his book, opening with an informative and candid autobiographical introduction, celebrates Harry Harrison's 50 years of writing science fiction. Although one might jump to the conclusion--judging from the title alone--that Harrison intends to present a single story from each year of his long and illustrious career, such is not the case. Indeed, half a hundred stories bulk out this enormous volume. But they are arranged thematically, not chronologically.
"The Streets of Ashkelon" details the horrific results attendant upon the introduction of religion to a race of Edenic aliens. Vacationing physicist Joze Kukovic must improvise when attempting to save the life of an alien castaway on Earth in "Rescue Operation." The first explorers on the surface of Saturn face hideous death from two fronts in "Pressure." "A Criminal Act" offers a novel and brutal method of dealing with overpopulation. In "Roommates," we find the potent seed of Harrison's famous novel Make Room! Make Room! (1966), later turned into the film Soylent Green (1973).
The theme of "first encounter" is tweaked ingeniously in "Final Encounter." Harrison's premiere SF sale, "Rock Diver," lets the reader observe the curious life of the men who choose to render themselves insubstantial enough to pass through solid matter. Post-holocaust Adam and Eve, played for laughs, is the topic of "The Day After the End of the World." The novel Bill, the Galactic Hero (1965) finds its origins in "Space Rats of the CCC."
Where have all the natives gone? Discover the surprising answer in "Survival Planet." A science of human dynamics gets a deadly workout on a world bent on war in "The K-Factor." Robocop really owes his chops to his literary predecessor, the police robot named Ned in "Arm of the Law." "The Gods Themselves Throw Incense" reprises the quandary of Tom Godwin's famous "The Cold Equations." The power of pacifism is on exhibit in "You Men of Violence."
A modern descendent of good old Doctor F. claims a new victim in "At Last, the True Story of Frankenstein." The comic-book industry of the future will never be the same after the introduction of the Mark IX artistbot, as "Portrait of the Artist" will reveal. "Mute Milton" illustrates the stupidity of bigotry and its larger consequences. A strange allegory, "By the Falls" shows us that life contains more than we can imagine.
Cosmopolitan, clear-eyed craftsman
This volume is long overdue, and will hopefully have the effect of catalyzing renewed interest in Harry Harrison's solid, ingenious, insightful, emotionally and intellectually honest stories. Alternately thrilling and pensive, scary and hilarious, angry and accepting, Harrison's fictions constitute one of the main monuments in modern SF. It might have been hard to realize that until seeing such a huge number of them between two covers. But there's no excuse now. In fact, this volume instantly brings to mind Harrison's eligibility for the SFWA's Grand Master Award.
Based on this book, what can be said of Harrison the writer, across the board? He is very adept at openings and closings and all that goes between. Readers will be sucked into most of his stories from the first scene--although the scene might not be as melodramatic or weird as some SF writers favor. Harrison's prose, while taking on different shades for different chores, hews to the Heinlein mode of "transparency," not full of fancy effects, yet gripping and propulsive. This window-glass virtue seems to tie in with Harrison's love of the material world. A global traveler, he is plainly besotted with landscapes, terrestrial and otherwise. The immediacy of his venues adds immensely to the attraction of these stories.
Harrison also exhibits in spades the prime qualities of any good SF writer: hard-headed rationalism, skepticism and the willingness to "ask the next question," to employ the famous phrase of Theodore Sturgeon. Leavening this is his wild humor. A story like "Space Rats of the CCC" should leave readers gasping. Additionally, Harrison, while not afraid to put his own beliefs on display, such as on the matter of overpopulation, always gives fair consideration to the opposing viewpoints.
Finally, Harrison is firmly engaged in the never-ending conversation that is modern SF. "The Streets of Ashkelon" speaks to James Blish's A Case of Conscience (1958), and his robot stories play fruitfully with Asimov's Laws. Here is a writer who has been at the core of science fiction for 50 years, and promises to go on strongly for a good long time yet.
