Fantasy & Science Fiction V023n03

THEODORE STURGEON ISSUE THE MA GA2INE 0 F Fantasi; and Science Fiction WHEN YOU CARE, WHEN YOU LOVE a novelet by THEODORE STURGEON JUDITH MERRIL JAMES BUSH EVELYN E. SMITH JAMES H. SCHMITZ KIT REED fMi .M" ^ Including Venture Science Fiction When You Care, When You Love (.novelet) THEODORE STURGEON 6 Theodore Sturgeon’s Macrocosm JAMES BLISH 42 Theodore Sturgeon JUDITH MERRIL 46 Fantasy and Science Fiction by Theodore Sturgeon (bibliography) SAM moskowitz 56 Martian Mouse ROBIN STURGEON 62 They Also Serve EVELYN E. SMITH 63 Ferdinand Feghoot: LIV GRENDEL BRIARTON 82 Myrrha GARY JENNINGS 83 Science: The Shape of Things ISAAC ASIMOV 89 The New You KIT REED 100 The Devil’s God-daughter SUZANNE MALAVAL no These Are the Arts JAMES H. SCHMITZ 113 Editorial 4 In this issue . , . Coming soon 5 F&SF Marketplace 129 Cover by Ed Emsh The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, Volume 23, No. 3, Whole No. 136, Sept. 1902. Published monthly by Mercury Press, Inc., at 40t a copy. Annual subscription $4.50 in U. S. and Possessions, $5.00 in Canada and the Pan American Union; $5.50 in all other countries. Publication office, 10 Ferry Street, Concord, N. H. Editorial and general mail should he sent to 347 East 53rd St., New York 22, N. Y. Second Class postage paid at Concord, N. H. Printed in U. S. A. © 1962 by Mercury Press, Inc. All rights, including translations into other languages, reserved. Submissions must be accom- panied by stamped, self-addressed envelopes; the Publisher assumes no responsibility for return of XinsoHcited manuscripts* Joseph IV. Ferman, publisher Avram Davidson, executivt: editor Robert P. Mills, consulting editor Edward L. Ferman, managing editor Isaac Asimov, contributing science editor — EDITORIAL Tlic Milford Science Fietion Writers Conference is held every year in Pike County, Pennsylvania, in a cluster of summer cottages set among a grove of great trees where the foothills of the Pocono Mountains march along the Delaware. The company of such writers as Fritz Leiber, Damon Knight, Judith Merril, Theodore Thomas, Joe Flensley, Gordon Dickson, Richard McKenna, Kate \Vilhelm, Carol Emshwiller, Terry Carr, Katherine Maclean, Joan Matheson, Fred Pohl, Alice Glaser, Keith Laumer, and Randall Garrett, and tlie mostalgic mood of a late afternoon by a quiet river, causes us to think sentimentally about our past memories of Science Fiction something which is generally associated with tlie future. The future, however, we will leave, for the moment, to fiction and to the Fates; the shadows lengthen, the river flows on, the Delaware might almost be the Hudson, and not far from tliere, in tlie days when the Depression was great upon the land, we haunted — with dimes di- verted from popsicles (root beer, preferably) and Poppy Ott books (whatever became of them?) — a second-hand magazine store. Those Elephant Eolios of the early days of the SE magazines, the Gernsback Amazing and Wonder, were so cheaply come by, tlicn. We can smell their unique scent even now, see before us the an- tique figures of Frank Paul, one of the great classical SF illustrators, flee with Tumithak tlirough the Corridors, shudder over tlie vile Yeast Men of Dr. David H. Keller, and enter (for the first time) the Twenty-Fifth Century with Anthony (“Buck”) Rogers. They don’t write stories like that no more, don’t try to tell us otherwise, we know better. Presently we were to invest a whole twenty cents for our first neie SF magazine — montli and year escape our by now senescent memory, but it had a story in it (we tliink) about protoplasmic blobs, by Stanton R. Coblenz. In those days protoplasmic blobs were really horrible, as well as educational; it is a sad com- mentary on the decay of our culture that protoplasmic blobs have become the sad, feeble tilings they have become. We presently joined tlie Science Fiction League, Mastered Time with Ray Cum- mings, read wiUi astonished awe the first productions of such giants in the earth as Robert Heinlein, Isaac Asimov, and Theodore Sturgeon. We remember vividly the lucid comment of a fellow Boy Scout named Kelly (or, conceivably, Kelley), to wit: “You reelly hleeve that rocket ship stuff? Ahahahahah!! The War shook us loose from a steady devotion to the medium, the Post War period saw us 4 drop it entirely. But first loves are often not easily lost. We returned to ours in the Fifties, and are still with it. Although there is much grey in our beard now, it stilf strikes us with a sense of wonder that we should be in any sense at all a compeer of the like of Heinlein, Asimov, Sturgeon, Leiber, Knight, Clarke, and others. It seems Not Quite Right that we dare ever presume sit in judgment on their stories. It seems a wonderful and fantastic thing that we are privileged to edit a magazine of fantasy and science fiction at all, let alone The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction. It is exciting to think that we are privileged to print new writers — Aandahl, Carr, Gilien, and others. Nostalgia, after all, is all very well, but you can’t run a Science Fiction magazine today with blobs, sheiks, and yeast men. Wc aren’t even going to try. — Avram Davidson In this issue . there is, of course, the new Theodore Sturgeon stor\ , the first of three, which, when finished, will be published as one book; plus Judith Merril’s “personality” article on the Guest of Flonor; plus James Blish’s cameo-like critique of Sturgeon as literary crafts- man; plus Sam Moskowitz’s Sturgeon bibliography — and, for lagniappe, a short excursion into extraterrestrial zoology by Robin Sturgeon, penultimate child to Theodore. In addition there are funny stories by Evelyn E. Smith and Suzanne Malaval, a French author new to the U.S.; exceedingly non-funny stories by James Schmitz and Gary Jennings; a Kit Reed tale which deftly manages to be both light and serious at the same time, and Dr. Asimov’s science article, which is alone worth the price of admission. Coming soon . are stories from A for Aandahl to Z for Zangwill, including one by Mildred Clingerman, an old-time F&SF favorite. October sees Part One of a two-part serial. The Journey of Joenes, marking Robert Sheckley’s reappearance here after a too-long absence. You’ll enjoy, also, in the October issue, an extra-long Books section, to make up for the necessary absence of that column from the current issue, owing to the inclusion of tire special Sturgeon material. 5 Introduction -WHEN YOU CARE, WHEN YOU LOVE by Theodore Sturgeon Among the paradoxes of the kingdom of nature is this: that the golden-throated nightingale is drab, ivhile the splendid peacock has a harsh scream for a voice. “Paradox” , in the sense of “a seeming contradiction”—but of course really no contradiction at all. The splendor of song is sufficient for the nightingale. The peacoclTs plumage is glory enough for him. Nature, there, is neither niggardly nor lavish past measure. We have writers who sing sweetly as nightingales, writers who are gorgeous as peacocks. It is a flat fact that Theodore Sturgeon is both. As someone put it to us recently, he “has an aura.” Ilis flashing eyes, his floating hair, pan-like beard, continually sparkling wit, his alchemist's fingers, and his ardent, argent pen ... It is around us that the circle is thrice-woven, it is we who feed on honey-dew and drink the milk, of paradise. Much have we travelled in the realms of gold, who have read much (or even little) of his work. It seems only right, somehow, that, with all this, Theodore Sturgeon .should have a beautiful wife and beautiful children as well. It seems, anyhow, not right that we can find (after long search- ing) nothing fresher to say at this point than this: We are proud to publish this newest story by Theodore Sturgeon. It will form (though complete in itself) part of a book, and he has promised us the privilege of publishing the other parts as they are written. The tale has its beginnings with the long, deep thoughts of Captain Gamaliel Wyke, crouching by the winter fire in his four great grey shawls, near the tolling break- ers and the creaking gtdls. Thus it begins. There is time enough before tee consider its ending. — WHEN YOU CARE, WHEN YOU LOVE by Theodore Sturgeon He was beautiful in her bed. (until now’) the platter called When you care, when you love, well, of course on which these when you treasure someone, you things were served her. For had can ivatch the beloved in sleep as she not wanted it? But this, now — him, . you watch everything, anything now . greatest of all else — laughter, lips to a cup, a her w’ants, ever; first thing in all look even away from you; a her life to transcend w’ant itself stride, sun a-struggle lost in a and knowingly become need: this hair-lock, a jest or a gesture she had at last, at long (how long, even stillness, even sleep. now) long last, this she had now She leaned close, all but for good and all, for ahvays, for- breathless, and watched his lashes. ever and never a touch of well, of Now’, lashes are thick sometimes, course. He was her personal mira- curled, russet; these were all these, cle, he in this bed now, w'arm and and glossy besides. Look closely loving her. He was the reason and there where they curve lives light the reward of it all — her family in tiny serried scimitars.

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