What pre-1985 science fiction are you reading or planning to read next month? Here’s the July installment of this column.
One of my favorite forms of SF scholarship is careful identification of a intellectual genealogy–tracing what an author read and engaged in dialogue with. Authors are readers. They also can’t escape references and textual traces of what they’ve consumed (or, of course, engagement with the world in which they lived).
I’ve read two interesting examples recently. The first, Carol McGuirk’s “J. G. Ballard and American Science Fiction” in Science Fiction Studies, vol. 49 (2022), is the perfect example of this type of scholarship. She traces Ballard’s engagement with SF, his earliest stories, and the various parallels an interactions between his work and American SF that he read (Galaxy Magazine, Theodore Sturgeon, Fritz Leiber, Robert Heinlein, Frederik Pohl, C. M. Kornbluth, Ray Bradbury, Judith Merril, Federic Brown, Henry Kuttner, C. L. Moore, etc.). She argues that Ballard engaged in “retelling with a twist” (476). She writes that “early Ballard stories rework prior sf in moods ranging from measured homage to barbed repose to parodic photo-bomb” (483).
Jack Gaughan’s interior art for Arkady and Boris Strugatsky’s “Wanderers and Travellers” in International Science Fiction, ed. Frederik Pohl (November 1967).
Today I’m joined again by Rachel S. Cordasco, the creator of the indispensable website and resource Speculative Fiction in Translation, for the fifth installment of our series exploring non-English language SF worlds. Last time we covered Kathinka Lannoy’s strange (and unsuccessful) Dutch language story “Drugs’ll Do You” (1978, trans. 1981).
Please note that Rachel and I are interested in learning about a large range of authors and works vs. only tracking down the best. That means we’ll encounter some stinkers! Unlike our last entry, this one isn’t a stinker.
The first translated edition of Boris and Arkady Strugatsky’s “Wanderers and Travellers” appeared in Path Into the Unknown, ed. uncredited (1966). Unfortunately, the translator and editor (I assume Judith Merril as she wrote the intro) is unknown. You can read it online here. You can also read it in International Science Fiction, ed. Frederik Pohl (November 1967) online here.
Enjoy!
Richard Powers’ cover for the 1968 edition of Path Into the Unknown, ed. uncredited (1966)
Rachel S. Cordasco’s Review
Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, two of the greatest science fiction authors of the twentieth century, really should be read more widely in the Anglophone world. Thankfully, the Chicago Review Press has been trying to make this happen, reissuing many classics like Roadside Picnic (1972), Hard to be a God (1964), The Inhabited Island (1971), and more. Together, the Strugatsky brothers wrote an astonishing number of novels, short stories, essays, plays, and film scripts, stretching from the 1950s through the 1980s, many of which have been translated into English.
What pre-1985 science fiction are you reading or planning to read next month? Here’s the June installment of this column.
I adore teaching American History for college credit. Every summer I ponder what to change and improve. And this year, I want to integrate a few science fiction stories!
My 1950s unit in the spring semester could be modified with a few science fiction short stories. Considering my ongoing fascination with media landscapes of the future, I want to integrate one story on fears over television and one on nuclear horror (which would fit nicely with a group of assignments I have using song lyrics about atomic panic). Feel free to suggest a story that you would include or wish was included in your own US college course (or advanced high school course). No novels unfortunately. I have access to a range of syllabi and a TON of ideas but I always love to hear your selections.
Before we get to the photograph above and the curated birthdays, let me know what pre-1985 SF you’re currently reading or planning to read!
Photo of Chukwunonso Ezeiyoke’s Nigerian Speculative Fiction: The Evolution (2025)
Over the last few years, I have highlighted a smattering of the vast range of spectacular scholarship on science fiction in my reviews and Exploration Log series that intrigue me.1 Today I have an interview with Chukwunonso Ezeiyoke about his brand new book Nigerian Speculative Fiction: The Evolution (2025), the first ever monograph on Nigerian speculative fiction (science fiction, fantasy, and horror) (SF). Due to the focus of my site and research interests, I focused my questions primarily on the historical portions of his book.
You can buy a copy directly from Routledge here or on Amazon. As academic works aren’t the cheapest, can also request your library procure a copy.
Let’s get to the interview and the fascinating world of Nigerian SF!
Over the last few years, I have incorporated a smattering of the vast range of spectacular scholarship on science fiction into my reviews and highlighted works with my Exploration Log series that intrigue me.1 Today I have an interview with Jaroslav Olša, Jr. about his brand-new book, Dreaming of Autonomous Vehicles: Miles (Miroslav) J. Breuer: Czech-American Writer and the Birth of Science Fiction (2025). In the book, he covers the life and career of Miles (Miroslav) J. Breuer (1889-1945), the first SF author to regularly write original stories for Hugo Gernsback’s Amazing. Breuer’s career also provides a fascinating window into the literary and cultural world of immigrants in late 19th and early 20th century America.
You can buy an inexpensive physical copy ($15.80 at last look) directly from Space Cowboy Books here (preferred) and on Amazon.
Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. First, can you introduce yourself and your interests in science fiction?
Since childhood, I have loved reading science fiction, but — except for a short time — I have not been professionally attached to it. After studying Asian and African Studies and social sciences in Prague, Tunis and Amsterdam, I joined the Czech diplomatic three decades ago, and have served in various positions including Director of the African Dept. and the Head of the Policy Planning Dept. at the Czech Ministry of Foreign Affairs. I also served as a Czech Ambassador three times: to Zimbabwe for six years, to South Korea for another six years, and to the Philippines for four years. Since December 2020, I have served as Czech Consul General in Los Angeles in charge of the US West.
In the early 1980s, I became a part of a small but very active fandom when—in the then communist Czechoslovakia—the first science fiction club emerged. I started the SF fanzine Ikarie XB, which in 1990 turned into the first Czech-language professional SF magazine Ikarie, with monthly editions until 2024.
I have also translated many short stories and edited numerous SF anthologies, but never wrote fiction. But since the very beginning, the center of my interest in SF was to write about science fiction. I co-edited and authored entries in the only Czech SF encyclopedia, published in 1995. Thus my book about Miles (aka Miloslav) J. Breuer is somewhat of a culmination of my work on science fiction.
What drew you to the science fiction of Miles (Miloslav) J. Breuer (1889-1945)?
Preliminary Note: I plan on reading all 116 issues of the influential, and iconic, SF magazine Galaxy under H. L. Gold’s editorship (October 1950-October 1961) in chronological order. How long this project will take or how seriously/systematically I will take it are complete unknowns. I am a reader of whim. I will choose whether to reread certain stories that I’ve previously covered. Serialized novels will only be reviewed after I complete the entire work and posted as separate reviews. Why Galaxy, you might ask?
First, I can’t escape the pull of 1950s science fiction focused on social commentary and soft science. Second, I am obsessed with 50s American politics during a time of affluence, the rise of TV and mass culture, and the looming terror of the Cold War. Third, there are a legion of well-known 50s authors I’ve yet to address in any substantial manner on the site who appeared behinds its illustrious covers. Fourth, H. L. Gold was interested in all different types of stories.
As SF Encyclopedia explains, Galaxy was an “immediate success” in part because “Astounding was at this time following John W Campbell Jr’s new-found obsession with Dianetics and was otherwise more oriented towards technology.” Gold’s interests, on the other hand, “were comparatively free-ranging: he was interested in psychology, sociology and satire and other humor, and the magazine reflected this.”
Clifford D. Simak’s Time Quarry (variant title: Time and Again) (1950). Serialized over three issues. I will post an individual review after I complete the serialization.
What pre-1985 science fiction are you reading or planning to read next month? Here’s the April installment of this column.
As readers of the site know, I am obsessed with the machinations of Cold War nuclear logic—historical and science fictional. In Ira Chernus’ brilliant Apocalypse Management: Eisenhower and the Discourse of National Insecurity (2008), he dives into the Manichean ideoscape that dominated Eisenhower’s thinking. In short, he posits that Eisenhower interpreted the Soviet threat as an apocalyptic struggle in which the traditional outcome, eliminating the treat, is impossible. Instead the best hope is “to contain and manage it forever” (2)–hence “apocalypse management.” This “new linguistic paradigm” profoundly influenced their policymaking process and dominated American public discourse.
According to Chernus, Eisenhower was obsessed with Americans practicing voluntary self-control in their consumption in order shoulder the taxes needed to fund the perpetual struggle. With this paradigm, Eisenhower’s gestures towards peace–for example his “The Chance for Peace” (April 16th, 1953) speech–were acts of calibrated psychological warfare designed to put the burden of action on the Soviets and score points with the American public and American allies. The United States, on the other hand, could wage the conflict with perpetual, safe, and managed inaction in which peace is never the ultimate objective.
Sherwood Anderson (1876-1941) confides in the introduction to his travel memoir Puzzled America (1935) that the Great Depression was inescapable: “I was a writer of tales. It might be that I should have remained just that, but there is difficulty. There are, everywhere in America, these people now out of work. There are women and children hungry and others without enough clothes.”1 Edgar Albion Lyons, in the author’s note to his science fiction novel The Chosen Race: A Novel Based on the Depression and Machine Age (1936), echoes this sentiment: “The following chapters were written during the months of 1932 when the words ‘Depression’ and ‘Unemployment’ were on everyone’s lips.”2 Magazine science fiction, with its eye towards the marvelous technological future, likewise could not escape contemporary economic, political, and societal convulsions.3 Science, “in the form of a hypothesized device or theory,” enabled exciting adventures but also the exploration of “diverse and dire social implications.”4
On May 9th, 1934, a massive two-day dust storm caused by severe drought and human-made factors, removed massive amounts of Great Plains topsoil. The Dust Bowl unleashed its fury. The dust clouds reached Chicago and cities in the east, blotted out the Statue of Liberty and the United States Capitol. Red snow fell in New England.5 In the September 1934 issue of Astounding, a twenty-year-old Frank K. Kelly published “Famine on Mars” (1934) about a desperate attempt to assist Martians dying of thirst and starvation after a drought. In Kelly’s vision, The Combine, Earth’s government, deliberately caused the genocide and refuses to provide assistance.6
M. Marchioni’s interior art for “Famine on Mars” (1934)
Ballantine Books’ illustrious science fictional program started with a bang–Star Science Fiction Stories. According to Mike Ashley’s Transformations: The Story of Science-Fiction Magazines from 1950 to 1970 Frederik Pohl’s anthology series of original (mostly) stories was “intended as both a showcase of Ballantine’s authors and a lure to new writers.” Paying better rates than magazines, the Star series foreshadowed the explosion of original anthologies that would provide a sustained challenge to the eminence held in the 50s by the magazine.
I’ve selected the third volume of the six-volume series.1 It contains an illustrative cross-section of 50s science fiction. Philip K. Dick’s “Foster, You’re Dead” (1955), Richard Matheson’s “Dance of the Dead” (1955), and Jack Williamson’s “Guinevere for Everybody” (1955) are not to be missed.