(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 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.
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