Book Review: William Tenn’s Time in Advance (1958)

• Mitchell Hooks’ cover for the 1st edition

3.5/5 (collated rating: Good)

Over the years, I’ve slowly made my way through a substantial portion of William Tenn’s output: I’ve reviewed his only SF novel Of Men and Monsters (1968), two short story collections–The Human Angle (1956) and Of All Possible Worlds (1955), and three additional short stories “Bernie the Faust” (1963), “Eastward Ho!” (1958), and “Generation of Noah” (1951). I’ve found him an effective satirist with a penchant for often self-defeating twist endings. At his best, Tenn challenges grand narratives of American progress and exceptionalism, 50s consumerist culture and gender roles, and renders an absurdist spin on Cold War conflict. I imagine his reluctance to write novels relegates his often brilliant ouvre to the fringes of contemporary interest in 50s SF.

Time in Advance (1958) contains four solid but unspectacular visions. I recommend the collection only for fans of his work. If you are new to Tenn’s brand of intelligent satire, check out “Down Among the Dead Men” (1954), “Eastward Ho!” (1958), “The Liberation of Earth” (1953), and “The Servant Problem” (1955) first.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis

• H. R. Van Dongen’s interior art for William Tenn’s “Firewater” in Astounding Science Fiction, ed. John W. Campbell, Jr. (February 1952)

“Firewater” (1952), 4/5 (Good): First appeared in Astounding Science Fiction, ed. John W. Campbell, Jr. (February 1952). You can read it online here.

Easily the best story in the collection, “Firewater” puts an original and fascinating spin on the first contact tale that’s simultaneously in dialogue with the American past. In the years after first contact, blinking light-like aliens are allotted “reservations” in the world’s deserts. In possession of far superior technology, a few brave humans attempt to interact with the alien presences, whom they assume feel far superior to the humans around them. Most humans who interact with the aliens go insane yet receive, in return for a transaction that isn’t entirely clear, unusual powers. A few business men choose to bring in the insane emissaries of the aliens and conduct exchanges for alien technology. Algernon Hebster, motivated entirely by profit, runs a not entirely legal business, Hebster Securities, gleaning details from the linguistic chaos of the transformed humans. He uses the fragments he uncovers to create new fashions and gadgets for the American suburban life.

One day he’s approached by the UM Special Investigating Commission with a deal. Hebster’s unique skills are needed to confront a growing far-right movement called Humanity First that seeks to destroy Hebster and evict the aliens from earth. If he doesn’t help, his own business will be investigated and potentially destroyed. Both sides spy on each other. Hebster finds himself in a meeting with the leader of Humanity First, who expounds his own fascist delusions. He must take actions into his own hands. Can conflict be avoided? Are the aliens as superior as they assume? Or are both sides possessed by a psychological block unique to their species? As with the superior “Eastward Ho!” (1958), Tenn places his future world in dialogue with American narratives of the past–in particular Native American history. I’d love to explore these historiographic and narratological parallels in more detail in a longer-form article.

Recommended for fans of unique first contact stories.

• Dick Francis’ interior art for William Tenn’s Galaxy Science Fiction, ed. H. L. Gold (August 1956)

“Time in Advance” (1956), 3.5/5 (Good): First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction, ed. H. L. Gold (August 1956). You can read it online here.

Imagine a future in which colonization on alien worlds creates a desperate need for almost sacrificial labor. No one wants to volunteer. However, planets must be conquered and massive bugs and monsters rooted out and slaughtered before humanity can lay down outposts in the far beyond. Somehow companies in charge of colonizations manage to push a law that would allow men to serve hard labor for crime. In addition, if you’re itching to murder someone you can sign up for punishment before you commit the crime. To incentive volunteers, you’ll receive half the sentence. If you murder someone and then are convicted, you’ll serve a full sentence. If you survive, you’ll be able to return to Earth already having served a shortened sentence for a crime you have yet to commit.

Two men return from their service making the stars fit for humanity’s inevitable expansion. Both survived, traumatized, and both served long enough to murder anyone they might wish. Both signed up because they wished to commit violence. The media descends in droves desperate for the ultimate scoop: who are YOU going to murder? The story follows Nicholas Crandall. He originally signed up for his punishment in advance as he wanted to murder his business partner who stole his invention. However, when he returns a whole series of people reach out confessing their sins and breaches of trust thinking they might be the target of his murderous ire. Will he murder his original target? Or someone else?

“Time in Advance” contains an outrageous and non-sensical premise for sure. Tenn posits a gentle satire of humanity’s quest for the stars. The story shifts with the focus on Crandall’s life, one spent in a similar quest for financial gain. He was oblivious to the actions of those around him. Had he lived a life worth living? Was he blind to what gave value and worth in the present? Both men find themselves mired in an entirely different existential state as their narratives of purpose come tumbling down.

Somewhat recommended.

• Robert Engle’s interior art for William Tenn’s “The Sickness” in Infinity Science Fiction, ed. Larry T. Shaw (November 1955)

“The Sickness” (1955), 3.5/5 (Good): First appeared in Infinity Science Fiction, ed. Larry T. Shaw (November 1955) You can read it online here.

The era: the paranoid depths of the Cold War. Physical conflict seems inevitable: “Something had to be done, and done fast” (83). The last-gasp cooperative idea to generate detente? A multi-ethnic expedition, lead by the non-aligned India, sets off to explore the desert reaches of Mars. Both the Americans and Soviets implant a secret service member into the astronaut ranks with plans to take over if needed. In order to facilitate cooperation in the face of the omnipresent paranoia of secret ploys and plots, the astronauts must learn the language of the other superpower. American astronauts must speak Russian to each other, even in private. Soviets must converse in English. As the expeditions approaches its conclusion, the Russian Belov discovers well-preserved ruins on Mars. A sinister sickness begins to infiltrate the expedition’s best attempts at quarantine and control.

I read this initially for my series on subversive takes on space travel. It’s paranoid. It’s a fascinating manifestation of contemporary fears. Unfortunately, Tenn is wedded to “twist” ending that weakens and diminishes all the effective setup work. Rather than an expedition that falls victim to the paranoid whirlwinds on Earth’s surface or realizes the value of an alternative, Tenn settles on a third far less interesting reveal. I find Tenn’s obsessive hunt for endings with sufficient twist, especially the tacked on sort, diminishes narratological impetus and thematic cohesion.

I’m not entirely sure what to make of this one. The rating comes from the setup and intriguing suggestion that the un-aligned Third World might be valuable players in a more peaceful future. I found the other elements disappointing.

• Virgil Finlay’s interior art for William Tenn’s “Time Waits for Winthrop” in Galaxy Science Fiction (August 1957)

“Winthrop Was Stubborn” (1957), 3/5 (Average): First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction, ed. H. L. Gold (August 1957). You can read it online here.

A group of common Americans, a cross-section of society, is selected for an experimental voyage into the future. There’s a problem. Winthrop, the oldest of the bunch, wants to stay in the 25th century. The others find the constantly shifting hallways and furniture, unusual rituals, discombobulating personal transportation, food consumption as symphonic appreciation, fantastical technology, and unusual future denizens too different and shocking. Winthrop, a product of the Great Depression, reminds his fellow travelers of his “lousy job and lousy life” (106). He was the kid left by his parents in the breadlines as they hunted for work. And when the Depression ended, he could only find menial jobs that never granted security or a moment of peace. Winthrop enjoys the post-scarcity 25th century. He enjoys relaxation. He’s finally able travel and participate in new experiences of every imaginable nature with his daily cares lavishly provided for. His fellow travelers beg him to return. They all need to jointly return at the assigned time else they won’t be able to return at all.

As with “The Sickness,” I found this story’s “twist” ending deeply unsatisfying. It entirely dodges and diminishes the conundrum, the generational issues and desires brought up by Winthrop’s need to stay in the future, Tenn lays out. Is there no way past generational divides? Can we really never bridge differences? Spectacular art by Finlay aside, this is not Tenn at his best.

Not recommended.

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Innen-Illustration von Gene Fawcette für
"Venus is a Man's World" von William Tenn
aus Galaxy, July 1951

#sciencefiction #GalaxyMag #WilliamTenn #GeneFawcette

Innen-Illustration von James Vincent für
"Betelgeuse Bridge" von William Tenn
aus Galaxy April 1951
(archive.org)

#scifi #sciencefiction #GalaxyMag #WilliamTenn #JamesVincent

Innen-Illustration von James Vincent für
"Betelgeuse Bridge" von William Tenn
aus Galaxy April 1951
(archive.org)

#scifi #sciencefiction #GalaxyMag #WilliamTenn #JamesVincent

Book Review: Of Men and Monsters, William Tenn (1968)

(Stephen Miller’s cover for the 1968 edition)

4/5 (Good)

There’s a small pile of novels on my shelf that wait ever so patiently to be reviewed months and months after I’ve read them — J.G. Ballard’s The Drowned World (1962), Robert Silverberg’s The Masks of Time (1968) and Dying Inside (1972), David R. Bunch’s Moderan (1972) (among others), and, until now, William Tenn’s Of Men and Monsters (1968).  Perhaps I was put off by the three mysterious pages filled with small chicken scratch composed by some earlier reader– “224 PKNY, 248 MINCED, 219 M in OKST” — that hinted at some arcane undercurrents or masonic messages that had alluded me.  Perhaps it was my confusion over Tenn’s Heinlein-esque female character, who, in a work of satire, could indicate something so much more progressive than she is made out to be….

Regardless….

Of Men and Monsters is William Tenn’s only novel length work (he did write a longish novella).  Tenn is best known for his masterful short stories.  It was expanded from “The Men in the Walls” (1963) which appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction.  There’s a distinctly 50s feel about the work.  This “from a different era” feel is generated by his deployment (and subversion) of earlier tropes including pulp-era tales of subterranean civilizations and characterizations straight from Heinlein’s novels.

All in all, Of Men and Monsters (1968) is an enjoyable and witty adventure satire that deserved its 2011 republication in the Gollancz Masterworks series.  It’s a shame that Tenn didn’t write more novels for I found his wry humor a delight to read.

Brief Plot Summary/Analysis (*some spoilers*)

“Mankind consisted of 128 people.  The sheer population pressure of so vast a horde had long ago filled a dozen burrows” (11).  The first sentence of William Tenn’s Of Men and Monsters (1968) is bound to transfix.  But as with all good satire, Tenn has a series of tricks up his sleeve.   The scion of Mankind in question is but single tribe of humans who believe themselves superior to all others due to their proximity to the dangerous world — which is, in this case, the interior of a vast alien house: “it wasn’t just that Mankind lived in the front burrows, those closest to the Monster larder.  This enormous convenience might be counterbalanced, he would readily admit, by the dangerous associated with it — although the constant exposure to dangers and death in every form were part of Mankind’s greatness” (46).

Sometime in the future these technologically superior aliens — using advanced forms of science which remains mysterious to the now-primitive humans — conquer Earth.  Humanity is reduced to a rat like existence in the walls of the alien’s homes.  Those that live closest to the interior of the house — the tribe named Mankind for example — have developed a cult of masculinity that involves stealing items from the aliens: “‘Go make your Theft, Eric,’ he whispered. ‘Come back a man'” (49).  There are certain levels of theft: theft of food, theft of objects, and theft of alien science.  The entire society is modeled on the desire to “strike back” at the alien oppressors, how exactly that will be done is not clear.

Eric, a rather naive young Heinlein-like character who is just about to make his first Theft, knows very little about the world he lives in.  Soon, after his expedition outside the Mankind’s burrow, he discovers how Mankind’s society is not build around striking back at the aliens but rather at perpetuating the society’s hierarchy.  Even the complicated naming ritual involving long lost pieces of technology is a hoax generated to maintain the status quo.

Soon Eric is captured by aliens who are developing homicide sprays to better exterminate the vermin who live in their walls.  While in a glass cage he meets Rachel Esthersdaughter, a member of the Aaron people (Jews), who live much farther within the walls.  Rachel, a brilliant woman who knows so much more than Eric about the world, is content to teach Eric and slowly relinquish her intellectual abilities.  Considering William Tenn’s satirical aims, it’s hard not to read Rachel as a critique of Heinlein’s female characters.  Eventually Eric and Rachel discover a fomenting plan to strike back at the aliens, but it is not exactly what they had in mind.

Final Thoughts

In Jorge Luis Borges’ brilliant short story “The Library of Babel” (1941) the world (and the pursuit of knowledge) is conceptualized as an potentially infinite series of rooms with doors upwards and downwards and side to side (leading to identical boxes filled with the exact same number of books with the exact same number of letters).  The characters in Of Men and Monster slowly come to realize that their world too might be endlessly recursive: “We all live in the walls of one particular Monster house.  Actually, we all live in just one wing of that one house.  In the other wings, there are lots of other peoples, some like us, some different.  But people who live in another house entirely have to be very different from us” (206).

William Tenn adeptly deploys limited perspective — the reader only knows about the aliens and world through the eyes of Eric.  The aliens are some massive external force, almost unknowable due to their size and hatred (as humans hate rats and other vermin) of man.

(Jack Gaughan’s cover for the 1969 edition)

(Rolf Mohr’s cover for the 1989 edition)

(Boris Vallejo’s cover for the 1975 edition)

(Christopher Gibbs’ cover for the 2011 edition)

For more book reviews consult the INDEX

#1960s #apocalyptic #bookReviews #colonization #postApocalyptic #sciFi #scienceFiction #spaceships #technology #WilliamTenn