Alec Nevala-Lee

4/5

An above average historical look at the 'golden age' of science fiction, and the specific men that played the largest role in it's formation. The primary muse of the book is John W. Campbell, the editor of Astounding magazine, which was the most popular science fiction pulp magazine for several decades before and after WWII. Nevala-Lee does a great job of balancing the examination of what Campbell did to champion the genre, and diving into his personal life to see his own moral failings. show more This was perhaps my favorite part of the book, because a lesser work would've idolized Campbell, Asimov, Heinlein, and Hubbard, perhaps simply focusing on their contributions to the burgeoning genre.

Instead, we also see all of these authors at their worst, from Hubbard's psychopathic creation of a shame religion, to Asimov's repeated casual sexual assaults, Heinlein's repulsive political leanings, and Campbell's blatant racism. Something they all share though is an attempted erasure of the important women in their lives. Particularly when it comes to Campbell and Heinlein, it seems that their first wives played a large role in creating their abilities. They relied heavily on these women, and then simply cast them aside when they became an inconvenience. Leslyn and Doña could be as recognized in the genre as Brackett, Moore, or Merril, but instead I'm hearing about their impact for the first time here. It takes some really good writing to be as focused on the history of the genre as this book is, and have time to explore all of these more personal deep dives like Nevala-Lee does. This balance speaks to their acumen as a writer.

Ultimately, it's hard to separate my love for the genre with the book itself. It's hard for me to tell whether I loved it because I was predisposed to, or because it's genuinely good. show less

My reaction to this book is going to be conditioned by the fact that Fuller was never a hero of mine. Sure, I probably noticed the Dymaxion Car by the time I was 12 (1970), and became aware of the man's architectural achievements by the time I was in high school (the mid-1970s). But, by the time I was in my twenties, and old enough and educated enough to have some engagement with the Fuller's writings, my hot take was that I was looking at a lot of double-talk. This is not to mention that I show more tended to lump Fuller with the rest of the architects who were being criticized for the failures of the "International" Style (see the writings of Peter Blake).

Fast-forward forty or so years, and we have this new life of Fuller, by an ostensible admirer, and Nevala-Lee finds much to be dubious about. Too much hard drinking, too many dubious sexual adventures, too much exploitation of other folks' intellectual property, and too much personal myth making. My overall reaction; so what? This all seems par for the course for a self-invented American man of affairs of the 20th century: "There is no such thing as an original sin." Still, there is the critique Fuller's personal style might be one of the man's most notable lingering influences, and he basically created the template of entrepreneur as public philosopher, as exemplified by the Silicon Valley Set. Still, that Nevala-Lee can trace continued Fuller's influences in the worlds of architecture, the physical sciences, and applied humanities is what impresses me most; this is considering that Fuller's real original goal was to become the Henry Ford of private housing, not the guru of geodesic domes. Keeping in mind that this is a rather dry read, there is much food for thought here. show less

If science-fiction has a name, it's John W. Campbell. As editor of Astounding Science Fiction during the crucial Golden Age of Science Fiction from 1937 until the end of the Second World War, he defined the form and tropes of the genre. He was responsible for nurturing it as a serious endeavor, as real literature, and as a form distinct from fantasy, horror, adventure, and other speculative fiction. Even as the genre grew beyond the control of any one man, and Campbell slipped towards show more crankdom, he was still the Institution, the editor who authors measured their ambition against. Nevala-Lee links Campbell to the three most important men in his life: Asimov, Heinlein, and L. Ron Hubbard, and provides a fascinating story of the immense work of these visionaries, and their equally immense flaws.

Campbell had an unhappy childhood, caught between an authoritarian father and a manipulative mother. At worst, the cruelty of his mother and her identical twin sister provided the inspiration for his story "Who Goes There?", adapted in film as The Thing. At best, they provided him with drive and editorial skills. Certainly, Campbell's recollections of his childhood display a deep ambivalence and surety that his parents wounded him psychologically. Large, intense, almost friendless, with the ambition to be an engineer but without the talent, Campbell was hired as editor of Astounding Stories almost as a fluke. It was the job he was born to have.

As editor of Astounding, quickly renamed to Astounding Science Fiction, Campbell created a new form of literature for modernity, centered around advances in science and technology, rational extrapolation of those advances, and the figure of the 'competent man', the engineer-hero who analyzes problems and arrives at solutions through mastery of rational thinking. Campbell cultivated a stable of talented writers. Robert Heinlein was probably the greatest literary talent, with an eye for character, detail, the sweep of history, and perfect pacing. L. Ron Hubbard had raw charisma and an engaging style, even if his biography of adventure was a mutable facade over constant reversals and defeats. Isaac Asimov was an awkward youth, unable to fit in and desperate to please; his actual genius would see him advance the furthest of the group. As editor, Campbell shot ideas off the proper writers, a continual shower of sparks and a demand for higher standards right when the genre needed it most.

World War 2 provided a critical test for the group, and one which by many measures was a failure. Campbell thought his readership could serve as a super-lab for the US military, but failed to gain traction with the bureaucracy. Asimov and Heinlein worked together at the Pennsylvania Naval Shipyard, in important but mundane tasks, but they were too different personalities to be good friends. Hubbard was an abysmal failure as a naval officer. Campbell baited the censors with a story in 1944 that "predicted" the atomic bomb. The gamble, which could have closed Astounding, paid off, and became an element of Campbell's personal mythology.

The post-war years were marked by Campbell's fall into crankdom. Obsessed with the atomic bomb, and with the need for men to master themselves before they ended the world, Campbell became the leading proponent of L. Ron Hubbard's Dianetics. The readership of Astounding served as the testbed for the process of auditing and generating "clears", humans free of negative memories with supposed superpowers. Campbell is apparently responsible for much of what is borrowed from cybernetics in Dianetics, but he and Hubbard soon parted ways over financial matters. Hubbard went on to turn Dianetics into the Church of Scientology, though there is no evidence that he founded the religion as part of a bet from either Asimov or Heinlein. The most parsimonious story is that he did it as a tax dodge, and to avoid lawsuits from medical licensing boards.

So what of those flaws? Campbell became increasingly domineering, a "universal expert" who lacked actual knowledge, lectured people at length, and became fascinating with psychic powers and supernatural phenomenon. As the civil rights movement advanced, he became harshly reactionary in his views on race. Heinlein's politics also turned rightwards (he had campaigned as a socialist in the 1930s), and the last truly great book he wrote was The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress, as he believed he was too good to need editing. Isaac Asimov has perhaps the dirtiest feet, for all his talent. As he became a prolific science writer and institution in fandom, authoring over 400 books, his initial social awkwardness became a love of seeing his name in lights. His behavior was defined by constant sexual harassment, from pinching butts to public passes. Hubbard, of course, founded an authoritarian brainwashing cult and wrote Battlefield Earth, but expectations were low.

In an interesting bit of parallelism, all the men had deeply important first marriages that defined how they grew, and once they achieved success, they discarded their wives and remarried. The circumstances varied. Doña Campbell grew frustrated with John's obsession with dianetics and left him for another man. Leslyn Heinlein experienced a nervous collapse. Gertrude Asimov grew tired of Isaac's philandering. Hubbard tried to murder his wife Sara, have her committed, and deny her custody of their children. And while early scifi was very much a man's world, Astounding's assistant editor Catherine Tarrant was by Campbell's side the whole time, and so important that when she fell ill, it took five men to replace her.

But for their flaws, these were still great men. They wrote stories which will resonate for centuries. Campbell turned a tiny literary niche into a cultural juggernaut, and cast a mode of heroic futurism that is still at the heart of science-fictions. Nevala-Lee's book is deeply sourced, comes from an authentic love of the genre, and tells us who these men were, and why their ideas matter today. Campbell saw his mission as creating a literary 'Sword of Achilles', stories so appealing that boys who would grow into the men who would build the future would embrace it on sight. In that, he had absolute success.

This is a great book! If it doesn't win best associated work at the next Hugos, I will eat my hat. show less

Alec Nevala-Lee has done an impressive job of researching the influence of John W. Campbell, the longtime editor of Astounding Science Fiction (the magazine eventually renamed Analog) on the careers of three Golden Age science fiction icons: Isaac Asimov, L. Ron Hubbard, and Robert A. Heinlein. In the process, he casts a cold eye on their prejudices and their views on such matters as race, religion, and gender.
Early in his career, Campbell offered a clear, if limited, definition of science show more fiction and the sorts of heroes it should produce. The ideal science fiction protagonist, he said, should be a “competent man”: “a hero with the sensibilities of an engineer confronting challenges that only science could solve.” It was the sort of fiction epitomized by Heinlein and written today by such writers as Andy Weir. The lack of such an engineering focus was one factor that kept a younger writer like Ray Bradbury from ever appearing in the magazine.
For a man who prided himself on his rationality, Campbell proved himself to be a sucker for every crank idea that came along, most notably the Dianetics of L. Ron Hubbard that laid the groundwork for the cult of Scientology. He encouraged Asimov to burden his stories with characters with psionic abilities—qualities even his robots eventually acquired. Before he realized his long-held ambition to get rich by founding a religion, L. Ron Hubbard was the best-selling writer in Campbell’s stable. Campbell created a fantasy magazine as a more appropriate venue for him than Astounding. As he aged, Campbell became less and less tolerant of challenges to his beliefs, an intransigence that was a factor in the breakup of his first marriage.
None of these Golden-Agers had especially enlightened views on the status of women. Kay Tarrant spent her whole career unacknowledged at Campbell’s side doing all the practical, unglamorous work of magazine publishing. None of the writers had first marriages that went the distance, and Asimov was known by women in publishing as “the man with a thousand hands.”
To give Campbell his due, he had an eye for talent and an early vision of what science fiction could be. He had a major influence on Asimov’s Foundation series and helped him formulate his three laws of robotics. He provided a venue for Hubbard’s best work and encouraged Heinlein to stay in the game when he had doubts about writing as a career. And, best of all, his magazine helped shape the genre as it emerged from the pulp tradition. show less