Even before I picked this collection up I was convinced that Varley will be remembered more as a short-fiction artist than as a master of the longer forms (I may change my mind on that; of his output since this collection was first published I have only read _Steel Beach_, which I remember liking, but plan on continuing through is work as I usually do with authors I enjoy). His third collection up this point in his career, this book is very impressive and his overall best collection of stories (_Persistence of Vision_ is almost as good; _Picnic on Nearside_ is his weakest for reasons I will get to in a moment). Although this book was put together like his other collections (that is, with no discernible reasoning behind what is included and what is left out: this book contains fiction published between 1977 and 1985, overlapping material in his earlier collections and including one story, "Lollipop and the Tar Baby" that was included in the second edition of his second collection), the jumble of stories works together to create an impressive result. There is not a single bad story in the lot, and even his (almost certainly) John Barth-inspired experiments in metafiction ("The Manhattan Phone Book (Abridged)" and the hilarious "The Unprocessed Word") are skillfully wrought and very entertaining. Almost half of the collection is taken up by two stories from his Anna-Louise Bach series of future police tales (most of the rest are included in _Picnic on nearside_), though A-LB only appears as an incidental character in "Blue Champagne" ("Tango Charlie and Romeo Foxtrot" is the other story). "Blue Champagne" is an impressive novella and tackles a wide range of issues from materials technology to a characteristic Varleyan interest in human disabilities to a critique of the influence of mass media on society. The opening story, "The Pusher," wreaks havoc with the reader's expectations to great (but still creepy) effect. And sex/gender roles are addressed in "Options," which is possibly the beginning of a theme that extends into Varley's next major work _Steel Beach_.
I want to address the final (and most famous) story as a separate part of this review. "Press Enter" (if I recall correctly) won both the Hugo and Nebula awards in 1985 or so, and is unlike any of Varley's other short works: it's set in the present day (1983), it features a male as the narrator and primary viewpoint character, and it is (in some ways, and explicitly self-nominated as such) reactionary in its attitude toward the potential effects of technological development. In many ways this tale is closer to William Gibson's contemporary (and also award-winning) _Neuromancer_ than to anything Varley had written up to that date. (I don't want to spoil a good read for you, so I won't even begin to address specifically what the story is about in case you have not read it before; just be aware that it is a classic in the genre and, in some ways, hasn't really aged well.) What I want to address is the academic controversy this story created in some circles. In my academic field, Donna Haraway is a significant and important scholar. For several years (and influenced by one of her graduate students, Katie King), Haraway championed the work of Varley in her particular brand of feminist/science and technology studies scholarship, particularly efforts such as "The Persistence of Vision" and the _Gaea_ trilogy (though see my reviews of those books for my take on them; not Varley's best work imo). However, she found this story a disappointment, specifically because of how one character, Lisa Foo, is treated within the (first person) text and what her ultimate fate is in the plot. She accused Varley of being misogynist based on certain elements of the story. Even as I was first reading Haraway's work in the mid-1990s (and about 10 years after I first read "Press Enter") this critique didn't strike me as entirely valid. What I think there _is_ in this story that is somewhat disturbing is a definite orientalist (in Edward Said's version of that term) cast to how Lisa is treated in the story (and many other "Oriental" characters, as Varley always refers to them). In fact, Varley's persistence in seeing human relations in terms almost solely of "race" several decades after the work of many anthropologists and geneticists have demonstrated that there is no such thing in the terms we commonly use for it, is one of the major weaknesses of Varley's fiction (though one I am usually willing to set aside as a product of both ignorance and the time in which Varley was educated and wrote his earlier works). It has a more insidious and distrubing effect in this story, however, and that is in part because of who the narrator is and what makes him a damaged character: his capture by the North Koreans during the Korean War and his endurance of torture and psychological pressure ("brainwashing") in their POW camps. However, I believe the presence of the Orientalism in this particular story (in only in this one) is due _mainly_ to who the narrator is and how he has been trained by his socialization to see the world. Similarly, this character's same interest in Lisa Foo as a sexualized person, and his particular focus on her large (and "fake" breasts) is also a necessary result of who the narrator is. In other words, I think Haraway is guilty of believing that Varley shared the misogyny of his central character, which is _not_ a valid (or particularly reasonable) assumption to make, given the evidence of virtually _all_ of Varley's other work. In fact, the way Lisa's breasts are explicitly discussed between the two characters in the story points more to a critique of how sexualised American society was at that time _and_ how closely linked that sexualization was with America's militarism during the 1950s and 1960s. The fact that Varley has to resort ot Orientalist tropes to make this critique is an unfortunate consequence of the fact that, like any other writer, Varley is a product of his place and time. Haraway _should_ have been just a little bit more clever in her critque and she could have made a better job of it.
Ultimately, I believe that this book, along with Varley's other collections, form an essential part of any well-stocked science fiction library. This is very good work indeed.