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Analog Science Fiction and Fact - 2014-04

Page 20

by Penny Publications


  Such is the stuff of cherished memories. Also of note was that I did not fail to notice that many of the stories in the Conklin anthology came from Astounding. So when a year or so later I stumbled upon my first Analog (in a California grocery store, no less, on a family trip out west) I knew immediately that it was that magazine, the source of shiny and new Science Fiction.

  T'was destiny my friends, destiny.

  I divided the Past Master essays into two groups for this reason. Reading about the first group, for me, was all about enjoying happy memories and discovering knew things about authors I thought I knew better than I actually did. Reading about the second group did for me (even though I had at least heard of them) what Bud Webster hopes the book will do for new fans who may know nothing about any of the authors he discusses. That is, it made me seek out their works in anticipation of finding new delights.

  Take Cordwainer Smith (real name Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger) for instance. I have read some of his work and have long had it in the back of my mind that I must read more. Webster brought it front and center. (Hey, if you love both SF and cats, and have never read Cordwainer Smith, then put this essay aside right now and go read "The Game of Rat and Dragon" immediately. I'll wait. You have deprived yourself long enough.) Without a doubt, this Linebarger fella was one of the most interesting people ever to ply the SF craft. So interesting, in fact, that writing about him brought out the best of Bud Webster's raconteur skills, like with this passage from page 48 about Linebarger's life during World War II: "(W)hile working with the Operations and Planning Board, he... Ghod, I can't stand it... he created a profile for an intelligence operative in China that included a set of qualifications that could only be met by one man: Paul Myron Anthony Linebarger. Himself. AKA Cordwainer Smith. What balls. "

  Leigh Brackett is another familiar name, this time of a writer I probably neglected to read because she was a "lady science fiction writer." It was not that, in my youth, I thought women couldn't write good SF. Rather, at the time I'd barely scratched the surface of all the male SF writers, and I figured they were a safer bet to produce what I liked to read. But today some of my favorite writers are women (like J. K. Rowling and M. M. Kaye), so the good word about her stories that Past Masters provided was all it took to spur me to add her work to my Kindle. Webster also relates how prolific Brackett was at writing screenplays (like The Empire Strikes Back) and how she was discovered by director Howard Hawks after he read her hard-boiled detective novel No Good from a Corpse. Since I like hardboiled '30s and '40s detective fiction, I also found that book in a Kindle edition and I'm reading it now.

  I said the "good word" got me to check out her stories, but more specifically, it was this particular set of words Bud quotes (pg. 38) from The Sword of Rhiannon that hooked me: "'Lean lithe men and women passed him in the shadowy streets, silent as cats except for the chime and the whisper of the tiny bells the women wear, a sound as delicate as rain, distillate of all the sweet wickedness of the world.'"

  Beautiful. Simply beautiful. Color me captured.

  Yet if I had to pick just one Past Masters essay that will, in the long run, most likely bring me the richest return on investment, it would be Webster's account of R. A. Lafferty (Raphael Aloysius Lafferty), his life and his stories. Although the name was familiar, I found that I knew nothing, not a damn thing, about this writer and his stories, and I should have! Lafferty was a staunch Catholic, a trait he shared with Tolkien. He was also a staunch conservative, a trait he shares with, well, me. Of his writing, the general consensus amongst editors and fellow writers is that it was uniformly unique, original, and brilliant, at least in the case of his shorter works. However, his longer stories suffered in quality, likely because of his alcoholism (which also apparently turned him into a raging ass-hole at conventions, although Webster doesn't specifically say so).

  On Lafferty's writing, Webster himself says on page 236: "Nobody ever wrote—or will ever write—quite like Lafferty. I'm not at all certain that the literature could hold two such, in fact.... Lafferty wasn't a science fiction writer, regardless of the section of the bookstore in which his titles may have appeared; rather, he was a mad fantasist, a maker of mythologies, a Wizard of Oddities."

  As far as I'm concerned, that description also makes him irresistible.

  In his preface, Bud Webster asks the question, "So, what the hell am I, anyway?" Some have referred to Bud as a critic, but he isn't particularly comfortable with wearing that term. He is all too familiar with the scribblings of assorted critics and is not the sort to indulge in the kind printed assholery that so many of them delight in. He also admits that he never felt qualified to be called a critic.

  To which I say, of course you're not qualified to be a critic, Bud. You're way over-qualified for that! Given the breadth and depth of the knowledge you display in Past Masters of fantastic literature and the producers thereof, it is perfectly obvious to me that what you are is a scholar.

  I know the world is filled with troubles and many injustices. But reality is as beautiful as it is ugly. I think it is just as important to sing about beautiful mornings as it is to talk about slums. I just couldn't write anything without hope in it.

  —Oscar Hammerstein II

  * * *

  IN CONVERSATION

  BUD WEBSTER Cat Rambo | 1197 words

  Cat Rambo: Past Masters and Other Bookish Natterings collects columns from, among other places, Helix SF, The Grantville Gazette, the SFWA Bulletin, Black Gate, and The Magazine of F&SF. Beyond the entertaining anecdotes, why would science fiction readers benefit from reading this history?

  Bud Webster: Well, the historian/scholar,/pedant in me would smile patronizingly and murmur something about how we can't know where we're going if we don't know where we came from, but I ain't an academic and so won't be that glib.

  The truth is that I think this stuff is really cool. I have a habit of delving deeply into those things I feel passionate about, and like all geeks, I will blabber about it to anyone who will listen (or at least sit still for it with one of those frozen smiles I've come to expect). The triumphs, the tragedies, the "secrets" all fascinate me, because they represent perspectives into the writers and their works that embellish the reading of those works.

  Knowing that Zenna Henderson taught Japanese-American kids in an internment camp during WWII sheds a fresh light on her People stories; Linebarger/Smith's youth spent in China informs every line of his work; Edgar Pangborn's skills as a composer of music infuses his work with a poetic depth that might not have been there otherwise.

  Sometimes it's enough to be able to say, "Oh, I see. That's why he/she wrote it that way!"

  CR: What is your favorite anecdote from the book?

  BW: Oh, boy. There are a lot of them. Phil Klass's phone call to me after my earlier article on the anthology he edited comes to mind. Mary answered the phone and said that when he introduced himself deprecatingly ("This is Phil Klass, I used to write as William Tenn") and she enthusiastically replied that she knew his work quite well, he almost cried.

  Writing about my friend, Nelson Bond, was both delightful and painful. The essay on him was written as a memorial, and is filled with my personal recollections, including the one time in my career when I acted as an agent for someone else's work and sold a new Bond story to Roger Zelazny.

  Howard Hawks' response to reading Leigh Brackett's mystery novel No Good From a Corpse was to say to an assistant "Get me that Brackett guy!" to his credit, even after finding out that the "guy" was a "gal," he hired her anyway and so a productive relationship began. There are many, many others, of course.

  CR: If you were assembling a dinner party with a guest list drawn from the pages of Past Masters, who would you absolutely have to include?

  BW: Cordwainer Smith, Leigh Brackett, Kuttner & Moore, Nelson Bond (of course, he'd be the toastmaster), and Will Jenkins/Murray Leinster. I wouldn't get in a word edgeways, but with that lineup, who'd be listening to me anyway?
r />   CR: Who got left out from Past Masters that you'd like to include in future versions of the book?

  BW: Too many to list: Margaret St. Clair, Manly Wade Wellman, Walter M. Miller Jr., Harry Harrison, and on and on and on, ad infinitum. More of the Past Masters are being forgotten every day.

  CR: In Past Masters, many of the writers you discuss followed the traditional path of moving from science fiction fan to science fiction writer. Do you think that path is still the norm nowadays?

  BW: Good question. Many of them, of course, never had much to do with fandom in the first place, like Cordwainer Smith and Nelson Bond. Bond sort of fell into fandom with the birth of the Nelson Bond Society in the early '70s, but he stayed away from the conventions after going to one or two in the early days.

  If you expand the definition of "fandom" to include the Net—and I think you have to—then it probably still is the normal way. There will always be the Outsider component, but by and large it's a fan's world.

  CR: For those interested in finding out more about the history touched upon in your book, what other books might you recommend?

  BW: The Way the Future Was by Fred Pohl; The Futurians by Damon Knight; The World of Science Fiction: 1926-1976: The History of a Subculture by Lester del Rey; these are histories of the field. For those who want to dig more deeply into the anatomy, I would recommend The John W. Campbell Letters, Volumes One and Two edited by Perry Chapdelaine, Tony Chapdelaine and George Hay; The Science Fiction Reference Book edited by Marshall Tymm; and there are very good critical volumes by Knight (In Search of Wonder) and Brian Aldiss (BillionYear Spree). Again, the list could go on for pages. I will, of course, mention my own Anthopology 101:Reflections, Inspections and Dissections of SF Anthologies is available from Merry Blacksmith in paper, and from ReAnimus as an e-book. Just sayin'.

  CR: What do you think the future holds for science fiction? Where will the field be twenty years from now? What about SFWA (The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America)?

  BW: Both will have changed immeasurably, I think, and not for what I consider the better— that's my limitation, I hasten to add, not the field's. Everything changes inevitably and intensely, and we SFnal old farts may grumble and mutter in our collective beards, but that's the way of things. What doesn't evolve devolves; entropy holds way over those things which stand still.

  CR: You work with SFWA's Estates Project. What do you do for them and why should a writer pay attention to who their literary executor is?

  BW: What I do is primarily twofold: first and foremost I assemble estate information on deceased writers and confirm it as best I can. Then, when approached by a publisher or editor, I pass that information along so they can do some business. In the cases of those estates handled by family members or other private individuals, we don't give their contact out. Instead, I'll either forward queries to them or blind-copy them on my reply to the inquirer.

  For those who wonder why they should pay attention to their literary legacy now, I would simply reply: "John M. Ford." His family refuses to allow his work to be reprinted because they are ashamed that he wrote "sci-fi." Had he appointed an executor from outside the family, we might still be able to read new copies of The Dragon Waiting or one of the best Trek novels, How Much for Just the Planet? It'll make my job—or the job of whatever poor bastard succeeds me—a lot easier.

  CR: What other projects are you working on right now? Do you have anything coming out soon?

  BW: My next book from Merry Blacksmith will most likely be a collection of short stories, including the four Bubba Pritchert yarns with, perhaps, a brand new fifth one. Don't have a date on that one yet, it's still a year or two in the future.

  Bud Webster

  Photo by Robert Snare

  Longtime F&SF writer Bud Webster (author of the Bubba Pritchert series) also documents the genre's history in essays and columns for the SFWA Bulletin, Helix SF and Black Gate. In 2012 he received the SFWA Service Award for his work with the SFWA Estates Project.

  * * *

  IN TIMES TO COME

  201 words

  Our May issue kicks off with a cover story from Alec Nevala-Lee: many terrestrial animals have evolved unique forms of camouflage to help them hide, so what happens when a group of researchers discover something far more dangerous than what they were looking for? Find out in "Cryptids."

  Then, following the final installment of Lockstep in this very issue, Karl Schroeder returns for a victory lap with a fact article that looks at the science (and some of the writing decisions) behind his serial in "Lockstep: A Possible Galactic Empire."

  We'll also have stories such as Dave Creek's "All Human Things," where Mike Christopher has cause to regret a daring rescue from the alien Jenregar; "Bodies in Water," from Sarah Frost, with an unusual girl finding an equally unusual artifact; "Snapshots," Kristine Kathryn Rusch's provocative tale of a simple-yet-drastic solution to a deadly problem; "Repo," Aaron Gallagher's look at a mundane job turned adventurous when transposed to space; "Another Man's Treasure," by Tom Greene, about a family's desperate attempts to eke out a living in a hostile and unpleasant environment that isn't far removed from how too many people live today, and more, including all of our top-notch regular features.

  See you next month!

  All contents subject to change

  * * *

  THE REFERENCE LIBRARY

  Don Sakers | 2326 words

  This column is something of an anniversary: it's my 50th "Reference Library" column. With your indulgence, I thought I would take this opportunity to pull back the curtain and talk about my approach, philosophy, and practice of reviewing.

  Q: What is your background for being a reviewer, particularly for Analog?

  A: I'm a lifelong reader and student of science fiction. I started reading SF as soon as I could read, and Analog when I was thirteen (in 1971). I have a B.A. in math with a minor in English literature. I've been a published SF writer since 1980; my first Analog story appeared in 1982. In my day job, I work at a public library, where I frequently help people find books they might like.

  Q: Where do you get the books that you review?

  A: Mostly from publishers. Lots of books arrive in the mail, but I also receive electronic copies either by email or via industry websites like netgalley.com. Some small-press publishers hand me books at conventions. Enterprising authors also contact me to send galleys or even manuscripts of upcoming books.

  I'm not above contacting a publisher (or author) to get a review copy, if I see something that I think might be of interest to Analog readers. And, of course, I still buy books, especially obscure ones.

  Q: Do you see everything that's published in SF?

  A: Alas, no. Some publishers are scrupulous about sending me everything—sometimes including things I have no chance of reviewing, like vampire romances and epic fantasy. Others send me only selected titles, and many small press and indie publishers are completely off my radar.

  If you are, or know, a publisher or author of a book that might appeal to Analog readers, please take a look at my review guidelines at tinyurl.com/dsreflib.

  Q: Do you read on paper or e-books?

  A: Both. After a lifetime of reading SF (and being married to a Star Wars collector), my house is full, so I currently have a preference for e-books. Those I read on my iPad, which can handle just about any e-book format out there. But I haven't lost my love for paper books.

  Q: Where do you find time to read all those books?

  A: Like many of you, I read constantly and voraciously. Even before this gig, I grew twitchy if reading material was out of my reach. If, as one of my library friends says, "it's a sickness"—then I'm beyond cure or even treatment.

  Q: What do you do with the books you receive?

  A: Books I like go into my personal collection. I give the rest away to various charities.

  Q: How do you decide which books to review?

  A: I try to pick books that will interest Analog r
eaders. That doesn't (necessarily) mean books that would appear in these pages—as regular readers know, sometimes I'll throw in some distinctly non- Analog type books. I know that Analog readers are voracious readers with wide-ranging interests, who appreciate variety.

  Q: Why are all your reviews positive?

  A: Both life and my allotted pages are way too short to spend time on unsuitable books. My job is to bring to your attention books that you might enjoy... not to waste your time on things you won't like.

  Q: Do you personally like every book you recommend?

  A: My public library training and experience have taught me that there's no such thing as "good" or "bad" books—one reader's life-changing classic is another's snoozefest. The goal is to match the right book with the right reader.

  To accomplish this, I try to give readers enough information to decide for themselves whether a given book sounds like something they'd enjoy. Among the considerations are subgenre, audience, and the relative mix of basic elements like plot, character, and setting. When I can, I try to identify similar authors you might have read. If I'm successful, you'll at least have a good idea of what to expect from a book.

  Of course, it's neither satisfactory nor healthy to read only the same thing again and again, so I try to encourage readers to expand their range. I try to tell you what it is about an unfamiliar book or genre that fans like, so you can decide if it sounds like your cup of tea.

  To get back to the original question: Between you, me, and the clock on the wall, I don't personally like every book I recommend. My personal tastes are as subjective and limited as anyone else's. But why should my personal preferences matter? Just because I don't like, say, football doesn't mean I can't recognize a well-executed forward pass.

 

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