Eric Frank Russell (1905–1978)

The title is pure come-on; the explosion referred to is entirely figurative, and anyway, the book isn't about the explosion itself, but about the aftermath - to the extent that in fact I'd remembered the title as 'After the Explosion'. The explosion of Earth's population - and possibly other factors, which I can't now remember, and anyway it doesn't matter, all this is set-up - has resulted in colonies on distant planets, and then in the loss of contact for a considerable period. Now Earth show more is ready to renew contact with these lost children, and to bring them back into the fold. A mission is sent out, and the book tells of its encounters with a sequence of such settlements (five?).

Like Wasp, this is billed as SF, and uses the backdrop of SF (interstellar travel! distant planets! lost colonies!) and like Wasp, it isn't really interested in these things, other than as enabling the story. Unlike Wasp, it doesn't even pretend that its aliens are anything other than human, and US human, at that - if there is any language problem after the centuries of separation, I have forgotten it. All of the planets are Earthlike - and like those fortunate parts of Earth where cultivation permits people to live in reasonable comfort (fair enough, the premise is that this is why they've been chosen for colonisation, and clearly the colonists had enough choice not to settle for second best).

So the stage is clear for satire. The pompous mother country will be foiled in a variety of ways by independent societies which may have originated as colonies but have outgrown that status thankyou. Moreover, those original settlements wre each set up by a like-minded group - thus far, any parallel to known history holds up - and that like-mindedness has persisted. So there is the colony of nudist health freaks, who won't take seriously any offer made by this collection of white and weedy desk pilots (I paraphrase) and others similar but apparently even less memorable.

The last one, though, is the one I do remember, and I'm not the only one. It's a society of anarchists for whom F=IW: Freedom is 'I won't'. It's a form of anarchism which is closer to frontersman libertarianism than to Kropotkin's mutual aid. The unit of currency is the 'ob' or obligation; nothing could be more painful than to be under an obligation to someone else, and therefore anyone who has the misfortune to incur an obligation tries to work it off as soon as possible. The residents are so self-sufficient that no-one pays any attention to the arrival of a space ship, or has any curiosity about its crew. It's a mean-spirited basis for living, but it is presented as seductive - the Earth ship eventually has to leave before so many of its crew defect that it can't return home.

It was an easy read, if a dispiriting one - and it did help me see what Russell was doing with Wasp. show less

One of the best entries in the SF Masterworks series, this is a tense, gripping and humorous story of one man's covert operation to seed dissent on an enemy planet with disruption, fake propaganda and gossip

ie by being annoying. What a great job to have!!

The book hooked me from the get go. Within 50 pages we get the mission briefing, humorous anecdotes, a trip to another planet, some brief background, a bit of extra-planetary subterfuge and the start of the campaign against the enemy show more including propaganda leafleting, disruption on a train and the killing of a high profile military target. Phew!

From there the tension just kept rising and I have no shame in saying I was rooting for Mowry all the way, despite having no initial reason to pick a side in the war and some of his antics having morally troublesome consequences towards innocent citizens. I'm sure that highlights some deep rooted problem in my psyche and perhaps it's fair to say I fell a bit too easily into step, but when the Gestapo-like enforcement appear to thwart him, then it was hard not to root for his cause. And there are plenty of genuinely tense moments where I wasn't sure if he'd finally get caught or what his escape plan would be.

Despite some moments requiring a suspension of disbelief, it's mostly intelligently thought out, proceeding quickly and with little preamble; something I wish more writers today would take notes on, as this is a prime example of tight, focused plotting with snappy dialogue, that gets a lot done in well under 200 pages. The only pin I'd put in this was that the purism of the science fiction element is somewhat oblique to the plot. The premise could work for any war, but it's scaled up here in the background to a mini galactic scale just for extra effect. Perhaps though, that Cold War feel gives it a greater appeal outside of it's own genre.

Overall, fantastic; I laughed and was gripped until the end. show less

Russell is one of my all-time favorite writers for his novel Wasp, which is the most enjoyable science fiction--heck, the most enjoyable book--I have ever read. The cover of this story collection makes it seem like a horror collection, which I thought was cool, because I didn't know Russell wrote horror. Well--these aren't really horror stories, except perhaps for the first one about the mysterious deaths in a village. But that one, as do the rest, has a science fiction element. Each is show more readable. Russell reminds me of the great Fredric Brown, and there's perhaps a touch of Lord Dunsany thrown in here. But even the best of these stories has something a bit off about it and doesn't rise above the run-of-the-mill level. One is a twist an an old fairy tale, but not that good a one. The final story also carries on for a few pages just so it can deliver its final joke, which you will have probably already figured out.

Read Wasp, immediately. Skip this one. show less

This slender 1950s sf volume (my copy is from 1965) contains an introductory short story regarding the "emergency pilot" Jay Score, and then a series of three novellas about the extrasolar voyages of the spaceship Marathon. All are told in the voice of Sarge, a sergeant-at-arms for space-going vessels. Even in the opening pages, there's some suspect attention given to racial difference, implying that the "Negro" humans who are given medical duties are as different from "white Terrestrials" show more as are the many-tentacled and alien-brained Martians who are another part of the crew.

Each novella introduces a new exoplanet, and the encounters with indigenous intelligences are all ultimately hostile. Captain McNulty's perennial caution about harming natives gets mild scorn from Sarge. The whole thing has a sort of "boys' adventure" feel to it, with lots of "thrilling" violence and "good-natured" grumbling banter.

These tales offer nothing like sexual impulse or even identity for their characters. The "mixed" crew doesn't include women. Everyone of whatever species on the Marathon uses masculine pronouns, and the details of Martian sexuality aren't given even the consideration of a passing enigma. Nor does any notion of gender or sexuality arise in considering the newly-encountered creatures of distant worlds.

The Martians are notable for being near-delirious chess enthusiasts, to the extent that they are never not thinking about the game--while their peculiar mental constitutions allow them to direct their attentions simultaneously for other tasks. I wonder if Russell was cued by Edgar Rice Burroughs to make chess an essential part of the Martian culture.

It almost goes without saying that there's no technological speculation of current interest in this book, and there are a few mild clunkers--most notably the primitive approach to photography. It was not a read I'd counsel anyone to seek out for pleasure or enlightenment, although it was hardly a heavy lift. show less