[4.5 stars]
James Tiptree jr. was a respected science fiction writer and notably reclusive, who turned out to be a woman, Alice Sheldon. And somehow in the years I read alot of sf slipped entirely under my radar until awhile back I found mark monday's review of this book, and decided I had to read it. Thanks mark! It was great diving into sf again, and I now have many more in the genre mentally lined up to read or reread. These stories collectively knocked me out. The imagination at work, the inventiveness of structure and storytelling, are stunning. And an upfront feminism in many of the stories, well...I think about when they were written, mostly the 1970s, but the ideas and commentary on the world are bracing now, almost nothing seems dated. Tiptree/Sheldon also likes to start stories midstride, as though the reader is joining something well underway and it's up to you to catch up and figure out any jargon, place names, technology, as though she doesn't have the patience to slow it down and explain it to you. Sink or swim. One slight weakness, the only reason this just misses five stars, is occasionally leaning too hard on existential ideas at the expense of narrative. But that's just my personal taste. Even the comparatively lesser stories have moments or ideas or sheer inventiveness that amazes. She is particularly adept at cutting observation in a minor key, lines that are tossed out almost as asides. In my favorite of these stories, The Women Men Don't See, the character Ruth's retort to another character, "I'm used to it" might read as a throwaway but in context what she is saying is devastating. Anyway, some brief remarks on the stories:
The Last Flight of Doctor Ain
**** Very subtle, so much so I had to reread some of it to pick up on the clues. Reminiscent of the French sci-fi short La Jetee, with a potent stinger of an ending (not the last to be found here).
The Screwfly Solution
***** A stone classic. Epistolary story of what can only be described as a misogyny virus that leads to mass murder of females. Bleak yet matter-of-fact in the telling, which only makes it more unsettling. And a pitiless final line.
And I Awoke and Found Me Here on the Cold Hill's Side
*** Cautionary tale in the form of a bitter monologue. Interstellar trade imbalance and sex with aliens. Man's insatiable nature as the path to his undoing. Tiptree, cold as ice.
The Girl Who was Plugged In
** Something about advertising and avatars and exploitation of those at the bottom. Overlong, didn't quite cohere for me.
The Man Who Walked Home
*** You don't want to be the Chuck Yeager or John Glenn of time travel. Let them work out the kinks first. John Delgano was a pioneer, and it went rather badly.
And I Have Come Upon This Place by Lost Ways
*** Another bleak tale of a scientist who bucks convention and whose instincts are true, but this is Tiptree. You think he's rewarded? Ha ha ha ha ha.
The Women Men Don't See
***** My favorite story in this collection, an anguished and defiant cry against the patriarchy. Begins as an adventure tale about a small plane crash and goes to places you can't imagine. Breathtaking in its vision and inventiveness.
Your Faces, O My Sisters! Your Faces Filled of Light!
**** Starts out jaunty and filled with wonder, but the darkness slowly creeps in, and it becomes profoundly sad. Yet the spirit of the protagonist somehow keeps the telling from complete bleakness.
Houston, Houston, Do You Read?
***** A space opera that goes along as they often do, but with something just out of reach, something off that you can't quite grasp. And then the story arrives at an impasse--how else to put it?--between the male and the female, and something has to give. Brilliantly told and merciless at the end.
With Delicate Mad Hands
**** Another space adventure, gripping in the telling, that becomes the strangest of love stories. A lovely thing of wild imagination.
A Momentary Taste of Being
** The longest piece in the book, a novella really at 86 pages, and for me among the weakest. Reminds me in a way of the deeply flawed movie Event Horizon, an arresting concept that eventually collapses into incoherence.
We Who Stole the Dream
*** Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. About a successful slave revolt (Terrans, that is, us, as the masters and a diminutive alien race as the slaves) and its aftermath. Exciting and deftly written, though you will guess where it's headed.
Her Smoke Rose Up Forever
*** The best of the very existential pieces. Scenes from a life, not much of a narrative per se, but a succession of striking images, and a certain emotional pull nonetheless.
Love is the Plan the Plan is Death
* Um…..no. I truly have no idea what the hell this was. As a reader, sometimes you’re the windshield, sometimes you’re the bug.
On the Last Afternoon
** A human colony on an alien world, a threat from giant anthropoid creatures, a possibly sentient and telepathic plant. Sounds great, but the narrative is frustratingly kept at a distance, and the point of it all remains opaque.
She Waits for All Men Born
**** A child who is Death. Whoa. Fatalistic only begins to describe this. If you remember the mid-‘60s series The Outer Limits, this would have made a stellar episode of that.
Slow Music
** A naïve man meets a naïve woman at what might be the end of Earth history, there is a River from the stars that beckons, possibly offering an interdimensional immortality (I think). This has a lovely poignant ending but is too meandering getting to that point.
And So On, and So On
** A four-page vignette about the ennui of reaching the limits of our galaxy.