The editor of this magazine, under the impression that I am still one of
that queer tribe known as science-fiction fans, has asked me to write an
article. I am no longer a science-fiction fan. I'M THROUGH! However, I
have decided to do the article and explain with my chin leading just why
I am through. Here goes.
As to science-fiction; the trouble with me, I think, is that I have
outgrown the stuff mentally--and that's not a boast, seeing the type of
minds modern science-fiction is dished up for. I'll admit there are a
few exceptions, but on the whole, s.f. fans are as arrogant,
self-satisfied, conspicuously blind, and critically moronic a group as
the good Lord has allowed to people the Earth. I don't blush that I was
once a s.f. fan, starting back in '26--I merely thank my personal gods
that somewhere along the route I woke up and began to see s.f. as it
really is. The superiority complex found in group known as science
fiction fans is probably unequalled anywhere. Their certitude in their
superiority, as readers of s.f., over all other fiction, is
representative of an absolutely incredibly stupid complacence. Facing
the business squarely, we can see why s.f. lays CLAIM to such
superiority: for no other obvious reason than that such fiction is the
bastard child of science and the romantic temperament. But NOT, good
lord, because it is INSTRUCTIVE! This has too long been preached, until
s.f. readers actually believe it! The amazing _naivette_ of these
readers who think their literature is superior merely because they think
it teaches--this simple moves me to despair. The fact is, any literature
whose function it is to teach, ceases to be literature _as such_; it
becomes didactic literature, which is the color of another horse. When
literature becomes obsessed by _ideas as such_, it is no longer
literature. Just how the delusion could have arisen that writing,
because invested with scientific symbols, automatically became possessed
of new and more precious values, is beyond me to explain. Ideas are out
of place in literature unless they are subordinate to the spirit of the
story--but s.f. readers have never perceived this. "Give us SCIENCE!"
they shriek, running with clenched fists uprisen to the stars. "We want
SCIENCE! Give us the Great God!" Well, they are given _science_, and
what does it turn out to be? For the most part the off-scourings of the
lunatic fringe. Talk about scientists being inspired by s.f.
stories--WHEW! Why, not one s.f. writer in fifty has the remotest idea
of what he is talking about--he just picks up some elementary idea and
kicks hell out of it. I'll wager that no scientist is going to produce
very spectacularly on the basis of any ideas provided by s.f. It's
possible, but wholly improbable. Scientists don't tick that way.
Another amusing fallacy: this well-known business of Wells and Verne
doing some _predicting_. It's one of the biggest laffs of all. They made
a _flock_ of predictions, a few of which were realized, and some only in
ways most vaguely related to the original conception. How many ideas did
they have that _never_ have been realized and never will? Give them
credit for being good and often logical guessers, perhaps--but don't
claim that as a merit for their WRITING! And how many other good
guessers must there have been who never got around to setting down their
predictions in print?
There is but one affectation about Wells' "scientific" stories which he
published before he discovered his capability at characterization, and
this is the affectation of imagination. There is no genuine imagination
in beating out cleverness of the s.f. type; the point of view, the
inventive quality necessary for their construction, is the same as with
the widely circulated tales of Nick Carter. Science-fiction stories are
not struck forth with a creative hand, they are manufactured products
put together piece-meal--none of them being written in any but the
calmest and most conscious mood. They are lacking in that important
element of all really GREAT works of the imagination: inspiration. And
what is inspiration? It is essentially the soaring of one's soul without
the knowledge of the mind. In the gleaming moment the mind becomes the
slave of the spirit. Read Wells' EXPERIMENT IN AUTOBIOGRAPHY and see why
and what he thinks of his early writings of s.f. He admits that they
were only a means to an end, a preparation for his more serious writing
that was to come later--Plato's REPUBLIC and More's UTOPIA also serving
largely to hasten Wells' Utopian proclivities. When he really began to
take his predictions seriously, he began to turn out the important stuff
which now bores the average s.f. enthusiast silly--or should I say
sillier!
As for Verne, his stuff has never been literature except for boys. It is
innocuous adventure--stuff that will not pervert morals. It is not too
badly written, and the language is so simple that Verne is readily to be
read in the original French, in fact some of his stuff serves as
textbooks in French classes in American schools.
But in the main, what I am speaking about now is s.f. as it is
constituted today. All of this modern s.f. is worthless except in
perhaps _one minor respect_, and I'm not even sure of that. It CAN open
the minds of boys and girls reaching puberty, giving them a more
catholic attitude toward startling new ideas. However, it is so very
often fatal at the same time, in that these boys and girls become
obsessed with it--it enmeshes them until, as I said, they become
incredibly blind to all else, so certain are they of the superiority of
their hobby over all other fiction. There are exceptions, but my
experience has proven that the exceptions are by far a minority.
Also I will admit that s.f. can on occasion provide escapist flights of
imagination--in fact, it can be admirable for this; but this type of
s.f. has become exceedingly rare because this crazy superstructure of
SCIENCE, and even more so ADVENTURE, has become such a fetish that sound
writing concerning people is rarely to be found. In pulp
science-fiction, never.
And the frightful smugness fostered by the modern s.f. magazines is
simply appalling. It seems that not only the readers, but the editors
and writers as well, cannot or will not see anything beyond their own
perverted models. Just as one example which I remember very well, look
how BRAVE NEW WORLD, the admirable and really important novel by
Huxley, was received a few years ago. It was Clark Ashton Smith, I
believe, who mentioned it as embodying some of Huxley's "habitual
pornography"--simply, stunning P. Schyler Miller; whom, I might mention,
I consider as one of the most intellectual authors and fans. And,
reviewing the book, C.A. Brandt also decried its preoccupation with sex,
but said complacently that it might, at least, bring to the attention
of people that there was such a thing as the science-fictionists and
their so-called literature. Of all the damned nonsense! BRAVE NEW WORLD
was, as a matter of fact, a satire on sex, and of FAR MORE IMPORTANCE
than to "bring to the attention of people that there is such a thing as
sci-fiction." Huxley conceived a future world in which Ford's
mechanistic contributions had become so emphatic as to deprive the
people of all but an animal interest in sex; he projects a more normal
man into such a civilization for no other reason than to characterize
present-day tendencies with searing satire. But Brandt--he evidently
would demolish this to set up in its stead a "Space-wrecked On Mars"
atrocity.
To get back to the subject, it is my honest opinion that no person of
very conspicuous intelligence can subsist very considerably on s.f.
after he begins to mature intellectually. There is simply not enuf _to_
it to provide intellectual or spiritual nourishment. He may string along
with it for a few years out of habit or some mental quirk--but stuff
aimed at juvenile minds cannot very long sustain a person of mature
years, unless that person is himself a mental adolescent. The way the
fans flocked to the S.F. League, indulged in "tests" to prove their
"superiority" over other readers, the silly letters in the mags, the
petty internal strife, and many other things, have served to widen the
gulf between me and s.f.
The most important thing, however, is that I have discovered that
there's been too much else of importance, REAL importance, that has been
said and written in this world (and is being and will be), for me to
desire to give much attention to such a petty thing as s.f. any more. I
shall read on the fringe of it, but increasingly less frequently I'm
afraid.
I might have summed this entire thing up by saying, "I'm satiated," but
that wouldn't be the entire truth. The entire truth would be: "I am
satiated and much wiser." In conclusion let me point out that this is
only one man's opinion. I have intentionally been harsh in my estimates,
maybe some points are in need of qualification or elucidation, but by
and large, I stand back of what I have written here. AMEN.
* * * * *
THE ABOVE ARTICLE IS SUBJECT TO CRITICISM--THEREFORE ANY AND ALL FANS
AND AUTHORS WHO DISAGREE WILL FIND THEIR ARTICLES AGAINST THIS ONE BY A
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WINTER EDITION WILL BE OUT DURING THE MONTH OF DECEMBER--SO
CONTRIBUTIONS SHOULD BE MAILED IMMEDIATELY TO FUTURIA FANTASIA--3054-1/2
West 12th Street, Los Angeles. (EDITOR)
* * * * *
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Contributing Authors/ Willy Ley, Rocklynne, Hasse,
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