Note: In the UK the first volume was split into two books, confusingly called The Astounding-Analog Reader Book One and The Astounding-Analog Reader Book Two. The second volume was never released in the UK.
Almost as confusing: the two American volumes had identical covers (save for "Volume One" on the first and "Volume 2" on the second).
Conceived in the weeks preceding the 1929 stock market crash, the new magazine, Astounding Stories of Super-Science, was published in January 1930 just as the Great Depression began. One spare space was filled.
The work of the early editors of this magazine cannot be faulted. This was a highly specialized field, they knew just what they wanted, and they paid good money for it, two cents a word on the barrelhead at a time when other magazines were paying a tenth of a cent on publication. There had to be action, adventure, and dazzle and there was indeed plenty of that. Harry Bates edited, rewrote and even wrote original stories to get what he wanted. For three years he followed this successful policy until, in 1933, the retitled Astounding Stories ceased publication as the entire Clayton chain collapsed. Six months later the title was picked up by Street & Smith and the magazine resumed publication under the editorship of F. Orlin Tremaine. One of the most popular science fiction writers at the time was the young John W. Campbell, Jr., and Tremaine not only published his work but hired him as junior editor at Street & Smith when Tremaine became editorial director of a number of magazines in 1937. Campbell edited Astounding under the supervision of Tremaine until May 1938 when Tremaine left the firm. From that time until his death in 1971 John Campbell edited this magazine, shaping it, making it his own, shaping as well the writers who appeared in it, and in so doing he altered the entire course of this field. It can truthfully be said that he invented modern science fiction.
The editors of this present volume, callow adolescents at the time, will never deny the mark it made upon their lives. Science fiction itself was the most colorful experience in those gray prewar, depression-deep days, and the other magazines paled beside the mind-blowing impact of Astounding. Every issue was sought, read, coveted, reread, treasured. Eventually both editors were swept up by life and the war, sent around the world and shot at, carried home and returned to civilian life. And all of this time - unknown to each other - they were reading and saving this magazine, Astounding Science-Fiction, later to be retitled Analog Science Fact-Science Fiction, but referred to always as ASF. This anthology is perhaps more a product of that youthful and continuing enthusiasm than of our later roles as authors. It attempts, as far as possible, to recapture the sensation of reading this most singular of magazines down through the years.
Of necessity a good deal had to be left out, and even the absolute residual minimum far exceeds our original intent. But -- can we complain of a wealth of riches? What we have included here are the stories that impressed us strongly when first read in those distant days, stories that echoed in memory through the years -- and stories that still retained their strength upon rereading after two decades or more. This is asking an awful lot of fiction published in pulp form by a magazine without the slightest literary pretensions. Quite the opposite; periodically through the years John Campbell would run small items asking for stories from engineers, professional scientists, people in the know with physical reality. He offered the lure of extra money for a new camera or piece of equipment. He never once mentioned access to a literary career. This is not to intimate that the stories are without literary value; indeed the reverse is true. Campbell himself was a fine writer, and when he became an editor he exercised ruthless control over content and story. Slipshod plotting and failure of technique earned instant rejection. It might be said that he had a literary feel for stories yet was hostile to literature. This is understandable since he was a man with a mission -- or rather a number of missions. He was interested in what was being communicated, not in how it was done. In a way he very much resembled a young expatriate writer we knew in a tropical part of the world. He wanted very much to write, but his stories were mostly political polemic since he was a dedicated member of the Communist party. When faced with this he finally admitted that he was more interested in communicating his political beliefs than in perfecting the art or craft of writing. John Campbell -- though politically as far away as possible -- was pushed on by an even more pressing enthusiasm. The entire province of space and time was his oyster and he had questions about all of it and answers about some of it. Many times he only groped for an answer or guessed at it; then he would phrase his groping and guessing as forceful statement and make others contradict him and prove their cases. Preferably in a story for his magazine. His curiosity knew no bounds and when he communicated this enthusiasm to his writers the result was the stories represented here. At the same time his sense of humor was of the roguish kind and many of his declarations and editorials were designed to provoke cries of rage from his readers. Characteristic is a statement he made just a few months before he died. There was a group of us and the talk came around to literature and the place of science fiction in the greater whole of English letters. It was pointed out that some enthusiastic aggrandizers of SF stand on the barricades and declare that someday, due to innate superiority, the short story and the novel will be engulfed by science fiction and become a part of it. Others, perhaps more realistically, say that SF is one specialized part of the whole of literature. But not John Campbell! With a sweep of one great hand he dismissed these feckless arguments, then spread his arms wide. "This is science fiction," he said, from open-armed fingertip to fingertip. "It takes in all of time, from before the universe was born, through the formation of suns and planets, on through their destruction and forward to the heat death of the universe. And after." His hands came together so that his index fingers delimitated a very tiny measure of space. "This is English Literature, the most microscopic fraction of the whole."
That is the feeling that underlies these stories; eternity is their province and science their guide. And the editor always there to make sure that whatever was written about would at least be written in a readable and entertaining manner. More than that -- the editor was always free with ideas and suggestions and plots for more stories. The perfect example is "First Contact" which appears here, authored by Will Jenkins using the pen name Murray Leinster. While we were obtaining rights from the author he wrote back that for this particular anthology it would be his first choice "... because I remember vividly when John presented the idea of 'First Contact' to be written." Will Jenkins had to say this, John Campbell never would. Down through the years many other authors have come forward with the same kind of statement.
Here are the stories. Space limitations ruled that more had to be left out than were included. Harsh rules had to be obeyed. Only one story by any single author; anything else would be unfair to the many who could not be included. The two Lawrence O'Donnell stories here are no exception to this rule since this pen name conceals the identities of the husband and wife team of Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore, each of whom wrote one of these stories. Then, by virtue of length, the memorable serials had to be left out. What remained after this refining process was the essence of the magazine, the pure quill, the real thing that made ASF a singular phenomenon.
When we go back to the beginning it is obvious that science fiction has always been a family affair with the same names appearing again and again in many roles. A close examination of the ASF letter columns, Science Discussions, later to become Brass Tacks, reveals future events casting their shadows before them. Here is the correspondence of piping young fans like Isaac Asimov, Donald Wollheim, and Frederik Pohl - Pohl's letter in 1937 proudly announcing the first World Science Fiction convention to be held in 1939. This was still in the pre-Campbell era but authors who would later be associated with his editorship were already represented in the magazine; L. Sprague de Camp, Jack Williamson, Nat Schachner, Willy Ley, E.E. Smith, Ph.D. These, and others, proved capable enough of changes and were carried into the Campbell era. Others vanished from sight. What they were writing at the dawn of this era is best exemplified by this quote from Doc Smith's "Galactic Patrol" in the September 1937 issue.
He thrust out tractor beams of his own, and from the already white-hot refractory throats of his projectors there raved out horribly potent beams of annihilation, beams of dreadful power which tore madly at the straining, defensive screens of the patrol ship. Screens flared vividly, radiating all the colors of the spectrum. Space itself seemed a rainbow gone mad, for there were being exerted there forces of magnitude to stagger the imagination -- forces to be yielded only by the atomic might from which they sprang -- forces whose neutralization set up visible strains in the very fabric of the ether itself.
Gradually, the Campbell presence began to be felt. In 1938 Jack Williamson's "The Legion of Time" was published. It was adventurous galaxy-leaping Williamson at his best, but exploring the themes of probability and parallel worlds far more than the far depths of space. And new writers appeared this year, not yet masters of the medium hut ready to grow; L. Ron Hubbard, Malcolm Jameson, Lester del Rey, H.L. Gold.
L Ron Hubbard, already a pulp writer for magazines like Argosy, was to become a regular contributor of short stones as well as a series about a spacegoing doctor written under the pen name René Lafayette, and finally the controversial but well received serial "Final Blackout" about the breakdown of Europe after the Second World War.
Malcolm Jameson, a retired Navy officer, is best remembered for his Bullard of the Space Patrol series, obviously drawn from his naval experiences and translated from ocean to space, a device much utilized by later writers. Lester del Rey's short stories are best represented by his "Helen O'Loy" in 1938, a sentimental blend of love and robotics. H.L. Gold was to later become the founding editor of Galaxy Science Fiction; but now the world was still young.
Clifford Simak, whom Kingsley Amis has referred to as the bucolic poet of science fiction, had been destroying universes with the best of them until this time, but in this first Campbell year published his "Reunion on Ganymede" about Iowa farmers on Venus, which showed him on his way back from the galaxy's rim and almost to Earth again.
And Campbell himself. Writing as Don A. Stuart this first year also included "Who Goes There?", a story of a shape-changing alien that has been imitated, never equalled, later adapted for the movie The Thing.
Then, in 1939, began what readers of ASF have always referred to as the Golden Age of the magazine. And golden years they were indeed. Within twelve months Campbell had laid the groundwork for the successes to come. New writers who could produce the content-orientated stories were found, old writers re-educated in their thinking. The stories were of course the important part, yet at the same time Campbell was aware of the need to change the physical image of the magazine. On the, cover the three-dimensional lettering of ASTOUNDING, apparently hewn from blocks of pine, vanished, and a modern, neat bit of titling appeared in its place. In Times to Come department was introduced, a glimpse of future contents, and Science Discussions became Brass Tacks. Here were the letters from the readers, and the answers to them by the editor who, in a fine bit of time traveling, put his answer ahead of the letter, thereby getting in the last word first. New artists were found so that the interior and cover art improved markedly. Astronomical covers were featured, fine views of ruddy planets and burning suns, and the incomparable Hubert Rogers painted his first cover. Eventually Campbell was even to control the advertisements that went into the magazine, banishing forever the spotty youth who proclaimed "Ugly blackheads out in seconds" or his elder counterpart with the startled expression who gasped "Did you say . ... RUPTURE?" All details were part of the greater whole; this was John Campbell's magazine and everyone involved marched to the sound of his certain drum.
And what an inspiring beat it had! Space opera was still there, nor was it ever absent for long until after the death of E.E. Smith. Clifford Simak's "Cosmic Engineers" out-Smithed Smith in 1939, but was well balanced by Campbell's own "Cloak of Aesir". Not satisfied with writing and editing Astounding, John Campbell also edited Unknown which first appeared this year. We are tempted to digress and say too much about this admirable magazine, but will resist and simply state that it was unique as well as being the best magazine of fantasy fiction ever published, going on from victory to victory before being defeated by the wartime paper shortage. But at this time the war was almost three years in the future and the Astounding writers were getting the beat of the Campbell drum. What a year 1939 was! Here was "Black Destroyer" by the new writer A. E. van Vogt. Still an excellent story, a fit debut for this author of classics still to come. Then there was "Trends," the first story of the precocious teenager from New York, Isaac Asimov. And a completely unknown ex-Navy officer named Robert A. Heinlein with his first published story "Life-Line". A month after this another first first story was published, "Ether Breather" by Theodore Sturgeon. The very earth was moving under the reader's feet! To round out the year "Gray Lensman" was serialized, perhaps the best of Doc Smith's Lensman series, its impact driven home by the image of the stalwart Kimball Kinnison by Rogers on the cover, with interior illustrations by Charles Schneeman, the artist who best captured this era in black and white.
This was certainly the Golden Age. In 1940 we saw Heinlein moving into longer work with the serial "If This Goes On ...," establishing a religious dictatorship in America then overthrowing it. Strong stuff indeed; the pulps are well behind us now. Then his "The Roads Must Roll;" what fine technology. "Requiem" followed "Coventry," a sequel to "If This Goes On..." to be followed in turn by "Blowups Happen"; these blowups happening in an atomic energy plant -- five years before the first atomic bomb was dropped. ASF readers surely did live in a different world. That other new writer, van Vogt, published "The Vault of the Beast", the monster this time a robot, then led us to the dizziest heights with his serial "Slan." For all its faults, never noticed at the time but discovered by critics years later, this novel of telepathic supermen is still a powerful book.
The readers were hanging from the ropes -- and enjoying every moment of it. Before 1940 closed they had more Asimov, Sturgeon, and Hubbard, and a real look at what it was like to be present during a revolution. "Fog" was written by Willy Ley, using the pen name Robert Willey, who knew the sensation from experience.
And so it went. From 1941 to 1946, where this present volume closes, the magic linkage of editor-author-reader continued. All were operating on the same wavelength and felt the same vibrations. The war was in progress now and soon many of the writers and illustrators would be in the armed forces, but before they went they produced a flood of still memorable, work. Heinlein wrote "Universe", establishing forever the concept of the multi-generation starship, "Goldfish Bowl", and "Waldo" -- a word that has since moved into our vocabulary. His serials are still in print as novels; "Sixth Column", "Methuselah's Children", and "Beyond This Horizon". We had Sturgeon's "Killdozer", and "Microcosmic God", Rocklynne's "Jackdaw", del Rey's "Nerves", to be amplified into a novel much later, and the young Asimov preparing his future with "Reason", the first positronic robot story, and "Foundation", the beginning of the series of that title.
Readers loved "series" stories, watching with fascination as they developed and grew. A.E. van Vogt had one going now, the Weapon Shop stories, and with "Co-operate Or Else", the Rull series began. (The new writer, George O. Smith, was starting his Venus Equilateral series too.) Now van Vogt's serial, "The World of Ā", (pronounced "null-A" as we were quickly informed) converted us all to Korzybski and his general semantics theories.
Other new writers appeared, some new to ASF, some new to the world of letters; Raymond F. Jones, Anthony Boucher, and Alfred Bester. The old timers were still there too, Doc Smith continued his space-spanning saga with "Second Stage Lensman". Fritz Leiber with "Gather Darkness", Lewis Padgett with his "Fairy Chessmen", all serials that were destined to be published as books.
ASF was a microcosm where creators and readers lived together. "Final Blackout" by L. Ron Hubbard may be a period piece now, but it was brutal and shockingly real in those first years of the war when Hitler was blitzing across Europe. Readers accused this serial of being either Communist or Fascist propaganda -- quite a sweep of opinion -- and a poem about its protagonist "The Lieutenant" by faithful-reader H.K. Pruyn appeared in Brass Tacks. (A few lines from it: "For here it is that once again/ He leads them through the battle;/ Cheerful Frenchman, shaggy Scot,/ Like some roaming cattle.")
Though many readers and authors went off to war they kept their tight little world of ASF separate. The stories sti1l escape from the outside world into a better -- or at least a more interesting one. However there was one brush between the worlds which was not publicized until after the war. In March 1944 ASF published "Deadline" by Cleve Cartmill, which explained in great detail how to build and drop an atomic bomb, and it used terms like U-235 and critical mass. It must be remembered that the first atomic bomb was not dropped until August 6, 1945, so that in early 1944 this was the biggest and best kept secret of the war. Military Intelligence appeared at Cartmill's home in Manhattan Beach (Manhattan Beach-Manhattan Project, they could not have enjoyed that coincidence) and muttered about personal security, which Cartmill countered by showing that all his facts came from published sources. It is clear by hindsight that the arrival of intelligence agents on the spot was a much greater breach of security, indicating that there was something atomic to be secretive about. John Campbell made this very point when the agents suggested he stop printing atomic energy and atomic bomb stories in the national interest. He showed them that ASF had always printed this kind of story and by dropping them ASF would be pointing in a very obvious direction. (That the Campbell reasoning was correct was proven by the later discovered fact that Wernher Von Braun got his copy of ASF every month through Sweden; surely other German scientists read the magazine too.) Campbell and ASF were triumphant and atomic stories stayed in. The anecdote was often used to bolster the case for science fiction, in the days when it needed support, and has gathered a great deal of mythology since in the telling. This was also one of the few cases where SF prediction came true since SF, like horoscope reading, shotguns the future with a wealth of predictions and only remembers the ones that work out. Most don't. As late as 1945 ASF writers were a little unsure about the details of rocket propulsion; "... when the first crude gasoline-driven rockets had struggled across space ..." ("When the Rockets Come," Robert Abernathy.) We should settle for what SF is and not make too many claims for its prognosticative abilities.
There it was. A magazine, a world to escape to, a way of life. The stories we present here are representative of those first years, of the foundation, growth and blossoming of this singular magazine. It shaped the lives of its readers and contributors just as religion shaped the lives of the faithful during the ages of faith. The discovery of science fiction was, and still is, almost a matter of religious conversion, the entering of a new state. Every true reader can remember clearly the moment when he read his first SF story and fell into its embrace. A study done in Canada has even disclosed that deprivation of science fiction produces withdrawal symptoms in fanatic readers; this can be said for no other kind of literature. Now, with much of the predicted hardware of SF in existence, the casual reader may no longer feel the sense of conversion, martyrdom -- even paranoia -- that obsessed the early devotees. Though he may be able to understand it a bit better after he reads these stories.
The world was not a nice place to live in during those, days, what with war, depression and deadly diseases without antibiotic cures. The world of ASF was indeed a preferable and far, far better one.
Harry Harrison & Brian Aldiss, 1972.