explains its publication.

As suggested above, the style itself is a thumbed nose at our conception of story should be but it also  rejects our idea of normative sexuality. But it does so, so strangely. Yes, it is still trangendered individuals, but in a way that it is still normal. If it could be labeled as such. It wants to make the strange as normal as possible. It is but is not.

However, the future changes genders based not on the individual but on what outsiders view the genetics should be. In a sense, it doesn't understand that it is presenting the same problem to the next generation. It isn't even nature developing one's gender, but human beings telling people what their gender is. Pohl's narrator suggests this is just like giving a scholarship to Julliard for people talented at making music, but this is done without consent before an individual could decide for themselves.

The Science:

This suggests one of the potential scientific problems with the text. On one hand, maybe in the future, we think we might be able to guess by an arrangement of genes who will desire might desire to be transgender, but it neglects our understanding that not only is phenotype determined by genetics developing, which influences the development of other genes but also by nurture. Also, it would be far simpler to add or remove the Y chromosome, so that one would not have to continually repress one's gene expression. Yet the Y and the X are maintained as is. But it still seems improbable that one could guess what phenotype one would want to express. Instead of freeing of gender, it might be a shackling of gender. This might create more problems than it prevents.

 When I first read it, I didn't challenge its suppositions, assuming "Day Million" meant [a] Day [a] Million [years from now]. I think (the text says about 10,000 years from now, so maybe I accepted that). Some far future, anyway. In Pohl's essay "On Velocity Exercises" from the Those Who Can anthology (see discussion of that essay here), that this was supposed to be a million days from the beginning of the Christian era. That would mean, more or less, Novembber 23, 2737. That would have been ~770 years from when Pohl originally wrote this. 

However, if one were to project from the publication date, then it would suggest Christmas Eve or Christmas in 4703. Either way, we are still a far cry from 10,000 years from now. Perhaps Pohl rounded and did a quick mental calculation using 100 days in a year instead of 365.25 (accounting for leap year). This suggests that maybe Pohl wrote this a little too hastily, perhaps without double-checking himself.

One character has a centrifuge for a heart. That doesn't make sense based on what we know about centrifuges which separate the parts of a solution/suspension such as that contained in a cell in order to study the parts of each. Why would a creature want to separate out the parts of their blood? It would probably be poor at holding oxygen post-separation. Or maybe the centrifuge is more metaphorical, suggesting that the blood is flung out to the parts of the body by some high-speed rotary device. However, one problem would be a huge blood pressure, which means a different constitution from what we have today, or they'd all be dead seconds after creation of the heart. The other problem would be the difficulty of oxygen distribution, which  would be a lack of time for this to occur.

It also discussed osmosis as one method of oxygen distribution, which make sense unless we are talking about beings at least as small as frogs with large surface areas.  

On the Whole:

As the above link suggests, there is much to appreciate. It is flawed. But it is probably best appreciated as a kind of speculative essay.

 

Frederik Pohl's Velocity Exercises and thoughts on style: "Grandy Devil," "Punch" and "Pythias"

"Grandy Devil" first appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted by Robin Scott Wilson.
This was reprinted as one of Pohl's best (~the top 15% of his stories up until this point, 1974? or perhaps from the 1940s through the 1960s).

Summary: A young man learns who the strange people who visit the house which has been in family's hands for generations.

"Punch" first appeared in Playboy. Reprinted by Avram Davidson, Groff Conklin, the editors of Playboy, Isaac Asimov, Martin Harry Greenberg, Joseph D. Olander, Stefan Dziemianowicz, Robert Weinberg. This was reprinted as one of Pohl's best (~the top 15% of his stories up until this point, 1974? or perhaps from the 1940s through the 1960s). Read online.

Summary: A kind group of aliens offer humanity many gifts, including warships to venture into space.

 

"Pythias" first appeared in H. L. Gold's Galaxy. Reprinted by Martin H. Greenberg, Charles G. Waugh, Jenny-Lynn Waugh. Read online.

Summary: A young visits an old friend in the hospital, who had just protected the Senate from a hand grenade meant to blow up the proceedings.

#

Velocity Exercises

What are they?

In his essay on style in the anthology, Those Who Can, these are three stories Pohl pointed to as having fit the definition. Pohl used a number of terms and definitions that make it difficult to pinpoint.

"Three-word stories": Pohl wrote, "not that every one of them is exactly three words; it may be a little more or less." Rather, I think he refers to the turn the story makes which may depend on three-word revelations that cast the story in a new light. In "Punch" it's "Neither do we," and in "Punch" it's "But I can."

"Twist-ending" or "one-punch" stories: two other names Pohl lent to this idea, which Pohl telegraphs by calling one "Punch." These, he says, were popular in magazines like Liberty and Collier's. He's a bit dismissive, but the anthologies these appeared in had multiple printings, which is rare for anthologies. The magazines were popular in Pohl's youth, but they folded, but I suspect that had more to do with the changing economy than the stories themselves given the popularity of anthologies that appeared decades after the magazines folded. Moreover,  Collier's published Hemingway, Faulkner, and Heinlein whose work could not easily be summed up by this.

Velocity exercises: What is the velocity in the exercise? A story that can be written quickly? A story that can be read quickly? He doesn't say. He does call it a haiku--a kind of compressed story told in 2000 words or less, which may be a narrative form more akin to, say, the sonnet and its iambic pentameter and final turn, especially.

Pohl adds that the important thing to these stories, despite the emphasis on the "turn" or "twist," is not to diminish the story that proceeds the change. He does invest in the main story, but it's unclear where these represent a departure from other stories of this kind.

Now Pohl's essay is supposed to be about style. I suspect that the two short short stories ("Day Million" and "Grandy Devil") were selected for Pohl by Robin Scott Wilson so as to give Pohl a path to illumine what style in a story might be. Rather, Pohl took the essay in the direction of form, which is somewhat informative but not fully. The gist of what Pohl had to say about this was

"In the act of solving these problem [character, plot, scene, setting, theme] style is created. If it is appropriate, it is good; if it is inappropriate it; and that is the Whole of the Law."

The last is an allusion to Aleister Crowley, suggesting that the writer seek out his own true path. A bit mushy and not entirely useful for a writer seeking advice. This suggests that he may not know himself except on a subconscious level. He does suggest that parodists copy other writers' styles and when it does so inappropriately to the story in question, "the results are comic."

James Gunn in addressing his own style in his most famous story [the Nebula-nominated "The Listeners"] says essentially that style should be seen but not heard--a very different conclusion. Yet, Gunn goes into more depth, suggesting that style in part comes out of revision, seeking better words to express one's meaning. Most surprisingly, Gunn invites disagreement: "don't let me get by with that! disagree!" which echoes the old, long lost ways of academia that invited people to disagree, to let people own their own opinions and to have discussions, rather to be told what to think.

What's interesting about several of these stories ["The Listeners" and "Grandy Devil"] and the above quote alluding to Crowley, too, is that they borrow from other writers, invoking a kind of style that comments on and illumines the work of each. 

In "Grandy Devil" Pohl has a series of "begats" that calls on the Bible where historical lineages are of critical importance as it is here as well.

Gunn's "The Listeners" quotes famous works to put them in a context of communicating with aliens, which both illumines and alters the theme in that they comment on Gunn's own spare, clear style.

 

Commentary on individual stories:

"Grandy Devil": In some ways this is the most fun, but the least provocative. Unless you consider the mystery of one's lineage important. There's also the idea that we don't always understand the history of conflicts that we walk into as young people.

"Punch": This is the most famed and recognized of the three, but perhaps the least interesting. Beware of those bearing gifts. "I fear the Greeks even when bearing gifts."--Virgil's Aeneid. But still fun and provocative, nonetheless.

"Pythias": The most brilliant of the three, this tells the story of a man who kills a friend in order to obtain the secret of telekinesis and hold it for himself. It presents itself as doing the greater good thing, but we see that it's just selfishness and greed--a parable applicable to every political faction ever.