The July 1939 issue of Astounding is sometimes considered by later fans to mark the beginning of science fiction’s so-called Golden Age, a period stretching through most of the 1940s. In that period, Campbefl’s views were in full force in the magazine, and the authors he trained and developed were writing with the full ardor of youth. I wish I could say that “Trends” was what marked the beginning of that Golden Age, but I can’t. Its appearance in that issue was pure coincidence.
What really counted was that the lead novelette in the July 1939 issue was “Black Destroyer,” by A. E. van Vogt, a first story by a new author, while in the next issue, August 1939, was a short story, “Lifeline,” by Robert A. Heinlein, another first story by a new author.
In time to come, Van Vogt, Heinlein, and I would be universally listed among the top authors of the Golden Age, but Van Vogt and Heinlein were that from the very beginning. Each blazed forth as a first-magazine star at the moment his first story appeared, and their status never flagged throughout the remainder of the Golden Age. I, on the other hand (and this is not false modesty), came up only gradually. I was very little noticed for a while and came to be considered a major author by such gradual steps that despite the healthy helping of vanity with which I am blessed, I myself was the last to notice.
“Trends” is an amusing story in some respects. It sets the initial space flights to the Moon in the 1970s. I thought at the time I was being daring indeed, but it has turned out that I was behind the eventual reality by a full decade, since what I described was done, and with immensely greater sophistication, in the 1960s. My description of the first attempts at space flight was, of course, incredibly naive, in hindsight.
In one respect, however, the story is unusual. In recent years Phil Klas (a science fiction writer who publishes under the pseudonym “William Tenn”) pointed out to me that this was the first story in history that predicted resistance of any kind to the notion of space exploration. In all other stories, the general public was either indifferent or enthusiastic. This makes me sound enormously and uniquely perceptive, but having explained the nature of the book I was doing my NYA work on, I can’t take credit for brilliance. (Heck!)
Notice also the reference to the “Second [World War] of 1940.” The story, remember, was written two months after Munich. I did not believe at the time that this meant “peace in our time,” as Neville Chamberlain had maintained. I estimated that there would be war in a year and a half, and again! was too conservative.
“Trends,” incidentally, is one of the few stories I have written in the first person, and the narrator is named Clifford McKenny. (Why my penchant for Irish last names in those days I haven’t been able to figure out.) Behind the first name, though, lies a story.
After my May 1938 scare concerning the demise of Astounding , I began sending monthly letters to the magazine, carefully rating the stories. (I stopped after I began selling stories myself.) These were all published, and, in fact, I had sent a letter to Astounding , which was published, back in 1935. Two established science fiction writers wrote me personally in response to remarks I made concerning their stories. These were Russell R. Winterbotham and Clifford D. Simak.
With both, I maintained a correspondence, quite regular at first, and with long dry intervals in later years. The friendship that resulted, though long distance, was enduring. I met Russ Winterbotham in person only once, and that was at the World Science Fiction Convention in Cleveland in 1966. He died in 1971. I have met Cliff Simak three times, the most recent occasion being at the World Science Fiction Convention in Boston in 1971, where he was guest of honor.
Simak’s first letter to me was in response to a letter of mine printed in Astounding that had given a low rating to his story “Rule 18,” in the July 1938 issue. Simak wrote to ask details so that he might consider my criticisms and perhaps profit from them. (Would that I would react so gently and rationally to adverse criticism!)
I reread the story in order to be able to answer properly and found, to my surprise, that there was nothing wrong with it at all. What he had done was to write the story in separate scenes with no explicit transition passages between. I wasn’t used to that technique, so the story seemed choppy and incoherent. The second time around, I recognized what he was doing and realized that not only was the story not in the least incoherent but it moved with a slick speed that would have been impossible if all the dull, breadand-butter transitions had been inserted.
I wrote Simak to explain, and adopted the same device in my own stories. What’s more, I attempted, as far as possible, to make use of something similar to Simak’s cool and unadorned style,
I have sometimes heard science fiction writers speak of the influence upon their style of such high-prestige literary figures as Kafka, Proust, and Joyce. This may be pose or it may be reality, but, for myself, I make no such claim. I learned how to write science fiction by the attentive reading of science fiction, and among the major influences on my style was Clifford Simak.
Simak was particularly encouraging in those anxious months during which I was trying to sell a story. On the day I made my first sale, I had a letter, all sealed and addressed and stamped, waiting to be mailed to him. I tore it open to add the news, and destroying a stamped envelope, which represented a clear loss of several cents, was not something I did lightly in those days.
It has always pleased me, therefore, that my first sale to Campbell had, as its first-person narrator, a character named in Clifford Simak’s honor.
One more point about “Trends”-
In my early sessions with Campbell, he had occasionally pointed out the value of having a name that wasn’t odd and hard to pronounce, and suggested the use of a common Anglo-Saxon name as a pseudonym. On this point, I clearly expressed intransigence. My name was my name and it would go on my stories.
When “Trends” was sold, I steeled myself for what I thought might be a struggle with Campbell that might even cost me my precious sale. -It never happened. Perhaps it was because my name had already appeared on two stories in Amazing , or perhaps Campbell recognized I would not agree to a pseudonym, but he never raised the point.
As it happened, my disinclination for a pseudonym was lucky indeed, for the name Isaac Asimov proved highly visible. No one could see the name for the first time without smiling at its oddness; and anyone seeing it the second time would instantly remember the first time. I’m convinced that at least part of my eventual popularity came about because the readers recognized the name quickly and became aware of my stories as a group.
Indeed, matters came full circle. In later years, I frequently met readers who were convinced the name was a pseudonym designed to achieve visibility and that my real name must be something like John Smith. It was sometimes hard to disabuse them.
While I was revising “Trends” for Campbell, I was also working on another story, “The Weapon Too Dreadful to Use.” That one I did not submit to Campbell. Either I did not wish to push him too hard immediately after I had made a sale to him, or I suspected the story wasn’t good enough for him and didn’t want to spoil the impression “Trends” might have made. In either case (and I don’t really remember the motive) I decided to try it on Amazing first. It was also a one cent market, after all, and perhaps I thought I owed them another chance, now that I had made my Campbell sale.