This is an anthology of the top-voted stories published before the Hugo awards started, by members of the Science Fiction Writers Association. Authors with multiple stories got only their top one included. The stories included are thus some of the best, most influential early science fiction stories, and they are both a selection of great stories and window into past science fiction and even past American/UK.

It is interesting to see what people thought the future would look like in the last century. Some of the future is just a means for portraying humanity, but others seem like at least a possible future. Heinlein’s conveyor belt roads, used by Asimov in one of his robot detective novels, are a thought experiment in replacing cars (as well as a risk analysis). Humanoid robots are a logical extrapolation of how we would use them, and in some ways would make the perfect 1930s wife, better than actual women (particularly of today’s mindset). Medical tools that are almost foolproof are a reasonable deduction from the advances of the previous century. I find these things clearly unworkable, but I wonder whether that is because humans have turned out to be much more technically complicated than one would reasonably expect before, or whether this was foreseeable by someone who with less techno-optimism and a deeper understanding of the limitations of technology and of the depth of biology. Self-driving cars seem just around the corner, but if they are exposed to the full range of driving conditions we may need to accept a sad level of accidents or spend quite a lot of work on the myriad of edge cases. On the other hand, the optimism among software people that true AI is feasible seems to gloss over a deep mystery whereby mindless matter somehow has soul.

Other stories are more exploratory. A Martian Odyssey uses Mars as a means and location to explore how different forms of life might look like, interact, and even prey on others, as shorter and earlier exploration similar to Greg Egan’s Diaspora. Nightfall, classic Asimov, creates an astronomical setting to explore how humans might react if they had never had experienced darkness. Surface Tension is another sort of exploration, how humanity might interact with the world if we were the size of single-celled organisms (while somehow retaining our intelligence and multi-cellular body). Although it fits less clearly into this category, A Rose for Ecclesiastes is an exploration of how optimistic humanity and a dying (but, practically, also human) species might interact culturally. First Contact—apparently the origin of the term—explores the dynamics of trust, and is reminiscent of the much later Three Body Problem.

Some of the stories are social commentary. There is, of course, the consequences of nuclear weapons in many of the later stories, although not really the main theme. One story shows the limitations of being completely tolerant. Another critiques wealthy New England isolation. One shows denial in the face of birth defects, while another portrays the distortions of humanity caused by humans able to remake the world. In a similar vein, Twilight proposes curiosity as a key trait of a life-giving society, as well as accepting death as an important part of life.

I find short stories an interesting window into past cultures. O'Henry, of course, is one of the best, being a detailed picture of New York City in 1900. But the assumptions of the characters in science fiction stories are also interesting. Helen O'Loy gives the tension between the expectations of a good wife in the tasks of creating a homely home and presumably how real women are not so accommodating. This is in contrast with contemporary America (as of this writing), where husbands and wives share both working and homemaking, and where a good wife is evaluated much more on relational dynamics that her homemaking productivity. The pervasive radioactive landscapes also speaks to a fear of nuclear weapons that we no longer have, on the—hopefully no naive—logic of mutually assured destruction means that while we have nuclear weapons, no one will actually use them. Perhaps we have forgotten the danger, now that Communism is no longer evangelistic: how safe is it to assume that no one will actually use them? Even the jobs people do are starkly different: mechanical jobs feature prominently in many of these stories, while today many of these jobs no longer exist. No one makes a living with a motor repair shop, or really any repair shop except cell phone screens, these days.

The old science fiction also seems to be surprisingly pessimistic. Humanity dies, or kills itself. The perfect tool turns on its owner. Or, my favorite story from The Martian Chronicles, included in this anthology: a creepy picture of the perfect life revealed as a trap. Were early science fiction writers actually critical of the whole technological enterprise, or at least of the ability of humanity to avoid taking the short-sighted road towards disaster? Or are short stories just more poignant when the surprise is negative? A positive surprise is a deus ex machina—my friends showed up just in time to rescue me from certain death!—but a negative surprise is a poignant warning about complacency of assumptions? O'Henry stories, for example, tend to have a certain negative ambiguity, including his most famous, The Gift of the Magi, although in his case much of the time the protagonist on which the tables are turned is a criminal or somewhat arrogant.

My favorite story in the collection is Mimsy Were the Borogroves, because I like the mystical aspect: there exists something larger out there, and we are salmon in the stream who have not found the path to the sea. Christianity, and possibly other of the great religions—I have limited experience—offer a path to friendship with an infinite God, albeit often buried under a bunch of rules. So I also like the stories that set Catholicism in the future (although as a story A Quest for Saint Alquin is not among my favorites of this collection), or make use of the Bible (A Rose for Ecclesiastes). My second favorite, however, is that creep Bradbury story about the idyllic American small town turning into a trap, even though I don’t like horror or anything close to it. The end is just so good, and also I first read it in its contact in the Chronicles, as the point where Martians start to fear Earth (even though this context may be illusory, since the stories may be independent, especially the earlier ones.

This is a great volume of early science fiction, and even the old ones from a different culture and technological / astronomical awareness are still good reads. It gives a nice broad overview of science fiction trends, pictures into older culture, and is just a fun read.

(See summaries of each story in the notes section below.)


Review: 10