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Authors: James Gunn
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"The Ugly Little Boy" is different. It is the story of a character whose problem cannot be solved. With the resolution of the situation comes not triumph or acceptance but a personal statement, ineffectual and even tragic though it may be. Edith Fellowes, a nurse hired to tend a Neanderthal boy brought from the past to the high-energy laboratory of Stasis, Inc., to be studied, begins her job with skepticism and cold efficiency. Gradually, she becomes attached to the Neanderthal boy whom she calls Timmie. When he must be returned to his past, she cannot prevail upon her coldly scientific Supervisors to let him stay it is impossible and she recognizes it so she returns with the now seven-year-old boy to his own time. It is a solution that solves nothing. Miss Fellowes will have not much more chance of surviving in the Pleistocene than Timmie himself, perhaps not as much. Her return with him will comfort her a bit for a short time. Reason tells the reader that their life will be, in Thomas Hobbes's words, "poor, nasty, brutish, and short" but not, for the moment at least, "solitary." As a consequence, the resolution seems sentimental and un-Asimovian. The reason many readers like the story "People say that they've read [it] and it made them cry at the end, and I answer that I am pleased because it made me cry when I wrote it," Asimov has said is the reason it is not as effective as science fiction. The action Miss Fellowes takes is irrational, and it can be accepted only if we assume that it is better for her to die comforting Timmie in the Pleistocene than to survive to lead a lonely and unrewarding life in the present, grieving over Timmie's tragic fate.
Of Asimov's favorite stories, two of them dealt with the triumph of sentiment over rationality, what I call his "un-Asimovian" stories. That may represent an inconsistency in Asimov's character or a yearning toward a kind of writing that he felt himself incapable of, or even was incapable of adopting as a rational approach to life. Ironically, two of the three short stories that Robert Silverberg expanded into novels in the 1990s, with Asimov's approval and assistance, were those stories.
Nightfall
came out in 1990;
The Ugly Little Boy
was published in 1992, and
The Positronic Man
(an expansion of "The Bicentennial Man"), in 1993, all as by Asimov and Silverberg.
came out in 1990;
The Ugly Little Boy
was published in 1992, and
The Positronic Man
(an expansion of "The Bicentennial Man"), in 1993, all as by Asimov and Silverberg.
During the writing period of the late 1960s and 1970s, Asimov was beginning to lead a gregarious and successful existence. No longer was he the eager and respectful apprentice science-fiction writer sitting at John Campbell's feet or even the published author still eager to please editors and readers. He was a successful novelist and author of science articles and non-fiction books who was beginning to be sought after by magazines and publishers. His career no longer depended upon the reception of any one story, and the spirit of playfulness that had sometimes manifested itself in his fiction was released more often. Many stories often were produced casually between other assignments or projects: "What If" (
Fantastic,
Summer 1952), "Flies" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
June 1953), "Nobody Here But'' (
Star Science Fiction,
1953), "It's Such a Beautiful Day" (
Star Science Fiction
No. 3, 1954), "Strikebreaker" ("Male Strikebreaker,"
The Original Science Fiction Stories,
January 1957), "I'm in Marsport Without Hilda" (
Venture Science Fiction,
November 1957), "The Up-to-Date Sorcerer" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
July 1958), "Unto the Fourth Generation" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
April 1959), "What Is This Thing Called Love?" ("Playboy and the Slime God,"
Amazing Stories,
March 1961), "My Son, the Physicist" (
Scientific American,
February 1962), and "Eyes Do More Than See" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
April 1965), as well as others. Asimov wrote a number of stories after 1965, such as his Azazel stories about a tiny demon, but few of them would do what his earlier stories did, which was to influence the evolution and direction of science fiction or add to Asimov's reputation.
Fantastic,
Summer 1952), "Flies" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
June 1953), "Nobody Here But'' (
Star Science Fiction,
1953), "It's Such a Beautiful Day" (
Star Science Fiction
No. 3, 1954), "Strikebreaker" ("Male Strikebreaker,"
The Original Science Fiction Stories,
January 1957), "I'm in Marsport Without Hilda" (
Venture Science Fiction,
November 1957), "The Up-to-Date Sorcerer" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
July 1958), "Unto the Fourth Generation" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
April 1959), "What Is This Thing Called Love?" ("Playboy and the Slime God,"
Amazing Stories,
March 1961), "My Son, the Physicist" (
Scientific American,
February 1962), and "Eyes Do More Than See" (
Fantasy and Science Fiction,
April 1965), as well as others. Asimov wrote a number of stories after 1965, such as his Azazel stories about a tiny demon, but few of them would do what his earlier stories did, which was to influence the evolution and direction of science fiction or add to Asimov's reputation.
There is room to speculate about why no Asimov story of substance, with the possible exception of "Dreaming Is a Private Thing," appeared in
Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Possibly Campbell and later Gold challenged Asimov at a level closer to his basic interests or pushed him to greater effort. Possibly the emphasis of
Fantasy and Science Fiction
on more stylish and literary stories resulted in Asimov trivializing his ideas. Perhaps
Fantasy and Science Fiction
simply was uninterested in Campbellian science fiction, where Asimov's sources of creative energy still resided.
Fantasy and Science Fiction.
Possibly Campbell and later Gold challenged Asimov at a level closer to his basic interests or pushed him to greater effort. Possibly the emphasis of
Fantasy and Science Fiction
on more stylish and literary stories resulted in Asimov trivializing his ideas. Perhaps
Fantasy and Science Fiction
simply was uninterested in Campbellian science fiction, where Asimov's sources of creative energy still resided.
The stories listed above and the Asimov mysteries both the science-fiction and the more traditional ones that were collected in
Asimov's Mysteries
(1968),
Tales of the Black Widowers
(1974),
More Tales of the Black Widowers,
1976),
The Key Word and Other Mysteries
(1977), and six more
collections published between 1980 and 1990 were entertaining, though some were no more than one-liners. They represent the casual and uncommitted Asimov. During the early part of the 1950s, Asimov's energies were going into his novels (particularly the robot novels), into the occasional robot story, into the first of his science texts and popularizations, and then, after 1958, when he gave up his full-time teaching at Boston University School of Medicine, almost totally into non-fiction of all kinds. In his science fiction after 1958 the Asimov of his younger days occasionally appeared with several of the robot stories, including "The Bicentennial Man" and such stories as "Founding Father."
Asimov's Mysteries
(1968),
Tales of the Black Widowers
(1974),
More Tales of the Black Widowers,
1976),
The Key Word and Other Mysteries
(1977), and six more
collections published between 1980 and 1990 were entertaining, though some were no more than one-liners. They represent the casual and uncommitted Asimov. During the early part of the 1950s, Asimov's energies were going into his novels (particularly the robot novels), into the occasional robot story, into the first of his science texts and popularizations, and then, after 1958, when he gave up his full-time teaching at Boston University School of Medicine, almost totally into non-fiction of all kinds. In his science fiction after 1958 the Asimov of his younger days occasionally appeared with several of the robot stories, including "The Bicentennial Man" and such stories as "Founding Father."
"Founding Father" (
Galaxy,
August 1965) was written at the request of Frederik Pohl. Pohl, now editor of
Galaxy,
sent Asimov a cover painting showing, as Asimov recalled in
Buy Jupiter and Other Stories,
"a large, sad space-helmeted face, with several crude crosses in the background and with a space helmet balanced on each cross." Stories commissioned to fit a cover were common in science fiction, since many magazines bought the cover art first. Most such stories were eminently forgettable but a surprising number of memorable ones did emerge.
Galaxy,
August 1965) was written at the request of Frederik Pohl. Pohl, now editor of
Galaxy,
sent Asimov a cover painting showing, as Asimov recalled in
Buy Jupiter and Other Stories,
"a large, sad space-helmeted face, with several crude crosses in the background and with a space helmet balanced on each cross." Stories commissioned to fit a cover were common in science fiction, since many magazines bought the cover art first. Most such stories were eminently forgettable but a surprising number of memorable ones did emerge.
One of them was "Founding Father," which relates the story of five men, members of the Galactic Corps, who are stranded by a series of accidents on a planet they had come to explore. They are forced to live in the wreckage of their spaceship while they try to reverse the ammonia-chlorophyll-protein cycle on the planet by inducing Earth plants to grow. Nothing seems to work, however, as one by one the crew members die from ammonia poisoning or from some micro-organism. Petersen, the final survivor, buries the others in the garden. As he too goes out to die amid the helmeted crosses, he sees that the Earth plants, nourished by the bodies of his comrades, are looking healthy. He dies knowing that, because of their sacrifice, this alien planet one day will be capable of supporting human life.
Perhaps the most meaningful aspect of this story is the way in which it illustrates the species orientation of science fiction. Science fiction is a literature of the human species, and unless an SF story involves the basic Darwinian concept of human adaptability (as will be discussed in Chapter 5), the story will seem more like fantasy or traditional fiction. In traditional (or, as the SF fans say, "mundane") fiction, the final physical defeat of the exploratory crew would be occasion for an awareness of tragedy or a realization of the futility of human efforts to prevail against the unforgiving environment, or even an example of the universe or God punishing the hubris of people who dare to pit their
understanding and their tools against the vast unknown. The ultimate success of the crew, in those stories, would be a kind of ironic comment about the workings of fate. In Asimov's story the ending becomes a victory for the human species, a triumph of the human spirit over the stubborn but not unmovable resistance of the outer world, a joyous celebration of the humanization of one more corner of a universe that was not created for humanity but might, if humans are intelligent enough or brave enough, be understood and made sweet.
understanding and their tools against the vast unknown. The ultimate success of the crew, in those stories, would be a kind of ironic comment about the workings of fate. In Asimov's story the ending becomes a victory for the human species, a triumph of the human spirit over the stubborn but not unmovable resistance of the outer world, a joyous celebration of the humanization of one more corner of a universe that was not created for humanity but might, if humans are intelligent enough or brave enough, be understood and made sweet.
The 1965 publication date of "Founding Father" also was significant for the future of Asimov's science-fiction writing.
New Worlds,
a British publication, had failed the year before. Michael Moorcock had been named editor of the new
New Worlds
the same year and had begun its conversion into the flagship of revolution in science-fiction writing that would soon be called "the New Wave." New Wave writers opposed much of what had gone before, both in letter and in spirit, particularly the letter and spirit of Campbellian science fiction. The spirit of the New Wave was iconoclastic, nihilistic, and pessimistic: no victories for the human spirit, no celebration of the capacity of the human mind to comprehend the alien universe, no triumphs over incredible difficulties. The works were impressionistic, experimental, subjective renderings of individuals trapped in incomprehensible worlds, against which struggle and even attempts to understand were useless and man's best choice was simply to accept his fate. The view of humanity's role in the universe that Campbell espoused and Asimov found congenial, replicated as it was in his own rise in the world, continued to be expressed by others in a variety of stories published throughout the 1960s and 1970s. But the dominant impression, perhaps because it came with revolutionary fervor, was that the New Wave had captured the mood of the times, if not the magazines. Stories and novels that Asimov must not have liked and must have felt were not part of the science fiction he had helped to shape were winning acclaim and awards. He also must have felt that science fiction no longer needed him. His science-fiction writing, now only a change of pace from his profitable and satisfying non-fiction production that accounted for the majority of his more than 200 books by then, became even more desultory and casual.
New Worlds,
a British publication, had failed the year before. Michael Moorcock had been named editor of the new
New Worlds
the same year and had begun its conversion into the flagship of revolution in science-fiction writing that would soon be called "the New Wave." New Wave writers opposed much of what had gone before, both in letter and in spirit, particularly the letter and spirit of Campbellian science fiction. The spirit of the New Wave was iconoclastic, nihilistic, and pessimistic: no victories for the human spirit, no celebration of the capacity of the human mind to comprehend the alien universe, no triumphs over incredible difficulties. The works were impressionistic, experimental, subjective renderings of individuals trapped in incomprehensible worlds, against which struggle and even attempts to understand were useless and man's best choice was simply to accept his fate. The view of humanity's role in the universe that Campbell espoused and Asimov found congenial, replicated as it was in his own rise in the world, continued to be expressed by others in a variety of stories published throughout the 1960s and 1970s. But the dominant impression, perhaps because it came with revolutionary fervor, was that the New Wave had captured the mood of the times, if not the magazines. Stories and novels that Asimov must not have liked and must have felt were not part of the science fiction he had helped to shape were winning acclaim and awards. He also must have felt that science fiction no longer needed him. His science-fiction writing, now only a change of pace from his profitable and satisfying non-fiction production that accounted for the majority of his more than 200 books by then, became even more desultory and casual.
Asimov's return to serious writing in 1971 with
The Gods Themselves
(when much of the debate about the New Wave had quieted) was an act of courage, perhaps even bravado. After being out of the mainstream of science fiction for more than a dozen years, Asimov might well have wondered if this new novel would be greeted with scorn or laughter. The fact that the book won both Nebula and Hugo awards was confirmation
that Asimov belonged in the post-Campbell world of contemporary science fiction after all. More Asimov stories appeared. Some of them, like "Take a Match" (
New Dimensions II,
1972) and "That Thou Art Mindful of Him" (
Final Stage,
1974), read like the old Asimov. Some, like "The Bicentennial Man" (
Stellar Two,
1976), which also won Nebula and Hugo awards, demonstrated insights and skills that the younger Asimov had not displayed.
The Gods Themselves
(when much of the debate about the New Wave had quieted) was an act of courage, perhaps even bravado. After being out of the mainstream of science fiction for more than a dozen years, Asimov might well have wondered if this new novel would be greeted with scorn or laughter. The fact that the book won both Nebula and Hugo awards was confirmation
that Asimov belonged in the post-Campbell world of contemporary science fiction after all. More Asimov stories appeared. Some of them, like "Take a Match" (
New Dimensions II,
1972) and "That Thou Art Mindful of Him" (
Final Stage,
1974), read like the old Asimov. Some, like "The Bicentennial Man" (
Stellar Two,
1976), which also won Nebula and Hugo awards, demonstrated insights and skills that the younger Asimov had not displayed.
5 The Robot Novels
In the period between the publication of Asimov's first novel in 1950 and his leaving the teaching position at Boston University in 1958 for the full-time writing of non-fiction, Asimov's science-fiction writing reached a high point of skill and significance that culminated in
The Caves of Steel
and
The Naked Sun.
These two novels form another series that deserves separate consideration from that of the unconnected novels in Chapter 6.
The Caves of Steel
and
The Naked Sun.
These two novels form another series that deserves separate consideration from that of the unconnected novels in Chapter 6.
The Caves of Steel
was serialized in
Galaxy
in 1953, published in hardcover by Doubleday in 1954, and published in paperback by New American Library in 1955;
The Naked Sun
was serialized in
Astounding
in 1956, published in hardcover by Doubleday in 1957, and published in paperback by Bantam Books in 1958. They were brought together in the hardcover edition with
The Rest of the Robots
published by Doubleday in 1964. In 1972 they were published by Doubleday in one volume under the title by which they are better known,
The Robot Novels.
Asimov, however, calls them "science fiction mysteries." Whatever they are called, they represent Asimov at the peak of his science-fiction powers.
was serialized in
Galaxy
in 1953, published in hardcover by Doubleday in 1954, and published in paperback by New American Library in 1955;
The Naked Sun
was serialized in
Astounding
in 1956, published in hardcover by Doubleday in 1957, and published in paperback by Bantam Books in 1958. They were brought together in the hardcover edition with
The Rest of the Robots
published by Doubleday in 1964. In 1972 they were published by Doubleday in one volume under the title by which they are better known,
The Robot Novels.
Asimov, however, calls them "science fiction mysteries." Whatever they are called, they represent Asimov at the peak of his science-fiction powers.
Asimov agreed with that judgment, in almost those exact terms, when he discussed
The Caves of Steel
in Chapter 55 of Part I of his autobiography,
In Memory Yet Green.
Chapter 55 itself is titled "Science Fiction at Its Peak," and Asimov wrote:
The Caves of Steel
in Chapter 55 of Part I of his autobiography,
In Memory Yet Green.
Chapter 55 itself is titled "Science Fiction at Its Peak," and Asimov wrote:
I was very proud of the stories I was writing now [1953]. It seemed to me that they were much more deftly written than my stories of the 1940s. I think so to this day.
It seems to me that most people associate me with the 1940s and think of the positronic robot stories, the Foundation series, and, of course, "Nightfall," as the stories of my peak period. I think they're all wrong. I think my peak period came later in 1953 and the years immediately following.
By now, after all, the pulpishness in my writing had completely disap
peared. That had been taking place all along, through the 1940s, but between what Walter Bradbury taught me and what I had learned at Breadloaf, the change accelerated under my own deliberate prodding.
peared. That had been taking place all along, through the 1940s, but between what Walter Bradbury taught me and what I had learned at Breadloaf, the change accelerated under my own deliberate prodding.
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