Philip Jose Farmer
The Classic Philip Jose Farmer 1952-1964
Edited and Introduction by Martin H. Greenberg Foreword by Isaac Asimov Series Editor: George Zebrowski CROWN PUBLISHERS, INC. NEW YORK
Retrieving the Lost by Isaac Asimov
The history of contemporary science fiction begins with the spring of 1926, when the first magazine ever to be devoted entirely to science fiction made its appearance. For a quarter-century thereafter science fiction continued to appear in magazines—and only in magazines.
They were wonderful days for those of us who lived through them, but there was a flaw. Magazines are, by their very nature, ephemeral. They are on the newsstands a month or two and are gone. A very few readers may save their issues, but they are fragile and do not stand much handling.
Beginning in 1950, science fiction in book form began to make its appearance, and some of the books retrieved the magazine short stories and serials in the form of collections, anthologies and novels. As time went on, however, it became clear that the vast majority of science-fiction books were in paperback form, and these, too, were ephemeral. Their stay on the newsstands is not entirely calendar-bound, and they can withstand a bit more handling than periodicals can—but paperbacks tend to be, like magazines, throwaway items.
That leaves the hardback book, which finds its way into public libraries as well as private homes, and which is durable. Even there, we have deficiencies. The relatively few science-fiction books which appear in hardback usually appear in small printings and few, if any, reprintings. Out-of-print is the usual fate, and often a not very long delayed one, at that.
Some science-fiction books have endured, remaining available in hardcover form for years, even decades, and appearing in repeated paperback reincarnations. We all know which these are because, by enduring, they have come to be read by millions, including you and me.
That, however, is too easy a dismissal. It is an interesting and convenient theory, but the world of human affairs is far too complex to fit into theories, especially convenient ones. It sometimes takes time to recognize quality, and the time required is sometimes longer than the visible existence of a particular book. That the quality of a book is not recognizable at once need not be a sign of deficiency, but rather a sign of subtlety. It is not being particularly paradoxical to point out that a book may be, in some cases, too good to be immediately popular. And then, thanks to the mechanics of literary ephemerality, realization of the fact may come too late.
Or must it?
Suppose there are dedicated and thoughtful writers and scholars like George Zebrowski and Martin H. Greenberg, who have been reading science fiction intensively, and with educated taste, for decades. And suppose there is a publisher such as Crown Publishers, Inc. which is interested in providing a second chance for quality science fiction which was undervalued the first time round.
In that case we end up with Crowns Classics of Modern Science Fiction in which the lost is retrieved, the unjustly forgotten is remembered, and the undervalued is resurrected. And you are holding a sample in your hand.
Naturally, the revival of these classics will benefit the publisher, the editors, and the writers, but that is almost by the way. The real beneficiaries will be the readers, among whom the older are likely to taste again delicacies they had all but forgotten, while the younger will encounter delights of whose existence they were unaware.
Read—
And enjoy.
Introduction
by Martin H. Greenberg
un/con/ven/tion/al. Not adhering to convention con/ven/tion. General usage or custom
Philip Jose Farmer certainly did not and does not adhere to the thematic and stylistic conventions of science fiction; in fact, he was personally responsible for changing several of the most important and long-lasting conventions in the field. Science fiction had ignored one of the most important of all human concerns—sexuality—partly because pulp science fictions audience was considered to be adolescent boys (a strange reason on the face of it), and partly because the men who controlled the field didn’t think the readership wanted strong doses of it mixed in with the adventure and the technology.
Farmer proved them wrong with his first published work, “The Lovers,” which appeared in the August 1952 issue of Startling Stories. It’s gripping depiction of love and sex between a man and an alien insectlike creature had a tremendous impact on the field, broadening what was “acceptable” and opening up the market for others to explore. Largely because of this single story, he was voted a Hugo Award for 1953 as New Writer of 1952.“ It was the first of what to date constitutes a body of work totaling more than forty novels and collections, characterized by originality, inventiveness, and a use of symbolism that has yet to be equalled.
but was raised in Peoria, Illinois, where he spent the bulk of his life. He enrolled at Bradley University in 1941 but had to drop out due to lack of funds. He later returned to school as an evening student, earning a degree in 1950; he also worked in a steel mill for many years. Farmer began to write in the mid-1940s, and “The Lovers” was published when he was thirty-four, an advanced age by the standards of the science-fiction community. However, he quickly made up for lost time by an astounding^rolificity, although he did not write for considerable portions of time during the first decade of his career.
His major literary themes and obsessions were clear from early on and have been noted by all who have written on him—a concern with sexuality and reproduction in all its variety; the good and evil that he seems to believe resides in all of us; an interest in religious beliefs and imagery, especially with matriarchal religions; parasitology, frequently coupled with sexuality; and a deep love of American popular culture and the books he read and adored as a child and as a young man, especially Burroughs, Baum, and Twain but also including the characters and magazines of the pulp era. Indeed, he has reworked these stories and characters in his own writing to the extent that he has produced a whole body of work about parallel universes, parallel places, and parallel people, books where Samuel Clemens, Tarzan, Odysseus, and Doc Savage all interact, and most are even related to one another.
His writing is characterized by rapid pacing, some weakness of plot, a wonderful use of puns, protagonists who are deeply flawed—a quality especially true in his “heroic” figures—and a deep cynicism that pervades even his humorous work.
But most of all, Farmer (like the late Philip K. Dick) writes of the real, the unreal, and the maybe real, combining and integrating them into the same story in ways that have revolutionized one corner of modern science fiction. Few writers have been as daring so early as Farmer, few so willing to shock, in his case usually to good effect. One of his most important critics, Mary T. Brizzi, has commented that “He is certainly among the brightest stars in the science fiction sky,” and that “His early works were beautifully crafted, exploring unconventional themes in a sensitive way.” His work has also been called “nauseating.”
“filthy,” and “obscene.” John W. Campbell, Jr., said that one of his stories (which he didn’t buy) made him “want to throw up.” He notes that other, more admiring critics have noted the powerful influence of Freud and Jung in his work, but he rejects these references saying that “The term Farmerian should be good enough.” Indeed it is.
This volume collects what I consider to be representative selections of his best work from the years 1952 to 1964, years that saw the publication of several important longer works and collections, including The Green Odyssey (1957), Flesh (1960, revised 1968; a novel which gives new meaning to the term father-figure), A Woman A Day (1960, also revised 1968), The Lovers (expanded and published in 1961 and revised again in 1979), Cache from Outer Space (1962), Inside Outside (1964, a major work), and Tongues of the Moon (1964).