Featuring more than sixty groundbreaking short stories by modern science fiction's most important and influential writers, The Ascent of Wonder offers a definitive and incisive exploration of the SF genre's visionary core.
From Poe to Pohl, Wells to Wolfe, and Verne to Vinge, this hefty anthology fully charts the themes, trends, thoughts, and traditions that comprise the challenging yet rich literary form known as "hard SF."
David Geddes Hartwell was an American editor of science fiction and fantasy. He worked for Signet (1971-1973), Berkley Putnam (1973-1978), Pocket (where he founded the Timescape imprint, 1978-1983, and created the Pocket Books Star Trek publishing line), and Tor (where he spearheaded Tor's Canadian publishing initiative, and was also influential in bringing many Australian writers to the US market, 1984-date), and has published numerous anthologies. He chaired the board of directors of the World Fantasy Convention and, with Gordon Van Gelder, was the administrator of the Philip K. Dick Award. He held a Ph.D. in comparative medieval literature.
He lived in Pleasantville, New York with his wife Kathryn Cramer and their two children.
Fleet Commander Selma, in her skintight spaceblack uniform made of pure phalagium that could withstand any heat except that of my gaze, turned her large piercing eyes towards me and said
“The situation on Asteroid 3682467 is critical. Asteroids 25 through to 3682466 are okay, more or less, but the situation on Asteroid 3682467 is critical.”
With the catlike agility of a panther she vaulted the thirty meters to the observation deck and flicked a few switches.
“See here?” she snapped. “This is Asteroid 3682467.”
I stared at a beige dot the size of a pistachio on the screen.
“What of it?” I grunted.
“Don’t you see, you fool? It shouldn’t be here! Asteroid 3682467 was dismantled for scrap five years ago! This is not Asteroid 3682467! It’s something else!”
I was hornswoggled. “What by all that’s recordable with modern equipment is it then?”
“That’s our mission – to find out… it will be dangerous, not to say trying, irritating, time consuming, and it might cause the universe the revolve 180 degrees, but we’ve got to try.”
With Dankwith, Birdwhistle, Gotobed, Charbonnier, Sleazebag, Featherstonehaugh and De’Ath still in the infirmary that left Selma and me, a raw recruit. We would have to try to stop the Universe turning round 180 degrees. And by the weekend.
I am a high school English teacher, and during most summer breaks, I read between 20 and 30 books. This summer, I just finished reading one book, a book I began 'way back at the end of April, David Hartwell and Kathryn Cramer's massive anthology The Ascent of Wonder: The Evolution of Hard SF, a 990-page collection of 68 SF stories that is somewhere around 500,000 words in length.
In thinking about the value of this book, I am reminded of The Science Fiction Hall of Fame in all three of its volumes, but I hesitate to ascribe to this collection the same degree of essential-ness. For one thing, I don't see that The Ascent of Wonder lives up to its subtitle, ...The Evolution of Hard SF. The stories are divided into three different sections, but I can't find where Hartwell or Cramer tell what the divisions mean or how the stories are ordered. The editors may have stated their plan of organization and I simply missed it, but if they meant for the readers to figure it out on their own, well, then I missed it again.
My other criticism is that not all the stories seem to fit as "hard sf." Each story is prefaced by a brief introduction of the author and his or her works, and a explanation of the hard sf affect of that particular story, but many of the stories are classified as "hard sf" due to a tone or intent or even a hard sf riff the author uses. Sometimes the relation to hard sf is that the author is playing against the usual conventions of hard sf, and critic David N. Samuelson writes that "this book honors the 'hard sf' appellation more in the breach than in the observance."
But the book is still an impressive collection of science-fiction short stories, even though I don't always understand why some stories were included. I do think The Ascent of Wonder belongs on the bookshelf of any serious reader of sf (science fiction, speculative fiction, whatever you want to call it). But my criticisms enumerated here are what kept me from giving it a five-star rating instead of four.
It may not be great, but it's bound to have some interesting stories in it, including "Making Light" which riffs on 'In the beginning was the W.O.R.D.'
Took me longer than I'd hoped it would, and there were definitely stories I didn't care for, but there were lots that made this worth the time and energy. My favorites include: Nine Lives - Ursula Le Guin Proof - Hal Clement Mimsy Were the Borogoves - Henry Kuttner & C.L. Moore The Life and Times of Multivac - Isaac Asimov Weyr Search - Anne McCaffrey The Cold Equations - Tom Godwin Stop Evolution in Its Tracks! - John Sladek Surface Tension - James Blish The Pi Man - Alfred Bester Making Light - James Hogan (probably my favorite in the bunch - SO dang funny!)
I've been 'currently reading' this and its companion volume, Hard SF Renaissance, for years. It's a wonderful overview of the genre. Highly recommend it, both to fans who want to delve into the history of the genre and to writers who want to read the best of the best in order to hone their craft.
"Exposures": 8.25 - Benford is interesting for me, as he clearly breaks molds, but, as of yet, not with enough force to impress himself onto readers as essential. What he does is blend the hard, the truly scientific, with the emotional lives of his characters, and demonstrate the way in which they influence each other. The quick cut back and forth does become, at times, a bit too rote and formulaic — paragraph of “doing science!” and then paragraph of deeply felt, close description domestic drama — but it’s nonetheless done with an emotional acuity and lived-in-ness that feels truer than other glimpses of the humane within Hard SF. More specifically with this story here, the “sf” reveal works fairly well, esp as the subtlety of the alien hypothesis (nicely it’s given as just another potential scientific supposition, no more or less than the pages of astronomical theorizing we’ve had before), as opposed to the emotional turn, the contours of which feels mapped on to the previous. STORY: astronomer is getting some strange readings, evntl feels can not be coming from any position available to a man-made satellite.
"Procreation," by Gene Wolfe (1983): 6.75 - Surely Gene Wolfe is above writing a Shaggy God story? Well, yes and no. Gene Wolfe is surely above being seen as writing a shaggy god story, regardless of his compulsive inability to leave a perfectly good name un-symbolized or a perfectly good number un-numerologized [something run rampant over this otherwise wrist-flip of a Wolfian exercise (consider: Drs. Gott and Ramackrishna, repeating cycles of seven days, with requisite rest on the sabbath, and the Gene + Sis ploy, otherwise so reminiscent of his earlier nameplay in Fifth Head of Cerberus)]. Instead, he does something wilier: he transmutes the sfnalized biblical creation myth into a biblicized sfnal creation myth, in which he gets to have his Catholic cake and eat the science too. As retrospectively sly as the move is, it’s not to say it makes the reading experience any more pleasant, especially if one’s priors are already set against enjoying the particular types of puzzle boxes Wolfe constructs. STORY: scientist creates new universe, also creating its mirror (matter v antimatter), while we see reflections of these extra-dimensional mirrors through both the scientist, circumspectly, and his sister, directly.
"The Light of Other Days," by Bob Shaw (1972): 7.75 - It's always nice when authors know when to stop. Here, we have, preeminently, a conceit, a science-fictional conceit, around which the bare essentials of story and character are wrapped, and in which the former makes up 85% of the there-residing interest. [That being, namely: the existence of glass which lets light pass through so slowly that it can used as a sort of window/home away from home (look, it's Rome outside your window), granted it's been sitting in that other place long enough beforehand. The Payoff, nicely, is emotional as well as science-fictional [although it's relayed as slightly creepy in the story, although I read it as anything but]. But most importantly and maybe most uniquely for the genre, Shaw knows this! He therefore trims out the speculative fat, filling in the rest only to the extent that it's necessary for the payoff. For that, not bad then.
“It’s Great To Be Back,” by Robert A. Heinlein (1947): 6.5 - Excuse me for reading Heinlein and thinking KSR, but if you were tasked with designing in a lab the hypothetical classic sf foil against which AURORA sits in J’accuse-like witness, you couldn’t do better than this extant story of not only substantive (ben button aurora, in which two moon colonists pine for life on earth, only to return and realize that earthboundedness ain’t all it’s remembered to be, what with the gravity and dullards, grime and simpletons) but also thematic inversions (the future is out there, whether the moon or farther, and the earth simply a repository of those human incompetencies [bad plumbing, bad terraforming, bad manners, and bad ideologies] that space travel/colonization, as a matter of course, transcends). There is a way to read this, sure, symbolically, outside its ideological or sfnal implications, ie as a commentary on the complicated relationship between Heimat and belonging. Knowing what we know about Heinlein and the context, however, that reading — analogizing, say, some American expats miserable abroad, and soon to be miserable at home too — seems unlikely, or at most a happy ancillary effect of the aforementioned prime concern, however. These contextual parameters as given, however, the story itself little impresses—told with neither economy, verve, or much style. What it does excel at, however, is forming a perfectly smooth little capsule around a worldview (consciously or not) and delivering it up for audience consumption. So smooth, in fact, that most sf fans, reading KSR 75 years later, don’t understand that his bete noire, those set of assumptions that wormed their way into the genres sinews, is precisely this. And that must count for something, no?
"Nine Lives," by Ursula K. Le Guin (1968): 8.5 - Having read little Le Guin, I'm nonetheless familiar with her themes and preoccupations. It's in the aether. And this story did not disappoint in living up to those expectations, either thematically or in terms of setting. Yet, what was surprising was just how well crafted it was otherwise-in terms of pacing, character, and brusque exploration of major themes. We have here a crash course in identity, sex, and gender ambiguity, all transposed through the guise of what is admittedly a fairly conventional sci-fi setup. [to that end, note the intros (very right) claim that this story "inverts trad. Doppelgänger tale, and explores how uncanny it is to NOT meet ourself everywhere we go]. And, maybe actually even worse than conventional, as the planet and mine really only served as a generic means to bring our characters together and damage them later. To that end, the denouement was weak and detracted from the Point/s Being Made on account of its roteness (even she seemed a bit bored with the whole thing by the end). Still, these quick reads of mine only accentuate the jump in quality from other stories to her, as evidenced in her often actual incisive human psychology ('do many individuals ruin potential for individuality’) and halfgood prosey flourishes scattered throughout.
"Pi Man," by Alfred Bester (1959): 8.5 - Although this is, partially, self-evident and par for the course with any specific type of self-consciously constructed “genre”, it’s nonetheless helpful to keep in mind Edward James’ emphasis that much sf — and esp. that of the period and person at issue here — depends, for total comprehension, on a deep reservoir of knowledge on the tropes and self-referential hangups of the genre itself, above and beyond even The Story at hand. That said, what seems here — at first glance, absent any real conscious and sustained reflection — like a typical Is He This Or Is He That tale, might instead actually be something much more—even if that thing is, to one degree or another, dependent upon the type of discernment that genre knowledge would provide. The story: clearly troubled man, clearly suffering some psychotic issues (he’s severely autistic or sincerely in deep with whatever force he thinks is actually controlling his life), wanders around, picking up woman and seducing his secretary until cops stop him on account of his suspiciousness and we learn his feeling that he’s a compensater, meaning he needs to restore Cosmic Balamces wherever he goes, I.e. hitting someone nice and hugging someone mean and killing those he loves, which contributes to the ambiguity of the ending, in which he’s finally with the girl he loves, but at what cost? I guess we’ll see. Regardless What does work here for me is that interesting sf postmodernism carbon copy stuff (clipped language, random succession of images, bluntness, coarseness [both moral and sexual], experimental formatting, etc. ), which we can admit, follows rather than sets trends; but here it’s abt 90% better than all other sf that’s tried to do the same.
"Relativistic Effects," by Gregory Benford (1982): 7.75 - I'll have to table a longer discussion of my burgeoning relationship to Hard SF, but here was a classic jostle between some dense science, some broad characterization -- even from someone supposedly on the literary edge of hard sf -- and some clear sense of wonder knack.
"Making Light," by James P. Hogan (1981): 8.75 - Here’s a thought-experiment: say SFF was a predominantly non-Western genre, what piece, then, would most elicit from SFF’s core readership confusion and counter claims of “this is steeped in indigenous customs and epistemologies, and therefore difficult to understand all the levels at play outside of those indigenous contexts”? This story would make for a strong answer: not only it’s religiosity, but the actual depths of its engagement with a type of Anglophone Christianity—in the specific biblical details (Mark IV), and the specific inbuilt argumentation common to these apologetics circles (animals vs. humans spiritual hierarchy; quasi-conservative anti-regulation anxieties [it's very 80s]; etc.) All that said, however, and this is basically just a toss-off—a well-thought-through toss-off at that, but a little game largely. A fun one often, though! Esp., or maybe exclusively, for those steeped in the stuff.
"Desertion," by Clifford Simak, 14 pg. (1944): 9 - The rare GA story whose writing amplifies a rather cut-and-dry story, rather than the other way around (although, I should keep in mind the era, and the novelty of the bio-tampering for alien environments possibility here).
"Mimsy Were the Borogoves," by Lewis Padgett, 32 pg. (1943): 8.25 - Too cute by half, or whatever the 40s equivalent is, to answer the question no one was asking: i.e. what was up with Jabberwocky? Some nice, early Golden Age, smoothly jocular, wink-winky opening lines however (those being, "I'm not gonna describe 1,000,000 AD, cause it's no use").
“Proof,” by Hal Clement (1942): 7.5 - I’ve just read a Clement a few weeks ago, and much as I don’t enjoy chewing my cud twice, it’ll be hard not to, for he has evident thematic interests and structural tics, which manifesting on the page in a sort of uniform sfnal story form, that create their own sort of necessary critical uniformity in response. These traits being: namely the purposely warranting introduction of alien form of extreme biological difference, followed by the mutually uncomprehending collision with our own kind. It’s not unsuccessful, even if the exploration and implications and takeaways can become rote. Here: we get two perspectives on the mysterious crash of an unimaginably hot object in the outback, one from proximate human, and other from crashers themselves, some aliens evolved to life within the sun. What truly sets Clement apart, and what often goes unstated in his description as the platonic ideal of hard sf writer, is the fact that he is, in many ways, first and foremost a writer of hard biological science fiction, even if, here, the bravura section — that portion that reads as good today as it ever might have — being the extended description of the crashed ship boiling through, and liquifying in turn, layers of desert rock.
There are so many sci fi surveys on the market it would be almost impossible to read them all. That said, David Hartwell is one of the best anthologists out there. Focusing on "hard" science stories was a wise move, I think. My only complaint, and the reason I couldn't stick that extra star up there on the rating, was because many of the stories contained here were already in my other sci fi anthologies. Still, if you don't already own a large number of anthologies, and you're looking for something to give you a comprehensive picture of "hard" science fiction, you can't go wrong here.
This was my textbook in a literature class on science fixture. It's a good choice for a general survey of science fiction, especially in a compare/contrast sort of way. It really does illustrate the evolution of sci-fi, particularly the development of common themes. The stories within include a lot of classic, well-known tales. Some were better than others. On a whole, most of the stories were not ones I would have read outside of a class setting, which is why I rated this at only 2 1/2 stars. Readers more fond of science fiction than myself will likely enjoy this more than I did.
What a great collection of stories. Worth it just for "All mimsy were the borogroves" and Kipling's "With the Night Mail", but there's so much more quality material here
In my estimation, this collection is all over the place, not only in terms of quality - some are dated, some remain great, some are so dreadful I can't see why they ever had popular appeal - but also on the Mohs scale, and the two axes aren't strongly correlated. One of my favorites ("The Psychologist Who Wouldn't Do Awful Things to Rats" by James Tiptree, Jr.) is a story I would classify as magical realism, as its speculative elements are entirely fantastic even though its protagonist is a scientist. Other favorites from among the stories that are not frequently anthologized: "Drode's Equations" by Richard Grant and "The Author of the Acacia Seeds" by Ursula K. Le Guin.
"The Hungry Guinea Pig" by Miles J. Breuer - a country doctor reconnects with his old college chum, now a prominent research scientist. Unfortunately, the doctor's experiments in "gigantism" have grown out of control.... Well, this was an oddity. Essentially a pulp sci-fi story (not my favorite genre), that overlaps into proto-kaiju territory (getting warmer) that actually acknowledges the horrific events that might transpire as a giant animal runs rampant in Chicago. And the cherry on the top? The giant animal is a guinea pig! There's nothing particularly special or well-done about this yarn - it pretty much goes exactly like you'd think - but I appreciated little details like the innocent, meeping giant smearing pedestrians into the pavement as it waddles around. You could do worse.
This book is like all the others than contain many short stories and are supposed to be histories or collections off stories about a theme. Some I've already read, some I don't like, some I liked on this first read. Since this book is supposed to be a history of Hard Science Fiction there were several stories from years ago, Verne, Wells, others I had not heard of before. Overall, a likeable book.
This review is as much for the physical hardcover as it is for the thoughtfully curated, - and brilliant - collection of seminal works of science fiction. Very pleased to own a copy.
Almost a thousand pages of (mostly) grade-1 SF stories. Of course it's a daunting prospect for any neophyte, and misses developments of the last 25-years, but with some judicious selection of key topics (suggestions for which are helpfully provided by the editors in an appendix) it's a worthwhile anthology. It was good to read again classics like "Mimsy Were the Borogoves", "The Very Slow Time Machine" and "All the Hues of Hell", but this longtime reader also came across some fascinating new tales in the shape of Hilbert Schenck's "The Morphology of the Kirkham Wreck" and James Tiptree Jr.'s disturbing "The Psychologist Who Wouldn't Do Awful Things to Rats". Recommended... with a degree of caution.
I can't say I loved every single story in this anthology, but there were so many winners -- The Cold Equations, All Mimsy Were the Borogroves, The Final Question, stand out particularly as stories I would read again and again. I never did care much for Jules Verne, and still don't, though it seems only natural that such an anthology would include him. Once would have been quite enough, however. The choice of Nathaniel Hawthorne to represent 'hard science fiction' is a little more surprising, but I enjoyed reading Rappacini's Daughter nonetheless.
my oldest brother gave me this book as a birthday present when i was a senior in high school, and i couldn't sleep soundly for months afterwards. seriously, i felt like a scared toddler shaking in diapers after reading this story called "The Xi Effect," in which all the light in the world goes out. it's hard for me to judge this book on a scale measuring how much i liked it, because all i remember is being utterly terrified.
At the time, this was the third Hartwell anthology I had read. It presents stories that have a solid foundation in sciences and math, which the editors define as hard scifi. It had creative, interesting, and very readable stories. My impression back then, this was like sipping a fine wine, as opposed to other light scifi books, which would be like sipping a cola or water. You can have them all in the end, and I do read the lighter stuff too. I do recommend this one.
very nice compilation spanning the entire time of hard scifi. good mix of the extremes of the genre as well - for instance: william gibson's johnny mnemonic has very little real 'hard science' in it, but is still a hard scifi story and worthy of inclusion. recommended for all fans of scifi and those interested in the progress of scifi in the 20th century.
I give. This large short story anthology has remained on my reading list for over 4 years. Every so often, I would pick it up and read a story, and not enjoy it. Usually in any anthology there are good submissions and some stinkers, but I never came across any good ones. And hard SF is one genre I quite enjoy. Life is too short, and this volume is getting spaced. DNF
Went to the sci fi museum in seattle and resolved to read everything there was about the history and evolution of sci fi. So much out there and so little time. Am about 4/5 of way through. Basically a collection of short stories, some I have read, some I have not.
Outstanding collection. 69 short stories and for me; about 60 of them were 4 or 5 star quality with a large number dating from more than 40 years ago. Very enjoyable. (Hardcover 992 pages gives you a great workout every time you pick it up and hold it for reading!!)
Very good book, with a number of great stories. My main complaint is the lack of organization, of which there doesn't seem to be any, chronological or otherwise, despite the word "evolution" in the title of the book.