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.