Wednesday 29 April 2020

Retro Review: "Far Centaurus" by A.E. van Vogt


I'm continuing my reviews of the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists with "Far Centaurus", a science fiction short story by A.E. van Vogt that was published in the January 1944 issue of Astounding Science Fiction and is a finalist for the 1945 Retro Hugo Award. The story may be read online here.

Warning: Spoilers beyond this point.

"Far Centaurus" starts with the first person narrator – we later learn that his name is Bill Endicott – awakening from suspended animation. Over the next page or so, we learn that he is a crewmember aboard a sublight spaceship bound for Alpha Centauri and that he has been asleep for fifty-three years, seven months and two days. Our narrator muses that everybody he knew back on Earth, including his old classmates and the girl he kissed at a party just before take-off, are all old or dead now, while he is unchanged due to a handwavium medication called "the Eternity drug".

While Bill eats some soup, we learn that the four crewmembers – all men, of course, and all college friends – are woken up approximately every fifty years for brief periods to look after the ship, before taking another dose of the drug and going back to sleep. Altogether, the trip to Alpha Centauri will take five hundred years.

However, the Eternity drug has a certain failure rate, as our narrator finds out to his shock, when he finds one of his fellow crewmembers – Pelham, inventor of the Eternity drug – dead in his quarters. There is a grisly moment, as Bill tries to prepare Pelham's body for a space burial, only that the body is so badly decayed that pieces keep falling off. Then Bill radios his report to Earth, where it will be received in five months. He also enters Pelham's death as well as a note for the next crewmember to be woken, engineer Jimmy Renfrew, into the ship's log. Then he goes back to sleep, this time for one hundred and fifty years.

There is a jump ahead in time and our narrator Bill wakes up again. This time, two hundred and one years have passed since take-off. Bill immediately heads for the log book to see what his fellow crewmembers have written. Jimmy Renfrew, the next to wake, has only logged instrument and made no personal comments at all. His entry reads like a robot's, Bill muses. Even the death of Pelham, who was a close friend of Renfrew's, doesn't seem to bother him. This worries Bill, because Jimmy Renfrew was always a sensitive soul.

Bill is not the only one worried about Renfrew. For the other crewmember, Ned Blake, has left a letter for Bill in the log book, instructing him to tear out and destroy the sheet when he has read it. In this letter, Blake confesses his worries about Renfrew's mental state. Back on Earth, Renfrew was rich, charming, a brilliant engineer and a ladies man (we learn that he has three ex-wives who are not so ex, at least according to Blake). Both Blake and Bill were already worried about Renfrew's reaction upon awakening from his drug-induced sleep only to realise that everybody he'd ever loved, including the three ex-wives, was dead. They assumed that Pelham would act as psychological support for Renfrew, only that Pelham is dead, too. Blake closes the letter by urging Bill to think what to do about the unstable Renfrew, since they will have to live with him, once the ship reaches Alpha Centauri.

Bill destroys the letter as instructed, does his routine work and checks on Blake and Renfrew who are asleep and still alive. He still has no idea what to do about Renfrew, but there still is time, so our narrator goes to sleep for the third time.

When Bill wakes for the third time, the ship's alarm is ringing. Once he makes it to the cockpit, he sees a great ball of fire on the viewscreen, which set off the proximity alarm. Bill initially thinks that the ball of fire is an unknown star, but he eventually realises that it is a giant spaceship on fire. He assumes that the spaceship hails from Alpha or Proxima Centauri, which must have inhabited planets. Thrilled that they won't be all alone when they reach Alpha Centauri, but that they will encounter an alien civilisation there, Bill goes back to sleep.

The next time Bill wakes up, he is not alone. The ship is about to reach its destination and Ned Blake is already up and walking about with a grim look on his face. He feeds Bill, who's still dizzy from his long sleep, soup and informs him that Renfrew has gone mad and had to be restrained. Bill is shocked, for while Renfrew was prone to depression, he didn't expect that the knowledge that everybody he ever knew and loved was dead would drive him to insanity.

"It isn't only that," Blake says and tells Bill to prepare for the greatest shock he ever had. For when Blake awoke and saw Bill's report about the strange spaceship, he checked if he could receive some radio signals from Alpha Centauri. He found hundreds of radio stations, all broadcasting with perfect clarity. Renfrew couldn't take the news and promptly went mad. Blake also informs Bill that a ship is coming from Alpha Centauri to meet them. Blake still hasn't told Bill what precisely the problem is, but Bill – and at least this reader – can already guess what's up.

Spoiler alert: In the five hundred years it took Bill, Blake and Renfrew to get to Alpha Centauri, humans developed lightspeed and got there before them. The Alpha Centauri system is settled and has been for a long time. Though the Centauri were kind enough to name four planets orbiting Alpha Centauri A and B as well as Proxima Centauri after the four brave explorers who were late to arrive.
Not long after this revelation, Bill and Blake are met by a giant spaceship and instructed to land in its onboard hangar. This ship, they learn, can make the trip from Alpha Centauri to Earth – a trip which took Bill, Blake and Renfrew five hundred years – in three hours.

Aboard this ship they are ushered into a luxurious parlour, where they meet a heavily perfumed man called Casellahat, who informs them that he has studied the language and customs of the mid American period since early childhood solely for the purpose of welcoming the visitors from the past. Because not only has technology advanced in five hundred years, language has changed, too. The visitors from the past are honoured guests on Alpha Centauri and will be given a luxurious penthouse and well as five million credits. However, Casellahat keeps wrinkling his nose and finally tells Blake and Bill that they should not interact with the Centauri population directly, because they stink. Which is really mean. After all, Blake and Bill haven't had a shower in five hundred years, so of course they smell.

The Centauri have been able to restore Renfrew's mind to sanity. Bill and Blake hug him, overjoyed to see their friend finally well again. In fact, Renfrew is well enough to ask Casellahat science questions, which leads to roughly two pages of the technobabble that John W. Campbell so loved and most others skip (Leigh Brackett said so in 1944). There is something about bachelor suns that don't tolerate anything in orbit around them and their tenuous connection to the universe. We also get a crash course in the development of the interstellar drive and the history of the settlement of Alpha Centauri. Oh yes, and the burning spaceship that Bill saw upon his third awakening was a tragic accident, but one that advanced spaceship technology a lot, so they shouldn't feel bad about accidentally having caused the explosion.

Bill and Blake are feeling morose, because they still have a good fifty years or so left to live in a world where other people, including women, find them disgusting and where they cannot even figure out how the simplest machines work. They are torn out of their ruminations by Renfrew who announces that he has purchased a spaceship and that all three of them will go on a trip.

Bill and Blake go along with the plan, but even the wonders of cruising through space cannot shake the melancholy the two of them feel. Only Renfrew is permanently cheerful, but then Renfrew was mentally unstable to begin with.

One day, Renfrew enters Bill's cabin with a gun in his hand. He ties up Bill and Blake, so they won't interfere with his plan. Now Bill – and the reader – finally learns that the Centauri psychologists managed to cure Renfrew by telling him that Bill and Blake had gone insane because of the shock. The sense of responsibility for his friends shocked Renfrew back into sanity and now he has found an ingenious solution to their dilemma. He is going to pilot the spaceship into one of the bachelor suns that Renfrew and Casellahat technobabbled about earlier.

Bill and Blake manage to free themselves and try to stop him – after all, Renfrew is  insane and even if they wasted their lives on a futile dream, they don't want to die just yet. But try as they might, they cannot get the ship into orbit around the bachelor sun, because bachelor suns don't like anything orbiting them. Meanwhile, Renfrew babbles something about how contact with the bachelor and its tenuous hold upon the universe will throw them all back in time by four hundred and ninety years and seven months.

Bill finally realises just what Renfrew is planning. He's taking them all back to their own time, one and a half years after they left. "But what about the ship?" he asks. Wouldn't bringing back a hyper-advanced starship from the future change the course of history?

Renfrew says that won't be a problem, because no one can understand how the future technology works anyway. They'll keep the ship for their own use to jaunt around the universe and otherwise let history take its course.

Bill is still unsure, but Renfrew tells him that the girl he kissed at the good-bye party just before the launch, the girl Bill has been pining for every time he woke up again, that girl will be sitting right next to him, when Bill's first radio message from space finally reaches Earth some fifty years from now.

The story ends with the line, "That's exactly what happened"


Now I have to admit that I'm not a huge A.E. van Vogt fan. I know that he was one of the most popular authors of the golden age, but his stories just don't work for me. And I certainly tried. I tried Slan and The Worlds of Null-A and The Weapon Shop/The Weapon Makers and didn't care for any of them. As a result, my reaction whenever A.E. van Vogt puts in an appearance on the Retro Hugo ballot is, "Oh no, I have to wade through another one of those." I have much the same reaction to C.S. Lewis' appearances on the Retro Hugo ballot, by the way.

Coincidentally, I was stunned that A.E. van Vogt, who would have celebrated his 108th birthday on April 26, lived until 2000, until the ripe old age of 88. For van Vogt is so associated with the 1940s and 1950s that I assumed he died much earlier. According to ISFDB, his publication frequency drops drastically from the mid 1950s on, but he still published stories and novels well into the 1980s.

There are three A.E. van Vogt works on the 1945 Retro Hugo ballot, one of them co-written with his wife E. Mayne Hull. I decided to start with "Far Centaurus", because it is the shortest. To my surprise, I found that I liked the story. It's probably the best story by van Vogt I have read so far. True, the story does suffer from van Vogt's well-known weaknesses such as inconsistent or rather non-existent plotting and random plot twists every eight hundred words or so. But by some miracle, van Vogt's random plotting technique works this time around and results in a satisfying story.

As Paul Fraser points out in his review, the best part of the story by far is the first half with Bill waking up every couple of decades aboard the starship. Van Vogt's prose tends towards the purple, but he does manage to convey the sheer scale of the journey that our three explorers are undertaking very well. He also manages to convey the sense of loneliness and isolation that Bill feels as he thinks about the people he's known who are now old and later dead and of the girl he kissed the night before and fell in love with. This girl is the only female character in the entire story, by the way, and she never even gets a name.

The clock announcing how much time has passed and Alpha Centauri growing brighter and bigger, as our sun grows dimmer in the viewport are nice touches, as are the notes that Bill and Blake leave for each other. The death of Pelham is a genuine shock and for a moment I assumed we were in for a murder mystery in space a la 2018 Hugo finalist Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, especially since one of our three explorers is supposedly mentally ill. However, Six Wakes is a story that could only happen after stories about century long space journey at sublight speeds had become an old enough hat that a sublight ship could serve as a backdrop for a completely different story.

However, in 1944 a journey through space lasting five hundred years was still a brand-new idea and must have teased that good old sense of wonder hard. After all, golden age science fiction rarely ventured beyond the boundaries of the solar system. With so much excitement and adventure to be found on Venus, Mars, Mercury, Jupiter and elsewhere, Alpha Centauri is indeed far out. And indeed, several people who first read the story when they were young report how it blew their minds. I imagine it would have blown mine as well, if I had first read it at fifteen.

Talking of which, I was surprised that it was already known in 1944 that Alpha Centauri is a triple star system consisting of Alpha Centauri A and B as well as Proxima Centauri, since I thought this was a later observation. However, it turns out that the binary nature of Alpha Centauri was discovered as early as 1689 by Jean Richaud. Proxima Centauri was discovered in 1915 by Robert T.A. Innes. So that part of the story was based on known science. Even the fact that the triple star system has habitable planets is not that far out, since a potentially habitable exo-planet was discovered in orbit around Proxima Centauri in 2016.


Most authors would probably have ended the story with the revelation that later generations of humans had beaten our three brave explorers to Alpha Centauri and that the system had long since been colonised – a revelation that likely was a lot more shocking in 1944 than today.

A.E. van Vogt, however, just keeps on writing and takes a story into a completely new, if not entirely unexpected direction, as our three explorers finally reach their destination and find that they don't fit into the brave new world of Alpha Centauri at all. Not only does everybody around them think they smell horrible, they also cannot understand the local language, let alone the most basic principles of science. Of course, you cannot blame them for the latter, since the science of bachelor stars and adeledicnander stardrives is complete and utter gobbledegook.

Once the three got on the starship towards the end, I expected the story to go for a downer ending with a triple suicide in the flaming heart of the bachelor star. But maybe I shouldn't have skimmed over the page of technobabble earlier in the story, because that's not what happens at all. Instead, Jimmy Renfrew – who clearly is the most brilliant of the three explorers and probably never was mentally ill at all – has found a way to take them all back to a time they understand.

And so the story comes to a neat and surprisingly satisfying ending. Steve J. Wright points out in his review that given van Vogt's plotting or lack thereof, the fact that the story comes to a satisfying ending is most likely an accident. Nonetheless, it works.

Everybody gets home, Casellahat is probably very relieved to be rid of those smelly ancient humans and Bill gets the girl he's been pining after for five hundred years. Of course, it's amazing that the girl waited for him for one and a half years, especially since she thought that Bill was gone forever on a five hundred year trip to Alpha Centauri. Not to mention that she said, "A kiss for the ugly one, too" just before she kissed Bill, which doesn't exactly sound like the prelude to a great, time- and space-spanning romance. On the other hand, Bill did pine for her for five hundred years and flew straight into a star to get back to her, which should soften even the hardest of hearts. And indeed, Adventures Fantastic notes in his review that the last two paragraphs stuck with him for a long time.


As so often with science fiction stories of the golden age, particularly those published in Astounding, the characters are largely cyphers. We learn next to nothing about our narrator Bill except that he ended up on the expedition team, because he was friends with the other three explorers in college, and that he pines after a girl he kissed at a party the night before take-off. We don't even know what he looks like, except that he's apparently less attractive than his friends. Ned Blake is even more thinly sketched and basically serves only as a sounding board for Bill. Jimmy Renfrew gets a bit more characterisation and we even learn what he looks like. However, we only ever see Jimmy through the eyes of Bill and Ned Blake who to equal parts admire Jimmy and are jealous of him, because he is rich, brilliant, handsome and gets all the girls. It's not even clear if Jimmy Renfrew truly was mentally ill or whether Bill and Blake just think that he is.

In many ways, the idea of four friends, two of whom just happen to be brilliant scientists, building a spaceship together to explore the cosmos (like you do) is a throwback to the very early days of science fiction, when scientists/explorers like Richard Seaton or Hans Zarkov built spaceships in their backyard to explore the universe. By 1944, it would have been obvious that space travel would not be achieved by enthusiasts tinkering in their garages. Though the trope of brilliant scientists building spaceships and taking their friends for a ride into space without waiting for official authorisation did last well into the era of actual space exploration. After all, this is the origin story of the Fantastic Four in 1960 (and we know that Stan Lee and Jack Kirby were heavily drawing on pulp science fiction). In fact, I now imagine Bill looking like Ben Grimm pre-transformation. After all, he is "the ugly one".

This is probably the most stereotypically Campbellian story on the 1945 Retro Hugo ballot. We have a trio of competent men, even if one them may be mentally ill (and let's not forget that Campbell was very interested in psychology and hoped to turn it into a more exact science, so the cure narrative would have appealed to him). We have humans triumphing over adversity as well as a positive view of human progress – after all, what our explorers find on Far Centaurus are not aliens, but advanced humans. We have neat central idea, which is grounded in the actual science of the day, and a lot of technobabble, which is not connected to any actual science at all.

On the other hand, the prevailing mood of the story is not one of boundless optimism and marvel at human ingenuity – no, it's melancholy. Melancholy at having left everybody and everything they knew behind, melancholy at no longer fitting into the world of the far future (compare this e.g. to Buck Rogers who becomes a hero within days of waking up in the future). Come to think of it, melancholy was the prevailing mood in several of the stories from Astounding that I read for the Retro Reviews project ("No Woman Born", "The Children's Hour", "Desertion", "The Huddling Place", even the Galactic Empire section of "The Big and the Little"), which is certainly interesting. Finally, the story ends not in the far future on Alpha Centauri, but in the much nearer future with an elderly couple looking up at the stars.

In fact, I have come to suspect by now that our idea of what Campbellian science fiction was like is very much a myth. Because so far, pretty much every story that was published in Astounding Science Fiction that I read for the Retro Reviews project was atypical in some way.

"Far Centaurus" is a surprisingly good story from an author whose work I normally don't much care for. It has been reprinted several times over the years and Isaac Asimov and Martin H. Greenberg also selected it for the 1944 volume of their Great Science Fiction Stories anthology series. "Far Centaurus" certainly a worthy Retro Hugo finalist. Let's hope that the other two van Vogt stories on the ballot are as good as this one.

Monday 27 April 2020

Retro Review: "And the Gods Laughed" by Fredric Brown


Now that the finalists for the 1945 Retro Hugos have announced, it's time to get back to Retro Reviews and cover those finalists I missed the first time around. I'll start off with "And the Gods Laughed", a science fiction short story by Fredric Brown that was published in the Spring 1944 issue of Planet Stories and is a finalist for the 1945 Retro Hugo Award. The story may be read online here.

Warning: Spoilers beyond this point.

"And the Gods Laughed" starts off with the line "You know how it is when you're with a work crew on one of the asteroids." It's an opening that pulls you right in. For not only is the reader tempted to reply, "No, actually I don't", but they also want to find out exactly what it is like to be part of a work crew on an asteroid. Furthermore, Brown also uses this first line to establish the setting of the story, namely a mining crew on an asteroid.

Over the next page or so, the first person narrator – we later learn that his name is Hank – tells us that asteroid mining mainly means being stuck in a very confined space with four other people and nothing in the way of entertainment. Because space is at a premium both on the mining outpost and aboard the spaceship that takes the crew there, so it's not possible to take along any books, magazines or other distractions. Nor is there radio reception except for a once-per-day newscast. And since a shift is only four hours long due to the technical limitations of space suits and airlocks as well as due to union regulations, this means that the five man work crews (and they are all men, of course) have a lot of time to fill.

As golden age science fiction goes, "And the Gods Laughed" offers a more realistic image of what space travel is really like than many other stories. Because conditions aboard spacecraft and space stations are often cramped – though the ISS does have a selection of books, DVDs, games, etc… available – and people are stuck together in a confined space for a long time. Interestingly, Brown also mentions at one point that Jupiter has several previously unknown satellites – "almost an asteroid belt", as Hank explains – which endanger spaceships trying to land on its moons. Voyager 1 and 2 as well as later missions to Jupiter would prove this prediction right. In 1944, when "And the Gods Laughed" was published, Jupiter had eleven known satellites. By 2020, it has 79. It also has rings.

Brown's asteroid miners spend their copious amounts of free time by spinning yarns and telling stories. Again, this is not entirely unrealistic – there are reports that storytelling is an ability prized in prison. Other activities that might occur between five men trapped together on an asteroid (or in a prison) for months on end are only hinted at.

The narrator Hank makes it very clear in his introduction that most of the stories the miners tell each other are tall tales and must not be taken too seriously. Then we are plunged right into the tail end of such a tall tale, when one of the miners, a man called Charlie Dean, recalls the time he spent fighting a hostile Martian race called the bolies, who look like alligators on stilts. And just in case we don't get whom the bolies are supposed to represent, the narrator helpfully informs us that the bolies think and fight a lot like Native Americans during the Indian wars of the 19th century. Not that Hank knows much about that – in fact, he muses whether the Native Americans used crossbows or longbows to fight the white settlers.

In his story, Charlie mentions using zircon earrings to impress the bolies (more historical parallels), which causes Hank to launch into a story of his own about the first expedition to Ganymede, where the natives go naked wearing nothing but earrings. Only that, so Hank explains, the natives don't wear earrings, but the earrings wear them. Now Hank has the others hooked, he launches into his story.

We learn that eight months before, Hank was a crewmen on the first successful mission to Ganymede. The members of the expedition team were Dick Carney, the skipper, Art Willis, a fellow crewman, and three scientists, a biologist and linguist named Lecky, a geologist and mineralogist named Haynes and a botanist named Hilda Race. Yes, there is an actual woman scientist in this story, though she fills the traditional position of botanist (women on mixed gender spaceship crews in older science fiction are almost inevitably biologists, botanists or medical doctors). Hank's scant remarks about Hilda are also quite sexist – at one point he calls her "a hippopotamus acting kittenish".

Once the ship lands on Ganymede, the crew quickly encounters the native people and notice that they all wear an earring in one ear only. Biologist/linguist Lecky is sent to make contact with Hank and Art Willis acting as guards. They briefly leave Lecky alone in the native village to survey the surroundings and encounter another alien who is of the same species as the others, but does not wear an earring. He is also a lot more hostile.

When Hank and Art pick up Lecky, they notice that he is wearing one of the native's earrings. Lecky explains that the earring was a gift and that he gave the Ganymedeans a slide-rule in exchange. Hank and Art wonder why Lecky would give the aliens a slide-rule rather than the usual trinkets reserved for such encounters. Lecky explains that the aliens were fascinated by the slide-rule and quickly figured out how to use it. Lecky also explains that even though the Ganymedeans seem primitive, they have an advanced understanding of mathematics, science and philosophy. Finally, Lecky is curiously protective of the earring, which makes him an honourary member of the Ganymedean tribe, and won't take it off.

Further trips to the village consist of two scientists and one crewman as a guard. The first team consists of Lecky, Hilda Race and Art Willis. Upon her return to the ship, Hilda is wearing an earring as well and won't take it off either. The next day, Hank accompanies Lecky and Haynes to the village. Haynes declares that while he wants one of the earrings to analyse, he certainly won't stoop to wearing it.

While the two scientists are in the village, Hank takes off to explore the surroundings. By now we get the impression that Hank is not very good at his job, considering he leaves the people he is supposed to be guarding alone twice. He hears Haynes scream and comes running, only to find Haynes on the ground with what looks like blood on his shirt. Haynes seems dazed and insists that nothing is wrong, that he simply stumbled and spilled some wine. Oh yes, and he is also wearing an earring, even though he insisted earlier that he wouldn't.

Hank slips away again and watches two Ganymedeans trying to cross a stream, when one of them is attacked by an unseen creature and has their legs bitten off. Their companion drags them ashore. The Ganymedean is remarkably unbothered by having their legs bitten off. The injured Ganymedean tries to get up and notices that they cannot stand or walk because they no longer have any legs. So the injured Ganymedean nods to his companions, who removes their earring, whereupon the legless Ganymedean collapses – quite dead. Almost as if the earring was animating the alien.

Hank is understandably disturbed by this. He makes an even more disturbing discovery when he returns to the ship with Lecky and Haynes and notices that Haynes' shirt is not just bloody, it's also torn and has matching holes in the front and back. Holes that look as if someone had stabbed a spear through Haynes' chest.

Back at the ship, Hank notices that Lecky, Hilda and Haynes are all acting strangely. Plus, Art Willis is now sporting an earring as well. Furthermore, they seem to forget to talk at times and just stare at each other, before they suddenly resume talking in mid sentence.

Hank bides his time and waits until he can catch Dick Carney alone to share his suspicions. He corners Dick and tells him point blank that the other four are no longer the same people they were at the start of the journey. Whereupon, Dick sighs and says, "Well, it didn't work. We need more practice then." Hank realises too late that Dick is wearing an earring as well, though he is wearing it as a bracelet hidden under the sleeve of his uniform.

Dick threatens Hank with a gun and promises to tell him everything, which Lecky – the leader – then proceeds to do. Hank and the reader learn that the earring creatures have no name for either their race or its individual members. Instead, they refer to themselves by numbers. They are telepathic and parasites, which means they can only live when they take over another lifeform. It doesn't matter if that lifeform is alive or dead – after all, Haynes was killed before the earring creatures took him over.

Hank also learns that the earring creatures – or earring gods, as the Ganymedeans call them, hence the title – come from outside the solar system and arrived on Ganymede with alien visitors a very long time ago. Ever since then, they've been stuck there, because the Ganymedeans don't have space travel and the earring creatures cannot do anything without accessing their hosts' knowledge and memories. However, now that Earthpeople have landed on Ganymede the earring creatures finally have a way to get off the moon as well as a whole new planet and solar system to conquer.

Hank was the only crewmember not taken over, because the earring creatures wanted to use him as a guinea pig to see if he'd notice anything off. But now that the earring creatures know that they need to be more careful, Hank is no longer of any use and will be taken over as well. And so Lecky hands him an earring and tells him to put it on, otherwise he'll be shot. The earring creatures prefer to take over undamaged and living bodies, but they'll also take a dead one, if necessary.

Hank, however, launches himself at Lecky and manages to grab hold of the gun. He shoots his fellow crewmembers, but the shots don't even slow them down, let alone hurt them. So Hank flees out into the Ganymedean night. The earring creatures don't even bother to pursue him, cause they know he won't survive for long out in the cold and with insufficient oxygen.

Hank's tale stops at this point. Charlie asks what happened next and how he managed to escape, Hank says that he didn't. He just passed out from lack of oxygen and awoke the next morning aboard the ship.

While he was telling his story, Hank grabbed Chekhov's Gun (Anton, the Russian playwright, not Pavel, the Enterprise crewmember) from the wall and started to clean it. Conveniently, he finishes cleaning the gun just as he finishes his story. However, Hank's fellow asteroid miners Charlie Dean and Blake Powers are not as easily tricked as Hank himself. And so Charlie launches himself at Hank, grabs hold of the gun and points it at Hank.

Blake, who is the captain, still half believes that Hank was just spinning some spaceman's yarn. But just to be on the safe side, he order Charlie to keep the gun and Hank to roll up his sleeves and trouser legs. When this does not reveal any mysterious jewellery, Blake orders Hank to take off his clothes. Only when Hank is buck naked (no, there is nothing odd at all about two guys who haven't seen a woman in months forcing a third at gunpoint to strip) and there is still no sign of any malevolent jewellery anywhere on his body, Charlie and Blake are satisfied that Hank was really just telling a tall tale. They laugh, while Hank heads for the shower.

So all is well that ends well. Or does it? After all, this is a golden age science fiction story and we all know how much the golden age liked twist endings. And so the story ends with a one paragraph excerpt of a telepathic report from one number 67843 in the asteroid belt to one number 5463 on Earth. Number 67843 reports that the plan to test the credulity of the humans by telling them the truth about what happened on Ganymede was a success. The humans were fully willing to believe the story, but the absence of any visible earrings or bracelets persuaded them that it was just a hoax. Therefore, the process of surgically implanting the earring device into every human taken over must continue to avoid arousing suspicions. Number 67843, otherwise known as Hank, will make sure that the remaining four asteroid miners are all implanted with devices before they return to earth.


I have to admit that I haven't read much by Fredric Brown and what I have read was mixed. There is the haunting 1948 flash fiction story "Knock", which stayed with me for a long time after I first read it, even though I initially had no idea who the author was. On the other hand, Brown's 1943 Retro Hugo finalist "The Star Mouse" was just too silly for me and his other 1943 Retro Hugo finalist "Etaoin Shrdlu" – another possessed machine story – was okay, but nothing special.

As for "And the Gods Laughed", I'm not sure what to think about it. On the one hand, it is an effective and well written story. Brown skilfully combines two popular storytelling devices of the era, the "tale within a tale", a story told around the dinner table, fireplace or aboard an asteroid mining station, and the twist ending. Even Chekhov's Gun gets an outing – quite literally in this case.

Of course, anybody with any science fiction experience can see the twist ending coming from a mile away. However, the by now well-worn concept of alien parasites who take over humans to invade Earth was still a very new idea in 1944. The Puppet Masters by Robert A. Heinlein, probably the most famous early take on the trope, did not come out until 1951, six years after "And the Gods Laughed". And while A.E. van Vogt's "Discord in Scarlet" predates "And the Gods Laughed" by five years, the parasitic aliens in van Vogt's story are closer to the xenomorph from Alien (probably because both were inspired by the same real life creature, the emerald cockroach wasp) than to the parasitic invaders of The Puppet Masters. Furthermore, most alien parasites that take over humans are described as slug-like or starfish-like creatures, so malevolent parasitic jewellery is certainly a different idea as well as a fine example of the wonderful weirdness of the golden age.

Nonetheless, I had issues with the story. One is the fact that "And the Gods Laughed" is narrated in the first person by Hank, which is quite common for "tale within a tale" stories. However, as we learn in the last paragraph, "Hank" is not really Hank, but malevolent parasitic earring number 67843. So why is malevolent parasitic earring number 67843 telling the story as if they were Hank who had a spooky experience and got away? Is malevolent parasitic earring number 67843 trying to fool us just like they fooled Charlie and Blake?

Of course, "the narrator did it" was not a new idea even back in 1944 – after all, Agatha Christie's The Murder of Roger Ackroyd came out in 1926, eighteen years before. However, revealing that the narrator is the villain without the narrator's voice hinting at that fact at any point before is not exactly playing fair with the reader. And considering Fredric Brown was also a (very good) mystery writer, he should therefore know a thing or two about mysteries playing fair. Honestly, I feel the story would have worked better, if Charlie or Blake had been the first person narrator (and in most examples of the "tale within a tale" trope, the first person narrator is not the same person as the one who tells the story within a story) instead of "Hank".

Another issue I had with the story is one that probably wouldn't have bothered 1940s audiences, but is really glaring today, namely the unquestioning acceptance of colonialism and imperialism. Of course, we know that the races who inhabit the various planets and moons in golden age science fiction are often stand-ins for Native Americans or other indigenous people, but Brown isn't just content to imply these parallels, no, he flat out has his narrator tell us. And just like European colonisers, the human explorers bribe/trick the various indigenous people with all sorts of worthless trinkets. For example, there is an anecdote about an alien race from the Martian moon Phobos who had never seen elastic before and were willing to trade a bucket full of gemstones for the suspenders of a spaceship crewman. This was probably considered light-hearted back in 1944, but it really hit me the wrong way.

On the other hand, the aliens also use worthless trinkets, the earrings, to trick and take over the human explorers and eventually the Earth. So was Brown interrogating and reversing that hoary old trope by placing the human colonisers on the receiving end of a truly bad deal?


Another thing that struck me is that a single earring worn in one ear (the right, apparently) used to code a man as gay. And here we have a story where single earrings are used to literally take over the almost all male crew of a spaceship. So is the story a metaphor for gay men supposedly turning heterosexual men gay? Or is this a complete coincidence? Though it is notable that the interior art depicts a man wearing a single earring in his right ear. And let's not forget that the story also contains a scene where two men force another man at gunpoint to strip naked, so they can examine his body jewellery or lack thereof? And where exactly did Charlie and Blake expect Hank to be wearing the earring that he needs to strip naked? Or am I seeing things here which aren't there?

Fredric Brown is clearly popular with Retro Hugo nominators, considering he had two nominations for 1943 and also had two for 1945. Nonetheless, I was a bit surprised to see "And the Gods Laughed" on the ballot, because it is not a particularly well known story. It has been reprinted a few times over the years, but it is not nearly as well known as "Arena", Brown's other 1945 Retro Hugo finalist. Nor does it show up in Isaac Asimov's and Martin H. Greenberg's The Great Science Fiction Stories anthology for 1944. And lesser known stories that make the Retro Hugo ballot can often be found in the Asimov/Greenberg anthologies such as Edmond Hamilton's "Exile" from last year.

Whatever the reason, quite a few people clearly liked "And the Gods Laughed" enough to nominate it. And to be fair, it is a good story, though it also has its share of flaws. But considering the competition this year, I don't really see it winning.

Monday 20 April 2020

Retro Review Links for April 20, 2020

Welcome to the latest edition of Retro Review Links, where I link to reviews of the  1945 Retro Hugo finalists and eligible works by other bloggers:

General:

Magazine reviews:

Novel reviews:

Novella reviews:

Novelette reviews: 

Short story reviews:

Saturday 11 April 2020

Some Thoughts on the 1945 Retro Hugo Awards Finalists


Here is the first of the long awaited post about the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists. Not too long, I hope, but since I'm a Hugo finalist myself this year, I took some time off to celebrate, congratulate fellow finalists and update everything that needed updating. My thoughts about the 2020 Hugo Award finalists may be found here, by the way.

As regular readers of this blog probably know, I started the 1945 Retro Hugo Awards Recommendation Spreadsheet and also reviewed eligible works at this blog to help potential nominators to make more informed choices. And that's why I was extremely interested to see what, if any, impact the spreadsheet and the Retro Reviews project had.

I have also added the tag "1945 Retro Hugo finalist" to every finalist we reviewed to make it easier for Retro Hugo voters to find the relevant reviews.

ETA: Paul Fraser also shares his thoughts on the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists (and the 2020 Hugo finalists).

ETA II: FontFolly shares his thoughts on the 2020 Hugo and 1945 Retro Hugo finalists.

ETA III: Adventures Fantastic shares their thoughts on the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists.

So let's take a look at the individual categories:

 

Best Novel:


Science fiction was a short fiction genre during the golden age and so the best novel category at the Retro Hugos is often fairly weak or full of left-field finalists. 1945 is no exception, though we do have some good finalists. Sirius: A Fantasy of Love and Discord by Olaf Stapledon is probably the most obvious finalist in this category and also a really good novel. Don Briago reviewed it for Retro Science Fiction Reviews.

Shadow Over Mars a.k.a. The Nemesis from Terra by Leigh Brackett is another fine novel from one of the greats of the golden age. I reviewed it here.

I didn't review Land of Terror by Edgar Rice Burroughs, largely because my Pellucidar collection only includes the first three novels. But it's not an unexpected finalist, though Edgar Rice Burroughs is somewhat hampered by the fact that he wrote his best works before there even was a Worldcon, let alone Hugos, so he has never really been honoured.

I'm not a huge fan of A.E. van Vogt, so I did not cover The Winged Man by van Vogt and his wife E. Mayne Hull, but it's not an unexpected finalist, since van Vogt is clearly popular with Retro Hugo voters.

The Golden Fleece by Robert Graves is a left-field finalist, but a very deserving work. I didn't review it, but Steve J. Wright did. The other left-field finalist is The Wind on the Moon by Eric Linklater, a beloved children's book, which I have not (yet) read, but look forward to trying.

Finalists covered at Retro Reviews: 2 of 6

Diversity count: 5 men, 2 women, 5 international writers

 

Best Novella:


"Killdozer!" by Theodore Sturgeon is probably the best known finalist in this category and a worthy one, too. Don Briago reviewed it for Retro Science Fiction Reviews.

"The Jewel of Bas" by Leigh Brackett is a great planetary romance novella and probably my favourite of the finalists in this category. I reviewed it here.

"A God Named Kroo" by Henry Kuttner was on my list to review, but I didn't get around to it in time. I didn't review "Trog" by Murray Leinster either, though Steve J. Wright did. Since I'm not a van Vogt fan, I didn't review "The Changeling", though again Steve J. Wright did.

I'm not at all familiar with "Intruders from the Stars" by Ross Rocklynne, though it is listed on the spreadsheet.

Finalists covered at Retro Reviews: 2 of 6

Diversity count: 5 men, 1 woman, 1 international author

 

Best Novelette:


C.L. Moore is represented three times in this category, once with her solo story "No Woman Born" and twice together with her husband Henry Kuttner with "The Children's Hour" and "When the Bough Breaks". All three are excellent stories. I reviewed "No Woman Born" and "When the Bough Breaks", but didn't get around to "The Children's Hour" yet.

I'm not at all surprised that "The Big and the Little" by Isaac Asimov was nominated, since it's a Foundation story. And while it has its share of flaws, it certainly is interesting. I reviewed it here.

"City" by Clifford D. Simak is another finalist that's absolutely no surprise, since it is the title story of a beloved cycle/series and besides, Simak was a very good writer. I reviewed two of the four eligible City stories, but not this one.

"Arena" by Fredric Brown is also no surprise, since it's a classic story that was even adapted as a Star Trek episode.  It was also on my list of stories to review, but I didn't get around to it.

I'm a little sad that the two eligible Leigh Brackett novelettes didn't make it, though Leigh Brackett is well represented elsewhere on this ballot. And while "Iron Mask" by Robert Bloch, "Highwayman of the Void" by Frederik Pohl and "Ride the EL to Doom" by Allison V. Harding were all long shots (and the Retro Hugo administrators might well have killed me, if they had to try to track down Harding's heirs, considering she is an enigma), I would have been thrilled to see them here.

Finalists covered at Retro Reviews: 3 of 6

Diversity count: 5 men (Henry Kuttner twice) and 3 women, all of whom are C.L. Moore.

 

Best Short Story:


"Desertion" and "The Huddling Place" by Clifford D. Simak are both City stories, both excellent and utterly unsurprising finalists. I reviewed them here and here.

"The Wedge" by Isaac Asimov is the other Foundation story of 1944. It's usually considered one of the weaker entries in the series, though I liked it better than "The Big and the Little". I reviewed it here.

Ray Bradbury had twelve eligible stories in 1944 and none of the ones I read were bad. "I, Rocket" was not the Bradbury story I expected to make the ballot, though it is a good choice. But then, there are no bad choices with Ray Bradbury. I reviewed the story here.

I didn't review "Far Centaurus" by A.E. van Vogt, because I just don't care for his work. Though "Far Centaurus" is a famous story and also one of the first generation ship stories.

"And the Gods Laughed" by Fredric Brown is a story that never even appeared on my radar, even though it is listed in the spreadsheet.

Finalists covered at Retro Reviews: 4 of 6

Diversity count: 6 men (Clifford D. Simak twice), 1 international writer

 

Best Series:


This is one category where I really feel that the Retro Hugo spreadsheet made an impact. Because this is the first time ever that we even have this category at the Retro Hugos. And the reason why we never had it before is because people just didn't know what the nominate in this category.

The Shadow and Doc Savage are both pulp stalwarts that had been published for more than ten years by 1944. They may not be as well remembered as they once were, but they were hugely influential and their impact is felt to this day. Doc Savage influenced everything from Superman to The A-Team, while The Shadow was one of the influences on Batman. Both are highly deserving of recognition, even if the glory days of both series are somewhat behind them by 1944.

Captain Future, created by Edmond Hamilton, hasn't really had the same impact on popular culture at large, but it had a huge impact on me, because the 1979 Captain Future anime series was one of my foundational science fiction experiences which made me a fan, so I'm really thrilled to see the good Captain here as well as Otho, Grag, Simon Wright (whose spiritual descendant is helping astronauts aboard the ISS) and Joan Randall.

A collection of the first three Pellucidar books was my first contact with the works of Edgar Rice Burroughs and my teenaged self certainly loved it. Also, as I said above, Burroughs has never really been honoured by the Hugos, because he wrote his best works long before there even was a Worldcon.

The Cthulhu Mythos by H.P. Lovecraft and friends, represented in 1944 by two August Derleth stories, is one of the great classics of our genre, no matter how you feel about Lovecraft. It's also still going strong and getting new additions, including many that would horrify Lovecraft, and therefore a highly deserving finalist.

The occult detective Jules de Grandin by Seabury Quinn may be somewhat forgotten these days, but he was a mainstay of Weird Tales for more than twenty year. In their time, the Jules de Grandin stories were more popular than Cthulhu or Conan and single-handedly saved Weird Tales from bankruptcy more than once.

No diversity count, because most of these series were written by more than one person. Those persons were generally male, though.

 

Best Related Work:


This is the other category where I feel that the Retro Hugo Spreadsheet really made an impact, because this another category we didn't have at all for the golden age Retro Hugos, because no one knew what to nominate. I also want to thank everybody who helped to hunt down these works, some of which were not easy to find. We also have a nice variety of very different works here.

Rockets: The Future of Travel Beyond the Stratosphere by Willy Ley and Mr. Tompkins Explores the Atom by George Gamow are two good popular science books. The Willy Ley book is apparently so good that the Bremen University library still has several copies (plus two more at the library of the Technical College), even though the book is 75 years old.

42 To ’44: A Contemporary Memoir Upon Human Behavior During the Crisis of the World Revolution by H.G. Wells is a non-fiction book by one of the founding fathers of our genre who has never been recognised by the Hugos either, because like Edgar Rice Burroughs, Wells did his best work well before there were Hugo Awards or even a Worldcon.

Fancyclopedia 1 by Jack Speer is the first attempt to chronicle fandom, while it was still in its very early years and another highly deserving finalist. It's also a project that still exists 75 years later, now as an online Wiki.

Finally, we have two fine essays: “The Science-Fiction Field” by Leigh Brackett is an article from Writers Digest that is remarkably difficult to locate (and we certainly tried). Supposedly, she talks about her experiences as a woman writing science fiction during the golden age, so I hope someone who has a copy will put it up for Retro Hugo voters to read.

“The Works of H.P. Lovecraft: Suggestions for a Critical Appraisal” by Fritz Leiber, published in the fanzine The Acolyte, does exactly what it says on the tin. I suspect I am at least partly responsible for this nomination, because I stumbled across The Acolyte, when I checked out Fritz Leiber's 1944 publication credits, found the zine online at Fanac.org, liked what I read and entered the essay as well as the fanzine and Fritz Leiber as a fanwriter into the spreadsheet. Since the essay, The Acolyte and Fritz Leiber as fanwriter  all got nominations, I suspect other Retro Hugo nominators must have agreed.

Diversity count: 5 men, 1 woman, 1 international writer (I'm counting immigrants Willy Ley and George Gamow as Americans here)

 

Best Graphic Story/Comic:


Flash Gordon is represented twice in this category with "Battle for Tropica" and "Triumph in Tropica". These are the last Flash Gordon strips drawn and written by Alex Raymond who was about to depart for Rip Kirby, so I really hope that Alex Raymond, who was the best artist drawing for the newspaper strips at the time, will finally get the recognition he deserves.

Buck Rogers is the other newspaper strip on the ballot and was the original science fiction adventure strip, long before Flash Gordon came along. Though I have to admit that I always preferred Flash to Buck.

The Spirit is one of the great classics of the era, even though the nominated story was not drawn by Will Eisner. But it was written by Manly Wade Wellman.

Carl Barks was the most iconic artist ever to draw Donald Duck and pretty much created the world that is known as "Entenhausen" (duckville) in German. His comics are classics and I'm really glad to see him honoured here.

The American superhero comic is represented here by the Superman story “The Mysterious Mr. Mxyztplk” which introduces a classic antagonist.

Good choices all and also a nice look at the variety of comics available during this era from serialised newspaper strips via superheroes to funny animals. Though I'm a bit sad that The Phantom and Mandrake the Magician didn't make the ballot again.

Diversity count: All men, all Americans

 

Best Dramatic Presentation Short:


There is no Best Dramatic Presentation Long category at the Retro Hugos this year, so works like The Uninvited, Between Two Worlds, The Halfway House, the stage production of Huis Clos or The Phantom and Captain America serials sadly don't get a shot at winning a Retro Hugo.

One of the Best Dramatic Presentation Short finalists, The Canterville Ghost, is actually a longform finalist at 95 minutes, though it still falls within the grace range. It's also a nice adaptation of a fantasy classic.

The Curse of the Cat People is a sequel to the 1943 Retro Hugo finalist Cat People and often considered superior to the original. It Happened Tomorrow is a time paradox movie adapted from a story by Lord Dunsany and a minor classic.

House of Frankenstein and The Invisible Man's Revenge are the sort of Universal extruded monster product that was typical for the SFF cinema of the era. Both are also the upteenth inferior sequel to a good original. Sorry to be so direct, but everybody involved with these films is dead anyway and it's unlikely I will insult the ghost of Curt Siodmak or Ford Bebee. The Invisible Man's Revenge is also the only 1945 Retro Hugo finalist that is not listed in the spreadsheet. For some reason, we completely missed this one, though Retro Hugo nominators did not.

Donovan's Brain, finally, is an example of an art form that was enormously popular during this period, but that is rarely represented at the Retro Hugos, namely the radio drama. I'm always happy to see a vintage radio drama on the shortlist, because they are often overlooked compared to movies and are also generally better than the extruded monster product that so often dominates the Dramatic Presentation categories at the Retro Hugos.

No diversity count, too many people are involved in making movies or radio dramas.

 

Best Editor Short:


There are absolutely no surprises in this category. John W. Campbell is the oft nominated and just as often winning editor of Astounding Science Fiction. He will probably not be on top of my ballot, if only because someone else deserves a shot for once, but he definitely deserves to be here.

Dorothy McIllwraith's tenure at Weird Tales may have been overshadowed by Farnsworth Wright's, but I have been very impressed by the output of Weird Tales during the 1940s. A highly deserving finalist I would love to see win for once.

W. Scott Peacock was the editor of Planet Stories, while Oscar J. Friend edited Startling Stories, Thrilling Wonder Stories and Captain Future. Their respective magazines may be overlooked compared to Astounding and Weird Tales, but I found the stories I reviewed from Planet Stories, Startling Stories and Thrilling Wonder Stories consistently entertaining. In fact, those lesser mags are probably more consistent with regard to quality than Astounding, for while Astounding published a lot of classics, they also published a lot of dross.

Raymond A. Palmer's time as the editor of Amazing Stories is sadly overshadowed by the Shaver mystery nonsense. But the first Shaver mystery story wasn't even published until the following year and in 1944, Palmer was doing good work. I reviewed fewer stories from Amazing than from Astounding or Planet Stories or Weird Tales, but the ones I reviewed were all good.

I'm a bit surprised to see Mary Gnaedinger, editor of Famous Fantastic Mysteries, on the ballot. Not because she didn't do good work, she did. But Famous Fantastic Mysteries published no new fiction in 1944, only reprints.

Diversity count: 4 men, 2 women

 

Best Professional Artist:


Iconic Weird Tales cover artist Margaret Brundage is a frequent finalist in this category, but so far hasn't won. I really hope that this will be her year, if only because she's about to move out of SFF art and we won't have many more chances to recognise her. Besides, her cover and interior artwork for the May 1944 issue of Weird Tales, illustrating "Iron Mask" by Robert Bloch, is lovely and the woman on the cover is even fully dressed for once. Not that I mind the nudes - few people painted better nudes than Margaret Brundage. But it seems to me as if her work is just a little too sexy for modern sensibilities.

Earle Bergey was responsible for the striking and lurid covers of Thrilling Wonder Stories, Startling Stories and Captain Future, wherein men are manly, women were brass bikinis and monsters are bug-eyed and menace damsels in distress. His work is great fun and few artists were as good at painting bug-eyed monsters and ladies in brass bikinis as Earle Bergey. Who cares that most of the scenes he illustrated never happened that way in the actual story.

Boris Dolgov provided the interior art for many an issue of Weird Tales. His work is always striking and atmospheric, particularly his two page spread for "Ride the EL to Doom" by Allison V. Harding and I'm really happy to see him recognised.

Matt Fox is responsible for the cover of the November 1944 issue of Weird Tales, which depicts Cthulhu in all his terrible glory. I think this is the only time Cthulhu ever appeared on the cover. For some reason, Weird Tales' most famous characters - Conan, Cthulhu, Solomon Kane, Jules de Grandin - hardly ever appeared on the cover of the magazine, probably because Margaret Brundage would rather draw semi-nude women, who also sold better than tentacled monstrosities.

Paul Orban provided the interior art for many an issue of Astounding Science Fiction as well as for The Shadow and Doc Savage. He is not listed in the spreadsheet, so here is another 1945 Retro Hugo finalist we missed.

William Timmins, finally, was the cover artist for Astounding Science Fiction throughout WWII and also provided interior art. I have to admit that prefer the more lurid end of the pulp market, but Timmins did provide some striking covers for Astounding in 1944 such as this one and this one.

Diversity count: 5 men, 1 woman. All American, though Dolgov and Orban are immigrants.

 

Best Fanzine:


Futurian War Digest, Shangri L'Affaires, Voice of the Imagi-Nation and Le Zombie are all repeat finalists in this category and they all did good work. Diablerie is completely new to me, though it is listed on the spreadsheet.

The Acolyte, finally, is a zine focussed on weird fiction and the works of H.P. Lovecraft that I discovered when I checked out the 1944 publication credits for Fritz Leiber and Anthony Boucher. So I checked it out on Fanac.org and was quite impressed with what I found, so I put it on the spreadhseet. Evidently, other Retro Hugo nominators agreed with me, because it made the ballot.

Diversity count: 8 men, 1 woman

 

Best Fan Writer:


Once again, we have several repeat finalists in this category. Jack Speer, Bob Tucker and Harry Warner Jr. have all been nominated in this category before, as was Myrtle R. Douglas a.k.a. Morojo, who invented cosplay and proves that women were always part of our genre. Jack Speer deserves particular recognition here, because he wrote and published the first Fancyclopedia in 1944, a project which still exists, though now online.

J. Michael Rosenblum was the editor of Futurian War Digest, a British fanzine I find consistently impressive. But for some reason, he has never been a Retro Hugo finalist himself, so I'm happy that the nominators rectified that oversight.

Fritz Leiber Jr. really needs no introduction, considering that he published countless of excellent novels and stories over his fifty-year career, won six Hugos, one Retro Hugo and countless other awards and co-created two of the most beloved fantasy characters of all time in Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser. So what is he doing on the Best Fanwriter ballot?

Well, I suspect I might have something to do with that. I'm a big Fritz Leiber fan, so I checked ISFDB for eligible 1944 works and came across not only a handful fo stories for Astounding (no Fafhrd and Gray Mouser in 1944, sadly, because the demise of Unknown the year before left them temporarily homeless) but also a story, an essay and a poem, all published in the fanzine The Acolyte. As I said above, I checked out The Acolyte, liked what I saw and put it on the spreadsheet. In addtion to his essay with suggestions for a critical appraisal of Lovecraft's work, which is nominated in the Best Related Work category, Fritz Leiber also contributed a short story entitled "Ervool" and a poem to The Acolyte. The poem, entitled "The Gray Mouser", will probably be familiar to quite a few readers, because it has been reprinted in the various Fafhrd and Gray Mouser collections over the years. So it isn't quite correct that Fafhrd and Gray Mouser were taking an extended break during the  late 1940s and early 1950s, because Gray Mouser at least was still active in a poem first published in a fairly obscure fanzine. Coincidentally, this poem also appears to be the first time that the wizard Sheelba of the Eyeless Face, a recurring character in the Fafhrd and Gray Mouser stories, was mentioned in print, since I don't recall Sheelba appearing in any of the stories published in Unknown. You can find the issue of The Acolyte which contains Fritz Leiber's fan writing output for 1944, online at Fanac.org BTW.

Diversity count: 5 men, 1 woman, 1 international writer

ETA: The good folks of Fanac.org has put together a list with links to samples of all nominated fanzines and fan writers to make voting easier.

It seems to me as if all the hard work I (and many others) put into the 1945 Retro Hugo Recommendation spreadsheet and Retro Science Fiction Reviews did make an impact, the spreadsheet probably more so than Retro Science Fiction Reviews. Cause I don't think that we would have had the Best Series and Best Related Work categories at all without the spreadsheet and the three nominations linked to The Acolyte can probably also be attributed to the spreadsheet.

I will be reviewing the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists that I missed the first time around and I'll definitely do a recommendation spreadsheet and Retro Reviews for the 1947 Retro Hugos, because the 1946 Retro Hugos were already awarded in 1996.

And that's it for the analysis of the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists.

Wednesday 8 April 2020

Cora is a Hugo Finalist!


As you probably know, the finalists for the2020 Hugo Awards and the 1945 Retro Hugo Awards have just been announced. And I will post a detailed analysis of the 1945 Retro Hugo finalists soon. It seems that the spreadsheet had some impact, because we have Retro Hugo finalists for Best Related Work and Best Series, two categories which almost never have finalists.


But for now, I want to focus on the 2020 Hugo Awards and on one particular category, namely the 2020 Hugo Award for Best Fanwriter. Cause if you take a look at that category, you will find – among most excellent company – my name.

Yes, I'm a Hugo finalist for Best Fanwriter!




I've known about this for about two weeks now (for those who don't know, the Hugo coordinators contact you beforehand to ask if you want to accept the nomination), but I'm still in shock. When I got the e-mail from CoNZealand, the 2020 Worldcon, I initially didn't even know what it was. I was waiting for an e-mail from my ISP and for my Disney Plus activation mail, so when I saw a mail from CoNZealand in my inbox instead, I thought it was a newsletter or progress report.



It's a great honour to be a Hugo finalist and I want to thank everybody who nominated me. I'm also thrilled that my friends of GalacticJourney are finalists again in the Best Fanzine category.



Unfortunately, with CoNZealand going virtual due to the corona pandemic, there won't be a traditional Hugo ceremony nor the reception beforehand nor the Hugo Losers' Party afterwards. But thankfully, I got to experience all that last year in Dublin as the designated accepter for GalacticJourney. And on the plus side, it means that I can follow the Hugo announcements in my pyjamas, which is a lot more comfortable than an evening gown and tiara.



I also have a request. Like all Hugo finalists, I will be asked to put together a selection of my writings for the Hugo voters packet. And that's why I need your help. Which 2019 articles or essays of mine should go into the Hugo Voters packet? There is a full list here, so let me know in the comments which ones you think should go into the packet.



So how can you vote for the 2020 Hugos and 1945 Retro Hugos? I guess many people here already know how it works, but for those who don't, it's quite simple. If you buy a supporting membership for CoNZealand, the 2020 Worldcon, you can vote for the Hugo and Retro Hugo Awards as well as vote to select the location of the 2022 Worldcon. You also receive all of the convention publications and get access to the Hugo Voters' packet, which contains most of the nominated works either in part or as a whole. If you buy an online attending membership, you can also attend the virtual Worldcon panels and other events online. 




As I said above, a detailed analysis of the 1945 Retro Hugo ballot is coming soon. But for now, I just want to say thank you to everybody who nominated me.