As the world gets more dangerous every day, I wonder about what makes stories dangerous? Ideas can certainly be dangerous. Without some kind of disturbance to the status quo, you don’t have a story. I guess it depends on how way-out it is . . .
THE TIME OF THE SKIN by A.E. Van Vogt
Alfred Elton Van Vogt is unknown to younger generations of sci-fi consumers, though his status as a SFWA Grandmaster has kept some of his works in print and on library shelves. I met him a few times and heard him speak at science fiction conventions back in the Seventies. Some background about him is in order.
He was shy and socially awkward like a lot of science fiction people. Definitely not “hip,” but called himself a “way-out writer.” He was a big influence on Philip K. Dick. George Clayton Johnson called him the greatest science fiction writer because of the originality of his ideas. He was one of the writers who created the “hard science” subgenre in the Golden Age of John W. Campbell’s Astounding Stories. I once heard him give a talk about bad LSD trips of young friends and his theories about where they came from.
Though Alien is considered to be inspired by his story “Black Destroyer” part of his novel Voyage of the Space Beagle--20th Century Fox paid him a $50,000 out-of-court settlement--the media hasn’t discovered him, yet. (Emily reminded me that another Space Beagle story "Discord in Scarlet" also inspired Alien and was part of the lawsuit.)
Using a technique developed for churning out pulp fiction, he wrote in 800 word blocks, and would free-associate to decide what would happen next, and how the story would end. He also used an “industrial timer” to wake himself up during his dream cycle to access his subconscious and incorporate it into his writing. This nice, clean-cut, old-fashioned, rational man backed himself into surrealism.
His stories get quite “way-out.”
Which brings us to “The Time of the Skin.” Harlan told him to “Write whatever you want.” It takes place in a spaceport, that’s very much like an airport (which have always been futuristic, and still are, and always will be). These are places where worlds come together, which is a dangerous situation. There are aliens, of course. The security men (no women, Van Vogt has some peculiar ideas about the differences between the sexes) have to deal with their vampiric existence and their predatory relationship with humans and can’t tell the aliens from their victims. Sounds like a set-up for a sci-fi/horror thriller, but we see things from the aliens’ point of view, and it takes some odd turns. The heroes are not triumphant, but the ending isn’t one of those where the monsters win or are shown to be available for a sequel. A kind of symbiosis is revealed. A spaceport is shown to be like an organ through which we and others flow, and mix.
I was a little disappointed at first. But I found myself thinking about it. Which is probably what Van Vogt intended.
There are parallels with the current concerns about immigration, but it was written decades ago . . .
Once again, the encounter with the other has transformative effects.
I’m seeing some recurring themes.
