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A Shocking Thing
Masters of science fiction and fantasy, among them Robert Heinlein, Theodore Sturgeon, Alfred Bester and Brian Aldiss - seventeen in all. New Pocket Books, 1974. 4"x7" tall; 245pp.
- GenresShort StoriesAnthologies
245 pages, Mass Market Paperback
First published October 1, 1974
About the author
Damon Knight
582 books99 followersDamon Francis Knight was an American science fiction author, editor, and critic.
Knight's first professional sale was a cartoon drawing to a science-fiction magazine, Amazing Stories. His first story, "Resilience", was published in 1941. He is best known as the author of "To Serve Man", which was adapted for The Twilight Zone. He was a recipient of the Hugo Award, founder of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA), cofounder of the National Fantasy Fan Federation, cofounder of the Milford Writer's Workshop, and cofounder of the Clarion Writers Workshop. Knight lived in Eugene, Oregon, with his wife Kate Wilhelm.
Knight's first professional sale was a cartoon drawing to a science-fiction magazine, Amazing Stories. His first story, "Resilience", was published in 1941. He is best known as the author of "To Serve Man", which was adapted for The Twilight Zone. He was a recipient of the Hugo Award, founder of the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America (SFWA), cofounder of the National Fantasy Fan Federation, cofounder of the Milford Writer's Workshop, and cofounder of the Clarion Writers Workshop. Knight lived in Eugene, Oregon, with his wife Kate Wilhelm.
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Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews
November 1, 2020
A Shocking Thing is a collection of dark fantasy stories that was printed without a genre designation on the spine. The stories come from a very wide range of sources and all but one are reprints, the exception being The Hounds by Kate Wilhelm (who was the wife of editor Knight). He included selections by well-known mainstream writers such as Roald Dahl, John Collier, and Ambrose Bierce, as well as genre favorites (most of whom were known best for science fiction, not fantasy) such as the Ted trio of Theodore L. Thomas, Theodore R. Cogswell, and Theodore Sturgeon. I particularly liked Fondly Fahrenheit by Alfred Bester and Casey Agonistes by Richard McKenna, and my favorite was The Year of the Jackpot by Robert A. Heinlein.
October 4, 2023
It's a hard thing to rate a short story collection anyway, but especially so when the stories are so eclectic, and my reactions so varied.
On the whole: all the stories here share a common seed of demented creativity, and there're enough that I think are exceptional that I'm going with the five.
Fondly Fahrenheit is the best short story I've read in a while. Apparently android stories aren't all stale. It packs so much movement and power into a short story.
The Abyss is brutal in a straightforward way, and is exceptionally written. The Time of the Big Sleep is brutal in its own way, a slow, suffocating intellectual horror. I shuddered at the prescient, forever parallels to the playbooks of nationlist governments.
The Right Man For the Right Job is the sort of corporate dark humour I could see myself writing, but it hits hard emotionally too. Oil of Dog is satirical (I think) in the way Tender is the Flesh is - relentlessly cruel but not revelling in it, drawing your attention to the everyday cruelty around us.
Stories like the The Hounds, Bianca's Hands, The Clone are straightforward, competent horror. The Cabbage Patch is hard to pin down, utterly strange even in this collection. Ironically, Heinlein's The Year of the Jackpot (which I'd read before) might be the most straightforward sci-fi story in this collection. It's good, but it's no shocking thing.
Halfway through, I wasn't convinced this was a collection of short stories that made sense to be compiled together. I'm more convinced now that I'm at the end. What it is that got me there I won't be able to pin down, but it certainly did. Maybe something about the variety of styles, themes, genres, lengths that formed a satisfying complement?
On the whole: all the stories here share a common seed of demented creativity, and there're enough that I think are exceptional that I'm going with the five.
Fondly Fahrenheit is the best short story I've read in a while. Apparently android stories aren't all stale. It packs so much movement and power into a short story.
The Abyss is brutal in a straightforward way, and is exceptionally written. The Time of the Big Sleep is brutal in its own way, a slow, suffocating intellectual horror. I shuddered at the prescient, forever parallels to the playbooks of nationlist governments.
The Right Man For the Right Job is the sort of corporate dark humour I could see myself writing, but it hits hard emotionally too. Oil of Dog is satirical (I think) in the way Tender is the Flesh is - relentlessly cruel but not revelling in it, drawing your attention to the everyday cruelty around us.
Stories like the The Hounds, Bianca's Hands, The Clone are straightforward, competent horror. The Cabbage Patch is hard to pin down, utterly strange even in this collection. Ironically, Heinlein's The Year of the Jackpot (which I'd read before) might be the most straightforward sci-fi story in this collection. It's good, but it's no shocking thing.
Halfway through, I wasn't convinced this was a collection of short stories that made sense to be compiled together. I'm more convinced now that I'm at the end. What it is that got me there I won't be able to pin down, but it certainly did. Maybe something about the variety of styles, themes, genres, lengths that formed a satisfying complement?
June 5, 2026
I started reading this mainly for the first story in this collection “Man from the South“ by Roald Dahl and decided to continue reading.
It’s an anthology from 1973 consisting of 17 short sci-fi/horror stories.
I knew nothing about most them and even less about the authors (except Roald Dahl and John Anthony West) and to be completely honest up until i read “The Clone“ by Theodore L. Thomas i wasn’t really impressed by the first few.
My favorite one in this collection was definitely “Lukundoo“ by Edward Lucas White.
“The Cabbage Patch“ by Theodore R. Cogswell was the only one to really freak me out, mainly because i did not understand it upon the first read. A very short but impressive story.
“The Time of the Big Sleep“ by Jean-Pierre Andrevon also deserves to be mentioned and praised. Hard to believe that it was written in 1971:
“(…) The establishment had known it for a long time.
Naturally, the first victims had been men of action, the
revolutionary leaders: They were the most urgent cases.
(…)
But that was not enough. There remained all those who
by their words, their writings, their plays, their films, sowed
uneasiness in men’s minds. These too were dangerous in
the long run: They could plant the germs of doubt; they
could awaken people and make them think. Their elimi-
nation posed other problems, It was necessary to be pru-
dent, not to be too hasty: So... an accident here, a
“natural” death there... . No: that wasn’t too hard, after
all.
And the big silence settled down, and the big sleep.
The accusing voices were dead; they had been silenced.
Other voices, certainly, more secret, feebler, newer, were
still murmuring. You can never completely kill intelligence
or awareness. But would they be granted the time to grow?
And the most terrible thing was that all this took place
without fuss, without insurrection, gently. A few con-
spicuous figures were still there, as distractions, but monu-
mentalized, immobilized, neutralized long since, turned
into national glories, turned into marble: (…).
Le Canard Enchainé also remained, the symbol of a
defunct freedom of thought, a plucked and muzzled duck.
And the ultrasophisticated little reviews, drowned in their
cultural ultraleftism, (…) which no one
ever read, which could do no harm, were still there as-well
—as Marx and Lenin, turned into articles of con-
sumption, were still there in bookstore windows.
There was no more talk of slums, and accordingly they
ceased to exist. There was no more mention of strikes,
of arrests, and it was as if they were no more than a
memory. People talked about sex, drugs, cars, popular
culture, the moon.
One could sleep with both eyes shut. (…)“
It’s an anthology from 1973 consisting of 17 short sci-fi/horror stories.
I knew nothing about most them and even less about the authors (except Roald Dahl and John Anthony West) and to be completely honest up until i read “The Clone“ by Theodore L. Thomas i wasn’t really impressed by the first few.
My favorite one in this collection was definitely “Lukundoo“ by Edward Lucas White.
“The Cabbage Patch“ by Theodore R. Cogswell was the only one to really freak me out, mainly because i did not understand it upon the first read. A very short but impressive story.
“The Time of the Big Sleep“ by Jean-Pierre Andrevon also deserves to be mentioned and praised. Hard to believe that it was written in 1971:
“(…) The establishment had known it for a long time.
Naturally, the first victims had been men of action, the
revolutionary leaders: They were the most urgent cases.
(…)
But that was not enough. There remained all those who
by their words, their writings, their plays, their films, sowed
uneasiness in men’s minds. These too were dangerous in
the long run: They could plant the germs of doubt; they
could awaken people and make them think. Their elimi-
nation posed other problems, It was necessary to be pru-
dent, not to be too hasty: So... an accident here, a
“natural” death there... . No: that wasn’t too hard, after
all.
And the big silence settled down, and the big sleep.
The accusing voices were dead; they had been silenced.
Other voices, certainly, more secret, feebler, newer, were
still murmuring. You can never completely kill intelligence
or awareness. But would they be granted the time to grow?
And the most terrible thing was that all this took place
without fuss, without insurrection, gently. A few con-
spicuous figures were still there, as distractions, but monu-
mentalized, immobilized, neutralized long since, turned
into national glories, turned into marble: (…).
Le Canard Enchainé also remained, the symbol of a
defunct freedom of thought, a plucked and muzzled duck.
And the ultrasophisticated little reviews, drowned in their
cultural ultraleftism, (…) which no one
ever read, which could do no harm, were still there as-well
—as Marx and Lenin, turned into articles of con-
sumption, were still there in bookstore windows.
There was no more talk of slums, and accordingly they
ceased to exist. There was no more mention of strikes,
of arrests, and it was as if they were no more than a
memory. People talked about sex, drugs, cars, popular
culture, the moon.
One could sleep with both eyes shut. (…)“
Displaying 1 - 3 of 3 reviews