his volume is Allen Steele's fourth collection of stories, and, as he states in his chatty introduction—where he labels the book a "mishegos," or grab bag—the book's focus is the variegated American experience of life viewed through a science-fictional lens.
"Agape Among the Robots" finds two rival teams intent on perfecting the first general-purpose household robot. But as team leaders Phil Burton and Kathy Veder work through their love-hate relationship, the two robots begin to exhibit some peculiarly human and most unwanted behavior patterns. Linked to this story by setting is "Jake and the Enemy," which pits an aggrieved pooch against the domestic robot newly introduced into the dog's domain, in the manner of John Henry against the steam engine. "Her Own Private Sitcom" limns a future where the trend of "reality programming" as entertainment has reached a new peak and reveals how fed-up citizens take their revenge on the narcissistic stars.
What if marijuana growing—or, rather, hemp cultivation—were a respected part of American agriculture, rather than a forbidden pursuit? In the alternate universe of "Green Acres," pot is hot. The Dickensian motif of a sinner being shown how his actions influence the lives of those around him gets a spin in "Missing Time," where a callous politician takes a trip to his own private dystopia. On Philip Jose Farmer's famous Riverworld, all humanity has been resurrected. Naturally, affinity groups form among the huge populace. And why wouldn't the settlement of the story title—"Graceland"—boast Elvis Presley as its leader, with plenty of other famous names from pop music as his comrades-in-rock?
More a mock historical essay than a full narrative, "Warning, Warning" reveals the "true story" behind one of the '60s' most popular SF shows. The technology of spycraft is always changing, and it takes an experienced agent with a good eye to uncover the method whereby biotech secrets are being transferred—at an art museum, of all places—in "The Fine Art of Watching." A second alternate-history tale—"A Walk Across Mars"—finds a joint U.S.-Soviet mission to the Red Planet nearly undermined by the petty human jealousies of two astronauts. And finally, "Tom Swift and His Humongous Mechanical Dude" reveals how the genius of Swift Senior and Junior is dissipated by slacker grandson, Swift III.
Serious topics illuminated with a light touch
Allen Steele is irredeemably bright-eyed, optimistic and good-humored. Once upon a time, such qualities used to pretty much characterize a goodly number of SF writers and readers, although as the genre has aged and gotten more somber and sober, Steele's style of bouncy joviality has receded from prominence to some degree. In this regard, he's in line with certain offbeat contemporaries in the SF genre, such as Spider Robinson. Even when tackling "grave and important" issues like the deterioration of privacy ("Sitcom"), marital infidelity ("Walk ... Mars"), the persecution of artists ("Graceland") and the idiocy and harmful potential of misgovernment ("Green Acres," "Missing Time"), he can't resist spinning his story along satirical, jovial, wise-cracking lines. And when he goes all-out gonzo, as in "Tom Swift," then the reader is in for full-blown farce.
The nature of Steele's approach to his stories—at least in this volume—is both productive of entertainment yet a tad limiting of impact. The reader gleefully boards Steele's vehicles for a rollicking ride, perhaps unwittingly exposing himself to some potent issues along the way which he or she would not otherwise contemplate. But the sometimes distracting humorous fireworks do not permit great depths of tragedy or the deepest of insights into the core topics.
Nonetheless, Steele is a talented craftsman who always provides full measure of reading fun. His affection for pop culture pervades his tales, rendering them as nifty as a new release from your favorite band. This comes across most strongly in "Graceland," where his portrayal of various rock 'n' roll icons evokes real tenderness, and in "Jake and the Enemy," where it's not explicit allusions that summon up pop resonances, but rather the whole battle between the dog and the robot, which plays out like a Warner Brothers cartoon, or perhaps a Carl Barks strip with Pluto as the star. (It is also possible to read this story as a rebuttal to Clifford Simak's famous allegiance between dogs and robots in City [1952].) His alternate history in "Green Acres" shows a good grasp of the dynamics of society, as well as a welcome polemical tack, but is somewhat blunted by the fact that for a certain stretch the narrative veers almost precisely back to the time track we all know.
As Steele tells us, "The Fine Art of Watching" represents the salvaged germ of an aborted spy novel. This incident seems revelatory of a writer stretching to break the confines of his natural style and falling short. But as long as such attempts continue to be made, growth is certain.
