his posthumous collection of over 500 pages gathers together the heretofore orphaned stories and some of the journalism and essays of Alfred Bester (1913-1987), best known for his two classic mid-'50s novels, The Demolished Man and The Stars My Destination. The fiction occupies the first two-thirds of this volume, and consists of stories published between 1941 and 1974.
In "The Probable Man," a time traveler discovers that he is forever cut off from his home continuum and must cast his lot in with the inhabitants of what is to him an alternate reality. "Hell Is Forever" resembles the L. Ron Hubbard classic "Fear" in its exploration of the twisted psyches of six sordid thrill-seekers. Our future Earth is a paradise thanks to the guidelines offered by the Stability in "The Push of a Finger." But paradoxically, a time viewer reveals the death of the entire universe a thousand years hence due to that very ethos--unless the future can be changed. Readers will recall C.L. Moore's "Vintage Season" when they encounter Bester's zippier version, "The Roller Coaster."
Two mainstream stories from the pages of Playboy clone Rogue ("The Lost Child" and "I'll Never Celebrate New Year's Again") are short, sharp, contemporary shockers. "Out of this World" limns a cross-dimensional love affair doomed never to be consummated. After a long moratorium on SF, Bester rocketed back into the genre with "The Animal Fair," a fable resembling the work of E.B. White crossed with the child-prodigy fantasies of Henry Kuttner. "Something Up There Likes Me" examines the concept of accidentally generated artificial intelligence--a satellite named OBO that knows what's best for humanity. Finally, "The Four-Hour Fugue" anticipates some of cyberpunk's gritty effects in its tale of a slum that sprawls from "Canada to the Carolinas."
The non-fiction is divided into Bester's essays on writing in general and his own work in particular; some journalistic pieces from Holiday magazine; and interviews with various artists, such as directors John Huston and Woody Allen, as well as writers including Rex Stout and Robert Heinlein. Additionally, this section features the "lost" prologue to The Demolished Man, unseen since its appearance five decades ago in Galaxy.
Bester, Bester, burning bright
This volume--edited by Richard Raucci, who deserves considerable praise for his efforts--while valuable and entertaining in its own right, should ideally have the effect of directing readers new and old back to the books that made Bester's reputation, the classic stories and novels which this collection only dimly adumbrates. Much like the recent similar James Tiptree collage, Meet Me at Infinity, this book offers alternately oblique and penetrating spotlights on the larger oeuvre, but is no substitute for that definitive canon.
The early fiction finds the ever-curious, ever-experimenting Bester still searching for his voice. Sometimes he emulates van Vogt, sometimes Hubbard, sometimes Harness. He's always readable and entertaining, but not quite the innovative genius of his prime. Then, in the later works, he sounds just a bit tired, his style a tad mannered, his insights and themes a hair dated. But even with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back, Bester can make the reader shiver, laugh and gape, as he races through events at breakneck speed.
Most enlightening here are the essays that reveal Bester's own literary philosophy and working methods. There's still a lot to be said for his assertion--in "Science Fiction and the Renaissance Man" and elsewhere--that only the writer's personal character is essential to good fiction. In Bester's view, any halfway intelligent craftsman can master the technical tricks of storytelling. But it's only force of authorial personality and its mysterious translation to the printed page that makes any tale unique. In this day and age of cookie-cutter SF, such ideals are too easily forgotten. As William Gibson later echoed, much SF feels as if it's written by careerists who might as well be practicing dentistry. Such a charge could never be leveled at Bester--whose fascinating life history gets an airing here--even at his most perfunctory.
Like Miles Davis and Dave Brubeck in their field, the cosmopolitan and hip Bester scatted, bopped and improvised from the heart while his square peers were focused on following static sheet music dictated by others. By the time his example had been understood, internalized and perhaps improved upon, Bester himself had grown bored and moved on. But just as Birth of the Cool and "Take Five" remain lustrous icons today, so does Bester's work shine on.
