A Historical Artifact: "What Is Dungeons and Dragons?" by John Butterfield, Philip Parker, and David Honigmann

What Is Dungeons and Dragons? by John Butterfield, Philip Parker, and David Honigmann (Warner, 1984)

This 1984 mass-market paperback was a delightful find, as well as a charming—if slightly befuddling—read. Originally published in England two years prior, the book was written by three teenagers attending the boarding school Eton College. At the time of its initial publication, the authors had been playing Dungeons & Dragons for five years and had started the “Strat. Soc.”—a school club—to play the game with other students and friends. What a windfall this book project must have been to such students—even if they didn’t make a bunch of money on the book deal. Certainly a bit of egoboo for such young writers.

The book actually answers the question of its title on the cover: “A fantastic game of magic and sorcery! The fastest growing game in the Western World!” And Warner Books considered the book a game book rather than a broader pop culture title, promoting additional books in the end pages, including Games for the Superintelligent, The New York Times Crossword Puzzle Dictionary, and M.A.S.H. Trivia: The Unofficial Quiz Book. Dungeons & Dragons, while in a growth phase, was not yet the cultural force it remains today.

Inside the pages of the book, the authors divided writing duties by section, “[r]ather than write every word by committee.” The book is organized in chapters that concentrate on an orientation to role-playing games, character generation, dungeon design, adventures, the Dungeon Master, figures and other accessories (including magazines and modules), computers, and other role-playing games and genres—offering a helpful snapshot of the early days of role-playing games. That said, the book largely draws on the then-available Basic and Expert sets of Dungeons & Dragons, as well as Advanced Dungeons & Dragons as its foundation, appropriate given the book’s title.

Examples of gameplay are offered in prose, and one section pairs a narrative telling of gameplay with a description of the game mechanics behind the scenes on facing pages. A sample character sheet is included, as well as a playable mini-module, “The Shrine of Kollchap,” which I hope to DM for a group some day, perhaps using Old School Essentials, if not one of the original systems. (Additional characters might be able to be recreated given details and statistics sprinkled throughout the text.)

I was particularly interested in the survey of the early-1980s role-playing game industry. The book nods to the game’s emergence from miniature wargaming and mentions fantasy miniatures rules such as TSR’s Swords and Spells and tabletop games including Asgard’s Reaper and Skytrex’s Middle Earth. The use of miniatures—and a comparison of different scales—is also addressed. Additional role-playing games of the time include Aftermath, Boot Hill, Bunnies and Burrows, Chivalry and Sorcery, DragonQuest, Empire of the Petal Throne, En Garde!, The Fantasy Trip, Gamma World, Gangster!, Metamorphosis Alpha, The Morrow Project, RuneQuest, Skull and Crossbones, Space Opera, Starships and Spacemen, Superhero 2044, Top Secret, Traveller, Tunnels and Trolls, Universe, Villains and Vigilantes, and others—as well as adjacent board games. At the time, the authors estimated that there were more than 50 role-playing systems available.

When discussing modules available for DM use, the book touches on TSR’s modules, as well as those offered by Judges Guild, such as Caverns of Thracia, Mines of Custalcon, and Survival of the Fittest. The authors also focus on available magazines, showing a clear preference for White Dwarf while mentioning Dragon as “[p]rinted in America … [and] more expensive than White Dwarf.” Additional magazines mentioned include Military Modelling (which incorporated Battle), Ares (the house magazine for DragonQuest), The Journal of the Traveller’s Aid Society, Sorcerer’s Apprentice (Tunnels and Trolls), and Different Worlds (RuneQuest). 

Their treatment of fanzines is relatively dismissive, while citing British fanzines The Beholder, DragonLords, and The Stormlord as the best of the bunch. The authors suggest that fanzine fiction is generally bad and that with fanzines, “you have to take the rough with the smooth, and there is usually a lot of rough. … Fewer publications might improve quality, because all the good articles would tend to accumulate in the remaining fanzines.” Resonating with the discussion of fiction in magazines and fanzines, the book ends with a Bibliography of recommended fantasy literature and adjacent genres—similar to Gary Gygax’s Appendix N.

The book was a very fun read, particularly as a historical artifact of interest to this long-time role-playing game enthusiast. (I’ve been playing since 1983, so I started playing about when this book came out; I was a little younger than the authors.) But its existence intrigues me. I’m not sure why someone would have bought this book then—instead of one of the existing games on the market, perhaps even D&D itself. Throughout the book, the authors discuss prices, even comparing prices, and at $2.95, the book was less expensive than the D&D Basic Set or the AD&D Players Handbook—but you could play neither game, nor any of the others mentioned, after reading it.

It was an opportunistic title, capitalizing on growing public attention toward the game—and role-playing games in general—similar to third-party Rubiks Cube or how to play Pokemon books. I’m also curious why a British book had to be reprinted in the United States—rather than turning to an author or authors closer to home. Role-playing game-oriented amateur press association Alarums and Excursions launched in 1975 and The Wild Hunt was founded in 1979, so there was already a culture of writing about role-playing games in the States. Meanwhile, the fanzine The Oracle started publication in 1982. The book’s origin in the United Kingdom isn’t problematic—mostly evident in the authors’ preference for White Dwarf and its neglect of American fanzines entirely—but the importation is a curiosity.

I wonder if the authors are still around—and if they still huck dice.

Book Review: "The Politics of Fandom" by Hannah Mueller

The Politics of Fandom by Hannah Mueller (McFarland, 2022)

If you recently read Jeffrey Redmond’s article “Politics in Science Fiction” in Ionisphere #34 or my piece “Fanatiquette: The ‘New’ Fan Etiquette,” you might also be intrigued by this book, published just this year. Originally offered as a dissertation at Cornell University, the book explores in depth the kinds of conflicts that can threaten and sometimes unify the various people and communities involved in fandom.

Similar to most recent fandom studies texts, the book distinguishes between literary or affirmational fandom (those who like to read and publish fanzines) and media or transformative fandom (those who like to watch and create). (I know that’s an oversimplification, but I’m suspicious that transformative fan terms are mostly used by transformative fen and academics. Affirmational fen have an opportunity to discover new forms of fan activity and new ways to communicate.) The book, written by the managing editor of Diacritics, considers both types of fandom through a transformative lens and offers several ideas for those interested in bridging the older generations of fen and newer, younger fen. Those opportunities for bridge building are welcome and inspiring to at least this fan, who increasingly feels at home in both camps.

Over the course of the book, Mueller considers a handful of case studies offered as instructive examples of political conflicts dating back to the earliest days of fandom. In fact, there are at least two issues of Tightbeam included among the citations, as well as Donald Franson’s 1962 N3F Fandbook Some Historical Facts About Science Fiction Fandom. The N3F also shows up in the index.

The conflicts considered by Mueller include the Great Exclusion of 1939, in which the Worldcon organizing committee ostracized politically outspoken participants. That con lobby skirmish led to the formation of New Fandom and eventually the National Fantasy Fan Federation. Mueller does well to compare the two groups’ approaches to considering the role of politics in sf, fantasy, and horror. She also considers the Breen Boondoggle in 1964, in which fen decided to exclude Marion Zimmer Bradley’s husband Walter Breen from Pacificon II and the Fantasy Amateur Press Association (or its wait list, at least). While less explicitly political in nature, that controversy again highlighted aspects of inclusivity and exclusivity in fandom, focusing on how adults interact with children in fannish and other settings.

The book then fast forwards to several more recent political movements within fandom, including RaceFail ‘09, which took place primarily on LiveJournal rather than in fanzines—highlighting transformative fandom’s move online to platforms such as fan fiction repository Archive of Our Own—in which fen and professionals alike considered the role of race (and by extension, the working class, the poor, and women) in literature and media, as well as within fandom itself. Of special note in this chapter is Mueller’s consideration of fan-pro relationships and the role of authority, hierarchy, and power in political conflict within fandom. While several newly popular authors have emerged from RaceFail, the pros challenged at the time didn’t necessarily hold their own with grace and charm.

Also considered in the text: Puppygate and its impact on Hugo voting; how an influx of Twilight fen affected cons and fandom; the role of cosplay and other transformative fan activities; Glee fen and their criticism of the television show when it started to stray from topics and themes that initially attracted fen; and the transmedia marketing of The Hunger Games, which enabled fen to participate on both sides of the novels’—and movies’—narrative politics, introducing questions about and concerns with the commercial aspects of fan activity.

All in all, Mueller does well to examine the cohesion of community and ideals of tolerance within fandom, the tensions between hierarchical organization models and looser online networks of fen, and the desire for entertainment as well as social change. “[T]ransformative fans are starting to appear as equal to, and in some ways even more influential than the affirmational fans of literary science fiction and fantasy,” Mueller wrote. “[T]he divide between politically progressive and politically conservative fractions of fandom has in fact deepened once more, and the feuds that are carried out between different camps in the fannish sphere are more directly and openly connected to national and global political developments than perhaps ever before in fandom history.”

What’s missing in the book, through no fault of the text itself, is a solution—or solutions. One of the things that struck me is that requests to not discuss politics in fannish spaces are often arguments for the continuation of traditional politics, even if not positioned explicitly as such. Perhaps it’s not whether we talk about politics in fandom but how we do so. This book is a lively, wide-ranging first step toward finding such solutions.

Book Review: "My Memoirs of the Dark Shadows Conventions" by Anthony Taylor

My Memoirs of the Dark Shadows Conventions by Anthony Taylor (AuthorHouse, 2021)

This very brief ebook (29 pages) focuses on Dark Shadows conventions on the east coast between 1993 and 2016. A presumably Black fan who grew up watching the television show in the 1960s and 1970s—enamored by Lara Parker, “​​a sexy, beautiful … white woman”—discovered fandom several decades later by way of a video tape advertisement for a convention. Taylor attended Dark Shadows conventions in 1993, 1995, 2001, 2004, 2006-2007, 2009, 2012, and 2016.

In a sequence of brief chapters, the author shares personal recollections of the cultural importance of the program, the impact of the show’s supernatural elements, and the many actors he was able to meet and obtain autographs from. Taylor also comments on various aspects of attending cons through the eyes of a newcomer: the speakers and screenings, the openness of the featured cast members, the dealers rooms, con literature such as the 50th anniversary album, and other attendees: “Most were rich, and from the Caucasian race.”

He details his favorite actors, recognizes the deaths of Dan Curtis and Jonathan Frid, and credits his involvement in the Dark Shadows Fan Club in part for his success as a trustee at Cornerstone Baptist Church in Brooklyn. The ebook ends with several personal photographs of what might be Lyndhurst Mansion in Tarrytown, New York.

I was surprised to find this multi-year con report available on Amazon, and I’m glad that Taylor wrote it. I’m also glad he found lifelong enjoyment and involvement through Dark Shadows fandom. His memoir ably communicates its personal importance and meaning.

Book Review: "Mission: Interplanetary" by A.E. van Vogt

Mission: Interplanetary by A.E. van Vogt (Signet, 1952)

This paperback edition features an alternate title for van Vogt’s 1950 novel The Voyage of the Space Beagle. Sporting an excellently dark painting cover by Stanley Meltzoff, the book is a fix-up of several short stories. Rewritten as a novel, the book includes material from “Black Destroyer” (Astounding Science Fiction, July 1939), “War of Nerves” (Other Worlds Science Stories, May 1950), “Discord in Scarlet” (Astounding, December 1939), “M33 in Andromeda” (Astounding, August 1943), and some new linking material.

As a fix-up, it basically follows a series of adventures and encounters of the crew of the Space Beagle, staffed by scientists, including Elliott Grosvenor, a Nexialist. A Nexialist is someone trained in integrated science and thought, accelerated learning techniques, and hypnosis. Unlike more specialized scientists, they are able to see the connections between different disciplines that others cannot see. In the book, Grosvenor is also skilled in conflict resolution and at encouraging people to collaborate to solve complex problems.

Given the creatures and situations encountered by the crew, they need all the help they can get. Some of the newfound enemies reach out to the crew accidentally—and alarmingly. Others have decided ill intent, perhaps to take over the rest of the universe. Only by working together is the crew able to overcome their challenges. And despite disagreements among the different crew members, leaders, and scientific disciplines, in the end, Nexialism gets a fair hearing.

The writing of van Vogt is clear and compelling, and as a fix-up, the novel offers multiple places to take a breather if one needs to take a break. I found the idea of Nexialism extremely intriguing and wonder if there’s a real-world corollary among the sciences. It reminds me slightly of Ken Wilber’s integral theory, a philosophy that strives to synthesize all human knowledge and experience. You can learn more about Nexialism in Gautham Shenoy’s 2017 article “The Nexialist approach: Van Vogt and the idea that ‘specialisation is for insects.’” You can also read some select quotes from later portions of the novel.

Book Review: "Magnetic Brain" by Volsted Gridban

Magnetic Brain by Volsted Gridban (Scion, 1953)

Inspired by an interview with Philip Harbottle in Justin E.A. Busch’s wonderful sercon fanzine Far Journeys and subsequently reading Harbottle’s book on the early history of sf publishing in England, Vultures of the Void: The Legacy (Cosmos, 2011), I picked up several examples of early British paperbacks and sf magazines, including this 1953 novel. Written by John Russell Fearn using the, oh, so awesome pseudonym Volsted Gridban, the 128-page book was published by Scion Ltd. The book’s cover painted by Ron Turner is absolutely beautiful and starkly colored but has little to do with the story—other than the image’s portrayal of how a reader might imagine the titular magnetic brain.

Hearn was a very prolific writer, publishing no fewer than 19 novels in 1953 alone. In that year, he wrote five novels as Gridban, with the bulk of his output credited to Vargo Statten. So the book was quickly written and inexpensively printed. Regardless, Magnetic Brain is a fun, brief read—I read it in two sittings—and includes several interesting science fictional ideas.

After crash landing on Mars and suffering a head injury, the protagonist, Timothy Arnside, receives medical care from a noted experimental Martian surgeon, who implants a device in his brain. Upon returning home on Earth, Arnside realizes that he is now able to read the minds of humans—but not Martians or Venusians—within a six-foot radius. The newfound ability plays helpful havoc with his marriage and affects his friendships and business prospects. (A relatively unsuccessful salesman, Arnside was fired shortly after his return home.)

Arnside becomes embroiled in industrial espionage, as well as governmental intervention in some Venusian fifth column activity initially led by a charismatic orator calling for armed defense of the planet Earth. That leads to the Venusians targeting the protagonist to remove the threat to their sleeper agents living on Earth. But Arnside’s decaying moral fabric—caused by his falling prey to the temptations offered by his telepathy—and side effects of the surgical implant lead to a problematic end.

Other than the magnetic brain itself, the book also includes elements of anti-gravity flight—which could inspire a sequel, were one so moved—and a fictional wonder metal, niridium. The book isn’t the best sf novel by any stretch of the imagination, but Hearn’s authorship and Scion’s publication are of historical importance. It offers an interesting look at the early state of mass-market sf publishing in post-war England.

Book Review: "The Handmaid’s Tale" by Margaret Atwood

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood (Anchor, 1998)

Margaret Atwood’s 1986 novel The Handmaid’s Tale has experienced a relatively major resurgence in the last handful of years. First gaining new traction about the time of President Donald Trump’s election in 2016, the book has since re-entered the public conversation because of the Hulu streaming television show and, more recently, the Supreme Court’s leaked preliminary ruling to strike down Roe v. Wade. Dark days call for dark books. While my wife read the book shortly following Trump’s election with a book discussion group, when the Supreme Court ruling was leaked, I pulled the book from our shelves to read it myself. I never had. I read it in two sittings, over the course of two evenings, and I’m of the opinion that everyone should read this book.

Atwood’s book, some have said on social media, isn’t prescient—though one could argue that it still is—it’s history. Though both positions are unfortunate and valid, it might depend on a reader’s point of view—and knowledge of history. Yes, the Salem witch trials of 1692-1693 persecuted women for a number of social causes, including factionalism, family rivalries, fraud, sexism, and socio-economic hardships. Yes, the United States government jailed tens of thousands of “promiscuous” women during World War I ostensibly to protect soldiers from prostitutes and sexually transmitted diseases. Yes, more than 60,000 people—mostly non-whites, and mostly women—were sterilized in a majority of the United States during the 20th century, well into the 1960s. And yes, the Tuskogee Syphilis Study led to the death of more than 100 untreated Black men between 1932 and 1972. Eugenics and race- and gender-based persecution is real, and more recent—still current—than we might have realized. And they could return. 

Atwood’s book is a stark, simply told story of a society in which all rights are removed for women. They cannot work. They cannot maintain their own bank accounts or credit cards. They can either work in forced labor camps, as prostitutes, as caregivers for men, or as handmaids—surrogate mothers—for the wealthy, well to do, and well positioned. Men are in charge. It’s a riveting read and well worth public attention. The most recent documented attempts to ban the book in American high schools—in 2020—failed, and the book was retained.

Not only is Atwood’s novel socially relevant and a serious warning for citizens not considering the body politic—it’s inspired me to learn more about body autonomy and integrity as human rights issues—it’s a very well written book. Largely considered a dystopian novel, I’d suggest it qualifies as social science fiction in which society, politics, and culture become the speculative technology under consideration. I view it on par with Ray Bradury’s Fahrenheit 451, Anthony Burgess’s A Clockwork Orange, Aldous Huxley’s Brave New World, George Orwell’s 1984, and Ayn Rand’s Anthem. Cautionary tales for times of societal unrest and upheaval.

The end piece, “Historical Notes on The Handmaid’s Tale,” is offered as a fictional academic paper and presentation delivered at the Twelfth Symposium on Gileadean Studies. The paper examines the discovery and legitimacy of the document, its potential authorship, and the impact of the Gilead regime. Along the lines of social science fiction, it also mentions the “top-secret Sons of Jacob Think Tanks, at which the philosophy and social structure of Gilead were hammered out.” Yes, the persecution of women was planned and socially engineered, with the Sons of Jacob in stark opposition to Isaac Asimov’s Foundation, which was entrusted to preserve and protect human knowledge in order to rise from the ashes of a collapsed society.

The Handmaid’s Tale is about the societal collapse in terms of the removal of citizens’ rights, and the first generation of women to experience it—the transition. To paraphrase the Aunts—female educators and wardens—that first generation will get used to it, and future generations of women won’t know any better because they won’t know the way things were before Gilead. That, I think, is the true horror of the book.

Book Review: "Foundation and Empire" by Isaac Asimov

Foundation and Empire by Isaac Asimov (Avon, 1966)

I started reading this immediately after reading Foundation. That’s not always the case with me for series or sequels. For example, while I’ll return to Jack L. Chalker’s Well World series and Larry Niven’s Ringworld series based on the strengths of the first books—which I also read recently—I wasn’t driven to do so immediately. With the Foundation series, however, after all these years, I had to. It’s just that good. Again, what was I waiting for?

Like Foundation, Foundation and Empire is also a fix-up, collecting two short stories published over the course of several issues of Astounding Science Fiction. The novel combines “Dead Hand” (Astounding, April 1945)—here, the section titled The General—and “The Mule” (Astounding, November-December 1945). Both continue Asimov’s ongoing exploration of the activities and impact of various kinds of men after the collapse of the Empire.

While Foundation considers the role of the psychohistorians, encyclopedists, mayors, traders, and merchant princes, Foundation and Empire narrates the first steps of a returning Empire, considering the generals, as various leaders reclaim border planets while vying for power against the Foundation. And the Mule is a very special leader indeed. You see, he’s a mutant.

Both sections—stories, really—of the novel are excellent, but it is the Mule (“The Mule”) that sings. The character Ebling Mis might remind readers of Hari Seldon. Bayta Darell might remind you of Teela Brown from Niven’s Ringworld. She doesn’t have the same luck, but her realization of why she and her husband Toran seem to be present for the occurrence of so many notable events struck me as a similar epiphany.

In the end, the Mule is humanized. Readers will empathize. And the Darells are left to continue to search for the Second Foundation, on the opposite end of the galaxy. Just as I searched for the next novel, Second Foundation, in a few boxes of paperbacks we have in our library. I don’t have the next book easily at hand, so I can’t continue reading the series immediately like I want to. Instead, I’ve turned momentarily to Lloyd Biggle, Jr. Hopefully my copy of Second Foundation isn’t on the opposite end of the galaxy, too.

(Interestingly, my copy of the mass-market paperback, the thirty-second printing of Avon’s 1966 edition of the 1952 novel, was missing a page of text: Page 94. Very little text was on that page, so I transcribed it from an online copy using a Bic Flair pen.)

Book Review: "Foundation" by Isaac Asimov

Foundation by Isaac Asimov (Ballantine, 1983)

I’ve been reading science fiction, fantasy, and horror for about as long as I’ve been able to read—since before kindergarten. And I’ve never, ever read Foundation. I’ve long known that it’s a classic, that it’s one of the best sf series ever. In fact, in 1966, it received a Hugo for Best All-Time Series, beating out no less than Edgar Rice Burroughs’s Barsoom series and J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings. (I bet that inspired some lively conversations among fen.) But I’ve never, ever read it.

Why? It was supposed to be daunting, convoluted, complicated. It took place over the course of something like 30,000 years and was therefore way multigenerational. As a preteen, I’d fizzled out reading Frank Herbert’s Dune series midway through Heretics of Dune when I realized that I didn’t really know who anyone was anymore. (Having reread Dune during the pandemic, I intend to take another stab at it; who knows whether that experience will hold.) And I was put off by the idea of a series focusing primarily on conversation, psychology, and politics—with characters who don’t stick around. So I’ve avoided and neglected it despite reading and enjoying much other Asimov.

When the television show came out, I returned to the idea, wanting to read at least the first novel before watching the Apple TV+ program, and last month, I finally turned to it. But even the TV show wasn’t the real reason why. You see, I learned that Foundation is a fix-up.

Yes, though a novel, Foundation is in fact the melding together of several short stories. The book, originally published in 1951, contains the stories “Foundation” (Astounding Science Fiction, May 1942), “Bridle and Saddle” (Astounding, June 1942), “The Big and the Little” (Astounding, August 1944), and “The Wedge” (Astounding, October 1944). They are reprinted in the novel as the sections “The Encyclopedists,” “The Mayors,” “The Merchant Princes,” and “The Traders.” And the first section of the novel, “The Psychohistorians,” was written last as an introductory section to the first Gnome Press edition of the book in order to help it begin less abruptly.

Despite the long time frame, the multiple characters, and the wide-ranging aspect of the series, the series of novels is in fact quite manageable because it was written and originally published in pieces and parts. The same is true for the next two novels in the series. Foundation and Empire combines “Dead Hand” (Astounding, April 1945) and “The Mule” (Astounding, November-December 1945), and Second Foundation incorporates “Now You See It…” (Astounding, January 1948 and June 1949) and “...And Now You Don’t” (Astounding, November 1949 to January 1950). That means that not only can you take breaks while reading the books if you need to, the books are designed for readers to do so in a logical and story- —or stories- —serving manner.

So I finally read Foundation. And it was grand. Asimov’s introductory remarks, “The Story Behind the ‘Foundation,’” goes far to detail the history of the book and series, as well as situate it in the writer’s life and career. “[T]o make sure that [John] Campbell really meant what he said about a series, I ended ‘Foundation’ on a cliff-hanger,” Asimov wrote. He even writes about the popularity of the series and how he kept getting called back to it to write more even though he’d moved on to other projects. An interesting background story.

And the novel itself? Even if read in several sittings rather than as its pieces and parts? Excellent. Foundation effectively tells the tale of a society as it falls and struggles to rise again, as various parts of society—different social functions and groups—pass the baton to rebuild. The psychohistorians give way to the encyclopedists, who hand things over not entirely willingly to the mayors, who pave the ground needed by the traders and merchant princes to emerge. The book is still largely political and the narrative predominantly conversational, but it’s an interesting look at social forces at work—even religion. Not sure how I would’ve taken to it as a younger man, but at my current age, I loved it.

So I started reading Foundation and Empire immediately after finishing Foundation. I don’t always do that with series. I’ll take a break and read other books before picking up Larry Niven’s The Ringworld Engineers (having recently read Ringworld), which I’ll probably read before returning to Jack L. Chalker’s Well World and Exiles at the Well of Souls. Wanting to remain immersed in a series’ world is a good sign that I’m enjoying a book. Sometimes you just don’t want the book to end.

I’ve also watched the first few episodes of Foundation on TV. I recommend you read at least “The Psychohistorians” before doing so yourself, but already the program is different enough from the book that I don’t think Asimov’s characterizations or narrative will suffer dipping into both. Personally, I’m glad the show was produced. It helped pull me back to a series I’ve too long neglected. A series I need to now read to completion.

Book Review: "Fandom: Confidential" by Ron Frantz

Fandom: Confidential by Ron Frantz (Midguard, 2000)

This memoir details a portion of comic book fandom with which I was unfamiliar. While I recognized some of the names and fanzines involved (The Rocket’s Blast–Comicollector!), the bulk of the story takes place in the mid-1970s and involves an organization I didn’t even know existed. Regardless, it’s a fascinating read and is relevant to this day.

Frantz, the author, wrote the book between 1978-1980 before setting it aside for almost two decades, eventually returning to it about 20 years ago. At the time, the story he wanted to tell was still somewhat painful, perhaps political, and certainly controversial. When the book was finally finished and published, the memories were slightly less painful and likely to raise a ruckus among still-active fen.

Before the advent of eBay and other fandom sales platforms, buying, selling, and trading comic books through the mail was a potentially risky endeavor. You didn’t know who someone was. You didn’t know whether they actually possessed what you thought you were buying. And there was little recourse for deals gone wrong. (Some might say that that is still the case even with eBay!)

A man named Stanley Blair founded comic book fandom’s first adzine and first trade association to help buyers and sellers engage in their trade with greater competence and confidence. The adzine, Stan’s Weekly Express (WE), launched in 1969 to help network the business side of comics fandom. During its first year, Blair developed a mailing list of almost 20,000 nostalgia collectors.The WE Reporting Bureau (WRB) helped record, report, investigate, and persecute mail fraud within the hobby. And the WE Seal of Approval (WSA) helped identify which buyers, sellers, and other tradesmen–and women–were trustworthy and worthy of business. Its logo–and a seller’s WSA number–was intended as a badge of honor. 

Like the National Fantasy Fan Federation, WE, the WRB, and the WSA were an attempt to organize fandom, to connect practitioners of a hobby and business, and to establish group norms and standards for their interactions. (The N3F even merits a definition in the book’s “Fandom Glossary.”) Similar to sf and fantasy fandom, comics fandom faced its own challenges. Frantz served as administrator of the WSA for more than two years, and his book is a wide-ranging exploration of comic book history, comics fandom, the rise and fall of the WSA, and other developments in the hobby. Not all of it is rosy.

Given the nature of comics fandom, Frantz focuses more on collecting and the commercial side of things than sf and fantasy fans might, generally. Literary and media fen aren’t necessarily collectors in the same way as hardcore comics fen might be. Regardless, there’s a lot of interest adjacent to sf fandom. Frantz briefly retells the history of comic books, its fanzines, and fandom, drawing parallels to other modes of publishing that yielded their own fandom under the umbrella of nostalgia fandom (pulp magazines, old-time radio, and the like).

He considers the history and controversies surrounding the first comic book price guides–and the impact they had on the hobby. He considers the development of local comics fan clubs such as the Oklahoma Alliance of Fans. He looks at the evolution of The Nostalgia Journal into The Comics Journal, as well as The Buyer’s Guide for Comic Fandom into The Comics Buyer’s Guide. He details the controversial introduction of Fandom Directory, which continues to this day online. And he looks at the occasional collisions comics fandom experienced with other forms.

Along those lines, Frantz takes a look at the impact that the emergence of media fandom and Star Trek had on the nostalgia and collectibles trade. As the television show and its resulting fandom grew in popularity, fen began buying and selling collectibles related to the program, occasionally drawing the attention of the WSA and its mail fraud division. In 1976, for example, 25 percent of the mail fraud cases under investigation by the WRB involved Star Trek fen. 

In several cases, members of the Star Trek Welcommittee itself even got involved in an attempt to hamper investigations. People operating the Star Trek Association for Revival weren’t honoring paid memberships, and Welcommittee members operated individual chapters of STAR. A fan club for Nichelle Nichols became unable to meet its obligations to members, in part because of a printing imbroglio involving the Welcommittee newsletter and a misplaced contract. And a member of the Welcommittee misrepresented himself as a friend of Isaac Asimov while corresponding with a young writer, encouraging her to write stories of a sexual nature for a supposed anthology and asking her to share a hotel room during a con. The results of that investigation were published in a number of Star Trek fanzines, attracting the ire of the Welcommittee.

While the fan feud stories make for juicy reading, the book remains largely the tale of WE, the WRB, and the WSA. Its rise and fall also make for juicy reading. While the worthy business it undertook is notable, so is its own experience with internal divisions, personality conflicts, and controversy. To quote Depeche Mode, “People are people, so why should it be you and I should get along so awfully?” Frantz himself offers a clue: “Historically, science fiction and comic book fans have difficulty seeing eye to eye.” That can be true even within one specific fandom. “[M]any people forget why they became fans and collectors,” Frantz wrote. “Activity that begins as a means of recreation and pleasure is prone to change when avocation becomes vocation. … [I]t has an unfortunate tendency to bring out the worst in some people.”

I think that’s the rub. Stories like those in Fandom: Confidential occur when the idealism and passion of fen become overwhelmed by a fan’s caring too much about something that takes up too much of their time, energy, and attention. Regardless of whether you believe FIAWOL or FIJAGH, don’t lose your sense of wonder. If fandom becomes just another job, we’re doing it wrong.

Book Review: "Doctor Who and the Deadly Assassin" by Terrance Dicks

Doctor Who and the Deadly Assassin by Terrance Dicks (Target, 1977)

This 1977 Target book is a novelization of the four-episode Doctor Who serial “The Deadly Assassin,” which originally aired Oct. 30 to Nov. 20, 1976. I just love these slim little volumes. At about 120 pages, they’re perfect for reading in one or two evenings, and I recommend reading them after you see the original episodes, if you’re able to read and watch in close proximity. I read this one evening seeking inspiration for a drabble (a 100-word fan fiction story) I wrote and submitted for an online challenge; I have not yet seen the television serial.

As a novelization, I’d presume it’s the expected linear retelling of the original teleplay by Robert Holmes. (I haven’t seen the episodes yet, but the Target adaptations don’t tend to ever stray too far from the source material.) The storyline occurs following “The Hand of Fear,” at the end of which, the fourth Doctor takes his companion Sarah Jane Smith back home. In fact, that makes the serial notable. Reportedly, “The Deadly Assassin” is the only original Doctor Who story not to include a companion. Tom Baker thought he could carry the show on his own, and this was a pilot of sorts for a solo Doctor. In the end, producers determined that companions were necessary. Regardless, the story works well without one.

At the end of “The Hand of Fear,” the Doctor is summoned back to Gallifrey. There, he has visions of the assassination of the President on Resignation Day, and he sets out to ensure that that does not occur. However, despite his assistance during the Omega crisis, law enforcement still considers him a criminal and tries to stop his interference—taking him for an assassin himself! The book explores the assassination plot, political intrigue among the Time Lords and one of the Doctor’s most formidable opponents, and the resolution of the crime investigation.

It’s a fun read, shades of The Manchurian Candidate and The Dead Zone. Dicks works in some useful Time Lords back story, including a description of their social hierarchy; a reference to another Target book, The Three Doctors; details of the biological nature of the Time Lords’ telepathy; brief technical details for the Matrix; and a description of what happened after the Master died. That might not be as much additional exposition as readers received in Glen A. Larson and Roger Hill’s Knight Rider novelization, but the additional detail is welcome and helpful.

Perhaps worth reading after you watch the serial. It’s best not to know what’s going to happen—or how—and I have high hopes for the visualization of the Master. The cover art suggests an approach akin to the Phantom of the Opera.

Book Review: "Dark Sojourns" by Beth H. Adams

Dark Sojourns by Beth H. Adams (Secret Pleasures, 2002)

This 2002 Dark Shadows gen novella published by Secret Pleasures Press “is intended for entertainment of the fans of Dark Shadows, and is not intended to infringe on copyrights and trademarks held by others.” I believe I ordered it from Agent with Style about a decade ago. Agent with Style—once a wonderful source for hard copies of fan fiction—seems to have stopped operating in 2015 (their domain name expired in 2020). Regardless, I finally got around to reading Adams’s 138-page novella, which is well written, well printed, and spiral bound with a couple of pieces of photo collage artwork. As fan fiction goes, it’s relatively clean reading—well edited—and I only remember a couple typographical errors.

Barnabas Collins and Willie Loomis have left Collinsport, Maine, moving down the east coast eventually to Augusta, Georgia, where they meet their neighbor, a friendly single mother who works as a plastic surgeon. The novella is largely a love story, perhaps presaging that of Twilight, with Collins and Loomis becoming fond of the mother and her 5-year-old daughter. (Collins finally expresses his appreciation for Loomis’s caretaking and service.) Collins and the mother eventually fall in love. But Collins is torn: between his need for human blood and love for a woman, and between Anjelique’s witch curse and the hope that if he commits “an act of selfless love,” Josette will be returned to him.

On one level, the premise of the novella seems to be that the only bad thing about Dark Shadows is that Collins is a vampire. What if he weren’t? I’m not sure he’d even be interesting were that the case. Moreso, however, it’s the story of a love reclaimed and reunited. The idea of a reincarnated Josette, of Collins finally being able to find love after 400 years are very human desires and tensions worth exploring, even if their resolution effectively ends what turned out to be the best part of the television program. After all, Dan Curtis’s creation admittedly plagues the writer still.

Adams populates the story with several other interesting characters, including a coworker named Ty and his grandmother, Mignon, who practices “a bit of voodoo.” There are also several notable scenes. In one, Collins saves his new love from an attacker in a parking lot. In another, she confronts him about slaking his thirst on young prostitutes even though he’d promised not to do so. Most husbands aren’t guilty of such a severe betrayal, but its parallel to spousal infidelity resonated. And the surgeon channels her inner Victor Frankenstein as she tries to save Collins from himself and his dark desires, too.

A fun read—and better than most fan fiction I’ve encountered online.

Book Review: "The Shadow" by James Patterson and Brian Sitts

The Shadow by James Patterson and Brian Sitts (Arrow, 2021)

I was slow to learn about Conde Nast’s plans to revive and revitalize the classic pulp and old-time radio hero, the Shadow, and when I learned that James Patterson had been tapped to pen the new titles—this is the first of an intended series—I was perplexed and skeptical. Patterson’s an extremely prolific writer and best-selling author who now mostly plots thrillers and young adult books, primarily working with co-writers. Despite his potential sales appeal to readers, he would not have been on my short list of authors to put pen to paper in place of Walter B. Gibson writing as Maxwell Grant. Maybe Andrew Vachss, Max Allan Collins (who had a hand in several Dick Tracy books), or Paul Di Filippo. Perhaps even the recently departed Mike Resnick. But Patterson?

My skepticism was well placed. There’s very little of the original Shadow in this book, at least very little of Gibson’s tenor and tone, pulp stylism, or the characteristics that made the supernatural vigilante hero so popular originally. Much of that has been jettisoned to reassert the Shadow for a new, modern audience, particularly a young adult readership. In fact, the Shadow is largely eclipsed by a distant teenage relative, Maddy Gomes, who is developing supernatural powers of her own. This might very well be a YA novel.

The opening of the book is as close as we come to the original pulps and radio show. It’s set in 1937 New York City, and Lamont Cranston is about to propose to Margo Lane. They are poisoned, and Cranston rushes the two to a hidden laboratory for treatment. Fast forward to 2087 and a dystopian police state of a city, a global government, and the still-alive Shiwan Khan as world president, oppressing the populace and planning a new, ever cruel approach to world domination.

Most of the book involves Cranston’s revival, rediscovery of his powers, search for Lane, and assessment of the threat posed by Khan. In parallel, we learn more about the state of the world, the lives of teenage Gomes and her grandmother, and their lineage. Not only does Gomes discover and develop her own powers, similar to Cranston’s, but he develops new powers that were never addressed in the original stories. 

Those are occasionally referred to, with commentary on Gomes’s appreciation for the old magazines and radio program. ”Inspired by me, obviously,” Cranston says. “But I never dressed like that. Never even owned a hat. Never carried that ridiculous gun. I guess they had to jazz things up to goose their sales.” That was humorous at first but soon became irritating, as though Patterson was trying to disavow himself of—and distance himself from—the original. 

In a May 2021 Forces of Geek review, Steven Thompson wrote, “[I]f you absolutely felt the need to use the Shadow, why go out of your way to change him so much that he really isn’t recognizable as the Shadow any longer? Only a few of the names are the same by the end of the book. Change those and you have all new characters.” Ain’t that the truth! Not only is this more a Maddy Gomes book than a Shadow book—a teenage heroine for a teenage readership—the Shadow we do get is largely divergent and almost unrecognizable from the original. That might meet the perceived needs of new, younger readers and retain copyright, but it doesn’t serve older, long-time fans.

Conde Nast hopes for additional titles in the series, and for films to spring from the books, as well. Additionally, Patterson has been tapped for a Doc Savage novel expected by the end of the year, with a sequel already scheduled for next year. Unfortunately, if this novel is any indication, my hopes for those are low. Will I still read them? At least the first Doc Savage. To be honest, we’re better off returning to the paperback reprints and pulp reprints, such as those published by Sanctum Books.

Book Review: "Ringworld" by Larry Niven

Ringworld by Larry Niven (Ballantine, 1970)

For the life of me, I don’t know how I could possibly go for so long without reading this novel. As a fan of Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama and subsequent novels—and recently enjoying Jack McDevitt’s The Engines of God—I thoroughly appreciate science fiction novels that focus on mysterious constructs, ancient alien artifacts, and the remnants of once-grand alien civilizations. This book has all of that in spades! The first of four Ringworld novels, Ringworld is also adjacent to Niven’s Known Space stories, as represented in about ​​a dozen novels and short story collections, as well as the shared-world Man-Kzin Wars anthologies. The Nebula, Hugo, and Locus award-winning novel also catalyzed five Fleet of Worlds prequel and sequel novels by Niven and Edward M. Lerner. This, then, is the book that kicked it all off.

The basic idea of the story is that four characters—200-year-old human Louis Wu, cowardly two-headed puppeteer Nessus, extremely lucky young human Teela Brown, and savage kzin diplomat Speaker-to-Animals—travel through space to examine a mysterious construct encountered by the fleeing race of puppeteers. The construct is a ring 93 million miles in radius, 600 million miles long, rotating at 770 miles/second around a sun at the center. 

While the ring itself, with its shadow squares, ghost wire, outer walls, ostensibly impervious surface and other mysterious features, is fascinating in and of itself, the land inside its outer walls facing the sun, its inhabitants, primitive societies and religions (to paraphrase, “Every contact is First Contact”), the architectural and infrastructural remains of once proud cities—including floating castles—also bear exploration as the four characters strive to learn what they can about Ringworld’s past, present, and future, as well as the alien race that built it but mysteriously disappeared, abandoning the Ringworld and leaving its mechanisms to decay.

But the real reason to read the book is the characters. Each of the four protagonists, including their back stories—even racial histories—bring an equal importance to the novel. It is, in fact, their relationships and interactions, the shifting alliances, mood swings, and fluctuating spirit of collaboration and camaraderie that make the book such an interesting read. These are characters to return to, even Prill and Seeker, introduced relatively late in the book.

A new favorite, and there’s more to explore between the other Ringworld, Fleet of Worlds, Known Space, and Man-Kzin Wars books. What a wonderful, wonderful book. It’s understandable that the novel received so much recognition when it first came out. It remains a thoughtful, innovative, and compelling work.

Book Review: "Midnight at the Well of Souls" by Jack L. Chalker

Midnight at the Well of Souls by Jack L. Chalker (Del Rey, 1977)

Fellow Neffer and avid Chalker fan Patsy Williams recommended I read Midnight at the Well of Souls, the first of five books in Chalker’s Saga of the Well of Souls. I am sure glad I did. The novel reminded me more of Philip Jose Farmer’s Riverworld series than Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama or Larry Niven’s Ringworld, though they’re all slightly adjacent, similar to the hexagonal ecosystems that compose the world explored by the protagonists. Chalker’s book is a little more outre, occasionally downright bizarre, reminding me of some of the looser countercultural sf written in the ’60s. And it’s largely a morality tale, albeit a light-hearted and far from heavy-handed one, offering some advice and insight on human nature, the purpose of human existence, as well as some speculative cosmology and theology.

Spacer Nathan Brazil—a heroic character with depth whom I’d love to read more about if there ever was one—diverts his route to respond to an emergency signal, finding evidence of a vicious slaughter of those populating a scientific outpost. Once there, he and other passengers are drawn through a mysterious portal to what seems to be a distant planet or pocket universe. There, they pass through another portal, transformed into another form—various alien races—and assigned to an appropriate subsection of the world, each with a climate and features appropriate for its respective alien race.

Brazil proceeds to track down two of the people sent to the world—one evil and one who might be misguided—who are interested in using mathematics to unlock the secrets of the Well of Souls and gain what they expect and imagine to be unlimited power—the power of a god. The group ends up reconvening, and they learn more than they bargained for once they reach the Well: about the world they’ve been exploring, about the nature of reality, about the purpose of life itself, and the intended role of love. That’s where the moral aspect comes into play, and you can sample some of the ideas communicated by Chalker in select quotes posted in my blog at https://tinyurl.com/chalkerquotes. It’s thought-provoking stuff.

While the scientific and technological aspects of the book are slightly prone to hand waving, the philosophical elements of the book are compelling. So are Chalker’s various alien races, ecosystems, and societies that populate the world around the Well of Souls. There’s plenty more of that world to explore, should the need arise. Chalker also incorporates some narrative aspects addressing the nature of addiction and the abuse of others, and sex plays a fun and functional role in the story.

So thank you, Patsy, for the recommendation! Chalker is an author I’ll return to. As my friend Stevyn “Iron Feather” Prothero said online when he learned I was reading Chalker, “He created many interesting universes. Fascinating series. I recently discovered he wrote follow-up books about some of those characters and worlds. Great stuff. Enjoy.” I most certainly will.

Book Review: "Knight Rider" by Glen A. Larson and Roger Hill

Knight Rider by Glen A. Larson and Roger Hill (Pinnacle, 1983)

While recovering after a medical procedure earlier this year, I began to rewatch early episodes of the 1982 television series Knight Rider. A passing mention of artificial intelligence while discussing the Knight Industries Two Thousand vehicle and the pilot’s setting in Silicon Valley made me realize that perhaps Knight Rider was… science fiction—something that had eluded my preteen self when originally watching the program. Now that we’re more firmly in a time of smart cars, collision detection, and other technological developments, I thought it’d be worth learning more about the science behind the TV show.

So I read the first Knight Rider tie-in novel, credited to the series’ creator and producer Larson—who also had a hand in Battlestar Galactica, Buck Rogers in the 25th Century, and The Hardy Boys/Nancy Drew Mysteries—but written by Hill, a former journalist from Los Angeles and author of three previous novels.

The novelization is largely a straight-forward retelling of the pilot episode, though the book does include additional detail on the science fiction elements of Knight Rider. Knight Industries had previously perfected a use of plastics. There’s a reference to Burke and Hare, as well as a mention of Asimov’s Laws of Robotics. Hill also expands on Wilton Knight’s political viewpoints, which are downright Randian.

And the car itself? The “most expensive car in the world” has a “finish bonded into the molecular structure of the car body itself.” It’s not fiberglass, but a “new substance altogether. An alloy only space technology could produce.” KITT is faster, safer, and stronger than any other car. The car is virtually indestructible. “It is hydrogen-fueled and totally fuel efficient. The microprocessors that control its functions make it impossible for the vehicle to be involved in any sort of mishap or collision … unless specifically ordered to by its pilot.”

But most importantly, the car thinks. “Dr. Miles and I took pains to program KITT’s machine personality for maximum interface value with the pilot-program driver… . As the seat and dashboard are customized to your physical shape, so is the ‘personality’ of the microprocessor in conformity to your psychological profile.” The car learns.

The book is an interesting expansion on the ideas behind the show. Michael Haenlein and Andreas Kaplan’s “A Brief History of Artificial Intelligence” (https://tinyurl.com/bddc8zc5) suggests that early AI efforts date back to the 1940s and Asimov’s story “Runaround.” ELIZA was created in the mid-’60s, and investment waned in the 1970s and 1980s, not to reemerge seriously until the ’90s and more recently.

Pretty progressive ideas for the early 1980s! (This review was previously published in slightly different form in the LASFAPA apazine Faculae & Filigree #11.)

Book Review: "The Kaiju Preservation Society" by John Scalzi

The Kaiju Preservation Society by John Scalzi (Tor, 2022)

At the start of the pandemic, Scalzi had embarked on writing a “dark, heavy, complex, and broodingly ambitious” novel but was flummoxed by COVID-19 and other world events, including losing some of what he’d written. So he set the book aside, and last spring—in February and March 2021—Scalzi turned his attention to something smaller and lighter. That something is this less than 300-page novel, which he developed within a day of setting aside the potential magnum opus that was blocking him and backing out of his previous contract. It’s a fun and palate-cleansing read, not too serious, but not a throwaway. And it was just what I needed when it arrived from the Science Fiction Book Club.

The gist of the novel is this: A laid-off dotcom employee turned delivery worker gets hired by an animal rights organization that tends to kaiju—in the traditional sense—that reside in an adjacent alternate dimension. Think Pacific Rim, Cloverfield, and more traditional kaiju movies such as Godzilla; Gamera, the Giant Monster; and Mothra. The book, though brief, does a good job detailing the history of the organization and its caretaking, gives some sense of the biology (and reproductive biology) of the kaiju, connects them to nuclear energy—a nice parallel to Godzilla—and features a threat to the secrecy of the project, the kaiju themselves, and our world next door. The wall between the dimensions is thinner than one might hope in some situations.

One of the highlights of the novel is the reintroduction of the dotcom executive who fired the protagonist, their interactions, and the business leader’s connection to a previous disaster involving the organization. The book is quite humorous, with friendly sparring among the caregivers, puerile jokes, and fictional band names. Scalzi is also quite conscious about incorporating a diverse cast of characters and using gender-neutral pronouns, which is occasionally distracting, but only because it’s not yet that common a practice. The book doesn’t get bogged down by that, however, and remains a quick and breezy read.

All in all, I’m glad Scalzi was able to recover from his health concerns and writer's block during the pandemic. Not having read any of his other books, I don’t know how representative of his work this is. But it’s an enjoyable read, and interesting enough in terms of ideas that I’m curious about his other writing. I’m also thankful for the included “Author’s Note and Acknowledgments,” which offers useful context for the book.

Book Review: "The Engines of God" by Jack McDevitt

The Engines of God by Jack McDevitt (Ace, 1994)

I forget when and where I picked up this paperback, perhaps from a nearby Little Library in the neighborhood because it has a used book store price sticker on the back cover. The front cover was detaching slightly, so I repaired it using some packing tape. (DIY bookbinding for the win!) I imagine I picked it up because of the cover lines comparing it to Rendezvous with Rama and mentioning “artifacts of alien intelligence,” and the cover art depicting a relatively large sculpture of alien craftsmanship. (I would have preferred not having that image of one of the alien races so McDevitt’s writing was the only guide I had to imagine.) Arthur C. Clarke’s Rendezvous with Rama and its sequels written with Gentry Lee rank among my favorite books of all time, and I was intrigued by the potential of this novel. I was not disappointed.

The book, the first in McDevitt’s eight-book The Academy series, features a heroic pilot named Priscilla Hutchins, “Hutch,” as she helps a number of scientists explore and examine several alien archaeological digs on planets toward the Sagittarius Arm and galactic center, including Beta Pacifica III, Nok, Pinnacle, and Quraqua. Set at the turn of the 23rd century, life on Earth is increasingly challenging, and corporations are identifying and exploring other planets to terraform and populate with earthlings. Discovering not just alien sculptures and monuments, archaeologists also discover a temple, which contains artwork connecting the remains of two alien societies perhaps 20,000 years old—and what might be a key to their language and iconography.

Over the course of the book, Hutch and the scientists from the Academy learn more about the alien races and cultures—finding an enormous orbital satellite dish and strangely antique abandoned space station—and identify what might have caused the decline of the societies. The book ends with the suggestion that that catastrophe might eventually reach Earth, setting up the other books in the series intriguingly.

It’s a wonderful read. Hutch is a compelling heroine, and there are plenty of smart, heartful people trying to solve big problems using science and technology. The romantic interludes and suggested pairings are compelling. The light comedy and pranks are humorous. The corporate, political, and economic underpinnings of the setting are detailed. And the alien archaeology and artifact aspects—while not directly parallel to Rama (this book’s scope and aperture is slightly larger given that the aliens are somewhat humanoid)—are excellent and portrayed at scale.

Highly recommended. If the subsequent volumes are as good as this novel, an unexpected and enjoyable find, The Academy is a series and an organization worth following.