Introduction to THE HANDLER by Damon Knight from Rogue
In one of the two very small towns where both he and I live—Milford, Pa., a river valley resort on the edge of the Poconos—Damon Knight is known as, "You know, the one who always walks down Broad Street reading."
Milford, with more than a thousand year-round regular residents can, and does, offer a sort of pleased, affectionate, perhaps slightly proud, understanding to its reckless-reader street-crosser. The other (and much smaller) town we both live in—the curiously close-knit community of "science-fictionists"—is less indulgent by far: not that anyone minds how much reading he does; it's what he says afterward that hurts.
When Anthony Boucher retired as reviewer for Fantasy and Science Fiction, the only logical successor to the post was Damon Knight, then already firmly established as "the other critic" in science fantasy. (I do mean "critic." Damon has been known to like a book—but rarely to say so. All in all, he has probably poured more vinegar on troubled authors than any other monthly columnist ever thought to keep in stock.)
It is a double pleasure then, to an author-editor like myself, to see him turn his acerbity, auctorially, on a field once removed from publishing—the world of entertainment.
Introduction to THE OTHER WIFE by Jack Finney from The Saturday Evening Post
In a recent volume of considerable arrogance, ill-considered opinion, and unconsidering slovenliness of research, a British humorist with pretensions to critical judgment of science fantasy, one Kingsley Amis, refers to the (unnamed) writer of a story entitled "Of Missing Persons" as "an author who has yet to make his name."
"'Of Missing Persons,' " says Mr. Amis, "is one of those things that offer themselves for analysis with an almost suspicious readiness." I was not able to determine, in the three pages of quotes and comments that followed, just what analysis was being made, or whose readiness for what was under suspicion—but I may have been prejudiced by having read the story, several times, with great enjoyment, when it was included in the first annual volume of SF.
For the benefit of any readers who, like Mr. Amis, are unfamiliar with the author's work—the name is Finney. Jack Finney. And it has been a familiar one in science-fantasy since Robert Heinlein's 1951 anthology, "Tomorrow the Stars," first offered it to the specialty field.
Mr. Finney's most recent books include The Third Level (Rinehart and Dell Book) and The Body Snatchers (Dell First Editions).
Introduction to NO FIRE BURNS by Avram Davidson from Playboy
The same Mr. Amis who was so "suspiciously ready" to attempt to analyze a nameless Jack Finney, says in the introductory chapter of his book that "science fiction" is hardly an appropriate name for the field any longer. Regretfully, I must agree with Mr. A. on this one point (without seeing the need for the emphasis on the first word). And I leap to agree, again, with his next statement:
"... the plea that politics and economics and psychology and anthropology and even ethics are really or nearly as much sciences as atomic physics, is chiefly valuable as an indication of a state of mind...."
Frankly, I am not certain our agreement on this is fundamental; I don't know what Mr. Amis meant, but what he said is very true. The fields of psychology, anthropology, sociology—yes, even ethics, hopefully—are now just at that burgeoning "state of mind" atomic physics was still passing through when science-fictionists began exploring its potential thirty years ago. As fine an example of the new "science fiction" as I know is this featured story from Playboy.
Introduction to NO, NO, NOT ROGOV! by Cordwainer Smith from If
Cordwainer Smith is the pseudonym of a gentleman who is undoubtedly the farthest-out Professor of Sociology ever to hide his dignity behind a fantasy-barrel. I have yet to see two stories alike from "Mr. Smith"—or one that did not somehow fascinate me.
Introduction to THE SHORELINE AT SUNSET by Ray Bradbury from A Medicine for Melancholy (Doubleday, 1959)
By definition, the only "formula" for science fantasy is no-formula; a genre of speculation and extrapolation can exist only in a state of flux. But even flux, over a period of time, trends to a preferred shape. Against a background of the inevitable ninety per cent of inept or hackster trash, the better stories, as they emerge each year, always show some very definite—and different from the year before—emphasis on one area of speculation or another.
This time the focus is summed up in the title of the editorial reprinted some pages farther on from John W. Campbell Jr.'s erstwhile Astounding, now—take a deep breath—retitled Analog Science Fact and Fiction: "What Do You Mean ... Human?"
In a rather different sense, this is of course the query underlying all fiction, and all art. But the stories in this book, almost all, treat the question also in the special science-fiction sense as well—exploring with postulated answers and what if's the boundaries of distinction by which we define ourselves.
Roy Bradbury, who needs no introduction in or out of the science-fiction field (even Mr. Amis knows his name!) selects a delicate and haunting legendary boundary to explore.
Introduction to THE DREAMSMAN by Gordon R. Dickson from Star Science Fiction #6 (Ballantine Books, 1959)
Every profession has its fringe benefits, and Gordy Dickson is one of science fiction's. A big rangy ex-Canadian from the tall beer country of Minnesota, he turns up, not quite often enough, at conventions and conferences with his guitar over one shoulder and a sort of shining shield of great good humor over the other. One of these days a bright song publisher will introduce nonconvention-goers to the DicksonCogswell-Anderson science-fantasy ballads and blues. Meantime, novels like his explosive Dorsai! in ASF last year, and short stories like this one fill the gap moderately well.
Introduction to MULTUM IN PARVO by Jack Sharkey from Gent.
Once upon a time, little children used to frighten naughty parents at bedtime with a radio program known as "The Shadow." And out of those dim and dear days comes Bruce Elliott, who used to write the show—before he turned to comic books, mysteries, science fiction, magic, and heaven-knows-how-much-else, only to wind up respectably editing a happily not-too-respectable magazine duo.
For satire, fantasy, wit with spice, and all around fun, Genf and The Dude are giving some stiff competition these days to a magazine which will not be referred to here as Playboy. These excerpts from a still running series of historical frictions (Return of Parvo, Parvo Rides Again, etc.) by Jack Sharkey have been selected as those most appropriate to a family science-fantasy anthology.
Introduction to FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON by Daniel Keyes from Fantasy and Science Fiction
Daniel Keyes is a reformed science-fiction editor (Marvel, some few years, ago) turned high-school English teacher. Either of these dubious professions should be enough to keep a sensible man on the spectator's side of a byline. If he didn't write the stuff when he could buy it from himself, one might think the rigors of New York City's blackboard jungle would prevent him from beginning now.
One way and another, it is difficult to believe that this is Keyes' second published story—much more difficult after reading it than before.
Introduction to "WHAT DO YOU MEAN . .. HUMAN?" by John W. Campbell, Jr. from Astounding Science Fiction
The incredible Mr. Amis singles out John Campbell several times for special notice. This is not unusual; almost anyone writing about modern American science fiction finds himself paying respects to the man under whose sometimes daft but always deft—and vigorous and enthusiastic—guidance, ASF (which you can take as Astounding Science Fiction or the new title, Analog Science Fact and—gasp—Fiction) has been the consistent leader in the field—both as to sales and influence. Mr. A., however, limits his comments about Campbell's influence to a snidish remark about cranks whose rapid departure would benefit the whole field and a description of the editor as "a deviant figure of marked ferocity."
I am here to say that I have talked with Campbell, literally and actually—and lived to go back for more. (I don't want to give the impression that talking with John is easy. But listening is lots of fun too, you know.) But we had lunch together, and both ate spaghetti, and there were no fangs, claws, or horns in evidence.
The following selection is a Campbell editorial from ASF. And now that I think of it, I suppose it is rather ferociously deviant of Mr. Campbell to want to "play robot."
Introduction to SIERRA SAM by Ralph Dighton from Associated Press
Some years back I got tired of that aching feeling in my head, and resolved never again to pit an opinion of mine against one of John Campbell's—his are so much stronger.
By now, the habit of responding to Campbellian emphasis only with a) questions, or b) facts, is so ingrained that, lacking a really good question-story ...
Introduction to A DEATH IN THE HOUSE by Clifford D. Simak from Galaxy
My first conscious acquaintance with Cliff Simak was in the body of a Jovian "Loper"—a lizard-sort-of-thing through whose keen senses we—Simak and I, along with the hero of the story, and his dog—were able to perceive for the first time the true grandeur of the giant planet's beauty.
If this sounds like a travelogue, it's just because it is. I doubt that anyone who read "Desertion" when it was first published in Astounding, or later as part of the prize-winning book, City, has ever quite forgotten the fresh tingling scent of that ammonia storm....
Well, that was way back; and that was when I started looking for the Simak label on story titles. Exactly what sort of awareness Mr. Simak has that enables him to understand with a unique clarity the nature of strange beasts, I do not know; nor what specialized talent it is that contrives to communicate this empathy so sharply even to such a human-jingoist as me (as cool a clam as ever you've come across when it comes to cats and dogs and canaries, yet, let alone alien entities). All I know is that he is a newspaperman in Milwaukee, which is almost far enough away from Milford, Pa., for me to believe—most anything.
Introduction to MARIANA by Fritz Leiber from Fantastic
The first definite and absolutely unchangeable selection made for this edition of SF was Fritz Leiber's story, "The Silver Eggheads," from Fantasy and Science Fiction.
That was in January of '59. For some sixteen months since, F&SF has remained incurably readable. In the same period of time, Leiber has been turning out stories, and yet better stories, at such a rate that Fantastic broke every rule in the business and published one complete all-Leiber issue last November.
The arithmetic of anthology selection, in such a case, is evident, and so is the usual lady's prerogative. But I mourn for the "Eggheads," and urge you all to storm your back-number magazine stores for it.
And one more thing (that's the other prerogative, no?)— We're all going to have to stop saying scornfully, "I mean good science fiction—not that Buck Rogers stuff!" Leiber is writing the Buck Rogers comic strip now. ...
Introduction to DAY AT THE BEACH by Carol Emshwiller from Fantasy and Science Fiction
The first Milford Science Fiction Writers' Conference was held in 1956. Among those invited were a number of artists, agents, editors, and publishers in the field. So artist Ed "Emsh" came up for the week—with his family.
Carol Emshwiller had then published two or three stories; but she didn't know she was a writer, and the bated-breath humility with which she asked if she possibly might be allowed to sit in on workshop meetings has come back to haunt us Older Hands each summer since. Each summer, I mean, when Carol pops out of the playpen-and-baby-bottle laden car, an infant (at least figuratively) under one arm, and her newest manuscript under the other. (Ed carries two kids and his brushes in his teeth—nothing to it when you get the knack.)
The first time I read Day at the Beach was in one of these workshop sessions. After that, I just waited for someone to print it first, so could next....
Introduction to WHAT THE LEFT HAND WAS DOING by Darrel T. Langart from Astounding Science Fiction
What is human? How different can it be, and still seem "one of us"? How much can one of us change, and not be one of them? (And who are they? Or are they what?)
Earlier selections here have approached the line of definition in a variety of ways. Mr. Langart, an author new to science fiction (so far as I have been able to determine from his tight-lipped agents), here presents an exceptionally thoughtful and convincing examination of one of the potentialities for human development.
Introduction to THE SOUND SWEEP by J. G. Ballard from Science Fantasy
It was Fletcher Pratt who first brought to my attention the use of fantasy, or more specifically of the fantastic or science-fictional environment, to spotlight or enlarge human reactions: "The intensification of emotion," he called it. Very often, this is the main function of a fantastic backdrop: to set the stage for a close-up view of an emotional interchange which, under "normal," "realistic" circumstances occurs at such low intensity as to be almost imperceptible; or to magnify a "normal" experience of the "real" world to, for example, Faustian proportion.
J. G. Ballard, one of the young British writers whose work has been much too little seen in this country, here provides an example of this sort of emotional intensification performed on a (literal) future stage-set of the past.
Introduction to PLENITUDE by Will Worthington from Fantasy and Science Fiction
There seems to be some doubt as to whether this was the first, second, or third story of three bought and published by three different magazines almost simultaneously. It marks, in any case, one-third of the debut of yet another striking new talent in the s-f field. Unlike Mr. Keyes, who has a long background in publishing, or Mr. Langart, who has written—I understand—in other fields, Mr. Worthington has turned to writing after years of experience in government work. There is a freshness of language and vigor of thought in all the stories of his I have seen which are rarely equaled by the more experienced writers in the field.
Introduction to THE MAN WHO LOST THE SEA by Theodore Sturgeon from "The Best from Fantasy and Science Fiction: Series Nine" (Doubleday, 1960)
. . . But science," they're still telling us, "has caught up with science fiction...." Or: "What are you guys gonna write about now you got space flight?"
Obviously, not about space flight. Not one of the eighteen selections preceding this has been concerned with rocketry or astrogation or planet-hopping, except as an occasional incidental background touch.
Science—at least nuclear physics and space-flight technology—have caught up with us enough so that the speculative gleanings in these fields are sparse indeed. We are migrating to the less well-harvested neo-scientific fertile acreage of the "humanic studies."
I say, "migrate," and I do mean like a flock of birds. Thing now is to figure out whether Solo Sturgeon stayed behind on this one—or went way out, reconnoitering the next flight.
Introduction to MAKE A PRISON by Lawrence Block from Original Science Fiction Stories
A special feature of your enterprising annual anthologist: the self-help do-it-yourself diagnostic puzzle, as provided in all the best general magazines.
Your problem is to make your mind up, sometime before you hit the final paragraph, about which human is the human here?
Introduction to WHAT NOW, LITTLE MAN? by Mark Clifton from Fantasy and Science Fiction
It is just about ten years now, since Mark Clifton hit the science fiction world like a cloudburst, pouring out a seemingly inexhaustible flood of provocative, exciting, irritating, and informative thinking. I know of no contemporary author, with the possible exception of Robert Heinlein ten years earlier, who has exercised so much developmental influence, not just on the readers, but in the basic thinking of other writers in the field. There was a short spell, I recall, when some disgruntled souls referred to Astounding (now, Analog) as The Clifton House Organ.
For the past almost five years, other work has kept him too busy to leave much time for s-f. Now it would seem the spring floods are back, or so one hopes, on the basis of this story and the new Doubleday novel, Eight Keys to Eden.