Retro Interview: Robert J. Randisi

 

An Interview with Robert J. Randisi from August 2008

Robert J. Randisi passed away earlier this week. He was born on August 24, 1951, in Brooklyn, New York. Randisi wrote more than 500 novels across parts of five decades. His first published novel was the mystery, The Disappearance of Penny (1980), which appeared around the same time as his ghost written, Destroyer #40, Dangerous Games, by Warren Murphy. He created the long-running Gunsmith series (and wrote nearly all its reported 466 entries), which is published under his J.R. Roberts pseudonym. Randisi was a versatile writer that wrote in the mystery, thriller, horror, adventure, and western genres. He received a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly for his excellent mystery novel Alone with the Dead, and he was called the “next Louis L’Amour” by author Jake Foster. Randisi co-founded, with Ed Gorman, Mystery Scene Magazine. He founded the Private Eye Writer’s of America (PWA) and created PWA’s Shamus awards, as well as the “Eye”—which is the PWA’s Life Achievement Award. This interview was conducted in July 2008 and originally published at Saddlebums.

First, I want to thank you for taking the time to chat with us Bob.

It’s my pleasure. Always willing to talk about writing and about writing westerns.

I’ve been reading your work, both westerns and mysteries, for seven or eight years and I’m impressed with both the quantity and the quality of your work. My question: what is a typical workday like for you?

I’m usually working on two books at one time, so during the day I’ll work on, say, a western. At some point I stop for dinner. After dinner I watch a little TV, and then I take a nap. After the nap it’s on to the mystery novel I’m working on. I have a TV in my office, so I usually watch while I’m working. Last week I watched all three Magnificent movies on tape while I worked on a western. Also some old Warner Bros. westerns like Cheyenne and Maverick. Then, while working on a mystery I’ll watch some Sunset Strip or Hawaiian Eye tapes, maybe some British mysteries or movies, like Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy, or American films like Harper or Chinatown. I work until about 4 a.m., then read for an hour before going to bed. Up at 11 am, breakfast and start over. Some days errands—like the bank, the P.O.—take me away from the work for a while. Also going out to dinner with friends. But I work every day.

You created The Gunsmith series, which is published under the pseudonym J.R. Roberts. It first appeared in 1982, and there are currently somewhere in the neighborhood of 320 books in the series. Have you written each book in the series? If so, how do you keep yourself interested in the stories and the characters?

Actually, back in 1983 when Berkley bought out Charter books they wanted to bring in a couple of other writers so we could build an inventory and get about a year ahead. So there were a few years there where I did 8 a year instead of twelve. Also, while two other writers were doing some Gunsmiths I was doing some ghost work, or house name work like Nick Carter books, or helping someone else write their series. So it was pretty much a wash there, and when I do a bibliography—like I did last year for the Stark House reprint of my first novel—I don’t mention the ghost work and some of the series work. It all comes out even in the end. I’ve still done over 430 books since 1982. But there are probably about 30 Gunsmiths in that first hundred that I didn’t do. I own them, though, as I own the entire series. Keeping myself interested got to be a problem in the 90’s—not the 1990’s, but when I reached Gunsmith #90. So I started playing some games, like doing some Gunsmiths that borrowed plots from favorite movies, or doing some Wild, Wild West-type stories. I started one Gunsmith with the line, “Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl,” to see if the editor would catch it. They either didn’t, or they did and thought it was funny. So you need to entertain yourself as well as your reader to keep everybody interested.

Since we’re talking about your publishing history, what is the first novel you published? Was it a long time coming, or did you hit print quickly once you decided to write it?

My first novel under my own name was called The Disappearance of Penny. It was a mystery that was published in 1980. (I did a ghost job on a book that came out in ’79). I sold my first short story in 1972, sold my first novel in ’79 on basis of an outline. I’ve sold all my novels that way, have never sold a completed manuscript. I met my first editor at an MWA [Mystery Writers of America] cocktail party where I used to tend bar so that everybody in the room had to come to me, and I’d meet everybody. We got along and I pitched him on the book. He liked it and bought it, and he’s the guy who asked me if I could write westerns, which led to The Gunsmith. So I’d say when I decided I wanted to do novels instead of short stories it took me about two years to get a book of my own in print. And I’ve never looked back. I’ve had a book published every month since January of 1982 (including those ghost and house jobs).

When did you decide you wanted to be a writer?

That happened when I was 15. That was when I not only decided I was going to be a writer, but that I was going to be a full-time writer by the time I was 30. When I turned thirty I had about 12 Gunsmiths under contract, so I quit working to write full time. That was a fifteen-year plan. My second fifteen-year plan was to be a millionaire by the time I was 45. Didn’t work out as well as the first plan.

You have had a long career—you have written in several different genres and published extensively in both novel form and short stories. Is there a specific genre or format you enjoy working in best? If you could choose, would you concentrate on shorter works or novels?

I prefer to write novels, and my first love has always been the mystery. Specifically the hardboiled private eye novel.

It is my understanding that you have written several novels under house names—other than your long running series The Gunsmith. When you write under a house name do you approach it differently than your other work? Do you enjoy writing them, and if you can would you briefly explain how series writing works? Do you have any responsibility for promotion, or does the publisher prefer you stay quiet about your authorship?

First, the Gunsmith name “J.R. Roberts” is not a house name. It’s a pseudonym. That means it’s still mine, I get royalties. When I wrote 6 Nick Carter books in the ’80s I got a flat rate, no royalty. Usually when you write under house names—like the guys who write Longarm and Jake Logan—the publisher keeps quiet about it, so you have no input into promotion. They want the reader to think that “Tabor Evans” is really a guy who writes Longarm. If you look at the copyright page of a Gunsmith, it has my real name on it. So writing under a house name is different than writing your own series. You do the best you can when writing a house name series, but you have more invested in your own. I’ve done some Trailsman books, and I finished out the Canyon O’Grady series (the last seven) and a series called Shelter (3 books when the author, Paul Ledd [Paul Lederer], wanted to quit).

Is there a book, or a few books, that you have written and are particularly proud of?

The Ham Reporter was published in 1985 by Doubleday Books, and reprinted last year by Stark House (as a double with my first book). It features Bat Masterson when he was a sports writer in New York City in 1911, and he solves a mystery with a young Damon Runyon. The first Keough, Alone with the Dead, got a starred review from Publisher’s Weekly. It’s one of my favorites. Also Curtains of Blood, my Jack the Ripper meets Bram Stoker book. (Actually, I wrote that as a “Bram Stoker” novel, but the publisher put it out as a “Jack the Ripper” novel). And a little western called The Ghost with Blue Eyes.

Most writers are voracious readers, and I’m wondering what you read for pleasure?

I read what I write, mysteries, westerns, some science fiction, and non-fiction for research.

Now I want to turn to the western genre specifically. What first led you to the genre?

My first editor—after we did Penny—called me one day and said that his publisher wanted to get into the adult western market. This was 1981. He asked me if I could write westerns. I said yes. I’d never read one up to that point, but I got where I am by never saying “no” to an editor. I went out and bought 40 westerns, one of each in as many series as I could, so I would not repeat a character. I did a proposal for the Gunsmith. First they bought two books, then a third, and then they said they wanted to get it on a monthly basis and gave me a 9 book contract. Nobody ever asked me if I could write a book a month, and I never asked myself. Once I got the Gunsmith I just kept creating series (Tracker, Angel Eyes, Mountain Jack Pike, The Bounty Hunter, Ryder, all published during the 80’s) and writing them, until it got to the point where, in 1984, I wrote 27 novels in 12 months.

What are a few of the western writers who have influenced your work?

When I finally did start reading westerns I read a lot of series, like the Buchanan books by “Jonas Ward.” I really enjoyed the Fargo books by John Benteen (a pseudonym for Ben Haas). I read the Sackett books by L’Amour, and some of the Silvertip books of Max Brand, but my preference ran to reading stuff like Jory Sherman’s Gunn series, or George Gilman’s Edge and Steele books.

If you could bring back the work of one western writer who would it be? Is there a specific title?

I learned a lot about writing adult western by reading the Gunn series. Jory Sherman is a helluva writer, and I saw that I could write good westerns around the sex scenes. I’d like to see those books reprinted.

You also write mysteries, and it seems there has been—both historically as well as today—a significant amount of writers who do good work in both genres. Do you think there is a relationship between the mystery and the western that promotes this crossover, or is it simply the economics of professional writing?

Well, the economics of doing this for a living makes it necessary to write in multiple genres, but there seems to be a symbiotic relationship between mysteries and westerns that appeals to a lot of writers. A lot of my westerns ARE mysteries at the same time. Same can be said for the work of Ed Gorman, Bill Pronzini, James Reasoner and others. There are similarities between the lone gunman (badge or no badge) and the P.I.

The mystery genre is thriving, but many believe the western is in decline. What do you think about the western genre today, and what do you think the future holds for the western story?

I’m afraid that the further we get from the old west the less people are interested in it. That doesn’t happen with mysteries, and is certainly not a problem with science fiction. The young writers of today did not grow up watching western movies or TV, so the interest is not there. There IS work out there for western writers—up to last year I was still writing them for five publishers. Every time one publisher decides to cancel a line, somebody else starts one up. Leisure has proven that there is a market, but I wouldn’t look for anyone other than McMurtry and the late L’Amour to hit any best seller lists. Harper Torch just ceased publishing westerns, and I had done two series for them, The Sons of Daniel Shaye and The Gamblers (these books are just starting to appear). The books made money, but they canceled the line, anyway. Sometimes, they just don’t make “enough” money for the publisher. I’m still writing westerns for Leisure and Berkley.

Okay, now let’s get down to your current work. What is your latest novel?

Lately I’ve been writing mysteries about the Rat Pack in Vegas in 1960. The first was out last year called Everybody Kills Somebody Some Time. It centered around the filming of the original Ocean’s 11. My character is Eddie G., a pit boss at the Sands who the “guys” go to for help. The second book, Luck Be a Lady, Don’t Die, will be out in December of this year. I’m also writing books that combine the mystery with the current Texas Hold’em craze. My co-author is Vince Van Patten, the commentator for the World Poker Tour. The first book, The Picasso Flop, was out earlier this year. It will be out in paper in 2009, as will the next book, The Judgment Fold. I’ve got a new western out from Leisure called The Money Gun; [and] the first in a new series called The Gamblers: Butler’s Wager. Actually now it’s a trilogy. (Leisure has reprinted 3 of the books I wrote in the 80’s as “Robert Lake” and the 4th is coming out, all under my real name. I’m trying to get them to reprint some of my old series, under my real name.) I’m working on the first in a soap opera mystery called The Yearning Tide. My co-author is Eileen Davidson, one of the top actresses in the soap world for 20 years. Right now she’s on The Bold and the Beautiful. We’re doing two books right now, maybe more. It won’t be out till next year. I’ve got a mystery anthology coming out this month called Hollywood and Crime, stories set during the history of Hollywood. And I’m still out there pitching.

Can you tell us about the novel—or any other projects—you are working on now?

Right at the moment I’m working on the 13th Giant Gunsmith novel, and the first of the soap opera mysteries, and I’m about to start the third Rat Pack book.

I have one last question, and I must warn it is a little vague. If you could chose any project to work on, what would it be?

I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. If I mentioned it some wise guy would steal it. I’m enjoying the historical aspect of the Rat Pack books. It was what I enjoyed about writing The Ham Reporter. So I have some other historical mysteries I’d like to do, and some western novels that deal with actual historical figures.

Check out Robert J. Randisi’s books here at Amazon

Dark Western Duality: The Magpie Coffin & Blood Meridian

Dark Western Duality: The Magpie Coffin & Blood Meridian by Mike Baker   I read The Magpie Coffin and Blood Meridian simultaneously, though that’s not entirely accurate—I started Blood Meridian a week ago, alongside a few other books. Much like crossing the great of Texas, there’s no quick way through Blood Meridian. The Magpie Coffin, by Wile E. Young, is the first entry in Death’s Head Press’s splatter western series and, from my casual review of general opinion, is considered the best of the lot. The story follows Salem Covington, who has made a deal—likely with the Devil—for a gun that renders him unkillable by any weapon except its twin, which is lost somewhere in the world. This gun demands that Salem fill a ledger with kills, making him a sort of reaper. If he meets the gun’s quota before the twin can find him, he can enter heaven blameless. The book opens with Salem’s Comanche teacher, Dead Bear, having been murdered along with a white buffalo, Dead Bear’s familiar, by five cavalrymen. Salem decides they must be killed next for vengeance and to satisfy the gun’s demands. He brings along a young soldier named Jake, who is half hostage, half acolyte, and a whore named Ruby, or something like Ruby. Jake knows one of the soon-to-be-dead men personally and can identify him. He brings Ruby because he saved her, and Salem finds that impulse—saving a life—somewhat novel and amusing. The narrative unfolds into a series of brutal, righteous killings, and a simple narrative mechanism allows you to anticipate Salem’s fatal flaw and where the story is headed. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; while originality makes for a great book, executing a well-worn concept with flair can still result in an entertaining read. Young may not be groundbreaking, but he is certainly engaging. Meanwhile, I’m reading Blood Meridian, the heavyweight champion of dark-hearted human brutality. By comparison, The Magpie Coffin’s “darkness and horror” feel like lightweight comic book fare. I began to look forward to Magpie’s “brutality” as a way to cleanse my palate of the absolute bleakness and wretchedness of Blood Meridian. I believe the love for Magpie stems from its well-crafted writing. Young understands the elements that make an entertaining western, and it is indeed gory af. However, if you’ve read any Piccadilly Cowboy material, excluding the supernatural elements in Magpie, you may find Magpie doesn’t cover new ground, unlike The Red Station or Cruel Angel Past Sundown, which, while structurally flawed, push the genre beyond mere horror and gore. I’m not saying this to discourage you from reading Magpie—on the contrary, I believe you absolutely should. It’s a fun book. However, the splatter western series offers a treasure trove of western goodness that merits exploration beyond just Magpie.

Now, there are thousands of reviews far better than I could write about Cormac McCarthy’s Blood Meridian, so if you want to know more about the book itself, I recommend seeking those out. I’ll summarize it briefly: it’s about a runaway in the West called the Kid who joins the Glanton Gang as they venture into Mexico to collect Apache scalps for a bounty. They descend into a killing spree of epic proportions, slaughtering the innocent alongside the guilty, destroying everything they touch. The writing is poetic. You can miss a phrase and find yourself lost for pages, requiring you to double back, much like getting lost in the woods. It’s so dense that I often “discover” scenes I swear I’ve never read, even though I’ve read every word six times. Though it isn’t long, I’ve never been able to hold the entire story in my mind all at once. Like I’ve said, I’ve read it six times, but I wouldn’t call it a favorite. It’s the quintessential example of western noir. McCarthy’s view of humanity as apex predator, as monster, is utterly devoid of hope. It was entertaining the first time I read it in the ’90s—like the Bible told from the Devil’s perspective—but now it just feels like trauma. I read it last week while waiting out Hurricane Helene, and I don’t know anymore. It feels like an assault. It reminds me of Henry Miller’s words in the opening of Tropic of Cancer: “This is a libel, slander, defamation of character, a prolonged insult, a gob of spit in the face of art, a kick in the pants to God, man, destiny, time, love, beauty…” I’m not even sure I can call it McCarthy’s best book, as it feels his least human and completely devoid of optimism or anything like optimism. However, it may very well be the best artistic rendering of the West, though it is, in fact, not a western at all, despite my earlier classification. There’s more to it than that; the book confounds definition. But for me—this time—the takeaway is this: to hell with Cormac McCarthy and his grief at being born human, or a massive restatement of the idea that hope thrives despite history’s glaring evidence to the contrary.

Check out The Magpie Coffin here at Amazon Check out The Blood Meridian here at Amazon

 

Booked (and Printed): September 2024

 

I love September. The beginning of autumn, the cooling temps, and the first rush of green leaves turning gold, copper, and crimson. A marvelous month that is second only to October in my book of favorite things. Speaking of books (which is why we’re here, right?), my September reading life ended up embarrassingly small—three books and five short stories—due, mostly, to a late month skirmish with Covid that wiped out my pleasure reading for more than a week. Quitting two novels halfway through didn’t help either, but we’ll get to those later. The month started strong with David Housewright’s tenth Rushmore McKenzie mystery, The Last Kind Word (2013). I’ve said before how much I enjoy McKenzie’s adventures and The Last Kind Word is one of the best in the series so far. McKenzie reluctantly goes undercover as a professional thief in Northern Minnesota when an AK-47 that went missing during the ATF’s botched Operation Fast and Furious—a real-life ATF sting operation gone sour on the U.S.-Mexico border—shows up in an amateurish robbery in rural Minnesota.   The bungling robbers turn out to be a down-on-their-luck family. McKenzie worms his way into their circle and, while he is trying to get a line on where they purchased the AK-47, he plans a complicated heist for them. Things get sticky when McKenzie begins sympathizing with the hard luck criminals and a local gangster and a couple crooked cops arrive on the scene. The Last Kind Word has a Richard Stark vibe, great characterization, and a sizzling plot. Hemingway’s Notebook, by Bill Granger (1986), is the seventh (of fourteen) November Man thrillers; it’s my favorite of the four series’ titles I’ve read, too. After faking his death years earlier, November is called back from retirement when an acquaintance from the intelligence community threatens to tell the KGB he’s still breathing—an organization that would love to change November’s status to cold and dead. So November agrees to help with a niggling little revolution on the tiny Caribbean Island of St. Michel. Of course, nothing is as it seems and November is hard-pressed to peel away the layers of deceit and stay alive at the same time. And it’s done with Granger’s usual irony and distrust of secrecy and authority. The annual short story anthology, The Best Mystery Stories of the Year—2024, edited by Otto Penzler and Anthony Horowitz, is something I look forward to every year. This entry is good, but below the standards I’ve come to expect since a few of the stories made me wonder why they had been selected for its august pages. The good, and even a few great tales, made me forget the mediocre stuff without incident. I’m planning a detailed review of this one later in October and so I’ll leave it at that.

While my book length reading was pathetic, the number of individual short stories I read, five all together, was pretty okay. And every one of those tales were varying shades of good. C. J. Box’s “One-Car Bridge,” which features Wyoming Game Warden Joe Pickett, is about a greedy and flat-out mean landowner that may, or maybe won’t, get his just desserts. It was part of Box’s collection, Shots Fired (2015). “The Two-Percent Solution,” by Jack Ritchie, is a silly and dishonest (read that as impossible for the reader to solve) puzzler featuring Harry Turnbuckle unmasking an arsonist and murderer. Ritchie hit every bad note he could, but somehow its conclusion still elicited a smile. It appeared in the June 1984 issue of Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Al Sarrantonio’s clever horror story, “Last”—which was published in the anthology Shivers VI (2010)—is a hardboiled and stylish play on humanity’s longstanding fear of technology. And it, unlike Ritchie’s tale, hit every note with a maestro’s touch. “Doom of the Dark Delta,” by James Reasoner (2024), is good pulpy fun. When sailor and soldier Jorras Trevayle is washed ashore after a shipwreck, he finds an evil sorcerer, a battery of wicked soldiers, a naked woman running for her life, and a species of freakishly large snakes. And all of them are an obstacle to Trevayle’s survival. Reading “Doom of the Dark Delta”—which is the first novella in Reasoner’s new Snakehaven series—is like cracking the pages of an old Weird Tales. But its zesty spirit, cracker-jack plotting, and splendid adventure are all James Reasoner. Finally, Alan Orloff’s gritty and hardboiled flash story, “Once” (2024), is an irony-laced crime story with a surprise begin enough for a much longer tale. You can read “Once” here at Shotgun Honey. Now, for those two books mentioned earlier where the pages quit turning before the story did. Between you and me, both DNFs (did not finish) were likely caused by me and Covid more than to any deficiencies in the books themselves. Although read ahead and I’ll mention a few anyway. Sam Llewellyn’s Riptide (1992). Llewellyn is a favorite suspense writer of mine and I’ve always enjoyed his novels set around the ocean and yachting. I’ve tried reading Riptide before and failed, so maybe it’s less Covid than…something else. The narrative is flabby and uneven, which is unusual for Llewellyn, and damned if I could get into it. Again. Maybe I’ll wait another ten years and read it with different results. The other was Phillip Thompson’s first Colt Harper novel, Outside the Law (2017). The hardboiled style, sweltering rural Mississippi backdrop, and gritty plot are right up my ally, but the narrative never spoke to me and seemed a little flat, for no reason I can point to, which makes me think my perception of Outside the Law was influenced more by a foggy head and a cough than any real problems with the story. Maybe I’ll try it again with fresher eyes. Fin— Now on to next month…

Review: "Brothers" by Ed Gorman & Richard Chizmar

“Brothers” By Ed Gorman & Richard Chizmar Short, Scary Tales, 2015   “Brothers”—which is a novelette-length expansion of Ed Gorman’s 2006 short story—is a dark tale about brotherhood and loss. Brothers Chet and Michael’s mother died when they were teenagers and their father, a cop and a drunk, was emotionally absent from their lives. Chet, the oldest of the two, essentially raised Michael and as an adult, Chet can’t let go of his perceived responsibility: he has always been there to rescue Michael from his darker self. Chet was there to help Michael escape gambling and alcohol addictions. He facilitated Michael’s hiring as a Chicago cop, and even found him a wholesome wife. So when Michael starts backsliding into his old ways, Chet steps in once again to save his younger brother. “Brothers” is an example of what Ed Gorman did so well: dark, melancholy tales inhabited by characters as real as our own neighbors, friends, siblings, and spouses with a subtle pre-destination that—no matter how hard the characters struggle and plan—will lead them to ruin. But Ed never wrote pure noir and “Brothers” is no exception. He counterbalanced the bleak themes with low-key humor and made his flawed regular-man characters worthwhile by endowing them with a realistic complexity and contradiction. As I noted above, “Brothers” is an expansion of an earlier story, which was published in Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. I’ve read both the original and the expanded versions   and Richard Chizmar, who I believe was responsible for the expansion, added a significant amount of narrative, including an interesting childhood event that gives the reader a better understanding of Michael. While the original short story is excellent and worth reading, this collaboration is even better. If you can find “Brothers” anywhere, do yourself a favor and read it.

Go here for the out-of-print paperback edition of “Brothers” at Amazon.

 

From Ed Gorman's Desk: "John Brunner"

 

from ED GORMAN’S Desk

John Brunner from Dec. 16, 2006   One of the real pleasures of my teenage years was reading the space operas of John Brunner, which mostly appeared in Ace Double Book form, sometimes taking up both sides. Except for Leigh Brackett and some of Edmond Hamilton, I couldn’t handle most space opera after I reached about age fifteen. But Brunner was both a superb writer of swift colorful action stories and a true citizen of the world, this last lending his tales a real sense of history which he projected into the future. His characters were never standard pulp issue, either. They usually had problems unrelated to the plot some of which, realistically, were never resolved even as the curtain fell. He also had a somewhat baroque sense of humor. I recall one of his Ace novels opening with a parody of a very sophisticated party. I appreciated it even more when I saw the same thing a few years later in the then-shocking movie “Darling.” Brunner had tucked his swipe at pre-Euro-trash into space opera. He got an early start on his action tales, selling his first novel at 17 as by Gil Hunt. This was all in the Sixties. Came the Seventies and Brunner received the Hugo award, the British Science Fiction award and the French Prix Apollo. You don’t get those babies writing space opera. From the Daily Telegraph, UK: “The Squares of the City (1965) was a study in mathematical psychology in which two ruthless politicians manipulate people in a real-life chess match. Brunner’s more pessimistic stories included The Sheep Look Up (1972), a depressing look forward to the horrors of pollution; and The Shockwave Rider (1975), in which computers spread viruses and other evils. In this he was to prove wrong those experts who at the time dismissed the possibility of electronic viruses.” These are his acknowledged masterpieces. There were few science fiction writers as popular or influential as Brunner during the Seventies, especially after the appearance of The Shockwave Rider. He’d gone rather quickly from competent paperback man to bestselling genre master with a worldwide following. What happened next has never been clear to me. Though I’ve heard various explanations, the one given most often is that he put several years research and writing into a historical novel called The Great Steamboat Race and that it flopped badly, shaking the confidence of author and publisher alike. Something sure happened because when you look at the books he wrote in the Eighties, you see a writer essentially reverting to the work of his early days. Not outright space opera but definitely work far less ambitious than the novels that brought him awards and acclaim. His health got bad. His wife died. I’m told that at one convention he announced from the dais that he needed work and to please put him on their list. Any writer who pitches himself like that may get a contract but he sure isn’t going to get much money. He died at a convention, too. Heart attack. As much as some readers admire The Traveler in Black, I think the better seldom-mentioned Brunner book is The Whole Man. Brunner creates not only a bleak future society unlike any I’ve ever encountered in sf but he also gives us a mutant-freak as a protagonist, a bitter, angry confused man who defies all the conventions of the form. A number of writers tried something like this previously—notably A.E. Van Vogt with Slan—but nobody brought the passion or dystopic poetry Brunner did to the theme.     Six months or so before his death I wrote a long retro review of The Whole Man for a sf magazine and sent a copy to Bluejay editor Jim Frenkel who was then republishing a few Brunner titles. He sent it on to Brunner and told me that Brunner was greatly pleased with it. I’m glad he got to see it. He deserved a lot more praise than my little review could give him. Click here to check out John Brunner’s books on Amazon.

This article originally appeared on Ed Gorman’s blog, New Improved Gorman, on Dec. 16, 2006. It is reprinted here by permission. Ed wrote dozens of novels in a variety of genres, but his most popular work (and my favorite of his work) was in the crime and western genres. His ten Sam McCain mysteries—set in the fictional Iowa town of Black River Falls during the 1950s, ’60, and ’70s—are suspenseful, mysterious, and often funny excursions into small town America. The New York Times called Sam McCain, “The kind of hero any small town could take to its heart” and The Seattle Times called McCain “an intriguing mix of knight errant and realist…”      But Ed was also a tireless reader and promoter of other writers’ work. His blogs—there were three, none of them operating at the same time—are treasure troves for readers of crime, horror, and western fiction both old and new. Ed died Oct. 14, 2016.   Click here to check out Ed Gorman’s Sam McCain novels on Amazon.

An Introduction to Katherine MacLean

The Fittest & Other Stories by Katherine MacLean A 3 Play Book, 2024     Introduction     The critic and author, Damon Knight wrote, “As a science fiction writer she [Katherine MacLean] has few peers; her work is not only technically brilliant but has a rare human warmth and richness.” An apt insight since Katherine MacLean’s speculative fiction had the grounding of hard science fiction—technically and scientifically accurate depictions of physics, mathematics, and engineering—mingled with the so-called “soft” sciences of culture and sociology. She specialized in exploring how the one impacted the other in near future worlds. As she explained in her essay, “The Expanding Mind”: “I write about the near future because I want an excuse to read science and economics and try to find out what is going to happen next. I don’t want to be in the surprised rocking chair set, trembling before an alien world.” MacLean excelled at this near future speculation. One example of her futuristic insight came in the story, “Syndrome Johnny” (Galaxy, July 1951, as by Charles Dye) where she predicted the potential use of DNA, which was still an emerging scientific idea at the time, as a tool to genetically improve humans. Her speculative writings, future technologies and all, were wrapped in a literate, unblemished style rare for the genre in the middle years of the Twentieth Century as the opening passage from “The Fittest” (Worlds Beyond, Jan. 1951) shows:   “Among the effects of Terry Shay was found a faded snapshot. It is a scene of desolation, a wasteland of sand and rock made vague by blowing dust, and to one side huddle some dim figures. “They might be Eskimos with their hoods pulled close, or they might be small brown bears. “It is the only record left of the great event, the event which came into the hands of Terry Shay. “Like all great events it started with trivial things.” MacLean’s work has been a regular in anthologies over the decades. Isaac Asimov selected “Defense Mechanism” (Astounding, Oct. 1949), “Pictures Don’t Lie” (Galaxy, Aug. 1951), “The Snowball Effect” (Galaxy, Sep. 1952), and “Unhuman Sacrifice” (Astounding Science Fiction, Nov. 1958) for inclusion in his The Great SF Stories series of anthologies. Her 1971 novella, “The Missing Man,” (Analog, Mar. 1971) won a Nebula Award and was later expanded into a novel of the same name. In a phrase, Katherine MacLean was a highly respected writer of science fiction with an interest in how humanity would cope with the future. Katherine MacLean was born on January 22, 1925 in Montclair, New Jersey, to Gordon—a chemical engineer—and Ruth MacLean (née Crawford). She received a B.A. in economics, and an M.S. in psychology. She worked various jobs, including as an English professor, a biochemist, an EKG technician, as an attendant in a vitamin store. She was married three times, and had one son. She died September 1, 2019.     The four tales included in The Fittest & Other Stories are a sampling of MacLean’s best work. “The Fittest” is a marvelous telling of first contact, moral dilemmas, and the violent nature of humanity. “Where or When?” is a love story that will ring true for anyone that has ever loved. “Carnivore” is a disturbing view of humanity’s sectarian and violent nature without, unfortunately, much redemption. “Contagion”—which is one of MacLean’s most popular tales—is about colonization, fear, and loss of self. Cover designed by Karadraws.com

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