Pulp editor Keith Winton is visiting the publisher's estate in
upstate New York when a moon rocket goes badly wrong, and an hour
or two before it's scheduled to hit the Moon, it instead crashes
on the estate.

When Keith awakens, things have subtly changed. When he tries to
use a fifty-cent piece, he's pegged as an Arcturian spy. The
penalty for being suspected Arcturian spy is being shot. Now.

He's only winged and manages to get on a train and back to NYC,
where he learns about "mistout". This is like WWII blackouts on
steroids, as he learns after leaving Grand Central Terminal.
Visibility is about two feet, and the night is in the hands of
"nighters".

He manages to get a room and survive the night. In the morning,
being thick-headed and refusing to believe that he's "not in
Kansas any more", he goes to Keith Winton's place of employment,
where he finds that Keith's out at the moment.

His co-worker/girlfriend, Betty, is there, but she doesn't recognize
him, and is scarcely clad. Being able to run around this was is
society's recognition for her having served in space.

Enough of the detailed story-line, which has gone on too long, anyway.

With some help, Winton eventually understands that this universe was
created in the imagination of one of the creepy obsessive fans of
the SF magazine that Winton edits. Unintentionally, but still a
home for Mitty-esque fantasies.

The fan's analog in this world is idolized by everybody, including
Betty. He's an inventor, a soldier, a general, and the only person
to come back alive from Arcturus.

Betty is scantily clad because, hey! pulp covers!

Winton manages to get back to something much closer to where he
had started and lives happily ever after (we assume).

Not too long before the end, as the whys and wherefores are being
worked out, this snippet is found:

Keith said thoughtfully, "If there are infinite universes,
then all possible combinations must exist. Then, somewhere,
_everything must be true_. I mean, it would be impossible
to write a fiction story--because no matter how wild it
sounds, that very thing must be happening somewhere. It
that true?

"Of course, it's true. There is a universe in which Huckleberry
Finn is a real person, doing the exact things Mark Twain
described him as doing. There are, in fact, an infinite
number of universes in which a Huckleberry Finn is doing
every possible variation of what Mark Twain _might_ have
described him doing. No matter what variation, major or
minor, Mark Twain might have made in the writing of that
book it would have been true."

This, to me, sounds a lot like the fiction-driven parallel universes
portrayed by Heinlein (decades later) in _The Number of the Beast_.

Brown seems to have followed the old adage of "write what you know,"
since he made his living writing for the pulps, and not just the
SF pulps. This story is a rather nice send-up of pulps.

I read the Bantam MMPB edition. I have no doubt that it was well-
bound when it was published, back in the Truman administration.

--
Michael F. Stemper
No animals were harmed in the composition of this message.

In article <tacfgs$13rvj$1@dont-email.me>,
Michael F. Stemper <michael.stemper@gmail.com> wrote:
>Pulp editor Keith Winton is visiting the publisher's estate in
>upstate New York when a moon rocket goes badly wrong, and an hour
>or two before it's scheduled to hit the Moon, it instead crashes
>on the estate.
>
>When Keith awakens, things have subtly changed. When he tries to
>use a fifty-cent piece, he's pegged as an Arcturian spy. The
>penalty for being suspected Arcturian spy is being shot. Now.
>
>He's only winged and manages to get on a train and back to NYC,
>where he learns about "mistout". This is like WWII blackouts on
>steroids, as he learns after leaving Grand Central Terminal.
>Visibility is about two feet, and the night is in the hands of
>"nighters".
>
>He manages to get a room and survive the night. In the morning,
>being thick-headed and refusing to believe that he's "not in
>Kansas any more", he goes to Keith Winton's place of employment,
>where he finds that Keith's out at the moment.
>
>His co-worker/girlfriend, Betty, is there, but she doesn't recognize
>him, and is scarcely clad. Being able to run around this was is
>society's recognition for her having served in space.
>
>Enough of the detailed story-line, which has gone on too long, anyway.
>
>With some help, Winton eventually understands that this universe was
>created in the imagination of one of the creepy obsessive fans of
>the SF magazine that Winton edits. Unintentionally, but still a
>home for Mitty-esque fantasies.
>
>The fan's analog in this world is idolized by everybody, including
>Betty. He's an inventor, a soldier, a general, and the only person
>to come back alive from Arcturus.
>
>Betty is scantily clad because, hey! pulp covers!
>
>Winton manages to get back to something much closer to where he
>had started and lives happily ever after (we assume).
>
>Not too long before the end, as the whys and wherefores are being
>worked out, this snippet is found:
>
> Keith said thoughtfully, "If there are infinite universes,
> then all possible combinations must exist. Then, somewhere,
> _everything must be true_. I mean, it would be impossible
> to write a fiction story--because no matter how wild it
> sounds, that very thing must be happening somewhere. It
> that true?
>
> "Of course, it's true. There is a universe in which Huckleberry
> Finn is a real person, doing the exact things Mark Twain
> described him as doing. There are, in fact, an infinite
> number of universes in which a Huckleberry Finn is doing
> every possible variation of what Mark Twain _might_ have
> described him doing. No matter what variation, major or
> minor, Mark Twain might have made in the writing of that
> book it would have been true."
>
>This, to me, sounds a lot like the fiction-driven parallel universes
>portrayed by Heinlein (decades later) in _The Number of the Beast_.
>
>Brown seems to have followed the old adage of "write what you know,"
>since he made his living writing for the pulps, and not just the
>SF pulps. This story is a rather nice send-up of pulps.
>
>I read the Bantam MMPB edition. I have no doubt that it was well-
>bound when it was published, back in the Truman administration.
>

My memory is that the Brownian whimsy ran a bit thin over the course
of a whole novel as opposed to his famous shorts. (I would say the same
for _Martians, Go Home_).

Or perhaps 13 year old me was too close to the mary-sue being held up..
--
columbiaclosings.com
What's not in Columbia anymore..

On Saturday, July 9, 2022 at 2:03:01 PM UTC-4, Ted Nolan <tednolan> wrote:
> In article <tacfgs$13rvj$1...@dont-email.me>,
> Michael F. Stemper <michael...@gmail.com> wrote:
[snip-snip]
> >Brown seems to have followed the old adage of "write what you know,"
> >since he made his living writing for the pulps, and not just the
> >SF pulps. This story is a rather nice send-up of pulps. [snip]
> >
> My memory is that the Brownian whimsy ran a bit thin over the course
> of a whole novel as opposed to his famous shorts. (I would say the same
> for _Martians, Go Home_). [snip]

I much prefer his short stories. His novels range from "Clever and
reasonably well executed" (this one) to "This is readable, I suppose,
but is there really a point to it?" (_Rogue in Space_.)

On 09/07/2022 13.02, Ted Nolan <tednolan> wrote:
> In article <tacfgs$13rvj$1@dont-email.me>,
> Michael F. Stemper <michael.stemper@gmail.com> wrote:
>> Pulp editor Keith Winton is visiting the publisher's estate in
>> upstate New York when a moon rocket goes badly wrong, and an hour
>> or two before it's scheduled to hit the Moon, it instead crashes
>> on the estate.

>> With some help, Winton eventually understands that this universe was
>> created in the imagination of one of the creepy obsessive fans of
>> the SF magazine that Winton edits. Unintentionally, but still a
>> home for Mitty-esque fantasies.

> My memory is that the Brownian whimsy ran a bit thin over the course
> of a whole novel as opposed to his famous shorts. (I would say the same
> for _Martians, Go Home_).
>
> Or perhaps 13 year old me was too close to the mary-sue being held up..

snerk

--
Michael F. Stemper
Exodus 22:21

Frederic Brown, that is.

In <http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/titlecovers.cgi?866>
a surprising number of publishers have /not/ embraced
the opportunity provided by the text (of space missions
being carried out principally by women in bathing
costumes), perhaps because they exhausted that theme
on their H. G. Wells material.

Bantam Books does have a lady in green halter and
hot pants, and ankle boots, adjacent to the words
"COMPLETELY TERRIFYING".

On 09/07/2022 14.55, Robert Carnegie wrote:

Thank you. I have no idea how I managed to omit both the
author's name and an ISFBD link in one post.

> Frederic Brown, that is.

Fredric

> In <http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/titlecovers.cgi?866>
> a surprising number of publishers have /not/ embraced
> the opportunity provided by the text (of space missions
> being carried out principally by women in bathing
> costumes), perhaps because they exhausted that theme
> on their H. G. Wells material.
>
> Bantam Books does have a lady in green halter and
> hot pants, and ankle boots, adjacent to the words
> "COMPLETELY TERRIFYING".

She didn't look too bad to me.

--
Michael F. Stemper
This post contains greater than 95% post-consumer bytes by weight.

On Saturday, July 9, 2022 at 10:56:48 AM UTC-7, Michael F. Stemper wrote:
> Pulp editor Keith Winton is visiting the publisher's estate in
> upstate New York when a moon rocket goes badly wrong, and an hour
> or two before it's scheduled to hit the Moon, it instead crashes
> on the estate.
>
> When Keith awakens, things have subtly changed. When he tries to
> use a fifty-cent piece, he's pegged as an Arcturian spy. The
> penalty for being suspected Arcturian spy is being shot. Now.
>
> He's only winged and manages to get on a train and back to NYC,
> where he learns about "mistout". This is like WWII blackouts on
> steroids, as he learns after leaving Grand Central Terminal.
> Visibility is about two feet, and the night is in the hands of
> "nighters".
>
> He manages to get a room and survive the night. In the morning,
> being thick-headed and refusing to believe that he's "not in
> Kansas any more", he goes to Keith Winton's place of employment,
> where he finds that Keith's out at the moment.
>
> His co-worker/girlfriend, Betty, is there, but she doesn't recognize
> him, and is scarcely clad. Being able to run around this was is
> society's recognition for her having served in space.
>
> Enough of the detailed story-line, which has gone on too long, anyway.
>
> With some help, Winton eventually understands that this universe was
> created in the imagination of one of the creepy obsessive fans of
> the SF magazine that Winton edits. Unintentionally, but still a
> home for Mitty-esque fantasies.
>
> The fan's analog in this world is idolized by everybody, including
> Betty. He's an inventor, a soldier, a general, and the only person
> to come back alive from Arcturus.
>
> Betty is scantily clad because, hey! pulp covers!
>
> Winton manages to get back to something much closer to where he
> had started and lives happily ever after (we assume).
>
> Not too long before the end, as the whys and wherefores are being
> worked out, this snippet is found:
>
> Keith said thoughtfully, "If there are infinite universes,
> then all possible combinations must exist. Then, somewhere,
> _everything must be true_. I mean, it would be impossible
> to write a fiction story--because no matter how wild it
> sounds, that very thing must be happening somewhere. It
> that true?
>
> "Of course, it's true. There is a universe in which Huckleberry
> Finn is a real person, doing the exact things Mark Twain
> described him as doing. There are, in fact, an infinite
> number of universes in which a Huckleberry Finn is doing
> every possible variation of what Mark Twain _might_ have
> described him doing. No matter what variation, major or
> minor, Mark Twain might have made in the writing of that
> book it would have been true."
>
> This, to me, sounds a lot like the fiction-driven parallel universes
> portrayed by Heinlein (decades later) in _The Number of the Beast_.
>
> Brown seems to have followed the old adage of "write what you know,"
> since he made his living writing for the pulps, and not just the
> SF pulps. This story is a rather nice send-up of pulps.
>
> I read the Bantam MMPB edition. I have no doubt that it was well-
> bound when it was published, back in the Truman administration.
>
> --
> Michael F. Stemper
> No animals were harmed in the composition of this message.
Fredric Brown (no relation to my knowledge) is one of my favorite authors from the "Golden Age", and this might be the only novel of his I've read all the way through. It's a very good satire with quite a few genuinely unsettling moments, especially concerning human on human violence. A thought I've had is that the fan-turned-savior pretty well anticipates what is now denigrated as a "Mary Sue". As I recall, it's acknowledged that the "real" person actually is intelligent and accomplished at least by his own accounts, which as I think of it now might have been an inside joke about Isaac Asimov..

On 10/07/2022 19.18, David Brown wrote:
> On Saturday, July 9, 2022 at 10:56:48 AM UTC-7, Michael F. Stemper wrote:

>> With some help, Winton eventually understands that this universe was
>> created in the imagination of one of the creepy obsessive fans of
>> the SF magazine that Winton edits. Unintentionally, but still a
>> home for Mitty-esque fantasies.
>>
>> The fan's analog in this world is idolized by everybody, including
>> Betty. He's an inventor, a soldier, a general, and the only person
>> to come back alive from Arcturus.
>>
>> Betty is scantily clad because, hey! pulp covers!

> Fredric Brown (no relation to my knowledge) is one of my favorite authors from the "Golden Age", and this might be the only novel of his I've read all the way through. It's a very good satire with quite a few genuinely unsettling moments, especially concerning human on human violence. A thought I've had is that the fan-turned-savior pretty well anticipates what is now denigrated as a "Mary Sue". As I recall, it's acknowledged that the "real" person actually is intelligent and accomplished at least by his own accounts, which as I think of it now might have been an inside joke about Isaac Asimov.

Interesting. I never thought of it as a specific person, since
I tend to forget that during the Golden Age, everybody in SF
knew everybody else (poetic license applied for) and they all
lived in NYC.

Another SF story that portrays a weird fan is Knight's
"A Likely Story".

<http://www.isfdb.org/cgi-bin/title.cgi?57071>

As far as "Mary Sue" is concerned, it seems to me that Dopelle
was the Mary Sue of Doppleberg, and hence a Mary Sue on the
Watsonian level, not on the Doylist level. (I'm not sure what
my point is here, but I thought that I'd toss this in anyway.)

--
Michael F. Stemper
Galatians 3:28

On Saturday, July 9, 2022 at 1:55:59 PM UTC-6, Robert Carnegie wrote:

> Bantam Books does have a lady in green halter and
> hot pants, and ankle boots, adjacent to the words
> "COMPLETELY TERRIFYING".

Ah, but those words must be put in context. They're a quote from a
review of the book. So it's Fredric Brown's story that is "completely
terrified", not the girl.

John Savard