Close But No Cigar: Response to Library of America's Nine Classic Science Fiction Novels of the 1950s

A decade ago, the Library of America released the set Nine Classic Science Fiction Novels of the 1950s. The series was edited, or perhaps more accurately, curated by Gary Wolfe. Wolfe is a genre personage who I often disagree with, but a person who I respect, particularly his knowledge of 20th century science fiction. Wolfe is a proper scholar and a person to be trusted when looking to curate such a series. Nevertheless, differences in opinion there are, and it's in those differences that my views have been percolating for ten years, waiting until I've read enough sf from the 50s to have an informed rebuttal. With more than thirty-five novels from the decade under my belt (and this post sitting in my drafts folder for all that time) I think I've reached that point. In the very least I will introduce you to some old school science fiction that perhaps wasn't on your radar before.

For a bit of historical context, the 1950s was the time science fiction made itself respectable in the US. Writers like H.G. Wells, Aldous Huxley, Olaf Stapledon and others had been writing a more literary style of science fiction for decades, but they were based in Europe. (Yes, you Brits, you are European.) To that point America had almost exclusively driven down the road with signposts like: damsels in distress, men in tight jumpsuits, slavering aliens, laser blasters, and Pulp Ahead! A difficult era to take seriously (save for collectors and connoisseurs, natch), the Golden Age of scientifiction in the US is stinky cheese at its worst and fun escapism at its best. It took writers like Ray Bradbury, James Blish, Theodore Sturgeon, Alfred Bester and several others in the 50s to inject the genre with a bit of rigor and raise standards—to comb the genre's hair, brush it's teeth, put on clean clothes, and teach it a little etiquette. In real terms, this meant improving technique, cleaning up syntax and diction, interweaving metaphor and theme with plot, device, and character, etc. They pioneered what most now refer to as the Silver Age of science fiction.

Review of Sons of the Selenar by Graham McNeill

The first handful of books in the Siege of Terra have steadily ramped pressure. The Solar War, The Lost & the Damned, and The First Wall saw Horus attack the solar system, land on Terra, and assault the Emperor's palace with everything he has. And each book featured varying perspectives on the brutal, relentless assault. Graham McNeill's novella Sons of the Selenar (2020) offers readers a break in the Siege of Terra action—a Meanwhile, back in the galaxy... moment to catch up with what's happening with the so-called Shattered Legions

The Iron Hands, Salamanders, and Raven Guard are aboard the ship Sisypheum. But without a primarch to command them, opinions abound as the group decides whether to chase rumors of a resurrected captain or return to Terra to join the fight. While they eventually decide on one of the two options, it is far from their ultimate destination. The third way forcing itself upon the group, what they must do has repercussions far beyond Horus' assault on Terra.

Review of Memories of Ice by Steven Erikson

Gardens of the Moon, first book in the Malazan Book of the Fallen series, was a bit of a false start. Whether due to publisher pressure or Erikson's unwillingness to jump feet first into the fire, the novel is limited. It doesn't know how to properly set a scene for maximum impact and distinguishing the plethora of characters is a challenge. Deadhouse Gates, second book in the series, was a clear step forward. Scenes hit harder and characters started to pop. But it had a large amount of content, not all of which felt value-add. I think it's here at the third book, Memories of Ice (2001), that Erikson finally hits the series' stride. There are still issues, but at least they are by design.

The story of Memories of Ice occurs in parallel to that of Deadhouse Gates. While the Whirlwind rebellion builds in the Seven Cities in Deadhouse, a tyrant of the Pannion Domin threatens the city of Capustan in Memories. The Domin are a massive foe,, heedless of life or civility, who force an unlikely alliance between the Malazan Empire, the warlord Caladran Brood and his army, and the Tiste Andii led by Anomander Rake. An uneasy truce, the band nevertheless know they have no recourse but to take on the tyrant, discover which god is backing him, and stop the takeover of the Genabackis continent.

Review of Fairyland by Paul McAuley

Paul McAuley is in that late stage of a career so many science fiction writers unfortunately find themselves: decent production but without the fanfare it once received. His most recent books have received middling media coverage—a far cry from 90s' McAuley, a McAuley who was one of the top dogs of British sf. One of the reasons, if not the biggest reason, was 1995's Fairyland. Standing up to the winds of time even in 2025, let's take a look.

Fairyland is the story of middle-aged, overweight biohacker Alex Sharkey. At least it begins that way. Author of many popular street drugs, he spends his days in a dim apartment cooking up bioengineered narcotics and his nights trying to repay the debts he owes a local London gangster. Stuck in the cycle, Sharkey finds himself in the unenviable position of having to create a gene splice that goes far beyond the legality of his already illegal drug manufacture. Kick starting an evolutionary leap he knew was likely but couldn't stop, London proves to be only the beginning of Sharkey's story, as soon enough the world will know of his creation.

Review of The First Wall by Gav Thorpe

Horus' approach to the heart of his ambitions started in The Solar War and landed on Terra in The Lost and the Damned. The assault on the Emperor's mountain fortress achieves a critical point in Gav Thorpe's The First Wall (2020).

Having made his way through the solar system, Horus stands at the doorstep of Terra. Below him, the Lion's Gate Spaceport sits as a meaty target. Take it over, and there is a path into the Emperor's fortress. But this is the one thing Rogal Dorne, primarch of the Imperial Fists, knows he cannot let happen. He has set up and organized defenses to repel what he thinks Horus will throw at him. In response, Horus gives Peturabo, his cleverest primarch, the task of taking the Spaceport. Let the battle begin.

Review of Deadhouse Gates by Steven Erikson

Steven Erikson's debut novel in the Malazan series, Garden of the Moon, is a tough novel to get through. A litmus test for would be readers of the series, the acid/base ratio forces readers to have the willingness to consume and process multiple plot lines and multiple pages of dramatis personae with little hand holding. The reader capacity to innumerable things churinging in RAM at one time is critical. And Erikson's erratic story-style never lets the reader keep both feet in the land of certainty. In short, the series did not stand a good chance of hitting the ground running. But enough people did pick up what Erikson was putting down, allowing Tor to move ahead with further books in the series. For those who get through Gardens of the Moon there is Deadhouse Gates (2000). Second book in the Malazan series, it's when the rubber really hits the road.

Before getting to the review, a note when reading the Malazan series: progression is not linear. Unlike George R.R. Martin, J.R.R. Tolkien, or other famous writers' fantasy series, Malazan is asynchronous. Each of the ten books must be taken individually, and not as a direct continuation of plot book to book. Certainly there are commonalities—characters, sub-plots, places, etc., but one does not feed the next. Deadhouse Gates thus does not pick up specifically where Gardens left off.

Console Corner: Review of Titan Quest

It's good sometimes to get outside your comfort zone, learn about the world, including video games—at least to some degree. (Hey, give a guy whose written a thousand review intros a little slack when he comes up with a dud...) For years I have seen internet content dedicated to isometric rpgs—dungeon crawlers where players begin with a weak hero but steadily, killing endless hordes, build them into a powerful warrior/wizard/whatever, kicking ass left and right. Having now played Titan Quest (2006) I think 'dungeon grinder' may be the better descriptor.

In Titan Quest, players take on the role of an ordinary Greek man. They literally begin the game with a club, and slowly work (aka kill) their way across a vast map, collecting better weapons, armor, talismans, etc. along the way. Killing enemies earns experience and skill points, which in turn can be used to turn the ordinary Greek man into a superhuman. And there are dozens of ways this can be done, from warrior tank to nature wizard, clever rogue to summoning master. Players progress through four regions, each of which culminates in a big boss fight that tests the player's skills to that point.

Review of Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut

It's 2025. The Western world, and much of the non-Western world, is wholly dependent on machines, computers, and other electronics. And AI has become the #1 technological concern for the future. It's going to make humans redundant! It's going to collapse the economy by putting people out of work! Etc., etc. Turn back the clock 75 years and those concerns were directed at robots. Works like R.U.R. and War with the Newts by Karol Capek portrayed societies wherein humans become second-class citizens to robots. Tackling the topic from a broader, more corporate angle is Kurt Vonnegut's Player Piano (1952). Still relevant in 2025?

Player Piano is the story of Paul Proteus. An intelligent engineer, Paul is a key leader at Ilium Works, a production facility for electronics and robotics that automate many forms of work. Also a good employee, Paul ruffles no feathers and keeps his nose clean. At least at the beginning of the book. As things develop, Paul has increasing contact with the reeks & wrecks—the skilled men and women who have been displaced from the labor force by machines and are now at loose ends. He finds himself increasingly sympathetic to their plight, something his ambitious wife Anita hopes he will forget in pursuit of a more lucrative position at the company's Pittsburgh location.

Review of Someone to Watch over Me by Tricia Sullivan

At the pace of publishing in 2024, it's easy to not only miss good novels when they come out, but to lose sight of good novels released not so long ago. Chasing the new is a road to burnout and FOMO, and as such, it's good to sample books from throughout the history of fantastika. Published in 1997 was a little cyberpunk gem, Tricia Sullivan's Someone to Watch over Me.

Someone to Watch over Me drops the reader, on page one, into the speeding car that is the life of Adrien. And doesn't often take its foot off the gas. Experiencing a medical emergency, Adrien wants the technology in his head, out. The technology lets another person see and experience everything he does. What at first was easy money (people paying money to live vicariously through him) has become a burden, and what's more, it's causing shortness of breath, high blood pressure, and several other things. He needs help. Hailing a taxi on the streets of Zagreb, he begs the driver, a musician named Sabina, for blackmarket pharmaceuticals. And further down the rabbit hole of his own creation Adrien goes.

Console Corner: Review of The Pathless

Journey is one of my favorite video games of all time. It is not action galore, frantically mashing buttons, killin' baddies. The opposite rather, Journey is a meditative experience that “shows rather than tells” the player a quasi-zen transcendence of existence. Seeing comparisons of 2023's The Pathless to Journey, I was naturally intrigued. Zen?

Right up front, The Pathless is not Journey 2, nor does it ever intend to be. They are different games. But it's possible to see why comparisons are made. In The Pathless, players start as a robed figure only whose eyes are showing. They traverse an open world—in more ways 'open' than one—trying to locate lightstones that can be used to banish the evil brought about by a three-eyed god-man. Once three pillars are lit by the stones, an area is cleared, paving the way to a boss fight. Rinse and repeat—plus a big boss battle with the three-eyed god-man, and you... win? Play to find out. Based on this, The Pathless bears more in common with Shadow of the Colossus than Journey, but hey, I'm just a cellar-dwelling reviewer.