It’s perhaps fitting that the 5th edition of Judith Merril’s S-F (or “SF”, depending on the year), which featured Richard Powers’ final cover for the series, includes what I think is the best set of stories featured by any volume in the series.
My favorites are Cordwainer Smith’s “No, No, Not Rogov!”, Daniel Keyes’ “Flowers for Algernon”, Clifford Simak’s “A Death in the House”, and J.G. Ballard’s “The Sound Sweep”. Smith’s stories are remarkable in terms of the consistency and clarity of the future “world” he fashioned, the philosophical and religious undertones that subtly underlie particularly his latter tales, and ultimately, the sense of wonder indelibly imparted by the sheer originality inherent to his universe. Character development, while present to a degree, is secondary to plot and theme, but given Smith’s skill as a writer, this does not at all detract from his stories.
As for Powers’ cover art, well, what can one say? Unlike some of the prior volumes in this series it’s quite busy, what with spacecraft, a gas giant world, a robot (is it a robot?!) and particularly a human-like figure enveloped in flaming bluish-white tendrils. (Close inspection reveals that he has tendrils rising from his forehead. For those in the know, could he be a Slan?)
Powers’ fifth and last appearance for this series is a truly fitting finale.
Open the book, and you’ll encounter…
Introduction “(The 5th Annual of the Year’s Best S-F”), Essay by Judith Merril
“The Handler”, by Damon Knight, from Rogue, August, 1960
“The Other Wife”, by Jack Finney, from The Saturday Evening Post, January 30, 1960
“No Fire Burns”, by Avram Davidson, from Playboy, July, 1959
“No, No, Not Rogov!” [The Instrumentality of Mankind series], by Cordwainer Smith [Paul M. Linebarger], from If, February, 1959
“The Shoreline at Sunset”, by Ray Bradbury, from A Medicine for Melancholy
“The Dreamsman”, by Gordon R. Dickson, from Star Science Fiction No. 6
“Multum in Parvo”, by Jack Sharkey, from The Gent, December, 1959
“Flowers for Algernon”, by Daniel Keyes, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, April, 1959
““What Do You Mean … Human?”“, Essay by John W. Campbell, Jr., from Astounding Science Fiction, September, 1959
“Sierra Sam”, Essay by Ralph Dighton, specifically for this volume
“A Death in the House”, by Clifford D. Simak, from Galaxy Science Fiction, October, 1959
“Mariana”, by Fritz Leiber from Fantastic Science Fiction Stories, February, 1960
“An Inquiry Concerning the Curvature of the Earth’s Surface and Divers Investigations of a Metaphysical Nature”, by Roger Price, specifically for this volume
“Day at the Beach”, by Carol Emshwiller, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August, 1959
“Hot Argument” [Poor Willie series], by Randall Garrett, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February, 1960
“What the Left Hand Was Doing”, by Darrell T. Langart [Randall Garrett], from Astounding Science Fiction, February, 1960
“The Sound Sweep”, by J.G. Ballard [Variant of “The Sound-Sweep”, from Science Fantasy, #39, February, 1960], specifically for this volume
“Plenitude”, by Will Worthington [Will Mohler], from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, November, 1959
“The Man Who Lost the Sea”, by Theodore Sturgeon, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, October, 1959
“Make a Prison”, by Lawrence Block, from Science Fiction Stories [UK] #8, January, 1959
“What Now, Little Man?”, by Mark Clifton, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December, 1959
“Me”, Poem by Hilbert Schenck [as by Hilbert Schenck, Jr.], from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August, 1959
“The Year’s S-F, Summary and Honorable Mentions”, Essay by Judith Merril (variant of The Year’s S-F, Summation and Honorable Mentions (The 5th Annual of the Year’s Best S-F))
“Powers x 4!”: Here’s the 4th volume of Judith Merril’s SF… series, published in 1959, featuring another example of Richard Powers’ book art. As per the cover of the 3rd volume of the series, the sky (which is actually outer space, what with the earth and moon in an obvious foreground) Powers’ backdrop horizontally transitions from hues of orange, to blue, to very (very) dark blue from bottom to top. And, a highly stylized multi-stage spacecraft flies away from the earth in an otherwise empty sky.
Of the stories in this volume, I particularly recall “The Prize of Peril” (the basis of the film “The Running Man“), “Or All the Seas with Oysters”, and “The Comedian’s Children”, the latter of which I very recently read (in September of 2024) in its original format, in Venture Science Fiction … which cover I hope to display at this blog in the future. Sheckley’s tale is excellent; I like his work in general. “The Comedian’s Children” very well told, has a denouement that unfortunately gradually veers away from the air of science fiction with which the story began, to an anticlimactic realm redolent of sociology and crime fiction. As for Avram Davidson’s story? I actually read that one while a sophomore in college; my original paperback, still in my library, can be viewed at the link below. It’s a very clever, somewhat dark tale, but really not that profound. As in volume 3 of this series, note that the latter content of the book is comprised of non-fiction essays, rather than short stories.
Inside you’ll find…
Introduction (“SF:’59: The Year’s Greatest Science Fiction and Fantasy”), Essay by Judith Merril
“Pelt”, by Carol Emshwiller, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, November, 1958
“Triggerman”, by J.F. Bone [Jesse Franklin Bone], from Astounding Science Fiction, December, 1958
“The Prize of Peril”, by Robert Sheckley, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, May, 1958
“Hickory, Dickory, Kerouac”, by Richard Gehman, from Playboy, March, 1958
“The Yellow Pill”, by Rog Phillips, from Astounding Science Fiction, October, 1958
“River of Riches”, by Gerald Kersh, from The Saturday Evening Post, March 8, 1958
“Satellite Passage”, by Theodore L. Thomas, from If, December, 1958
“Casey Agonistes”, by R.C. McKenna, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September, 1958
“Space-Time for Springers” [Gummitch the Cat series], by Fritz Leiber, from Star Science Fiction Stories No. 4, November, 1958
“Ten-Story Jigsaw”, by Brian W. Aldiss [variant of “Ten-Story Jigsaw”, from Nebula Science Fiction “Number 26, January, 1958], specifically for this volume
“Fresh Guy”, by E.C. Tubb [Edwin Charles Tubb], from Science Fantasy, June, 1958
“The Beautiful Things”, by Arthur Zirul, from Fantastic Universe, May, 1958
“The Comedian’s Children”, by Theodore Sturgeon, from Venture Science Fiction, May, 1958
“The Short-Short Story of Mankind” [variant of “We Are Holding Our Own”, by John Steinbeck, Lilliput, November, 1955], specifically for this volume
“From Science Fiction to Science Fact: The Universe”, Essay by Judith Merril, specifically for this volume
“Man in Space”, Essay by Daniel Lang, from The New Yorker, November, 1958
“Rockets to Where?”, Essay by Judith Merril, specifically for this volume
“The Thunder-Thieves”, Poem by Isaac Asimov, specifically for this volume
“The Thunder-Thieves (afterword)”, Essay by Isaac Asimov, specifically for this volume
The Year’s S-F, Summation and Honorable Mentions (“SF: The Year’s Greatest Science Fiction and Fantasy: 4th Annual Volume”), Essay by Judith Merril
This second volume of Judith Merril’s SF anthology – for 1957 – displays, like volume one, a cover by Richard M. Powers. Emblematic of his work are a distant city-scape comprised of elongated, tapered towers silhouetted against a distant, misty horizon, a “floating”, ovoid metallic shape at upper left (obscured by the “SF” in the title!), and, a random set of diminutive shapes at lower right – organic? machines? both? – dancing in a nondescript foreground. I think this cover so significantly epitomizes Powers’ work that I’ve featured it in the post “A Suspension of Belief: Alexander Calder’s Mobiles and the Art of Richard M. Powers“.
So, what’s in the book?
Though I certainly read each and every story in the volume, at this point in time – some years later – the only tale that really strikes a chord of memory is Zenna Henderson’s “Anything Box”, a wonderful tale from her “The People” saga. Like the majority (all?) of her stories and reflective of her vocation as a public school teacher, the tale centers around the interaction between a female schoolteacher and a certain highly unusual and shy child, who possesses a most unusual toy. That is not, really, a toy at all.
“The Man Who Liked Lions”, by John Bernard Daley, from Infinity Science Fiction, October, 1956
“The Cosmic Charge Account”, by C.M. Kornbluth, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January, 1956
“The Far Look”, by Theodore L. Thomas, from Astounding Science Fiction, August, 1956
“When Grandfather Flew to the Moon”, by E.L. Malpass [Eric Lawson Malpass], (variant of “Return of the Moon Man”, originally from A.D. 2500: The Observer Prize Stories 1954) specifically for this volume
“The Doorstop”, by Reginald Bretnor, from Astounding Science Fiction, November, 1956
“Silent Brother”, by Algis Budrys, from Astounding Science Fiction, February, 1956
“Stranger Station”, by Damon Knight, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December, 1956
“Each an Explorer”, by Isaac Asimov, from Future Science Fiction, #30 (August, 1956)
““All About “The Thing”“ [Parodies Tossed series], by Randall Garrett, (variant of “John W. Campbell, Jr.’s ““Who Goes There?”“), originally from Science Fiction Stories, May, 1956) specifically for this volume
“Put Them All Together”, They Spell Monster, by Ray Russell, from Playboy, October, 1956
“Digging the Weans”, by Robert Nathan, from Harper’s Magazine, November, 1956
“Take a Deep Breath”, by Roger Thorne, specifically for this volume
“Grandma’s Lie Soap”, by George Abernathy, from Fantastic Universe, February, 1956
“Compounded Interest”, by Mack Reynolds, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, August, 1956
“Prima Belladonna” [Vermilion Sands series], by J.G. Ballard, from Science Fantasy, December, 1956
“The Other Man”, by Theodore Sturgeon, from Galaxy Science Fiction, September, 1956
“The Damnedest Thing”, by Garson Kanin, from Esquire, February, 1956
“Anything Box” (variant of “The Anything Box”), by Zenna Henderson, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, October, 1956
The Year’s S-F, Summation and Honorable Mentions (SF:’57: The Year’s Greatest Science Fiction and Fantasy) – (1957), Essay by Judith Merril
The paths that lead us to different forms of literature are many and varied, but regardless of one’s interests, a singular and central factor may be happenstance. Such, I think, was the origin – or at least a part of the origin! – of my interest in science fiction: In my early teens, no more than 13 years of age; in eighth grade – I was browsing through racks of paperbacks in a bookstore (within a city at one time a center of coal-mining) when I chanced across Volume One of The Science Fiction Hall of Fame. The book immediately attracted my attention. With planets, stars, and “spacey”-sort-of-things framing the title, the minimalistic cover art elicited wonder about distant realms unexplored and unknown to man.
So, I bought the book. Though the tales therein varied immensely in literary style, plot, and theme, let alone the nature of their protagonists and secondary characters, all of them … well, most of them … well okay, at least some of them! … brought forth feelings of surprise, wonder, anticipation, and above all, the sense of the “new” and “unknown”. Previously, I’d been exposed to science fiction and fantasy only a little bit. This took the form of 50s and 60s-era B-movies on broadcast television, particularly a local TV station’s “Dialing for Dollars” show which aired at 4:30 P.M. which with slow predictability seemed to alternate “Tarantula“, “The Mole People“, “The Monolith Monsters“, “The Amazing Colossal Man“, and other black & white flicks on a regular basis. Bookwise, in eighth grade I read H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds; his short, eerie and I think better tale despite its brevity “The Plattner Story” – which had a strangle ambiguous conclusion, and, a chilling and disturbing tale by Saki (the title of which I’ve long since forgotten) – which what I realize in several decades retrospect had subtle but distinctively erotic overtones – about an eerily intelligent cat with near-supernatural powers. But, I didn’t realize that there were actually book-length collections of such tales until I discovered the Hall of Fame anthology.
Volume one of The Science Fiction Hall Fall of Fame and its three successor volumes are still in my library, the titles in each book’s table of contents ranked with penciled-in stars. Their covers are featured at this blog, too.
What I didn’t realize at the time (not that I thought much about it during junior high school!) was that the stories in the collection didn’t spontaneously arise from epistolary ether to randomly condense themselves onto the printed page. Rather – and I only understood this much later – such stories were typically published in magazines, pulp and otherwise, and later assembled by editors and publishers into collections based on theme, subject, or the author who wrote them.
And so, in that context, here are several such anthologies which I’ve read over the decades, whose covers are featured at WordsEnvisioned:
Star Science Fiction ((One (1953), Two (1953), Three (1954), Four (1955), Five (1956), Six (1957), Magazine (1958), Star Short Novels (1954)) – all covers by Richard M. Powers
Of the above anthologies, those most significant to me have been Isaac Asimov Presents … (deep irony here, in that Asimov’s fiction leaves me colder than cold, albeit the series’ truly great strength is its time-span and comprehensiveness), The Best of... (gives one a real and clear flavor for the “world” created by any given author, let alone his literary style), and, The Best From Fantasy and Science Fiction, the selections for which are consistently strong and smartly chosen.
But, there’s another anthology I’ve thus far overlooked, which now in late 2024 (!) commences with “this” and successive blog posts.
That is, the anthology edited by Judith Merril and published by Dell (Delacorte) from 1956 through 1969, which appeared under titles following the pattern of “SF – The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy“, to “(given number) Annual Edition – The Year’s Best SF“, to simply (with the final two) “SF“.
A list of all the books in the series follows below. This comprises title, date of publication, Dell book number, cover artist’s names, and date of publication of later editions of the same title, with alternate titles – if present – also listed. The information’s primarily derived and simplified from data in the Internet Speculative Fiction Database, secondarily from other sources, like WorldCat.org, and of course, by examining my own copies of the books. Immediately obvious is that the covers of the first five paperbacks in the series were created by Richard M. Powers – those for 1956, 1957, and 1961 are truly outstanding and immediately recognizable as products of his work – while the covers of subsequent editions were by a variety of artists. And so, the titles:
S-F: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy, May, 1956 Dell Book Number B103, cover by Richard M. Powers Also… Hardback, July, 1956, published by Gnome Press, cover by EMSH
SF: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy: Second Annual Volume, June, 1957 Dell Book Number B110, cover by Powers Also… Hardback July, 1957, published by Gnome Press, cover by W.I. Van der Poel (Washington Irving Van der Poel, Jr.) Paperback, July, 1957, identical to June edition
SF: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy: Third Annual Volume, July, 1958 Dell Book Number B119, cover by Powers Also… Hardback July, 1958, published by Gnome Press, cover by W.I. Van der Poel (Washington Irving Van der Poel, Jr.) Paperback, October, 1958, identical to July edition
SF: The Year’s Greatest Science Fiction and Fantasy: 4th Annual Volume, June, 1959 Dell Book Number B129, cover by Powers Also… Hardback, June, 1959, published by Gnome Press, cover by W.I. Van der Poel (Washington Irving Van der Poel, Jr.)
The Year’s Best S-F: 5th Annual Edition, January, 1961 Dell Book Number F118, cover by Powers Also… Hardback, September, 1960, published by Simon & Schuster, cover by H. Lawrence Hoffman Paperback, May, 1961, identical to January edition The Best of Sci-Fi 5, published by Mayflower, 1966, 1967, and 1969
6th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best S-F, June, 1962 Dell Book Number 9772, cover by Van Zwienen Also… Hardback, October, 1961, published by Simon & Schuster, cover by H. Lawrence Hoffman Paperback, December, 1962, identical to June edition The Best of Sci-Fi, published by Mayflower-Dell, 1963
7th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best S-F, June, 1963 Dell Book Number 9773, cover by Brillhart Also… Hardback, December, 1962, published by Simon & Schuster, cover by Nick Musi The Best of Sci-Fi, published by Mayflower-Dell, 1964
8th Annual Edition The Year’s Best S-F, June, 1964 Dell Book Number 9774, cover by unknown artist Also… Hardback, December, 1963, published by Simon & Schuster, cover by Lawrence Ratzkin The Best of Sci-Fi No. 4, published by Mayflower-Dell, 1965 and 1967
9th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best SF, May, 1965 Dell Book Number 9775, cover by Three Lions Also… Hardback, The 9th Annual of the Year’s Best SF, published by Simon & Schuster, 1964 and March, 1965 9th Annual S-F, published by Mayflower-Dell, 1967, cover by Hoot von Zitzewitz The Best of Science Fiction 9, published by Mayflower, 1970
10th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best S-F, December, 1966 Dell Book Number 8611, cover by Ziel Also… Hardback, 10th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best SF, published by Delacorte Press, 1965 and June, 1966, cover by G. Ziel 10th Annual S-F, published by Mayflower-Dell, 1967 The Best of Science Fiction 10, published by Mayflower, 1970, covered by David Davies
11th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best S-F, September, 1967 Dell Book Number 2241, cover by Ziel Also… Hardback, 11th Annual Edition: The Year’s Best S-F, published by Delacorte Press, 1966, cover by Ziel
SF: The Best of the Best, August, 1968 Dell Book Number 0508, cover by Adams Also… Hardback: SF: The Best of the Best, published by Delacorte Press, November, 1967 Hardback: SF: The Best of the Best, published by Rupert Hart-Davis, 1968
SF 12, June, 1969 Dell Book Number 7815, cover by Paul Lehr Also… Hardback, SF 12, published by Delacorte Press, August, 1968, cover by Carl Smith The Best of Sci-Fi 12, published by Mayflower, September, 1970, cover by Josh Kirby
What of Judith Merril, the person?
Rather than here re-hash, summarize, re-summarize, let alone rinse and repeat Judith Merril’s story, this post concludes with numerous links pertaining to her biography, literary legacy, and the the ideological influences leading to (and from) her writing. But, photographically speaking, here are five images of – or including – Judith.
The first two, below, are from Frederik Pohl’s 1984 memoir of his involvement in the world of twentieth=century science fiction, The Way the Future Was.
“At the New York Metrocon, 1950“ Lester del Rey, Evelyn Harrison, Harry Harrison, Isaac Asimov, Judith Merril, the author, Poul Anderson, L. Sprague de Camp, P. Schuyler Miller
“Lunacon 1967, New York City“ Judith Merril, Arthur C. Clarke, L. Sprague de Camp, Hal Clement
The following three images are from the Toronto Star’s article of January 4, 2018 (linked below): “Sci-fi author Judith Merril and the very real story of Toronto’s Spaced Out Library”. They’ve been enhanced with Photoshop (cropped and color-adjusted), and, the last two are accompanied by captions that appear in the original Star article.
First: Judith Merril, probably 1969
Second, “Judith Merril poses in front of the collection in 1985. Courtesy Toronto Star Photograph Archive. (Innell, Reg)”
Third, “Science fiction writer Judith Merril in the Spaced-Out Library, then located at 566 Palmerston Ave., 1975. Courtesy Toronto Star Photograph Archive (Dick Darrell)”
The painting Ms. Merril so proudly (justifiably so!) displays is Edmund Emshwiller’s illustration for the cover of the March, 1958 issue of Venture Science Fiction, representing Algis Budrys’ “The Edge of the Sea“. This example of EMSH’s work has all the hallmarks of his style, which is characterized by oft-extremely-intricate-to-complex detail, bright-but-not-overemphasized colors, and above all capturing the mood and essence of a story, as a single scene. From a technical viewpoint, the original painting gives one an appreciation of the degree to which publishers and editors had to effectively “shrink” – as it were – an image to conform to the dimensions of digest-size covers. Here’s how the cover looked (and looks) today in (and on) the actual magazine, sixty-six years later. The colors have held up pretty well in (and on) this copy.
Here’s a snapshot of Judith Merril from James Gunn’s 1973 heavily illustrated history of science fiction, Alternate Worlds, which is replete with photos of then-prominent science-fiction writers and editors, all of which are reproduced in halftone. Though no caption is associated with this or any other such illustration, the text on Merril’s name-tag reads: “FanFair”, suggesting that the picture was taken at a convention in the late 60s or early 70s.
Judith Merril died on September 12, 1997. She had by then become a significant enough figure in literary, cultural, and perhaps even political circles for her obituary to merit appearance in The New York Times, where, written by Gerald Jonas, it was published on September 17. Here it is:
Judith Merril, 74, Science-Fiction Editor and Writer
Judith Merril, one of the first female writers and editors to influence the direction of modern science fiction, died on Friday in Toronto, where she lived. She was 74.
During and just after World War II, Ms. Merril was the only woman associated with a group of young science fiction enthusiasts known as the Futurians, whose members included Isaac Asimov, James Blish, C.M. Kornbluth and Frederick [should be Frederik]Pohl. She and Mr. Pohl were married in 1949 and divorced in 1953.
At a time when science fiction was still dismissed as adolescent escapism by most academic critics, her first published story, in Astounding Science Fiction magazine in 1948, told of a mother’s devotion to a baby horribly deformed by radiation-induced mutation. Her 1950 novel about nuclear war, “Shadow on the Hearth”, was adapted for television under the title “Atomic Attack.”
~~~~~~~~~~
You can watch “Atomic Attack” below. (Ooops, I mean the movie, not “an” atomic attack. You know, like with real atomic weapons and stuff.) It’s at MegaDude’s YouTube channel, uploaded on January 29, 2014, and originally televised on the Motorola Television Hour in 1954.
~~~~~~~~~~
Ms. Merril, who was born Juliet [?!] Grossman in New York City, adopted the name Judith Merril early in her career. She had lived in Canada since 1968.
She edited a well-received series of anthologies of the best science fiction from 1956 to 1970. In these collections she championed a self-consciously literary approach that became known in the mid-60s as the New Wave. By choosing stories from outside the usual magazines, she helped to broaden the horizons of science fiction writing. As part of her campaign to shift the focus away from scientific hardware, she fought a spirited is losing battle to redefine the genre as “speculative fiction”.
Her 1968 anthology “England Swings SF” introduced many American readers to the experimental fiction of writers like Brain Aldiss and J.G. Ballard. One puzzled reviewer noted that stories like Ballard’s “Assassination of John Fitzgerald Kennedy Considered as Downhill Motor Race” were “closer to the world of Kafka and William Burroughs than to Asimov and Bradbury”.
Her donation to the Toronto Public Library of more than 50,0000 books and periodicals formed the basis of the Merril Collection of Science Fiction, Speculation and Fantasy, one of the major research libraries in the field.
An observation: Something’s immediately noticeable about the text of the obit: Other than nominally touching upon her age, place of residence at the time of her death, given name and date of birth, the obit is otherwise completely devoid of information about Merril “as a person”; her identity is almost completely defined by her work as a writer and editor, while even the most tangential mention of her relationships with family, friends, and colleagues – however simultaneously happy, mundane, unhappy, challenging, or complex and contradictory – is entirely absent. Why? Brevity? The absence of such information at the time? I’m particularly interested in the impetus for her change of name, and, the source of her adopted surname “Merril”, a topic which doesn’t seem to be directly addressed in any of the websites I consulted for this post … though the subject might (?) be touched upon in anthologies of her stories, biographical material, or her personal papers. If I were to surmise a guess, perhaps the symbolic change in her identity connoted by a name change arose from a variety of factors and influences…
In any event, a cursory dive into Ancestry.com reveals the following about Judith and her immediate family… Born on 1/21/23 in Manhattan, Judith Merril (given / actual name (Josephine) Judith S. Grossman) was the daughter of Samuel Schlomo / Shlomo (6/23/93-4/14/30) and Ethel Libby (Hurwitch) (8/15/88-12/11/60) Grossman. She had an older brother Simcha, who, born on 1/21/19, passed away at the very young age of five in 1924. Her father, born in Allentown, Pa., her mother, born in Russia, and brother are buried at the Knights of Liberty Cemetery in Woburn, Massachusetts, in the same family plot with her mother’s parents, Barnet and Miriam. As for Judith’s own place of burial, that seems unknown.
Getting back to the series, here’s the cover of the first volume: S-F: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy, otherwise known as Dell First Edition B103.
What’s in the Book?
Introduction: “S-F: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy”, Essay by Orson Welles
Preface: “S-F: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy”, Essay by Judith Merril
“The Stutterer”, by R.R. Merliss [Reuben Robert Merliss], from Astounding Science Fiction, April, 1955
“The Golem”, by Avram Davidson, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, March, 1955
“Junior”, by Robert Abernathy, from Galaxy Science Fiction, January, 1956
“The Cave of Night” [Station in Space Universe series], by James E. Gunn, from Galaxy Science Fiction, February, 1955
“The Hoofer”, by Walter M. Miller, Jr., from Fantastic Universe, September, 1955
“Bulkhead”, by Theodore Sturgeon, from Galaxy Science Fiction, March, 1955
“Sense from Thought Divide” [Ralph Kennedy series], by Mark Clifton, from Astounding Science Fiction, March, 1955
“Pottage” [The People series], by Zenna Henderson, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, September, 1955
“Nobody Bothers Gus” [Gus series], by Algis Budrys, from Astounding Science Fiction, November, 1955
“The Last Day of Summer”, by E.C. Tubb [Edwin Charles Tubb], from Science Fantasy, February, 1955
“One Ordinary Day, with Peanuts”, by Shirley Jackson, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, January, 1955
“The Ethicators”, by Willard Marsh, from If, August, 1955
“Birds Can’t Count”, by Mildred Clingerman, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February, 1955
“Of Missing Persons”, by Jack Finney, from Good Housekeeping, March, 1955
“Dreaming Is a Private Thing”, by Isaac Asimov, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, December, 1955
“The Country of the Kind”, by Damon Knight, from The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, February, 1956
“The Public Hating”, by Steve Allen, from The Blue Book Magazine, January, 1955
“Home There’s No Returning”, by Henry Kuttner and C.L. Moore, from No Boundaries (book)
The Year’s S-F, Summation and Honorable Mentions (S-F: The Year’s Greatest Science-Fiction and Fantasy), Essay by Judith Merril
What of the book, and books?
This question is difficult to answer, so I’ll answer it with the proviso that I’m working from memory, having read, skimmed, and otherwise perused the contents of each book in this series … roughly some five years ago. Or, more. Actually, what really sparked my interest in Merril’s series was (unsurprising, given the nature of this blog!) the superb cover art and overall design of the first five volumes. “What great art! Wow, the stories in these books must be equally great!” Not so. That assumption soon proved to be invalid, like judging a record (remember records?) by the album cover (remember album covers?). Taken as a whole, while any volume in this series includes a nominal few good to truly excellent stories – “good” in a literary sense being highly subjective! – collectively, whether for any given volume, or the set as a whole, the content is nowhere near as predictably, reliably strong, as that featured in The Best From Fantasy and Science Fiction…, Isaac Asimov Presents…, or, World’s Best Science Fiction…. Likewise, while those three series (and the others mentioned above) maintained a consistent level of quality with each successive volume, the literary quality of the content of successive volumes of S-F… seemed to diminish gradually, and then steeply, through the history of the series, particularly after the first few volumes, the content changing from mostly short stories to a wide variety of very brief non-fiction essays covering a melange of topics, with works of science fiction interspersed. I don’t know if this was because Merril’s skill as a writer did not – necessarily – translate to the realm of identifying and selecting the works of other writers; if reasons of copyright or other legal issues prevented the same story being shared for publication by and among anthologies issued by multiple, competing publishers; if Merril’s efforts, energy, and time were too thinly spread in the mutual realms of publishing and writing – both – to a degree that limited her time for and impeded the quality of SF…
In terms of the stories in this first volume of S-F, listed above, those of which I have the strongest memory are “The Golem”, “Bulkhead”, “Pottage”, “One Ordinary Day, with Peanuts”, and “Home There’s No Returning”, the last of which I very recently (think August-2024-kind-of-recently) re-read in the Kuttner and Moore anthology, No Boundaries. Of these five, “Bulkhead” was great – I’ve always liked Theodore Sturgeon’s work. “The Golem”? – meh. “Pottage” was wonderful, entirely typical of the universally high quality of the stories of Zenna Henderson, whose world of “The People” was crafted with logical consistency, built upon a backdrop of mystery (alas, never too deeply explored), pathos, wonder, and emotional power, all within a framework of moral clarity.
Still, even if mostly unimpressed, I’m glad I gave the series a shot, for it does represent one perspective of the the evolution of the genre from the late 50s through the mid-60s. A literary direction about which I have remained unenthusiastic (though I discovered it a few decades after the awful and unjustifiably romanticized decade of the 60s had become a memory), but which deserves understanding nonetheless.
Here’s the paperback’s full cover, composited via Photoshop from individual scans of front, spine, and back. You can see how (understandably!) Powers used the front “real estate” for the major elements of his painting, while leaving the spine and back as a backdrop of violet, green, and dark gray.
In hardcover..
Here’s the dust jacket of Gnome Press’s hardback edition, released in July of 1956, with great art by Edmund Emshwiller, which has a Richard Powers-ish “air” to it.
A reference for you, a reference for you!
Judith Merril / (Josephine) Judith S. Grossman) , at…
Gunn, James E. (with Introduction by Isaac Asimov) Alternate Worlds – The Illustrated History of Science Fiction, A&W Visual Library (by arrangement with Prentice-Hall, Inc.), Englewood Cliffs, N.J., 1973
…and, yet another book…
Pohl, Frederik, The Way The Future Was: A Memoir, Ballantine Books, New York, N.Y., 1978
…and, even another book.
Rubin, Barry, Assimilation and Its Discontents, Random House, New York, N.Y., 1995
One of the over forty science fiction anthologies compiled by Groff Conklin, the Big Book of Science Fiction, while diminutive in physical size like other Berkley 50s paperbacks, features cover art by Richard Powers that’s arresting, entrancing, and positively l u m i n o u s.
Here it is:
Powers’ composition has qualities inherent to and epitomizing much of his work from that decade: A strange object of indefinite nature – metallic or organic? … machine or creature? – (creature!) … floats above an alien landscape, observing the scene beyond in perhaps detached amusement. A jagged horizon is set within the foreground, while in the far distance stand vaguely defined towers, perhaps rising from an alien metropolis hidden below. To the right, an immense spacecraft resembling an aircraft carrier is suspended in the background, with a spaceship about to blast from its deck. And above (you have to look closely) bursts of violet are scattered through the sky. They look like fireworks, but could they be missiles?
I really like this cover. Most of all, I like the way it’s backlit: Powers painted the sky shades of yellow, with wispy cirrus clouds scattered through, while having shadows in the foreground. It has a “feel” of impending twilight; of dusk; of arriving at a new world after an interminable journey, just as the planet’s sun is setting, to embark upon adventures yet unknown.
For the purpose of this post, I thought I’d take this cover “One Step Beyond”. (Pun intended!) With that, I’ve edited the (halftone) image via Photoshop Elements, to remove chips, creases, dings, and tiny-yet-obviously out of place blobs of ink.
Here’s the resulting effort, which allows a greater appreciation of Powers’ work.
Remarkably, Powers’ original painting has survived! I found a great scan of it at Comic Art Fans, where it’s part of the John Davis & Kim Saxon Collection, which includes 45 works by Powers. Done in acrylics, it’s not that big: just 12 x 16 inches.
Here it is:
So, here’s the back cover, the text of which is representative of the current of techno-optimism inherent to – yet even by then waning from – science-fiction of the 1950s.
PREVIEW OF THE FUTURE AND ALL ITS WONDERS
In reading this book you will be transported into the far distant future, to the times inhabited by your remote descendants. You will visit worlds of super civilizations, travel between the stars, experience atomic power, see strange and marvelous inventions, witness the curious aliens from far-off planets.
Above all your imagination will soar above the petty anxieties of everyday life into the vast reaches of time and the universe where man and his problems are but a brief candle flame against the dark background of eternal night.
So, what’s in the book?
I’ve read five of the ten stories listed below: “Mewhu’s Jet”, “The Wings of Night”, “Arena”, “The Miniature”, and “The Only Thing We Learn”. Of the four, I would have to, and would easily, rank “Arena” as the best, regardless of having been penned typed eighty years ago. The plot is simple but very solid, the “world-building” – though very narrow – is very clear, while the pacing and tempo are maintained without letup throughout the entire story. “The Wings of Night”, while entirely passe in terms of scientific knowledge about the moon and extraterrestrial life, is a fine tale in a purely literary sense, and can still be appreciated in terms of its underlying social message. As for “The Only Thing We Learn”, while Cyril Kornbluth has been one of my favorite science fiction writers, well… The telling is fine, but the tale itself? Ho-hum.
“Desertion” (City series), by Clifford D. Simak, Astounding Science Fiction, November, 1944 “Mewhu’s Jet”, by Theodore Sturgeon,Astounding Science Fiction, November, 1946 “Nobody Saw the Ship”, by Murray Leinster, Future combined with Science Fiction Stories, May/June, 1950 “The Wings of Night”, by Lester del Rey, Astounding Science Fiction, March, 1942 “Arena”, by Fredric Brown, Astounding Science Fiction, June, 1944 “The Roger Bacon Formula”, by Fletcher Pratt, Amazing Stories, January, 1929 “Forever and the Earth”, by Ray Bradbury, Planet Stories, Spring, 1950 “The Miniature”, by John D. MacDonald, Super Science Stories, September, 1949 “Sanity”, by Fritz Leiber [as by Fritz Leiber, Jr.], Astounding Science Fiction, April, 1944 “The Only Thing We Learn”, by C. M. Kornbluth, Startling Stories, July, 1949
Webster’s Ninth New Collegiate Dictionary (I’m reading this directly from the book!) defines “caviar” as 1) “processed salted roe of large fish (as sturgeon)”, and 2) “something considered too delicate or lofty for mass appreciation”.
Merriam-Webster OnLine’s definition of the term (I’m reading this directly off my screen!) includes the first two definitions as well as a third, the latter being, “something considered the best of its kind”.
And so, we come to Caviar, a 1955 anthology of stories by Theodore H. Sturgeon. It’s a humorous play on a word and more precisely on the man’s surname, but given the originality, power, and quality of Theodore Sturgeon’s writing, Webster’s latter two definitions are entirely appropriate. I can readily appreciate why Ballantine Books chose this very word as the title of this set of eight stories, which were published between 1941 and 1955.
Though I’ve not read much in the way of Sturgeon, what I have read uniformly has left me impressed (“Baby Is Three”), if not inspired, if not on occasion insightfully horrified (“And Now the News”), if not deeply moved (“A Saucer of Loneliness”). The last-mentioned tale, published in the February, 1953 issue Galaxy Science Fiction, ends with a remarkably inspiring line that I well remember even decades after reading the story:
“She said nothing, but it was as if a light came from her; more light and far less shadow than ever the practiced moon could cast. Among the many things it meant was that even to loneliness there is an end, for those who are lonely enough, long enough.”
And so, we come to Richard Power’s cover for Ballantine’s 1962 imprint of Sturgeon’s anthology. Typical of many of the artist’s paperback covers, the illustration has neither direct – nor indirect! – bearing upon or inspiration from any of the stories within the book. Rather, the ambiguity, abstractness, and calculated spontaneity (is there such a thing?!) of the painting engenders a feeling; creates a mood; reveals mysteries new to the human imagination; shows us energies, entities, and forces that entice us to venture into realms unknown.
Then again, even if the background is cast in muted tones of red, brown, and dark gray, it’s delightful in its own way, what with undulating streamers and waving bands in yellow, green, and red. With floating metallic ovals dangling; dancing in space. And even more.
So, the cover as a whole…
And, two closer views…
If you rotate this one ninety degrees to the left, it takes on the semblance of a human face…
…while this one, ostensibly simple, speaks of hidden power undulating through space.
And, the back cover, with plugs for Not Without Sorcery and Baby Is Three.
“Bright Segment”, from this volume “Microcosmic God”, from Astounding Science Fiction, April, 1941 “Ghost of a Chance”, from Suspense Magazine, Spring, 1951 (variant of The Green-Eyed Monster, from Unknown Worlds, June, 1943) “Prodigy”, from Astounding Science Fiction, April, 1949 “Medusa”, from Astounding Science Fiction, February, 1942 “Blabbermouth”, From Amazing Stories, February, 1947 “Shadow, Shadow on the Wall”, from this volume (variant of “Shadow, Shadow, on the Wall …”, from Imagination, February, 1951) “Twink”, from Galaxy Science Fiction, August, 1955
Having commenced this blog over seven years ago … I’m typing “this” post at the end of March in the year 2024 (has it been that long?!) … by now I’ve brought to you examples of the works of numerous illustrators in the genre of science fiction whose paintings and drawings graced and covers and interiors of many pulps, numerous paperbacks, and (even!) some hardbacks published in the middle of the twentieth century. Very prominent among these artists is Richard M. Powers, to the extent that I’ve allocated a specific repository for his oeuvre in the “Category” sidebar of this blog, just as I have for Hubert Rogers and Virgil W. Finlay.
Several qualities are manifest in Powers’ paperback cover illustrations published from the early 50s through the mid 60s … his main body of work at the time. While some of these are purely subjective … a sense of mystery; an overwhelming air of ambiguity; a feeling of adventure; the beckoning “pull” of that which is unknown; the impression of man’s insignificance in the face of the infinite (albeit not at all in the gloomy sense of Lovecraftian cosmic horror); an optimistic “vibe” of adventurous solitude … and yet more! … other aspects of his work are visually explicit and entirely unambiguous: Bright, upbeat colors. Astronauts in spacesuits resembling the armor of medieval knights, or, Samurai warriors; the presence of a“horizon” denoted by the transition between shades of light and dark, rather than the crisply defined edge of a actual landscape; distant buildings whose outlines appear as curved silhouettes, kind of like The Jetsons’ “Orbit City” as if designed by an architect on (*ahem*) mind-altering-substances.
And, thinking about Powers’ covers from this era, another feature comes to mind. (It came to me gradually, as I created every new “Powers” post.) Some of his most visually arresting works feature objects that appear to be floating in sky or space, unattached, unmoored, and untethered. In a general sense, these things resemble truncated or partial ellipses (2-D) or ellipsoids (3-D), with their long dimension parallel to the horizon. Some of these objects are partial edges of an ellipse, while others (seems like we’re dealing with topology, eh?!) have a “gap” or void in the middle.
You can see relevant examples of Powers’ art below, showing covers created between 1952 and 1963. As the years go by, the shapes become more complex and three-dimensional, having very much of an organic-metallic appearance.
And I wondered, “I know I’ve seen pictures of things like this before. Where did I see these things before?”
And then, it hit me: Mobiles?! Metal!? 1950s?! 1960s!? “Calder” came to mind.
And a search revealed the answer: They look just like the works of mid-twentieth-century American sculptor Alexander Calder, known for his mobiles, which are described as (quoting Wikipedia), “…a type of kinetic sculpture constructed to take advantage of the principle of equilibrium. [They] consist of a number of rods, from which weighted objects or further rods hang. The objects hanging from the rods balance each other, so that the rods remain more or less horizontal. Each rod hangs from only one string, which gives it the freedom to rotate about the string. An ensemble of these balanced parts hang freely in space, by design without coming into contact with each other.” You can read much more about kinetic sculpture here, at Architectural Digest, which states that, “The first name that pops up when anyone mentions Kinetic art is of the American artist Alexander Calder, one of the most innovative artists of the 20th century. After his meeting with the abstractionist Piet Mondrian, he was inspired to work in an abstract style, and his first moving sculptures were displayed in Paris in 1932. Apart from the abstraction, Mondrian’s influence can be seen in the primary colour schemes Calder used in his sculptures. Duchamp, the grandfather of whacky sculptures, coined the term “mobiles” for Calder’s works.” (Another excellent reference about kinetic art is DAISIE.blog.)
So, it was a case of one art – sculpture – influencing another art – painting, which influenced another art (business, actually): Publishing.
If it was easy to find information about mobiles and kinetic art, it was equally easy to find all manner of videos about this topic in general, and Alexander Calder’s work (and life) in particular. Six such videos showing Calder’s kinetic art, specifically in terms of its resemblance to elements in Richard Powers’ paintings, appear below. I’ve cued each video to start at the moment where the mobile or sculpture most closely resembles the illustrations above, but in light of their brevity and high production value, each bears viewing in its entirety. (Note particularly how the resemblance between the static sculpture in “Works of Calder, 1950 by Herbert Matter”, and the magnificent cover of Expedition to Earth.)
At long last, seasons 5 and 6 of The Expanse have finally been made available on DVD. A few moments ago I finished watching episode 1 of Season 5, which continues entirely undiminished from the superlative quality – in acting, writing, pacing, special effects (but of course), plot, and “mood” – from the prior four seasons’ episodes. Though I’m more than tempted to binge-watch the entirety of the new release – episode-to-episode in a continuous chain – without letup; with pause; without sleep (?); without food and drink (?!?) (naaah, just vastly exaggerating on those last two) – I’ll not do so, for I prefer to view each episode individually, thus enhancing the anticipation for and impact of each successive viewing. I’ll stretch it out. Then, I’ll go back to re-watch the entire season, to pick up the nuances of each episode that I may not have noticed the first time around.
Aside from its superb quality, a central theme of The Expanse – not explicitly articulated in the series, but nonetheless omnipresent – is that regardless of technological change, human nature in all its variations of good, evil, and somewhere-in-between, does not fundamentally change, and thus and inevitably, neither does human society. This is a tremendous and near-irreconcilable contrast with Star Trek (at least, Trek’s earliest incarnations, particularly TOS) many episodes of which were undergirded by a weighty and truly deadening air of progressive utopianism – human salvation and transcendence through the (forced) perfection of mankind? – reflective of both Gene Roddenberry’s personal beliefs and the tenor of the 60s. Yet, in spite of The Expanse’s realistic portrayal of the often disconcerting complexities of human nature, I think – it seems; it looks like – there’s an undercurrent of existential justice – just recompense for evil; the arduous and eventual endurance of good – that is manifest in the show’s “universe”, even if subtle, imperfect, and all too often sadly incomplete. As in, alas, our own world.
Anyway…
…back to this post!
Back in 2021 I spent a measure of time with an experiment in Photoshop Elements: Basically, I wanted to “re-imagine” the cover art of some particularly striking examples among my very many scans of the covers of science fiction books and pulps, in order see these works as originally painted, prior to the addition of titles, text, and publisher’s logos. Two are these are already “on display”: William Timmins’ cover for the January, 1946 issue of Astounding Science Fiction, and, Chesley Bonestell’s cover for the December, 1950 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Here’s another, albeit “this” post originally dates back to June of 2018: Richard Powers’ cover for Dell’s October, 1959 printing of Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.’s, The Sirens of Titan. This image – which continues here from this post as it was originally created six years ago – shows my actual copy. (Purchased for about $1.00 a couple of decades ago at a used bookstore. (‘What’s a bookstore?” you might ask?”)) Thus, the seller punched a hole in the “price” at the cover’s upper right.
As t the novel itself? Ironically, I cannot offer deep commentary here, having read the book some decades ago. (Really.) Suffice to say that I know I enjoyed and was impressed by the author’s originality, but nowhere near enough to compel reading of Vonnegut, Jr.’s other, more “mainstream” works. Which, I have not.
Anyway, Powers’ cover art is typically wonderful, and beautifully displays his suggestion of a futuristic city-scape via elevated, bulbous “Jetsons” like towers; horizontally differentiated shades of color that gently suggest a distant if obscured horizon; strange and indefinable objects that suggest a blend of the organic, metallic, and mechanical; and – somewhat of a rarity for a Powers’ cover from the 50s and 60s – human figures that are clearly defined, as opposed to being miniscule and dwarfed by their surroundings. (Despite the abstractness of his work, the artist was entirely capable of rendering the human form to great effect.)
With that, here’s the cover as I re-created it using Photoshop Elements, by which I deleted all text, and cleaned up nicks, chips, and dings. This gives a glimpse approximating (I hope closely!) what Powers created before he handed the painting off to Dell’s art department.
Here are close-ups of the edited cover.
First, the lady. Or more correctly, one of the Titanian Sirens.
And, the whatever-it-is. If you rotate the image to the left so that the long dimension is horizontal, you’ll see that the sphere suggests a vague resemblance to a woman’s face.
Back cover.
And, the two close-ups as the appeared in the original (2018) version of this post.
I’ve read very little in the way of J.G. Ballard, with the solitary exception of the anthology Billenium, and his novel The Wind From Nowhere. Though I read both long ago, what still stands out in my memory is the sheer originality, in terms of plot and theme, of these literary works. Within Billenium, I was particularly impressed by the short story “Chronopolis”, which originally appeared in New Worlds back in June of 1960. Overall, I remember that neither the novel nor that anthology were undergirded by grandiose, sweeping, (space) operatic concepts. Instead, the foundation of both works both lay in taking an idea, event, or technology, indefinitely extrapolating its effects and implications in order to focus on the reactions of “man” – or, individual men and women – to worlds that have been transformed in unexpected, unanticipated directions.
Kind of like today. Now. 2023. (And beyond.)
So, here’s a Ballard anthology which I have yet to read: The Voices of Time from 1962, featuring cover art by Richard Powers. As for other anthologies, Powers’ painting has neither a central them nor really a single, main, primary (and major?!) subject. Instead, its only theme are abstractness and ambiguity. Within a haze of wavy red, then, gray, then olive, and finally dark green fog stand (and, float) shining, elongated objects (kind of lava-lamp-like, eh?). Some are solid; other are delicate lattices. And, a vertical shape in the background gives a sense of distance.
The only human form is a small anthropomorphic profile surrounded by a shining shield, in the left foreground.
Maybe I’ll get around to reading this one some day…
Contents, Contents, Contents
“The Voices of Time”, from New Worlds Science Fiction (#99), October, 1960
“The Sound-Sweep”, from Science Fantasy (#39), February, 1960
“The Overloaded Man”, from New Worlds Science Fiction (#108), July, 1961
“Zone of Terror”, from New Worlds Science Fiction (#92), March, 1960
“Manhole 69”, from New Worlds Science Fiction (#65), October, 1957
“The Waiting Grounds” from New Worlds Science Fiction (#88), November, 1959
“Deep End”, from New Worlds Science Fiction (#106), May, 1961
From January of 2017, this is one of my earlier posts. Since then, I’ve been able to acquire a copy of Reach For Tomorrow in better condition than my “first”, this newer copy being presented below. Though I’ve used the same scanner (Epson V600, to be specific) to create images of both copies, note the difference in hues between the the covers of the two books.
I’ve also scanned specific areas of the cover at a ridiculously high resolution (600 dpi! – you can see the halftone printing in mesmerizing clarity) to present a larger image in your browser, and to give a better appreciation for the nature of Richard Powers’ art.
Like many of his compositions, the only human presence in this scene is denoted by a solitary, miniscule man: A simple figure in red stands atop a pillar in the left foreground, holding some sort of enigmatic object.
Otherwise, the view includes three floating and one fallen “objects”, another feature common to Powers’ cover illustrations for works of science fiction. Clearly, Powers (and perhaps the art department of Ballantine Books?) seem to have accorded a great deal of forethought and planning in the creation of this unusual cover, which – in terms of originality and impact – is strikingly like that of Ballantine’s 1965 release of Expedition to Earth. Which, along with Prelude to Space, I hope to bring you in a future post.
Note that the book’s rear cover has a horizontal format identical to the front, and includes illustrations of four other science fiction works by Clarke published by Ballantine. (Childhood’s End, Expedition to Earth, Prelude to Space, and Earthlight.)
Reach for Tomorrow was published by Ballantine in 1970 in a conventional vertical format, with cover art that – while nice – was equally conventional. You can view the later edition here.
Contents
Rescue Party, Astounding Science Fiction, May, 1946
A Walk in the Dark, Thrilling Wonder Stories, August, 1950
The Forgotten Enemy, Avon Science Fiction and Fantasy Reader, January, 1953
