DISPATCHES FROM THE LAST DANGEROUS VISIONS: A PERSONAL INTRODUCTION

Dangerous Visions (I’m including Again, Dangerous Visions) changed my life. Thank you, Harlan. Now that The Last Dangerous Visions is upon us, I need to say some things. Not just a few. This is going to be a Mondo Ernesto series. This first episode is another how the first two books affected me.

In the early Seventies, I was entering high school, and trying to figure out what to do with myself. I seemed to be a budding cartoonist. A documentary about Ray Bradbury made me think I could be a science fiction writer. Discovering that a science fiction magazine was being published a block and a half from where I lived only encouraged me and introduced me to fandom. Then I found Harlan’s (he called me on the phone a few times, so I think I can get away with the informality) The Beast That Shouted Love At the Heart of the World at the local public library.

I couldn’t get enough. Soon I was reading The Glass Teat column in the library L.A. Free Press and everything else of his I could get my hands on. 

I bought the paperback of Dangerous Visions at a signing at Change of Hobbit. I bought Again, Dangerous Visions at LACon, the 1972 WorldCon. The books, the stories, the introductions sent my life on a different path. Before, I was a shy, quiet kid who just wanted to hide in a room somewhere putting his fantasies on paper. Suddenly I realized this crazy world was full of all kinds of possibilities that I have never dreamed of. Yeah, I could be a writer, an artist, a “creative” (I hate that pretentious term) and, more importantly, live an amazing life. I could take on . . . everything.

In my senior year, I carried my autographed copy of A, DV to all my classes, often forcing fellow students to read selected passages, taking particular delight in the reactions of sweet girls who were shocked to discover that there were more things on heaven and earth than their West Covina upbringing—albeit augmented by pot and acid—had prepared them for. Aesthetic terrorism became a way of life for me. And it still is.

I waited for The Last Dangerous Visions, and eventually gave up hope and got distracted–my life did go on . . .

Now, with much thanks to J. Michael Straczynski, a version of it is finally here. I approach it with feelings of twisted nostalgia (it really has been a long, strange trip, my g-generation), and confused expectations. I will not rush through it. A book like this is a construction of many parts, all of which must be taken into consideration. And even deranged times such as these–who am I kidding?--especially in these deranged times, we need dangerous visions to knock us out of the cozy ruts we’ve settled into, because we need to be ready to deal with the Next Great Disruption that lurks just around the corner.  

Instead of one review, I’m doing a series. It will take a while. I will be interrupted and distracted, but it'll be a wild, weird ride.