Nine Tomorrows

by Lacey Kat
(Copyright by the author - All rights reserved) 

There was a time, not so long ago, when an author was seen as either a novelist or a short story scribe. In the years before World War II, most science fiction was of the short-story variety. Tales that would fit into the pages of a single issue of one of the many pulp magazines that lined the shelves of newsstands everywhere. True, sometimes there were novelettes, and these need to be spread over several issues, but for the most part science fiction was of the concise variety, and science fiction authors had to be content with that. The big boys of publishing seldom published SF novels and almost never published hardback collections.

After the war, America found itself in what was to be called the “Atomic Age.” Those same silly
writers, who dabbled in other world fiction, were now seen as predictors of the brave new era. Publishers scrambled to put their works in print and hungered for new, not just recycled, material.

Isaac Asimov found a basically willing market for the types of stories he had been writing for well over a decade. At first, they liked his name and fame in the SF market place, but each publisher wanted fresh new material to hitch its star on, not just reprints of pulp publications. Asimov obliged them as he could with such novels as “Pebble in the Sky,” and “The Stars like Dust,” however he had written a large number of stories that he felt deserved to be immortalized in hardcover. (Remember, Pulp magazines were operated on the cheap. They were never intended to be a lasting record of authors or their work.)

Asimov found, after some work, publishers who felt his previous labors had merit, and his now-classic “Foundation Trilogy” (a collection of novelettes and short stories) and “I, Robot” (his first collection of robot stories for which he would become famous) found their way into print. The problem was that these were the only stories he had with a central theme. These were not the only stories he had written, but the others were unrelated and at that time, if you put out a collection of short stories unrelated, it meant you were washed up in the publishing world. Sort of a “Lifetime Achievement Award,” sort of thing.

Asimov took a chance on his popularity and in 1955 he went to Doubleday with the idea of publishing collections of short stories based on his name. Doubleday agreed and “The Martian Way & Other Stories” went to press. The book did well, the curse was lifted, and Asimov never again shied away from collecting his stories as he saw fit.

The second collection of such stories and the subject of this review was first published in 1959, and is entitled, “Nine Tomorrows.” It consists of nine tales (hence the name) and two poems, that deal with everything from a world that mandates your occupation, to an ugly little boy who is quite out of his element. This review will be short however because these stories are among the most reprinted of any that the good Doctor did, and two are part of his personal favorites. In the course of the reviews, I will also include where else you can find these fine stories, as “Nine Tomorrows” is not as readily available as it once was. Fortunately, however, the stories in it are.

The book opens with a quick poem entitled, “I Just Make Them Up, See!” A verse that was written in the depths of despair when Asimov’s book “Sit with Death” (later changed to “The Death Dealers,” and then to “Whiff of Death”) was soundly rejected by Doubleday. The spurn hit Asimov hard and he felt it might signal the downhill slide of his writing career. The best way to snap out of this, he thought, was to write something light, and sell it as soon as possible. So he wrote “I Just Make Them Up, See!” and sold it to Tony Boucher, of the magazine “Fantasy and Science Fiction.” Isaac felt it was the funniest poem he had ever written and included it in his autobiography, “In Joy Still Felt,” and in “The Best Science Fiction of Isaac Asimov,” volume one of “The Complete Stories,” and “Asimov Laughs Again.” It is a funny poem set up as a question asked by a fan. “Just where do you get your story ideas?” A common question I am sure and no funnier answer have I ever read.

The second entry in the book is also a quick verse entitled, “Rejection Slips.” Now you must understand that to a writer nothing is more dread than a rejection slip for work you have submitted. The more accepted you are the greater these things hurt. In January of 1957 Asimov received a particularly insulting rejection letter from Horace Gold, then editor of Galaxy, for a story, “Profession,” that he had begged Asimov to write for him. Gold was known for his penchant for insulting writers and this gave Asimov the idea to write, as a poetic satire, three sample rejection slips in the style of three of the biggest editors of science fiction magazines of the day. These were John Campbell, of “Astounding,” Tony Boucher, mentioned above, and of course, Horace Gold. It is Asimov’s way of poking fun of the idea of rejection slips, but in fairness, it was written a year after the rejection slip that spawned it. At that time Asimov was not in a fun mood. This poem can also be found in volume one of the “Complete Stories,” and the book “Science Fiction by Asimov,” Davis Publications, 1986.

“Profession,” mentioned above, deals with the idea of mechanized education, and its consequences. In an undetermined future, machines do the“educating” by first imprinting the ability to read at age eight, then, a decade later, all the additional information a person needs is imprinted on their minds based on the machine’s analysis of how best this person can be used. George Platen does not want to be what the machine says he must be, but that is the least of his problems. It turns out that he is one of a few who can’t be educated at all. What do you do when you cannot fit into society? This is a well-written look at cookie-cutter education and what should happen if a child does not fill the mold. The story is memorable even if the characters are not. The idea is one that you will discuss over coffee, particularly today when the challenges of education are far greater than the time the story was written. As well as this book, you can find the story in “The Asimov Chronicles,” volume one of the “Complete Stories,” the “Other Worlds of Isaac Asimov,” and “Baker’s Dozen: Thirteen Short Science Fiction Novels” (though this would only be considered a short story or at best a novelette).

The next story, “The Feeling of Power,” is one of my favorites and one that I appreciate as I get less than young. In the future people use computers for everything including all forms of math. You can’t add 2 + 2 without the use of a pocket computer. That is until technician Myron Aub discovers how to do math without computers, but with his mind. This is a radical idea and may save mankind in an interstellar war they are fighting. The idea for the story started when a friend of Isaac’s dared him to come up with a plot for a story on the spot. Asimov saw the adding machine on the desk and that gave him an idea of math without machines. As I progress through time I find it interesting that each current generation cannot see how the previous one got anything done. I mean living in such privative times. When I reveal that I got through college with 8088 computer, running DOS 3.1 at 7 Mhz, I am looked upon as one step above a Neanderthal. Yet I have heard stories, around the campfire, of a time when people became educated with no computers at all ! But I am sure that is just a myth. This story can also be found in “Opus 100,” “The Edge of Tomorrow,” “Robot Dreams,” volume one of the “Complete Stories,” “Isaac Asimov Presents the Greatest SF Stories 20, 1958,” and “The Best Science Fiction of Isaac Asimov.”

“The Dying Night,” is a Wendell Urth story that appeared in the collection “Asimov’s Mysteries” and I reviewed it there (it can be found here on this Blog). “I’m in Marsport Without Hilda,” is also in “Asimov’s Mysteries,” but there it is in its original form. In this volume, it is slightly sanitized at the request of the publisher who felt it had too much sex for an Asimov story. Isaac vowed never to print this version again.  These are both in the “Complete Stories,” as well as “Asimov’s Mysteries.” 

“The Gentle Vultures,” is an anti-nuclear cautionary tale that was written often in SF in the 50s and 60s. In this story, an alien race has set up a base on the far side of the moon waiting for the inevitable nuclear war that all large-primate species must engage in. Although fifteen years later the inconsiderate humans seem unwilling to destroy themselves and the Hurrians must find out why. This is a very good story of this type and I am surprised to find that Asimov only reprinted it in “Nine Tomorrows,” and volume one of the “Complete Stories.” Perhaps someday Martin H. Greenberg will assemble a collection of anti-nuclear stories of great SF authors.

“All the Troubles of the World,” is another of Asimov’s supercomputer stories. It deals with a young boy’s father who is a programmer of “Multivac.” One night the police come to arrest Ben’s father for a crime he may yet commit, as predicted by Multivac (do I see shades of “Minority Report”?). The computer, which has to deal with all of the troubles of the world, is never wrong. Until now. The story centers on the young boy’s attempt to solve the puzzle of why the world’s problem solver may suddenly be off its transistor. Asimov wrote a similar story that also dealt with Multivac going awry, but for less drastic reasons and with a less serious conclusion. This story can also be found “The Best Science Fiction Stories of Isaac Asimov,” “Complete Stories,” “Computer Crimes and Capers,” and in a stand-alone book called “All the Troubles in the World,” that was part of a collection published by Creative Education, Inc., in the 1980’s.

“Spell My Name With an S,” was the result of Isaac Asimov constantly finding his name spelled with

a Z (Azimov). In this little fantasy, the course of history is changed because a physicist by the name of Zebatinsky changes his name to Sebatinsky at the suggestion of a numerologist. It is a cute little, “what if I took the next bus” story that Asimov does so well. It can also be found in“Robot Dreams,” volume one of the “Complete Stories,” and the “Best Science Fiction of Isaac Asimov.”

The final two stories are a treat for the good doctor’s fans. They are “The Last Question,” and “The Ugly Little Boy.” These were two of Asimov’s favorite stories (the third being The Immortal Bard). “The Last Question” deals with the next ten trillion years and the answer to the last question ever asked. “The Ugly Little Boy,” deals with a neanderthal brought to the present by a time machine of sorts, and the nurse who must care for him. Although Asimov had trouble selling the story originally, it has stood the test of time and never fails to bring a tear to my eye. Both of these stories are among Asimov’s most reprinted and can be found in over fifteen of his collections including the most recent collection, “Robot Dreams.”

The only complaint I have about this volume is that it was printed before Asimov got into the habit of introducing each of his stories. There is a lot of history behind all these tales, as I have alluded to in this review, and I would like to have read more. Sometimes the story behind the story is better than the story itself. And these are all very good quality stories.


(The photo above is from the 1977 TVO production of Ugly Little Boy, which is currently available on YouTube.  Though an American author, American television and movies have been slow to adopt Asimov's stories.)

Magic: The Final Fantasy Collection

by Lacey Kat
(Copyright by the author - all rights reserved)

Oddly enough, I have found that people who love books do not staff most bookstores, particularly the big chain ones. They are staffed, as are most occupations, by people who want to make a dollar and go on to do what they really like. As a result, a minimal amount of effort is put into displaying and arranging books to be sold. This is true of used bookstores also, but less true of Internet bookshops were the search engine helps the customer more efficiently than the clerk.

A good example is the collective works of Isaac Asimov. While he is best known for his science fiction stories, this was, in fact, a very small amount of his total literary output. Yet, if you go to a bookstore and look of a book by Asimov, they will all be under science fiction, regardless of title or subject. I have found his quiz books there, his limerick collections there, his essay collections there, I even once found his annotated “Gulliver’s Travels” in the science fiction section. All because, during their orientation, bookstore employees were told that Asimov wrote science fiction.

Which brings us to the subject of this review, “Magic: The Final Fantasy Collection.”

“What,” I hear you gasp in exclamation, “Asimov wrote fantasy?”

Actually, no. In 1996, four years after Isaac Asimov’s untimely death, Harper Prism, a division of Harper Collins Publishers, decided to publish two “late” anthologies of Asimov’s work. The first was entitled “Gold,” and the second, “Magic.” “Gold” was supposed to be the final science collection, and “Magic,” a collection of Asimov’s fantasy work.

Except that Asimov did not do any fantasy work. At least none that any self-respecting fantasist would stand by. He started out with a fantasy aspect in his “Lucky Starr” stories but quickly abandoned that as the series evolved. He did a series of stories featuring a little demon named “Azazel,” but soon revealed that his little horned friend was not a demon, but a two-centimeter extraterrestrial from the vasty deep of space. The “magic” Azazel performed was simply a better understanding of technology than we had here on earth.

It is not that Asimov did not enjoy fantasy. Nor is it that he did not see its place in the development of the mind, or the pleasure of literature. It is just that in his enormous pool of talent fantasy was relegated to the shallow steps.

“So what is this collection?” you may be saying.

Funny you should ask.

“Magic,” opens with an introduction that was not written by Isaac Asimov. Remember this is not a re-issue of a previous book. It is a collection assembled around a theme someone else created. The reason I point this out is that more often than not, the best part of an Asimov collection is the introductions. That is not the case here. “The Publishers,” for that is the only name the author will sign, claim that Asimov delighted his readers by writing fantasy stories throughout his fifty-year career. While I am familiar with Asimov’s Azazel stories, and I enjoyed his ghost story about a dispossessed spirit who sued to get his haunted house back from its living tenant, I am hard-pressed to think of any other “fantasy” stories the publishers feel made a mark in the field. This is not Asimov’s fault. It would be akin to saying that Picasso was a talented cartoonist or that Gilbert and Sullivan were known for their instruction manuals. The publishers collected material for this book and the introduction is an attempt to explain why. It does an adequate job but is a harbinger of things to come.

Part One is labeled “The Final Fantasy Stories,” and starts out with eight “Azazel” stories. For those of you unfamiliar with this chapter in Asimov’s writing career, these were written in the mid to late 1980s and deal with a series of conversations between Asimov himself and his “friend,” George. They start in a calm setting, usually a meal of some sort, George is chronically out of work and out of money and seems to have a whole host of friends whom he only wishes to help. The story then shifts to the tale George tells Asimov about how his good intentions lead to trouble, for he calls on Azazel to use extraordinary technology to alter immune systems, plant false memories, provide a jobless man with the job of his life, and add warmth to a chilly relationship. The road to irony is always paved with good intentions and the original intent of George is thwarted by what his actions wrought. For example, the man who never catches a cold loses the love of his life to another man she must nurse back to health. These are quick, humorous, little stories, about nine pages, all along the same O. Henry like formula. In fact, they are too formulaic. By the third one, and remember there are eight in this book, plus another volume of stories by themselves, you get the point, have enjoyed the whimsy, and want to get on to other things. Everyone enjoys an after-dinner mint. No one wants to make a meal of them.

Perhaps sensing my desire to get on to some meatier part of the book, the publishers intersperse other fictional short works within the Azazel collection. These modern fairy tales, which use familiar settings like kings, castles, and dragons, to tell a humorous story. There is even a Black Widower story, but its only claim to fantasy, other than the usual, is that the “guest” at dinner is millionaire Bruce Wayne. An interesting twist, but hardly a subject of “fantasy.” (Other than the “Dark Knight” reference I suppose)

The next section of the book is entitled “On Fantasy,” and is a collection of essays and book introductions. These were previously published in “Asimov’ Science Fiction” magazine, and his various anthologies on magical subjects like giants, cosmic knights, and of course, J. R. R. Tolkien. These are the usual doctor’s wit and charm as well as instructional information. For example, did you know that the word “knight” is from an Anglo-Saxon word meaning “boy’ or “attendant”? On the other hand, the German homolog, Knecht, still means “servant” today. Not the stuff of Arthurian legend I grant you, but interesting never-the-less.

The final section of the book, called “Beyond Fantasy,” is devoted to the irrationality in our lives. They are all vintage Asimov and remind us that he was a famous author based on his fantasy stories. These are not new essays, nor are they printed here for the first time. They deal with the decline in American education, the rise of ignorance as right, and a look at what exactly makes intelligence. These are all classic looks at the world and are the reason Asimov was a giant in American literature.

The only other small problem with this book is that it does not have an index. Asimov made sure that his books had an index to aid in their use as information tools. Unfortunately, not all authors, or publishers for that matter, understand the importance of this simple addition. Several of the books published after Asimov’s death lack any way of quickly utilizing the information within.

One final note. One of the essays, “Lost in Non-Translation,” is listed in the copyright section of the book as copyrighted 1989. Yet it is evident from the essay that it was written much earlier, and in fact may have been the impetus for Asimov’s other classic book, “The Story of Ruth,” which came out in the mid-1970s. Having read and reviewed this book, it was interesting to see how the idea for it came about and the course the idea took from essay to hardback. I always like to watch genius in action.

This is a recent tomb, however, it had a short print run and may be hard to find. The stories are fun fluff but not the sort of thing that makes a reputation. The essays and book introductions are complete and self-contained, but simple in their approach. The final section is the reason to find this volume, however. In a time of ethnic cleansing and racial tensions, Asimov reminds us once again why we are all Homo sapiens, and more alike than different.

As I said at the top of the page, Asimov wrote a great many things, but the only thing most bookstores know about him is that he wrote science fiction. You might find this book on the science fiction shelves of your basic bookstore, or you may find a creative employee who moved it to “Fantasy.” Alternatively, you may just want to type the title in on your favorite book site. Either way, you will enjoy this book once you find it.

The Martian Way and Other Stories

by Lacey Kat
(Copyright by Author - All rights reserved)

“The Martian Way and Other Stories,” was the fourteenth book that Isaac Asimov published, and the first collection of short stories Asimov did that did not have a theme. “I, Robot,” consisted of nine connected stories; and the “Foundation” books consisted of nine connected stories. However, by 1955, Asimov had no more “connected” stories in his, at that time, fledgling portfolio.
Evidently, according to the author, putting out random collections of your work was, what we would call today, “box office poison.” These books seldom sold and were the first sign that your carrier as a writer was on the skids (who would have thought). However, having a thrust for being published, and a good relationship with editors, Asimov pitched the idea to then editor of Doubleday’s new science-fiction program, Walter I. Bradbury (referred to, in Asimov’s biographies, simply as “Brad”). To Asimov’s surprise “Brad” liked the idea and so “The Martian Way and Other Stories” came to print.

A slim work, only about 176 pages, it contains four “novelettes.” These are shorter than your standard novel but longer than a “short” story. They were written between 1952 and 1954 and originally published in “Galaxy,” “Space Science Fiction,” and “Astounding.” These were among the plethora of SF pulp and glossy magazines that filled the racks in the dawn of the “Atomic Age.”

The first story is called, of course, “The Martian Way.” Unfortunately, this being still early in Isaac’s career, he had not begun the habit of introducing his works. Later, of course, he thrilled in the habit of adding light to the works presented. Here the reading public will be in the dark. Unless, of course, you read my reviews.

“The Martian Way” was written in 1952 at the height of what would later be called “McCarthyism."
Then Senator Joseph “Tail-gunner Joe” McCarthy was stomping all across the United States rooting out Communism (a.k.a. “The Red Menace”). His simple-minded “patriotism” sickened the young Isaac Asimov and while McCarthy did not affect him directly, he knew it was only a matter of time before SF authors were rounded up and paraded before the “House un-American Activities Committee.”   So Asimov decided to fight back the only way he knew how, with an SF story. A story that deals with Martian colonists, with a problem, who were victimized by a “McCarthy-style” politician back on earth. Rather than bend to the will of narrow-minded “patriots,” they find a better solution to their problem and at the same time shame them into silence and reduce them to ridicule. He did it in 18,000 words.  The November 1952 issue of “Galaxy” featured “The Martian Way,” on the cover, with Isaac’s name misspelled. He sat back and waited for the mail he was sure his story would elicit, denouncing him or supporting him, but it never came. The story was so subtle that no one got the satire.  Still the story is a good one and has stood the test of time. Faced with a shortage of water, used not only for personal necessity but also for propulsion of spacecraft, the Mars colonists, shunned from the earth, turn to space to satisfy their needs. In an exciting and imaginative story, one that could happen in my lifetime, "The Martian Way” is used to solve the problem, for good.

The next story in the collection is called “Youth.” It deals with the simple question of what would happen if the first alien explorers were found by youngsters who, not recognizing their find, decided to keep the creatures as “pets”?  “Youth is a 10,000-word novelette that first appeared in the May 1952 issue of “Space Science Fiction,” edited by Lester del Rey. Though a sizable work, Asimov wrote it in only ten days, and that is all he had to say about it. The impetus for the story is lost with the author, as are any anecdotes about its creation. It is a very clever story, and without spoiling the ending, let me just say that Asimov was never credited for that episode of the “Twilight Zone.”

“The Deep” is an unusual story for Asimov for it deals with a totally alien world and culture. In his later writings, only humanoid characters would populate the Asimov universe. In these earlier times, Isaac explored the possibility of other life forms and other ways of life.  The story centers on a planet that orbits a slowly dying sun. The civilization, unable to move to another planet, is forced to dig toward the only source of energy left, the molten core. As that too slowly cools, the society makes one final effort at survival.   It is interesting on several levels. First, it is a product of its time, December of 1952. The technological references, while SF, are clearly pre-transistor. Second, Asimov invents a society were even “mother love” is considered obscene. At a time when “soulless Communism” was the threat and “mom and apple pie” were American virtues, no editor would dare risk his magazine’s reputation on such a radical story idea. As a matter of fact Tony Boucher of “Fantasy and Science Fiction,” did reject it. However “Galaxy” bought and ran it. Today the idea seems tame, but back then it was a different world.

“Sucker Bait” is the final story in the collection and its history sheds some light on the publishing world of that time.  It was, at that time, not unusual for a publishing house to call some of its writers in and present them with a project. They would give the diverse authors the same set of facts, and then ask them each to write their own story, based on those facts. For example once, in 1957, Larry Shaw, of “Infinity,” called in Asimov, Harlan Ellison, and Randall Garrett, to his office and gave them the title, “Blank.” Each author was to write a story with that title. These stories were collected and published in his magazine, with the appropriate ad campaign.  In 1953, Twayne Press had the idea of producing what it called “Twayne Triplets” (I am sure only for the love alliteration). The idea was to create a planet with a particular astronomical or chemical situation, and then have three different authors write three different stories all based on that planet as background. Asimov loved the idea but was afraid that the other two authors might not live up to their end of the deal and he might be stuck with an unused story (sacrilege to a professional writer). Asimov (who may have know more than he let on) secured the serial rights to his story, as a hedge against trouble. It paid off for one of the authors pulled out of the contract and Twayne Press folded.  “Sucker Bait” was the result of this ill-fated venture, and it deals with a teenage human computer who is on a ship sent to investigate what happened to a space colony over a hundred years ago. The theme of the story, as the crew sets out to solve the mystery, is that a genius is useless if he cannot see beyond his own training. This would be a theme the Renaissance Asimov would visit a number of times. Each member of the science party is an unquestioned authority in his own field, but it is up to an unstable “Nummonic” to put all of the pieces together.

“The Martian Way, and Other Stories,” is well worth the time of any reader. As science fiction, it
explores different worlds, cultures, and adventures. As the early work of Asimov, it adds insight into his early career and ideas he would come back to again and again, and as mystery and adventure, it never lets the reader down.

Although this book was first published in 1955 it is still available, new, from Amazon.com for under $16.00.

The Kite that Won the Revolution

by Lacey Kat
(Copyright by the Author - all rights reserved)

(Known for his science fiction, Issac Asimov's actual literary output covered a vast array of topics.  In this review I will be looking at one of the good Doctor's historical output.) 


On June 27th, of 1962, Isaac Asimov was having lunch with Austin Olney. Austin was the head of the Juvenile Division of Houghton Mifflin Company. This was a publishing firm based in Boston. Austin and Isaac had been friends and professional associates since 1957 and it was not uncommon for Asimov to have lunch with people who might buy his work.

On this date, Austin had an idea for a new project for Isaac. Houghton Mifflin was busy putting out a series of juvenile books that dealt with American history. They were being edited by Sterling North who, at that time, was a book reviewer for the New York Post (and no stranger to Asimov, the writer of books). Mr. Olney wanted Isaac to do one of the series. After some thought Isaac suggested a book on Benjamin Franklin, with a strong look at his scientific discoveries. Austin agreed and that book became “The Kite That Won the Revolution.”

Asimov started writing the book in December of 1962 and finished it by the end of the year. On January 15 Isaac received a badly edited manuscript back from the series editor, the aforementioned Sterling North. Isaac understood the need to sometimes edit any work, or even any one of his. However, because of some past bad experiences with over-enthusiastic editors (who may not have understood the subject or point of Asimov’s current project), The good Doctor preferred to do the editing himself. If the editor or publisher did not like this, Asimov felt they did not have to buy his work. If a story was to be judged, Asimov wanted it to be judged on his work, not another’s editing.

Asimov went to Austin Olney and told him that while North’s series was good, his editing made “The Kite,” no longer a work of Asimov. As such he wanted the manuscript back. Austin came up with a better idea. Houghton Mifflin would publish the book as tomb unto itself, and not part of North’s series. This satisfied Asimov, it satisfied Austin, and it satisfied Houghton Mifflin. The only person it did not satisfy was Sterling North who called Asimov and screamed at him in a rather “high-pitched voice.”

You cannot please everyone, and you can seldom please editors.

“The Kite that Won the Revolution,” was published in 1963 and it did only moderately well as an independent book. It may have done better as part of the North series, but Asimov was pleased that he stuck by his principles and produced a work that was his own.

It is unfortunate that “The Kite,” did not do well and has been all but lost in the dustbins of publishing history. Let me tell you about the book and see if you agree with me.

“The Kite,” referred to in the title of this small but enlightening work, is the famous one flown by Ben Franklin. “The Revolution,” that it won was, of course, the American Revolution of 1776. It is here that Asimov begins his tale. He starts with the beginning of the fighting, in Concord, Massachusetts, in April of 1775. Asimov then moves to the battle of Bunker Hill, in June of the same year. This was the first important battle for the “colonists/ soon to be independents, because, although they lost, they put up a good fight against a better equipped, better trained, professional army. Asimov continues to relate the American’s valiant, though often un-victorious, efforts until the arrival of the French in 1778.

It is at this point that Asimov departs from his history lesson to teach a little about history. To do ventures to explain, rather well, how seemingly unrelated events connect to form our modern world. This was a device used most effectively twenty years later by the Science Editor of the BBC, James Burke, in his series for television, “Connections.”

Let me explain.

Asimov leaves the battlefield and the American Revolution with several questions hanging in the air. The main one was why the French, who were in no position, either financially or philosophically, to support the Americans, never the less did so. To answer that, the good Doctor first takes the young reader back forty or fifty million years, to a forest of pine trees on the northern coast of Europe. These trees produced enormous amounts of sap that hardened with contact with the air. This resin, (from the Greek word meaning “to flow”) hardened and was buried under the soil and the Baltic Sea. The resin took on a reddish-yellow color and became known as “amber.” Amber (or Bernstein in German) became prized for its color and ease in shaping into works of art. In 600 B.C.E., the Greek philosopher Tales found that by rubbing amber it would attract pieces of fluff, just like some rocks would attract pieces of iron. He wrote about this in his journals and decided that rocks that attract must have “souls.”

From here Asimov projects us to the 1500s and an Englishman by the name of William Gilbert. He was playing with the new invention, the compass. He found that when you rubbed amber it would attract the needle of a compass just like the “magnetic” force of a lodestone (natural magnet). Because the Latin name for amber was electrum, things that would attract when rubbed were called “vis electrica” or “the force of amber.” From this, we get the term “electricity.” Get the connection?

Asimov then details the discoveries of electricity from the 1500s to 1706 in his usual lively style. By the sixth chapter, he is ready to introduce us to the subject of his book, Benjamin Franklin. Franklin was the only important scientist that the American colonies produced in their 169 from Jamestown to 1776. While singular in nature, however, Asimov shows how he was more than responsible for the French intervention in the American Revolution, and the final defeat of the British and the establishment of both the United States and of Canada.

“The Kite,” in the title is the kite Franklin flew to prove that the lightning in the sky was the same electricity that would be scientists had been producing by rubbing amber here on earth. For this, he became a respected scientist from a less than respected area of the new world. The other scientific accomplishments, along with his well-developed personal style, made him a revered and admired man in most of Europe. It was this respect that lead the French to help America, even though the principals of “Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness,” were not the principals of the French monarchy. All this is detailed in the rest of the book.

The only problem that I had with this intriguing history lesson is that it is indeed a “juvenile” book. The jacket says for ages eleven and up. However, I found that even a child in the fourth grade would have no trouble and that anyone over the age of fourteen would find this a quick read.

I found this interesting because while Asimov wrote a number of “juvenile” books, many reviewed in this section; he never seemed to talk down to his audience. His “Lucky Starr” stories and his books on chemistry and astronomy were always accessible to any reader. This book, however, is overly juvenile for most adults and that is too bad. It contains a wealth of information on the development of science in the “Age of Reason,” and most textbooks seldom approach this subject. I had no problem reading “The Kite,” because I was familiar with the author, however, older students and most adults would find it too elementary to hold their interest. Perhaps Isaac should have written an edition for the older members of his audience.

That said I can still recommend this book to anyone who can find it. The catalog number is “B Fr” in the Juvenile section of the library. You may have it in yours, and I would suggest making an effort to find out. An adult can finish it in one sitting, and a child in a couple of nights. It will educate both readers.

A small postscript;

Asimov was a big fan of Ben Franklin’s, and in 1974 he wrote several fantasy stories involving conversations between Isaac and Ben (The Dream; Benjamin’s Dream; Benjamin’s Bicentennial Blast) for the “Saturday Evening Post.  Later he used Franklin in his book “Norby and the Queen’s Necklace.” 

50 Short Science Fiction Tales

by Lacey Kat
(Copyright by the Author - All Rights Reserved)

"50 Short Science Fiction Tales" is a collection of short-short stories, edited by Asimov, from a wide selection of good and great science fiction authors of the late forties and fifties. (1940s and 50s, in case this review survives that long). Each tale is approximately a thousand words (four to five pages), with minor exceptions, and meets the challenge of creating an alien world, establishing characters, and getting to the punch, all in the same amount of space most stories use to describe the weather. In our hectic world, these "bite-size" bits of sci-fi are a welcome diversion while waiting in line, or for your next appointment.

This was Isaac Asimov's second anthology, published in 1963, and followed his successful "The Hugo Winners" in ‘62. He was aided in his selection of tales by Groff Conklin, who became a personal friend of the good doctor, and was noted for his evaluation of the merits of science fiction as well as his science and technical writings. A chain smoker, he died in 1968.

The only problem with this clever little collection, from an Asimov's fan point of view, is the lack of Asimov. Other than the introduction, he is nowhere to be found. This still being in his developmental period, Asimov had not yet come of the habit of opening and/or closing each piece with his usual observations. In this case that is a bigger than normal loss as this collection has many authors that may have been forgotten over the span of fifty years. Also, while these were all written considerably before my time, some in publications no longer available, some of the stories seem very familiar. It would be interesting to know if they were dramatized on TV or the ideas for later films. Asimov recognized the importance of historical context, and in his later anthologies, he included extensive wordage in the form of introductions, forewords, and afterwords. That is why I look for his name on the cover, and I am sure many fans feel the same way.

A quick footnote: In his autobiography, "I. Asimov," Isaac said that he recognized the need for introductions after his first anthology, and "never again" did he let collections lie there without a single editorial word from him. Apparently, he forgot about "50 Short Science Fiction Tales."

Published in 1963 by Macmillian Publishing Company, it was reprinted by Scribner Paperback in 1997 and is generally available.

Asimov Book Review - The Gods Themselves

By Lacey Kat
(Copyright by the author - All rights reserved)

There is more to being a prolific writer than just writing, although that is one of the primary rewards.  A prolific writer needs to have something to write about and to do that the writer needs to have ideas.  Not only ideas but the ability to turn an idea into a written piece in a reasonable amount of time.

For example, on January 23, 1971, Isaac Asimov was attending a Science Fiction Convention in New York, with his intended, Janet Jeppson.  At a panel discussion, two noted science fictions authors, Lester del Rey, and Bob Silverberg discussed science fiction and the need for the story to outweigh the science.  Bob worried that some in the industry worried less about the human aspect of science fiction, and more about the trivial matters of, to use his example, plutonium-186.  Asimov immediately laughed at this for there cannot be plutonium-186, and most members of the audience knew it.  After the talk, Asimov approached Silverberg and said that while there cannot be plutonium-186 he would show what a real science-fiction writer could do and write a story about the impossible element.  Silverberg said, “you write it and I’ll include it in my next anthology,”   and a story was born.  In one shot Asimov turned an off-handed example in a panel discussion into his next, and some say his best, science fiction novel, “The Gods Themselves.”

Now it must be remembered that Asimov had all but left science fiction over a decade before.  His last science fiction novel (excluding “Fantastic Voyage,” which he wrote based on the screenplay and not on his own) was “Lucky Starr and the Rings of Saturn.”  This was part of his juvenile series and was published in 1958.  His last adult novel was “The Naked Sun,” (Reviewed on this blog) and that was published in 1957.  True, Asimov had written several short stories during that time and had crafted several anthologies of his past work, but for the last dozen years the good doctor had been concentrating on his non-fiction endeavors.

On February 6, 1971, Asimov sat down to craft a short story based on the idea of plutonium-186.  He was considerably older than the last time he wrote science fiction and his views on the world had also changed... considerably.  Gone was the wide-eyed enthusiasm of his youth, and in its place was a skeptical view of mankind, and its ability to see beyond its immediate gratification.  Remember, this was the early 1970s.  The problems of nuclear reactors were becoming apparent, there were gas shortages looming, and pollution and overpopulation were topics of the day.  To Asimov science was the answer, but would people listen? 

Isaac’s “short” story involved the discovery of what seemed a cheap “free” source of energy.  After the planet becomes dependent on it, a young scientist discovers that the use of this new energy source may lead to the destruction of our solar system.  Will humanity give up its way of life, or will they put it off to the next generation? 

“The Gods Themselves,” is from the Friedrich Schiller quote:   “Against stupidity, the gods themselves contend in vain.”   At this time of his life, Asimov was less positive about the fate of mankind.

The five-thousand-word length, originally sought, soon bloomed to ten-thousand-words as Asimov felt a true thrill with writing science fiction again.   The hallmark of a true writer.  Anthology be damned, he was going to let the story write itself out completely.    By the time he finished, on February 28th, it was twenty thousand words long, four times what it was supposed to be.  This made it too long for inclusion in the original anthology, but Doubleday publishers like the idea so much they asked Asimov to expand it to novel length.  Asimov at first said no.  It was a good story as told and to expand it would just be padding.  Then, thinking on his feet, Asimov came up with the idea of telling the story from two different points of view.  The new energy source in the original story was possible because of communication with another universe.  What if the second part of the book dealt exclusively with that universe?  Then the third part of the story could be in another setting and change the downbeat ending to an upbeat one.  Doubleday said “great,” and now Asimov had to make it work.

Just a side note.  Lest you start to feel sorry for Bob Silverberg, having to put out his anthology sans Asimov, not to worry.  To make up for the loss of “Gods,” Isaac wrote “Take a Match,” and Bob used that.  Asimov was a man of his word and could almost always be trusted to come through. 

While Isaac was known for his science fiction, his universes were almost exclusively populated by humans.  He had dabbled with aliens in some of his short stories, but he never tried to make a completely alien civilization before.  Now he had to.  The market had also changed in the last thirteen years.  The sexual revolution was in full swing and publishers wanted sex in their stories.  Part two of “Gods” would revolve around an alien universe with alien sex. In fact, it would be populated by creatures that had three sexes, not just horny humanoids with pointy ears.  This was beyond anything Asimov had attempted before.

The book was finally finished on September 7th, 1971, and it looked like it was going to be published without being serialized in any prominent science fiction magazine.  This was because “Analog” had lost editor John Campbell some months before, and Ben Bova had not yet taken the reigns.  In an usual twist, both “Galaxy” and “If” published the book in three parts over three successive months.  This was because both related magazines published on alternate months, and each section of “Gods” could stand alone as a short story/novelette.  The April 1972 edition of “If” contained the story of the tri-sexed aliens, and reportedly sold out on the newsstand.  An interesting commentary on the state of science fiction fans in the early 1970s.

The book was published in 1972, and was widely successful.  In 1973 it won both the “Nebula” and “Hugo” awards for best novel.  While this author feels that the awards were given primarily to honor Asimov’s past contributions, “The Gods Themselves” proved that the good doctor was still at the top of his form.

All from a casual remark about the illogic of plutonium-186.

That is what it takes to be a prolific writer.

Now on to the review.

“The Gods themselves,” is divided into three sections of increasing length and complexity.  The first section, entitled, “Against stupidity . . .” (See quote reference above) focus on the “discovery” of a passage to another universe with laws different from our own.  In the “para-universe,” nuclear attractions are stronger so that any element that comes from then to us soon becomes unstable and highly radioactive.

The section uniquely begins with chapter 6, which Asimov explains, is intentional.  It bounces between the “present” when Peter Lamont, a young Ph.D. discovers that the “Electron Pump,” that now supplies earth with its power, was not the result of Frederick Hallam, but was given to him by intelligence outside of this universe, and the “past,” when a young Hallam finds that a bottle of “stable” tungsten metal has become unstable and radioactive.  It is an interesting way of telling the story, and one that I have never encountered before.  Rather than being a simple “flashback,” Asimov moves the reader back and forth through twenty years chapter by chapter depending on the readers need to know.  Hallam is now the savior of mankind and edits history so that he gets sole credit for the Electron Pump.  Any effort to examine it, or check for problems, is suppressed.   Lamont, with the help of a linguistic expert, discovers that the Electron Pump is dangerous to the laws of our universe and continuing use may result in the destruction of the sun or our entire area of the galaxy.  Because Lamont cannot conclusively prove his ideas, and because the Pump is the easy solution to mankind’s problems, no one will help Lamont explore his ideas and stop the destruction of man.

The next section of the book is entitled, “. . . the gods themselves . . .” and takes place in the parallel universe.  It focuses on Dua, Odeen, and Tritt, members of a triad that these creatures need to form in order to reproduce.  Odeen is called a “Rational” and his job is to learn and contact others.  Tritt is called a “Parental,” and his job is to tend to the children, family, and sex.  He acts more on instinct than thought.  Dua, who Asimov refers to as a “she” is an “Emotional,” and it is her job to bind with the rational and parental to allow procreation.  All three must “melt” for this to occur.

Dua is an unusual “Emotional” because she has a large amount of “Rational” in her makeup.  She, along with Odeen and Tritt, are “Soft Ones,” capable of undefined shapes and moving through solid objects.  Their teachers are the revered “Hard Ones.”  They seem to run the planet and are looked upon as gods.  The exact relationship between the Soft and Hard Ones is not revealed until the end of the section.

In this universe, nuclear forces are much stronger.  Suns are smaller because anything approaching the size of our sun would be too densely packed and would go nova.  With smaller, cooler suns, the night sky has only seven visible stars.  The planets own star is cooling down and energy is the food of the “Soft Ones.” As a result, the birth rate has been declining and a new source of energy is needed.  Enter the “Positron Pump.”   The “Hard Ones” have communicated with our universe and are using the pump to bring energy into their universe.  They know that the Pump will make our sun unstable, but they want this as they hope to use the force of our sun going nova to provide them with energy, independent of their own star, for a million years.   It is the “Emotional,” Dua, who discovers this plot and objects to the destruction of other life forms for what she sees as selfish gain.  It is Dua who has warned us of the danger of our “Electron Pump.”

The final section of the book is entitled “. . .canted in vain?” and here Asimov attaches a question mark to the original quote.  His intent, in the first story, was to end on a negative note, reflecting his pessimism at the current state of selfish humanity.  By the time the book was completed, Asimov decided to end on a much more positive note, remembering that individuals can sometimes save the group from itself.

The story starts on our moon sometime later (the first two sections occur roughly simultaneously in the two universes).  It centers on the actions of Ben Denison, an engineer from earth, and Selene Lindstrom L, a native of the moon.  Earth is in a slow decline creatively with more energy put into the Electron Pump, and less energy put into other endeavors.  The moon is the current cutting edge of science, and Denison wants to migrate to the moon to be a part of that.  Politics, as usual, are woven through the story.  The moon wants more independence, and earth sees the moon as only one of her “colonies” beholden to the mother planet.  Life is hard on the moon with limited resources, and Asimov goes out of his way to paint a society free from the “puritanical norms” of the earth.  Nudity is common, though not necessary to the plot, children are born out of wedlock, and sex is more or less free.  Once again, having little to do with the story, and in no way connected to the sex lives of the para-universe.

Denison is aware of the theories about the problems caused by the “Electron Pump,” but Hallam still controls earth science any attempt to question his gift to man is met with professional banishment.  Denison has come to the moon to test his theories and look for a solution.  For some reason no one has been able to set up and “Electron Pump” on the moon and Denison believes that the para-universals need a strong planetary magnetic field to find the area to make the passage between universe.  The moon has no magnetic field, so no door, so no “Electron Pump.”
  With the help of Selene, Denison must try and find a solution to the energy crisis, and the problems it is causing, before running afoul of both the earth establishment and the lunar revolutionaries who want the moon to become a separate world from earth.  And all of this before the sun, and this arm of the galaxy, is destroyed.

Unlike Asimov’s earlier works, the portrait of scientist as savior is not as clear as he once painted it.  The years have shown Isaac how harsh and self-centered scientists can be, and he portrays that in this book.  In the end, it is science that saves the day, but it must fight the pettiness that is in each man regardless of his chosen field.

The book is well written in a somewhat unusual Asimov style.  Any hangups or ignorance of sex he displayed in his earlier works is obviously gone.  This book shows a more mature writer, one that has seen his ideals of youth tested and strained.  Yet it still shows hope for the world if they would only listen.


Still in print, “The Gods Themselves,” can be found in most major bookstores or online at Amazon.com.

Asimov Book Review - Futuredays: A Nineteenth-Century Vision of the Year 2000

By Lacey Kat
(Copywrite by Author - All Rights Reserved)


Science Fiction, as once described by Isaac Asimov, is a look at how technology affects society.  How changes in applied science will change the people who use it.  As this is a sort of prediction of things to come, and as sometimes the author gets things right, Science Fiction writers are sometimes called “Futurists.”

Asimov often bristled at this title and enjoyed bringing up his 1953 short story "Everest."  In that tale, Asimov predicted that the tall mountain would never be climbed.  Unfortunately for him, the story was published two months after Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay stood upon Everest’s highest point.  Every time he was asked to discuss the future of man, Asimov used this example of what an expert “futurist” he was.

This, of course, never stopped the press from seeking Asimov out when questions about the time to come were asked.  There is an uncertainty about tomorrow that worries the intellectual animal, and anything we get to hedge our bets is welcome.  We read the horoscopes, pick up the “look ahead” editions of popular news magazines, and watch the “World of Tomorrow” programs on “The Learning Channel and YouTube.”

Of course, this is not a recent phenomenon.  What makes modern man different from the ancient Greeks, who went to the Oracles of Delphi for a look into the future, is the idea that “science” is a more legitimate predictor of human events than the past soothsayers were.  This despite the fact that time has often shown them no more accurate.

Which brings me to the book to be reviewed.

In 1899, a French commercial artist, by the name of Jean Mare Cote’, was commissioned to produce a set of “cigarette cards” that would show life a hundred years in the future.  The pace of science and technology was sufficiently fast enough, by this time, that people thought they could reasonably see what the future would hold.  The turn of the century is also a strong time to think about the future.   Unfortunately, Jean Mare Cote’s prognostication abilities did not see that the company that
commissioned him would go out of business and his whole project would be for naught.  In 1978, Christopher Hyde came across the only pristine set of these cards still in existence and he brought them to America.   Isaac Asimov was contacted to write his reflections on Cote’s illustrative predictions of life in our present, his future, and “Futuredays: A Nineteenth-Century Vision of the Year 2000,” was created.

The drawings are all very colorful and look at life in the “far” future with a touch of French whimsy that movie genius Georges Melies would commit to film a few years later.    It is apparent to the reader that the artist was more of a Liberal Arts major than a scientist by training.  Some of his “predictions” are hopelessly impractical and would have been easy to see even in the 1900s.  However, other ideas are only mildly off actual inventions we use today.   For example, the first colour card shows a rescue at sea using the not yet invented “aero plane.”  Air-sea rescue is now a well-established event, but Cote’ envisioned only a glider with an engine,  not very much more advanced than the gliders of the 1890s.  Another card, however, depicts the use of “helicopters” as platforms for observation and does so with remarkable accuracy.  The first helicopter was not built until 1940 yet many of its features were anticipated in Cote’s drawings.

While not a scientist, Jean Marc Cote’ was a commercial artist and understood that you must produce what your public will want to see.  His scenes of days yet to come are filled with activities of super science.  We see people hunting, and wearing personal flying machines on their backs.  We see people attending races, and playing croquet, all underwater, yet fashionably dressed.  In addition, we see the floors swept and the dishes cleaned, all by machines with wheels, wires, and small mechanical hands, watched over by the maid of course.  The future will be wonderful, and we can understand it.   There is even a scene of two women at a restaurant talking to other people on Viso-phones.    Not that that would ever happen today.

Along with each card is a paragraph or two by Isaac Asimov explaining why the idea depicted was presented and why it is flawed.  Asimov also presents a very interesting introductory essay on Futurism, and why it is so important that we know what is to come.

It is a pleasant book and interesting for its view of our present from another time.  My only problem is that Asimov seems to take the subject far too seriously.  These were not drawings commissioned by MIT and intended for governmental policy commissions.  They were intended to be cigarette cards viewed by ladies and gentlemen of means who still viewed science as a new toy.  These were the 1899 version of the “Jetsons.”  The idea of airplanes (All prop by the way.  No jets envisioned), slightly larger than bicycles, delivering mail to each home was as foolish as the idea of watching fish races, underwater, while wearing calf-length gowns.  It was whimsy and Asimov did not seem to notice this.
Another thing that Asimov failed to comment on was the lasting impact of Cote’s ideas on popular culture of the next century.  In 1930, David Butler made a cute little musical film set fifty years into the future (1980) called “Just Imagine.”  In the opening scenes, he had 200-story skyscrapers and rows of aircraft flying at different levels.  At an intersection, in a hovering bucket, was a traffic cop directing the air traffic.  This is not unlike the “Aviation Police” on the card presented on page 40 of “Futuredays.”  Page 64 shows automatic Barbers and mechanical Tailors taking care of customers with little human intervention.  All the ideas that were presented, in jest on the Jetsons, sixty years later.  Many of Cote’s notions of the future were held long into the 20th Century.  Asimov would have done well to explain why these were such cherished visions of life yet to come.

Whether it is looking at old science fiction shows like Space 1999, or reading old science fiction novels that warn of future doom, we find comfort in how the past viewed the future.  Maybe because they always seem to miss key inventions, or give too much credit to their own work, they have always gotten the future wrong.  It makes us feel better, I believe, to see their folly because we hope it makes our current dire predictions just as inaccurate.

“Futuredays: A Nineteenth-Century Vision of the Year 2000” is still in print and an enjoyable read for the reasons I have speculated on above.  The introductory essay on futurism by Isaac Asimov has not been reprinted elsewhere and is worth the cost of the book alone.  The reflections by Asimov on each idea presented in the artwork are interesting and informative, as Asimov often is.  The chance to see another time’s vision of our lives, however light, is always an interesting reflection on the society of the time.  It helps us see how our own time reflects on our vision of the future.