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A review by tristansreadingmania
I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream by Harlan Ellison, Theodore Sturgeon
4.0
Has there ever been a more controversial, acerbic American writer of speculative/fantastic fiction than Harlan Ellison? It is highly doubtful.
I first encountered Hurricane Harlan - term of endearment so don't fret, you Harlan fanboys - through his weekly commentary video's he did for the Sci-Fi channel (It's probably a given he wasn't overly fond of that name, huh?) in the early nineties. To those few souls who take delight in hearing the rantings, ravings, and -perhaps ironically - the odd moral tangent of a born and bred curmudgeon I highly recommend them. All are still available on YouTube to satisfy your viewing pleasure. But I sense I am digressing.
No, it was the man that I knew first, not the writer. Actually getting to taking on his fabled oeuvre was to come at a later point in my life. And so it came to pass. The last couple of years I read an Ellison tale here and there, all from the later, some claim most fruitful, stages of his career (80's, 90's). Terrific, nigh perfect stuff.
But boy, let me tell you, going through this collection of his early work (late 50's to 60's) made me chuckle quite a bit, despite the admittedly depressing tone of many of his tales. But that's Harlan. It is both a feast of recognition and a source of excitement as you see Ellison just gleefully, unabashedly experimenting. The flowery, extravagant prose, the various quirks, the heavy themes, the not that overt idealism. Simply vintage Ellison. It's all in there.
The included introductions to the stories definitely prove to be a bonus, as you find out where they originated from and what Harlan intended to achieve with them. It's fair to say he poured a generous portion of his private life in the work. Self-therapy indeed.
Of course, not all stories completely succeed. The ones from the fifties ( Big Sam Was My Friend, Eyes of Dust) didn't gel with me, which is perfectly understandable considering Harlan was a relative novice then. Entering the sixties, though, the Hurricane is unleashed. These tales are wild, brutal, confrontational, transgressive as hell.
Top of the bill is of course the title story, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream . Instant classic. Nothing more need be stated. Other reviewers before me have dissected it rather diligently already. Deservedly so, it is awarded some extra space by Ellison in which he explains its genesis, reception, and his thought processes. Almost as interesting as the tale itself, as it certainly changed my outlook.
Ultimately, this collection is worth it for this one gem alone. However, there are plenty of other wondrous vistas to explore and gorge on. One has but to enter..
I first encountered Hurricane Harlan - term of endearment so don't fret, you Harlan fanboys - through his weekly commentary video's he did for the Sci-Fi channel (It's probably a given he wasn't overly fond of that name, huh?) in the early nineties. To those few souls who take delight in hearing the rantings, ravings, and -perhaps ironically - the odd moral tangent of a born and bred curmudgeon I highly recommend them. All are still available on YouTube to satisfy your viewing pleasure. But I sense I am digressing.
No, it was the man that I knew first, not the writer. Actually getting to taking on his fabled oeuvre was to come at a later point in my life. And so it came to pass. The last couple of years I read an Ellison tale here and there, all from the later, some claim most fruitful, stages of his career (80's, 90's). Terrific, nigh perfect stuff.
But boy, let me tell you, going through this collection of his early work (late 50's to 60's) made me chuckle quite a bit, despite the admittedly depressing tone of many of his tales. But that's Harlan. It is both a feast of recognition and a source of excitement as you see Ellison just gleefully, unabashedly experimenting. The flowery, extravagant prose, the various quirks, the heavy themes, the not that overt idealism. Simply vintage Ellison. It's all in there.
The included introductions to the stories definitely prove to be a bonus, as you find out where they originated from and what Harlan intended to achieve with them. It's fair to say he poured a generous portion of his private life in the work. Self-therapy indeed.
Of course, not all stories completely succeed. The ones from the fifties ( Big Sam Was My Friend, Eyes of Dust) didn't gel with me, which is perfectly understandable considering Harlan was a relative novice then. Entering the sixties, though, the Hurricane is unleashed. These tales are wild, brutal, confrontational, transgressive as hell.
Top of the bill is of course the title story, I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream . Instant classic. Nothing more need be stated. Other reviewers before me have dissected it rather diligently already. Deservedly so, it is awarded some extra space by Ellison in which he explains its genesis, reception, and his thought processes. Almost as interesting as the tale itself, as it certainly changed my outlook.
Ultimately, this collection is worth it for this one gem alone. However, there are plenty of other wondrous vistas to explore and gorge on. One has but to enter..