The following reviews are the 31st and 32nd installments of my series searching for “SF short stories that are critical in some capacity of space agencies, astronauts, and the culture which produced them.” Some stories I’ll review in this series might not fit. And that is okay. I relish the act of literary archaeology.
Philip K. Dick’s “Explorers We” (1959) reframes the triumphant astronaut’s return home as the ultimate horror.
James Tiptree, Jr.’s “Painwise” (1972) imagines the hallucinogenic journey of a post-human explorer severed from the experience of physical pain.
A brief note before we dive into the greater morass of things: This series grew from my relentless fascination with the science fiction of Barry N. Malzberg (1939-2024), who passed away last month. Malzberg wrote countless incisive visions that reworked America’s cultic obsession with the ultra-masculine astronaut and his adoring crowds. As I am chronically unable to write a topical post in the moment, I direct you towards “Friend of the Site” Rich Horton’s obituary in Black Gate. If you are new to his fiction, I proffer my reviews of Revelations (1972), Beyond Apollo (1972), The Men Inside (1973), and The Gamesman (1975). The former two are relevant to this series.
Ed Emshwiller’s cover for The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, ed. Robert P. Mills (January 1959)
4.5/5 (Very Good)
Philip K. Dick’s “Explorers We” first appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, ed. Robert P. Mills (January 1959). You can read it online here.
What a way to finish 2024! Future Powers, ed. Jack Dann and Gardner Dozois (1976) is a well-crafted thematic anthology with seven original stories and two older classics. Other than R. A. Lafferty’s average contribution, all the tales effectively engage with the theme of the complexities of future control both in everyday and the macropolitical contexts.
A few tantalizing fragments: Ursula K. Le Guin’s “The Diary of the Rose” (1976) explores the operations of dystopic control through the eyes of a neophyte doctor (“scopist”); Damon Knight ruminates on the nature and treatment of the psychopath in “The Country of the Kind” (1956); and A. K. Jorgensson’s “Coming-of-Age-Day” (1965) takes the reader through all the unnerving and confusing moments of a child in a strange future attempting to understand the nature of sex.
This is the 20th post in my series of vintage generation ship short fiction reviews. You are welcome to read and discuss along with me as I explore humanity’s visions of generational voyage. And thanks go out to all who have joined already. I also have compiled an extensive index of generation ship SF if you wish to track down my earlier reviews on the topic and any that you might want to read on your own.
Uncredited cover for Cosmos Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine, ed. L. B. Cole (September 1953)
3.25/5 (Above Average)
Poul Anderson’s “The Troublemakers” (1953) first appeared in Cosmos Science Fiction and Fantasy Magazine, ed. L. B. Cole (September 1953). You can read it online here.
Anderson’s tale is a fascinating collision of two of my recurring interests in post-WWII science fiction: generation ships and organized labor. Due to my love of Ursula K. Le Guin’s “Paradises Lost” (2002) and Brian W. Aldiss’ Non-Stop (variant title: Starship) (1959), I started a review series on generation ship short fiction in 2019. The series has languished recently as I am running out of pre-1985 depictions of the theme available in English to read. I read Anderson’s vision last year but could not muster a review. However, my recent focus on organized labor caused me to reread Anderson’s account of generational conflict, the working class experience, and the contours of power and government.
In The Drift (1985), a fix-up novel comprised of two Nebula-nominated short works–“Mummer Kiss” (1981) and “Marrow Death” (1984), maps a new way forward in an ecologically and genetically ravaged post-apocalyptic age. The entire concoction decays with a sense of grim unease and cavorts around piles of dead that would make a triumvir from the Late Roman Republic proud. It’s a violent, erotic, and disquieting experience that can’t entirely hide its flaws behind the decadent panache.
In the past few years, I’ve put together a series on the first three published short fictions by female authors who are completely new to me or whose most famous SF novels fall mostly outside the post-WWII to mid-1980s focus of my reading adventures.
Today I’ve selected the first four stories by an author I’ve only recently started to read–Leigh Kennedy (1951-). I’d previously reviewed “Helen, Whose Face Launched Twenty-Eight Conestoga Hovercraft” (1982) and placed her on the list for this series. According to SF Encyclopedia, Kennedy’s “writing is succinct, polished, lucent, and her stories are emotionally penetrating; it is unfortunate that she has fallen from the world of novel publishing, though continuing to work as a professional indexer.” And I can’t agree more! Her first four stories show great promise and moments of refined vision. I can’t help but think the backlash to her Nebula-nominated (and best-known work) “Her Furry Face” (1983) might have had some effect on her trajectory.
Note: My read but “waiting to be reviewed pile” is growing. Short rumination/tangents/impressions are a way to get through the stack before my memory and will fades. My website partially serves as a record of what I have read and a memory apparatus for future projects. Stay tuned for more detailed and analytical reviews.
1. A Mask for the General, Lisa Goldstein (1987)
Mick McGinty’s cover for the 1st edition
3/5 (Average)
One of many attempts to dispel fascist gloom novels I’ve been drawn to recently, Lisa Goldstein’s A Mask for a General: A Novel (1987) imagines a deliberate retreat into the “primitive” as a way to resist. The story follows Mary, a young naive teenager desperate to strike out on her own, and her encounter with Lisa, a master mask maker. In this future, in the wreckage of the University of California, Berkeley campus (the parallel to the historical role of the university in the 60s is deliberate), various “Tribes” attempt to escape the grip of The General by wearing masks and taking on new personas detached from the present. Apparently after a series of disasters, Japan has far surpassed the United States as a technological power. Considering how the world viewed Japan in the 80s, this is not a ridiculous assumption. The General controls media and has dismantled every semblance of democratic government. Mary gets drawn into a larger, rather bizarre, attempt to influence The General that might tear down the state.
I can’t get off my Clifford D. Simak (1904-1988) kick–the author that’s defined, directly and indirectly, my 2024 reading and writing adventure. Rather than hunt for more stories on the theme of organized labor, I fished out a collection languishing in a dusty corner of my shelves instead. Best Science of Science Fiction Stories of Clifford D. Simak (1967), not to be mixed up with the later collection The Best of Clifford Simak (1975), contains seven short stories published between 1954-1963. Of the bunch, “Founding Father” (1957) ranks amongst the best of Simak I’ve read. Only one, “Lulu” (1957), should be avoided.
While I still recommend City (novelized 1952) for readers new to Simak, this collection contains a nice representative group of stories from those nine years.
Short Summaries/Analysis
“Founding Father” (1957), 4.75/5 (Very Good). First appeared in Galaxy Magazine, H. L. Gold (May 1957). You can read it online here.
For a large portion of the year, I’ve been collecting evidence on unions in post-WWII to very early 60s American science fiction.1 To be clear, I am not on the hunt for the best by these authors. This project is about stories that reference unions. I will read all the stories I can by American SF authors on the topic during this timeframe for this project in order to understand how authors responded to the historical moment in which they lived. Exciting!
A Bit of Historical Context
During the Great Depression, there was broad consensus among leftist thinkers that the labor movement would lead to radical change. The Second World War and the economic recovery shattered that consensus.2 The unions themselves underwent substantial transformation in this period. American corporate powers and their conservative congressional allies unleashed a “propaganda campaign” against the labor movement.3 This culminated in the contentious passage of the Taft-Hartley Act (1947), which weakened the ability of unions to strike. Over the course of the 1950s, automobile manufacturers and their unions pioneered a new relationship—adopted by other industries—in which companies agreed to grant wage increases, health care, and retirement plans in return for union support of long-term contracts. Increasingly, the political and social transformation of capitalism became secondary to preserving their organizations and maintaining a harmonious relationship with industry.4
Before World World II, anti-capitalist intellectuals imagined the labor movement as the American Proletariat which would, at any moment, transform the capitalist system. After WWII, they struggled to grapple with an economic system they had expected to collapse and the lack of interest in socialism within American unions.5 C. Wright Mills (1916-1962) argued labor had been co-opted by state power.6 Those that continued to support elements of the labor movement, such as Sidney Lens (1912-1986), struggled to rationalize labor’s part in the militarization of Cold War America.7 The one-time Trotskyist, Seymour Martin Lipset (1922-2006), argued that while the labor-movement fell short of representing the “class-based aims of a unified working class” it continued to play a roll in “prohibiting antidemocratic mass movements” by offering workers a role in a “mediating institution.”8 Most involved in the 60s New Left abandoned labor completely as a force for change and grouped unions as part of the liberal establishment, irrelevant in the construction of a new radicalism.9 As in, trade unions “focused on material gains, not fundamental social change.”10
Science fiction written in the post-WWII world likewise reflected outright criticism, deep ambivalence, and confusion over the role of the labor movement. Philip K. Dick’s “Stand-By” (1963) satirizes unions and the media in a post-scarcity world but tentatively suggests conflict between both might lead to the overthrow of a ruling computer and the eventual reemergence of democracy. Milton Lesser’s “Do It Yourself” (1957), one of only a handful unabashedly positive accounts on unions in the 50s, imagines a post-apocalyptic future in which the American individualist ethos reigns supreme. While banned and publicly ridiculed, a union secretly sends out agents to facilitate the rebuilding project. And in H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire’s “Hunter Patrol” (1959), a ragtag group of disaffected, including a union man (an object of jest), attempt to recruit a soldier from earlier in time to overthrow a dictator. More than a few 50s authors, like Robert Silverberg (whom I’ll feature in a later post) and Clifford D. Simak, read and engaged with contemporary writers on the labor movement.11
Let’s get to the stories!
Lloyd Birmingham’s cover art for Amazing, ed. Cele Goldsmith (October 1963)
2.75/5 (Bad)
Philip K. Dick’s “Stand-By” first appeared in Amazing Stories, ed. Cele Goldsmith (October 1963). You can read it online here.
Ted White (1938-) took over as editor of Amazing Science Fiction and Fantastic from Barry N. Malzberg in October, 1968. As the magazines were bi-monthly and Malzberg had already acquired stories for multiple later issues, White’s first issues appeared in 1969. He’d accepted the position on the condition that he phase out the reprints (not acquired by White) slowly over multiple years.1 Apparently while White was not a fan of the New Wave movement, he “was all for more daring fiction exploring adult themes and saw no reason why these stories could not co-exist alongside more traditional stories.”2 Thus, his two magazines attempted to appeal to a wide-range of readers.
By the early 1970s, White demonstrated growing interest in even “greater liberalization of science fiction, in line with what was happening to youth nationwide.” He saw SF as “a vehicle to push back on the barriers of the ‘establishment’, with no suppression of soft drugs, ‘healthy sex,’ or free expression.”3 His magazines included stories emphasizing future sex in all its forms” far more frequently than its competitors.4 As the pay rates of both magazines were low–White could only pay 1 cent a word vs. 3 cents for the bigger magazines of the day–he attempted to appeal to writers who did not mesh well with the “establishment.”5
White did not earn a living wage as the editor despite the magazines consuming much of his time. In order to cobble together a meager living he also served as art director (which included cutting and pasting each issue) and wrote stories to publish in his own magazines!6 White’s first professional stories appeared in 1962 after a decade of fan writing.
This post includes three of White’s own violent and bleak visions of future society that appeared in Amazing and Fantastic. While he might not have been a fan of the experimental tendencies of the movement, his obsession with violating taboos, scenes of urban decay, and general miasmic gloom are certainly on display.
I am increasingly fascinated by the more radical, bleak, and grimy stories within White’s magazines–both from his pen and others–and plan on exploring more. See my earlier reviews of Lisa Tuttle’s “Stone Circle” (1976) and Grania Davis’ “New-Way-Groovers Stew” (1976).
Let’s get to the stories!
Jeff Jones’ cover for Amazing Science Fiction, ed. Ted White (May 1971)
Science Fiction and Other Suspect Ruminations 