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In some respects the best story in The Last Dangerous Visions is J. Michael Straczynski’s “Ellison Exegesis,” an account of his friendship with Harlan Ellison.  It takes up 14% of the Kindle edition — but it’s so fascinating it’s worth the space.  Among other things Straczynski tell us why Ellison had never been able to finish the anthology.  [The following is possibly a spoiler if you want to read it for yourself.]  Based on a documentary Straczynski had seen while getting a psychology degree, he concluded that Ellison was bipolar.  I’d seen Ellison around when I lived in Los Angeles, and although I’m not a psychologist, this explanation does make sense — except that he seemed to have not alternating manic and depressive episodes but one long manic episode that lasted from the beginning of his career to about the middle, and then one continuous depressive slide to old age.

Because of his depression he couldn’t write, couldn’t take care of simple organizational tasks, and toward the end of his life couldn’t even leave the house.  Straczynski doesn’t present this as an excuse for his failures, for TLDV and other works, but as a tragic reality.  It might even silence the critics who kept complaining about Ellison’s many missed deadlines.  It might not, of course; I can’t imagine a change of heart from some of them.

Straczynski comes across as something between a mensch and a certified saint.  His admiration for Ellison, shading into hero-worship, started in his childhood and continued after he’d met the man and throughout Ellison’s life.  Whenever Ellison asked him for a favor he would say, “Of course” unreservedly, without even asking for details.


This would sometimes get him into trouble.  Once he agreed to host the Pacifica radio show Hour 25 when Ellison couldn’t do it any longer. *  Another time Ellison was confined to a hospital on a seventy-two-hour psychiatric hold and begged Straczynski to get him out.  It was the only time Straczynski put conditions a request; he told Ellison he would spring him from the hold, but only if Ellison would seek professional help.  And he did, but unfortunately it didn’t seem to help.

“Ellison Exegesis” is also a sort of coda to Straczynski’s autobiography, Becoming Superman: My Journey from Poverty to Hollywood, which is a fascinating and horrible history of growing up with the worst family in the world.  It’s clear that Ellison was a substitute father to him, and the relationship seems to work on that improbable basis — though they were other things as well, peers, friends, co-workers, sympathetic listeners.  Ellison had hurt and insulted people — and of course had helped others immeasurably — and the “Exegesis” gives you a better understanding of both the protagonists of this story.



* Ellison asked me to be on the show if I was ever in Los Angeles, but by the time I made it there Straczynski had taken over.  It was great, though — Arthur Byron Cover joined him and we had a terrific time.  A part of me felt relieved by the change of hosts; people had warned me that Ellison would ask the question, “What was the worst thing you ever did?”, and I had no idea how to answer it.  You couldn’t say anything that was too personal or made you look like an asshole, of course, but that left only minor peccadillos.  And Ellison had a sixth sense for when someone was lying.

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Harlan Ellison first announced The Last Dangerous Visions, the third anthology in the Dangerous Visions series, in 1973.  Various publication dates came and went over the fifty years since then, but the book never appeared.  Before Ellison died in 2018 he made J. Michael Straczynski the executor of his estate, and Straczynski promised to finish the work.

And, amazingly, he did.  Here it is, real, solid, out in the world.  I want to make sure I give Straczynski full credit for his success, because the things I’m going to say next are not nearly as nice.  (Though I have an idea for another, more positive post — I’ll see how this one goes.)

There are 23 stories in TLDV and a series of “Intermezzos.”  Compare that with Ellison’s Table of Contents from 1979, which Straczynski reproduces in the Afterward: three volumes of approximately 100 stories for a total of 720,000 words.  Ellison’s proposal feels like an intoxicating alternate history now, with new stories by Daniel Keyes, Vonda McIntyre, Michael Moorcock, John Varley, Avram Davidson, Edgar Pangborn, and Connie Willis, among others.  I don’t know about you, but I would have loved to read “Himself in Anacreon” by Cordwainer Smith, or “Childfinder” by Octavia Butler.  The Wikipedia entry for TLDV says these stories have already been published and I want to go dig them up, but like a lot of my good intentions I’ll probably never do it. *

Straczynski explains the drastic cuts, making a good case for why the anthology is so reduced.  A lot of authors had grown impatient with the ever-receding publication date, bought their stories back, and sold them elsewhere.  In addition, Ellison admitted to Straczynski that he’d accepted stories that “should be led out on a leash,” but that he couldn’t bring himself to cut them.  Straczynski had no such compunctions.  Finally, Straczynski writes that the reactionary climate of the seventies and eighties had authors self-censoring.  “Most of the established writers who had gladly taken the freedom offered by those first two volumes… were now keeping their heads down to stay out of the line of fire, while the new writers were hesitant to piss off the Powers That Be who could end their careers before they had even properly begun.” **


But the anthology still somehow remains mired in 1973.  It contains twenty men, three women (P.C. Hodgell, Mildred Downey Broxon, and D.M. Rowles), and one person who identifies as gender-queer, Kayo Hartenbaum — a gender ratio that these days rarely appears even in most conservative magazines.  Straczynski explains that Ellison had originally included more women authors but that a lot of them had pulled their stories.  To his credit, he had very much wanted to publish a story by Vonda McIntyre that Ellison had bought, but McIntyre’s estate had “decided to override Vonda’s express wishes on the grounds that the book would be too male.”

Most of the authors are from the US.  Of the others, one is Australian, one English, one, Cory Doctorow, is from Canada but now lives in the US, and there are two for whom I can’t find a country of origin.  I also can’t find any information on how many people of color are included in the anthology — which is fine by itself, but without that data I can only guess at a number, and my guess is one-half of one writer.  That is, I think Ty Franck, who writes with Daniel Abraham as James S.A. Corey, is Hispanic, but I can’t track this down on the Interwebs.  There are probably a few more that I don’t know about.

Straczynski was aware of the problem.  He writes: “But I still felt there was something missing.  The stories withdrawn over the years by women writers and writers of color had left the book demographically unbalanced in ways that hadn’t been the case when TLDV was first being assembled.”  And so he asked for submissions from the following people: Max Brooks, David Brin, Cory Doctorow, James S.A. Corey, Adrian Tchaikovsky, and Cecil Castellucci.

I don’t know why Straczynski offers this list in his defense.  Number of women: none.  Number of writers of color: one-half, as I mentioned above.  Straczynski will say, I’m sure, that he’d tried asking women and other WOC as well, but they’d turned him down or hadn’t responded.  Well, TRY HARDER.

There’s a bigger problem, though, and this one doesn't have a solution.  Since the seventies a lot of movements and manifestos have exploded through sf: cyberpunk, feminism, experiments with gender, grim-dark fantasy, a push for more writers of color and more writers from non-English speaking countries.  Many of these tendencies tore the field apart for a while, but in the end it emerged stronger, a bit roughed up but also larger, more generous and thoughtful.

Most of the stories in TLDV were written before any of this.  They have an ancient, musty feel to them, like a rarely visited attic.  They’re set in the US or on spaceships and space stations that feel like the US, and they’re peopled by characters that are mostly male, white, and straight. ***

Of course there’s nothing Straczynski could have done about this.  He’d been handed a time capsule, a dusty museum display from another era.  Asking newer writers for submissions was a good start, though, as I said, he didn’t go far enough.

But the stories also lack the thrill and shock of the first two volumes.  Maybe, as Straczynski says, people had stopped writing about taboo subjects.  Maybe it’s impossible to recreate that long-ago excitement of the first two books.  Maybe subjects that were dangerous once upon a time, like gay characters, are commonplace now.  Maybe so many ground-breaking stories have been written, in part because of the Dangerous Visions anthologies, that it’s harder to come up with risky or prohibited topics.

The stories themselves aren’t bad;  TLDV reads like several months of a better-than-average magazine.  Except for the problems mentioned above, it doesn’t even feel all that dated, though every so often some old-fashioned tech pulls you up short.  I liked Adrian Tchaikovsky’s “First Sight,” about a diplomat who shows a group of aliens how humans perceive things, with tragic results; Dan Simmon’s “The Final Pogrom,” in which a scientist thinks he has discovered a cure for anti-semitism, while another Holocaust rages outside his lab and blocks his efforts to release the cure into the world; and D.M. Rowles’s “Intermezzos,” dispatches from other realities, eerie and luminous.**** I’d recommend the volume for these and other stories, and for historical interest.

Someone somewhere is going to say that I’m bad-mouthing the anthology because I hadn’t been invited to submit a story.  I don’t know what I can say to this except, “I’m not bad-mouthing the anthology because I hadn’t been invited to submit a story.”



* I heard one author on the 1979 list say that they wouldn’t mind if TLDV stayed in publication limbo forever, because their story had been written early in their career and was not very good.  And no, it isn’t in the final volume — much to this person’s relief, I’m sure.


** I never noticed this, and I started publishing in the 1980s.  On the other hand, I’m not an editor.


*** Exceptions are Brooks’s story “Hunger,” written as a letter from the People’s Republic of China, and Broxon’s “The Danann Children Laugh,” which could only take place in Ireland.


**** I knew a lot of people who went to Clarion the same year as D.M. Rowles.  As the years passed and the anthology failed to appear, she lamented, “I’m a has-been, and I’ve never even been a been.”  I wonder where she’d be now if TLDV had been published fifty years earlier.

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