The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, June 2003 | ||
A review by David Soyka
According to editor Gordon Van Gelder, this month's special Barry Malzberg issue was inspired by the serendipitous submission of two separate
pieces of fiction that feature the cranky semi-legend. "So I contacted Barry about writing that essay he'd been promising to write, his memoir
of working for the Scott Meredith Agency," Van Gelder notes in explaining why, in this case, there isn't any new fiction from the honored author
in question. (There are, however, reprints of two shorts: "A Short Religious Novel" from 1972 and "A Clone at Last" written with Bill Pronzini
from 1978. While the latter provides a humorous punchline, the former is more substantially thought-provoking with an exquisite last
line.) So Malzbergians might initially feel a bit disappointed to learn there's nothing new (even recently new -- in fact, Malzberg hasn't
published much fiction in the last ten years) from their champion here. However, his "Tripping with the Alchemist" is hardly a let-down. Given
the amount of chatter in certain circles about the sorry state of publishing (which actually tries to make money by appealing to the lowest common
denominator; I'm shocked, absolutely shocked to learn), it's a good reminder there is nothing new under the sun.
The publishing agency where Malzberg worked from roughly 1965 to 1971 represented such authors as James Blish, Damon Knight, Evan Hunter, and
Norman Mailer, among others. It also published pornography that, in those days before Internet connections to the webcams of self-described
horny housewives, was under investigation from the FBI for moral corruption. But Malzberg's subject is corruption of another sort, and not
just that of revered authors who hired themselves out for hack work because it paid the rent. It's the colorful corruption of Scott Meredith
and the publishing industry. Here Malzberg quotes fellow curmudgeon (and certainly deserving his own special issue one day), Norman Spinrad:
While Malzberg is still among the living, John Kessel imagines what his reception in the afterlife might be in "Of New Arrivals, Many Johns,
and Music of the Spheres." The conceit here is that there are two groups of writers in the afterlife drinking gin and commiserating, one the
literary folks the other the genre geeks. As it turns out, Malzberg finds he isn't welcome in either camp. This story also inspires the
cover art, with a violin wielding, grey-suited Malzberg surrounded by various personages who appear in Kessel's literary afterworld. How
many can you guess without referring to the inside key? Perhaps one problem with Kessel's story -- which really isn't a problem with the
story but with the general state of literacy -- is that readers of a certain age might not have a clue who some of these people were.
"In for Malzberg, It Was They Came," Daniel P. Dern imagines aliens who have come to Earth seeking revelation from their seer, "We have read
the sacred literature and its many writings of prayer... We have come these great distances, in our eight cylinder engine of the night,
seeking truth, seeking but to touch the hem of your garment." Alien or otherwise, the fictional Malzberg is as disdainful as he might be
of "real" fans. "I'm sorry. You've mistaken me for his books. I am not who you think I am."
Of things not Malzberg, the novelet by Paoli Bacigalupi, "The Fluted Girl," is a wonderfully creepy coming-of-age tale. The fluted girl in
question is a twin bioengineered with unique fragility to perform a strangely beautiful talent. The gradual revelation of what makes the
girl "fluted" is a master stroke, as is her last-second decision to escape her plight.
Along the same thematic line, David D. Levine's "The Tale of the Golden Eagle" is a nice spin on the Pygmalion myth, only here it involves
the ethics of what direction is best -- human to object or vice versa -- to make the transformation. "The Twenty Pound Canary" is advertised
as Jack Cady's tribute to Damon Runyon, one of those authors who appears in Malzberg's afterlife who perhaps shares a similar reputation
in contemporary obscurity. It's a cleverly written piece about the proverbial small town amateur scientist and the girl whose unrequited
love can finally be fulfilled due to an unforeseen experimental outcome.
Bill Vaughn's "Mabiba Overboard" imagines a flooded American east coast in which the states try to assert their sovereignty over territory
that is largely under water. The storyline involves an entrepreneurial pair of female looters and how they outwit a series of corrupt
border patrol boats, related as a sort of "tall-tale" typical of the black oral tradition. It's a slight tale, but it has its amusing moments.
An editorial note before M. Rickert's "The Super Hero Saves the World" describes it "as a blend of Latin American magic realism and North American
superheroism" which is as good a description as any. Basically, it means that you're not quite sure what it is supposed to mean, but
you suspect it must mean something significant. Even if you don't get it (and I'm not quite sure that I do), there's some nice imagery:
In contrast, I might add, to the towering legend who resists crude manipulation celebrated in this issue.
David Soyka is a former journalist and college teacher who writes the occasional short story and freelance article. He makes a living writing corporate marketing communications, which is a kind of fiction without the art. |
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