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- STURGEON: MERCURY PLUS X
-
- Sturgeon? The name was magnetic. There it was, perpetually cropping
- up attached to the stories I most admired. Sturgeon: quite an ordinary
- Anglo-American word among exotics like A. E. Van Vogt, Isaac Asimov,
- Heinlein, Simak, and Kuttner. Yet - spikey, finny, ODD. And it was not his
- original name. Theodore Hamilton Sturgeon was born Edward Hamilton Waldo.
- To the usual boring undeserving parents. That was on Staten Island, the year
- the first World War ended.
-
- So there were two of him, as there are of many a good writer. A
- bright side, a dark side -- much like our old SF image of Mercury, remember,
- so much more interesting than banal reality. He had a mercurial temperament.
-
- The bright side was the side everyone loved. There was something so
- damned nice, charming, open, empathic, and ELUSIVE about Ted that women
- flocked to him. Men too. Maybe he was at the mercy of his own fey
- sexuality. If so, he was quizzical about it, as about everything. One of
- his more cutesy titles put it admirably: "If All Men Were Brothers, Would
- You Let One Marry Your Sister?" Not if it was Sturgeon, said a too-witty
- friend.
-
- He played his guitar. He sang. He shone. He spoke of his
- philosophy of love.
-
- Ted honestly brought people happiness. If he was funny, it was a
- genuine humor which sprang from seeing the world aslant. A true SF talent.
- Everyone recognized his strange quality -- "faunlike," some nut dubbed it;
- faunlike he certainly looked. Inexplicable, really.
-
- Unsympathetic stepfather, unsatisfactory adolescence. Funny jobs,
- and "Ether Breather" out in ASTOUNDING in 1939. So to an even funnier job,
- science fiction writer. It's flirting with disaster.
-
- I could not believe those early stories: curious subject matter,
- bizarre resolutions, glowing style. And about sexuality. You could hardly
- believe your luck when one of Ted's stories went singing through your head.
-
- "It," with Cartier illustrations, in UNKNOWN. Terrifying. "Derm
- Fool." Madness. The magnificent "Microcosmic God," read and re-read.
- "Killdozer," appearing after a long silence. There were to be other
- silences. "Baby is Three:" again the sense of utter incredibility with
- complete conviction, zinging across a reader's synapses. By a miracle, the
- blown-up version, "More Than Human," was no disappointment either. This was
- Sturgeon's caviar dish. Better even than "Venus Plus X," with its outre'
- sexuality in a hermaphrodite utopia.
-
- As for those silences. Something sank Sturgeon. His amazing early
- success, his popularity with fans and stardom at conventions -- they told
- against the writer. Success is a vampire. In the midst of life we are in
- definite trouble. They say Sturgeon was the first author in the field ever
- to sign a six-book contract. A six-book contract was a rare mark of
- distinction, like being crucified. A mark of extinction. Ted was no
- stakhanovite and the deal did for him; he was reduced to writing a
- novelization of a schlock TV series, "Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea," to
- fulfill his norms.
-
- At one time, he was reduced further to writing TV pilot scripts for
- Hollywood. He lived in motels or trailers, between marriages, between lives.
- Those who read "The Dreaming Jewels" or "Venus Plus X" or the story
- collections forget that writing is secretly a heavy load, an endless battle
- against the disappointments which come from within as well as without -- and
- reputation a heavier load. Ted was fighting his way back to the light when
- night came on.
-
- About Ted's dark side.
-
- Well, he wrote that memorable novel, "Some of Your Blood," about this
- crazy psychotic who goes for drinking menstrual discharge. Actually, it does
- not taste as bad as Ted made out. That was his bid to escape the inescapable
- adulation.
-
- One small human thing he did. He and I, with James Gunn, were
- conducting the writers' workshop at the Conference of the Fantastic at Boca
- Raton, Florida. This was perhaps three years ago.
-
- Our would-be writers circulated their effusions around the table for
- everyone's comment. One would-be was a plump, pallid, unhappy lady. Her
- story was a fantasy about a guy who tried three times to commit suicide, only
- to be blocked each time by a green monster from Hell who wanted him to keep
- on suffering. Sounds promising, but the treatment was hopeless.
-
- Dumb comments around the table. I grew impatient with their
- unreality. When the story reached me, I asked the lady right out, "Have you
- ever tried to commit suicide?"
-
- Unexpected response. She stared at me in shock. Then she burst into
- a hailstorm of tears, collapsing onto the table... "Three times," she cried.
- Everyone looked fit to faint.
-
- "It's nothing to be ashamed of," I said. "I've tried it too."
-
- "So have I," said Sturgeon calmly.
-
- He needn't have come in like that. He just did it bravely,
- unostentatiously, to support me, to support her, to support everyone. And I
- would guess there was a lot of misery and disappointment in Ted's life, for
- all the affection he generated. Yet he remained kind, loving, giving. (The
- lady is improving by the way. We're still in touch. That's another story.)
-
- If that does not strike you as a positive story, I'm sorry. I'm not
- knocking suicide, either. Everyone should try it at least once.
-
- Ted was a real guy, not an idol, an effigy, as some try to paint him.
- He was brilliant, so he suffered. I know beyond doubt that he would be
- pleased to see me set down some of the bad times he had. He was not one to
- edit things out. Otherwise he would have been a less powerful writer.
-
- There are troves of lovely Sturgeon tales (as in the collection
- labelled "E Pluribus Unicorn"), like "Bianca's Hands," which a new generation
- would delight in. He wrote well, if sometimes over-lushly. In many ways,
- Ted was the direct opposite of the big technophile names of his generation,
- Doc Smith, Poul Anderson, Robert Heinlein, et al. His gaze was more closely
- fixed on people. For that we honor him, and still honor him. Good for him
- that he never ended up in that prick's junkyard where they pay you a million
- dollars advance for some crud that no sane man wants to read.
-
- Ted died early in May in Oregon, of pneumonia and other
- complications. Now he consorts with Sophocles, Dick, and the author of the
- Kama Sutra. He had returned from a holiday in Hawaii, taken in the hopes he
- might recover his health there. That holiday, incidentally, was paid for by
- another SF writer -- one who often gets publicity for the wrong things.
- Thank God, there are still some good guys left. We are also duly grateful
- for the one just departed.
-
- Brian Aldiss
-
- CHEAP TRUTH On-Line 809-C West 12th Street Austin, Texas 78701 U.S.A.
- SMOF-BBS (512)-UFO-SMOF. Special Unnumbered Edition. Vincent Omniaveritas,
- editing. Shiva the Destroyer, systems operation. "Ars Longa, Vita Brevis"
-
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