A couple years back now (because time does fly) Brigid gave me a stack of old back-issue SF magazines. I love these things. It’s always fun to read fiction from some time back. Some of it is dated, of course. In fact, a lot of it, really. Science Fiction moves on both culturally and, well, science-ly (yeah, not a word…deal). At the time I got busy doing other things and just never got around to reading them. Then a couple days back I came across them again, and—scanning the names on the top one—decided I had to take a look.
Those names were Robert Sheckley, Cordwainer Smith, and Edmond Hamilton. The magazine was the December 1965 issue of Amazing Stories. I’ve read a lot of Sheckley (he’s always great), a little Hamilton, and no Smith (gasp). Feeling embarrassed about the zero Smith score in my record book, and excited to see 1965 work from the other two, I waded in.
Among the things I like to see is exactly how dated work is. Because while we like to say that fiction doesn’t age, it does date. Sometimes that dating is off-putting, and sometimes it’s quaint. So as I read the Sheckley—which was fine, but not my favorite Sheckley—I felt the years, for example, in his all male-crew of scientists on their 16-year cruise. Fair enough. Then I came across the piece by Cordwainer Smith, which I totally loved almost as much for the subtle craft in its structure as I did for the story. And the story was quite good. It held up fairly well in on the “dated” scale, too. Not perfect. But, you know, 1965.
Then I came to the Hamilton, which is a novella.
I a fan of Hamilton, though I’ve read him a lot and like pretty much everything I’ve read. He’s not someone I’ve hunted down, but I’m very glad to come across a piece of his work because he’s one of those somewhat forgotten people in the Science Fiction pantheon. Anyway, I started reading. And outside of a few bits on communications and newspapers and whatnot, the whole thing was holding up quite well. The title of the story is “The Comet Doom,” and, since the bulk of it comes in the setting of a remote island, a LOT of it could have been done today. And it’s a good story—though I admit I’d have liked to see him tell the story in a different structure. But, anyway, the kicker is coming…
About halfway through I was thinking that this story was so cool specifically because with only a little cleanup it could have been told today. “Not bad for a story written in 1965,” I thought to myself.
Then I came upon a refence to the “eight planets” in the solar system, and I smiled…because Pluto is now no longer a planet…which felt like a fortuitous slip…except…
The editor included a footnote on this reference, noting that Pluto had not been discovered at the time of the story’s original publication.
What the hell, right?
Original publication?
I turned to the page of contents, and saw that, verily, “The Comet Doom” was a reprint even then. That Edmond Hamilton had seen it first published note in 1965, but thirty-eight years earlier in 1927.
19-freaking-27. Before Pluto was first a planet and then not. Before the Great Depression. Before World War II. Before … well … before a lot.
I was reading a 97-year-old SF story, and it was (for the most part) holding up.
Pretty danged cool.
So, yeah, still a tad angsty about the structure, I returned to the place I had stopped and began reading again, boggling at the idea that Edmond Hamilton was talking to be from his office 97 years in the past.
Pretty danged cool, right?
Yes, he told me, fiction can date, but stories don’t age.
I wish there was a simple “like.” Good stuff. I concur. I have a few of those old science fiction magazines as well. Good stories in them.
I kind of like reading older stories that are good, but dated. It’s always fun to read a good story, and in those cases that “dated” parts can feel oddly good by themselves–even the ones that date poorly can be of interest.