Great stories are not born but exist without framework. E.E. "Doc" Smith crafted a multi-volume story which deemed to tell itself truly with the final volume entitled "Children of the Lens".
Welcome to the Lensman Universe. The upcoming film "Lensman" set in this world
will hopefully pay proper tribute to the most fantastically epic story ever conceived within the field of speculative fiction: the Lensman Series by E.E "DOC" SMITH. It is only in true Galactic Roamer fashion that the Lens Universe Blog will help begin new interest for millions. It is hoped that a person with a quizzical interest in speculative fiction and hard science will find interesting items through this web site.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Lensman Smith
Great stories are not born but exist without framework. E.E. "Doc" Smith crafted a multi-volume story which deemed to tell itself truly with the final volume entitled "Children of the Lens".
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Hyperland - excerpt from "Skylark of Valeron"

HYPER-LAND
Raging but impotent, Seaton stood motionless beside his friend's wife upon the slowly rising lift; while Crane, Dorothy, and Shiro remained in the control room of the Skylark. All were helpless, incapable alike of making a single movement not authorized by their grotesque captors. Feeble the hypermen were, as has been said; but at the first tensing of a human muscle in revolt there shot from the insulated teeth of the grappling hypertrident such a terrific surge of unbearably poignant torture that any thought of resistance was out of the question. Even Seaton-fighter by instinct though he was, and reckless as he was and desperate at the thought of being separated from his beloved Dorothy-had been able to endure only three such shocks. The unimaginable anguish of the third rebuke, a particularly vicious and long-continued wrenching and wringing of the most delicate nerve centers of his being, had left him limp and quivering. He was still furious, still bitterly humiliated. His spirit was willing, but he was physically unable to drive his fiendishly tortured body to further acts of rebellion. Thus it was that the improvised elevator of the hypermen carried two docile captives as itwent past not through the spherical arenak shell of Skylark Two and up the mighty well which the vessel had driven in its downward plunge. The walls of that pit were glassily smooth; or, more accurately, were like slag; as though the peculiarly unsubstantial rock of the hyper planet had been actually melted by the force of the cruiser's descent, easy and gradual as the fall had seemed to the senses of the Terrestrials. It was apparent also that the hypermen were having difficulty in lifting the, to them, tremendous weight of the two human bodies. The platform would go up a few feet, then pause. Up and pause, up and pause; again and again. But at last they reached the top of the well, and, wretched as he was, Seaton had to grin when he perceived that they were being hoisted by a derrick, whose over-driven engine, attended though it was by a veritable corps of mechanics, could lift them only a few feet at a time. Coughing and snorting, it ran slower and slower until, released from the load, it burst again into free motion to build up sufficient momentum to lift them another foot or so. And all about the rim of that forty-foot well there were being erected other machines. Trusses were rising into the air, immense chains were being forged, and additional motors were being assembled. It was apparent that the Skylark was to be raised; and itwas equally evident that to the hypermen that raising presented an engineering problem of no small magnitude.
At impact the fiercely driven implement flew into a thousand pieces, but such was the power behind it that each piece continued on, driving its relentless way through the tenuous body substance of the erstwhile guard. That body subsided instantly upon the floor, a shapeless and mangled mass of oozing, dripping flesh.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
From "The Best of E E (DOC) Smith - Preface and Foreward

The following text copyright © 1975 by Verna Smith Trestrail
PREFACE
When "The Skylark of Space" was published in AMAZING STORIES in 1928 it gave the science fiction fraternity the road to the stars. It also had a profound effect on other writers, notably John W. Campbell, who took their cue from Smith.
TO THE FAR REACHES OF SPACE, a complete-in-itself excerpt from the famous novel, records this initial leap beyond the solar system. Told with verve and gusto, the narrative admirably shows Smith's panache in handling vast distances and strange alien worlds.
As "The Skylark of Space" shattered the confines of the space story in 1928, so ROBOT NEMESIS widened the frontiers of the robot story when it first appeared (under another title) in 1934. Robots in the early days of science fiction were usually clanking monstrosities who threatened their scientist creators. In this story Smith's illimitable imagination postulates a future wherein robots actually threaten to supplant mankind as the Lords of Creation.
Smith's writing was never better than in the opening chapters of 'Triplanetary." The complex structure of the pirate base, a self-contained world in space, comes across with absolute credibility in the complete segment PIRATES OF SPACE.
THE VORTEX BLASTER is definitive Smith, with its skillful intermingling of super-science and human interest. The tragedy of Neal Cloud immediately grips the reader who easily identifies with Cloud in his fight against the atomic horror responsible for his wife's death.
In TEDRIC (1953) and LORD TEDRIC (1954), the reader is offered two lost gems which were originally published in two of the rarest magazines in the field. Here one finds a fascinating blend of sword and sorcery and the paradoxes of time travel, in the inimitable Smith style.
SUBSPACE SURVIVORS (1960) is a compelling novelette written in the modern tradition which marked Smith's triumphant return to the pages of ASTOUNDING SCIENCE FICTION after a thirteen year absence.
THE IMPERIAL STARS (1964) marks the high watermark of the final phase of Smith's work. Whilst presented in the slick, modern manner, it evokes the old magic of the Lensman series, with its galactic agents and star-spanning intrigues. Intended as the first in a new series, later parts are said to exist in outline and may yet appear in some form or other.
That is something to look forward to. Meanwhile you will find encompassed here the best of "Doc" Smith, eight stories spanning an incredible five decades of science fiction, by its best loved pioneer.
PHILLIP HARBOTTLE
WELLSEND,
MARCH 1975
FOREWORD
EDWARD E SMITH, PhD - CIVILIZATION'S HISTORIAN
Dekanore VI - A non-Tellurian planet inhabited by immensely ugly, spider-like beings, to whom Kimball Kinnison was a shuddersome sight.
Adams of Procia - Commander-in-chief of Procyon's armed forces; appointed general of Procyon by Roderick Kinnison in the formation of the Galactic Patrol.
Croleo's - A bar in the city of Ardith, on Radelix.
Slasher-worm - A Venerian creature which Herkimer threatened to use in torturing Jill Samms.
Thought cap - the Jelm version of the thought-transfer device, or mechanical educator.
"Tail high, brother!"- The Vegian war-cry.
Devoted followers of those doughty heroes Richard Seaton, Kimball Kinnison and Neal Cloud will be able make good sense of these items from The Universes of E E Smith. They are typical of hundreds of entries in a unique concordance to the eleven best-known novels of the late Edward Elmer Smith, Ph.D., which took two of his disciples four years to compile.* Its 270 pages from a complete reader's guide to the complex webwork of imaginary worlds and fantastic creations which earned the beloved "Doc" the title of "Historian of Civilization;" a fitting memorial to one of the most inventive and influential writers to leave his mark on the popular literature of science fiction.
* By Ron Ellik and Bill Evans. Advent Publishers, Chi 1966.
Few others have made such an impact as he did at his first appearance in 1928, or continued so long to delight a host of fans most of whom remained faithful even after his work had been dismissed as artless and juvenile. That his first novel, "The Skylark of Space", opened the door for the most extravagant excursions of super-science into the remotest regions, and led the way for "space opera," has been held against him in recent years where once it was deemed a vital spur to the development of the genre. Yet, despite their undoubted limitations on the literary level, the sweeping "epics" of "Skylark" Smith are still relished for their sheer exuberance.
The pioneering Amazing Stories magazine was in its third year when it serialized what it described as "one of the out-standing scientifiction stories of the decade," predicting that it would be "referred to by fans for years to come." The prediction proved perfectly valid. Nearly twenty years later, when the first of several enterprising specialist book publishers began to resurrect "classic" tales from the magazines, the much-vaunted Skylark was an obvious choice - and sold out so quickly that the firm had to be reorganized to cope with the demand. Since 1946 it has seen publication in several forms in many parts of the world, and it is still being reprinted, like the other "Doc" Smith serials that followed at intervals through the years. Yet, before Amazing Stories accepted it, The Skylark had gathered what the author cheerfully claimed was "probably the most complete collection of rejection slips in America."
In a pleasant correspondence which we conducted in the late 1940s, he told me how he had begun to write the story after starting out as a chemical engineer in 1914 and did not complete it until 1920. For two years Mrs. Lee Hawkins Garby, - the wife of an old classmate, helped him with the romantic interest that readers found so treacly but which hardly interfered with the high-geared action. But she didn't have the staying power of the determined Smith, who by the time he was 25 had held down a dozen different jobs from millhand and stevedore to street-car conductor.
Born 1890 in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, E. E. Smith was raised on a riverside homestead in northern Idaho, where he worked as a lumberjack until his eldest brother and sister helped him get to the university. By 1915 he was earning enough as a food chemist with the U.S. Bureau of Standards to marry a girl from Idaho and settle down in Washington, D.C., where his wife went to work as a stenographer to enable him to get his Ph.D. This is why the book version of "The Skylark of Space" is dedicated "To Jeannie" - though Mrs. Garby got her name in the by-line—and her share of the 125 dollars he was paid for the magazine serial.
In spite of the college-boy dialogue and the melodramatic exchanges between heroic Dick Seaton and his scheming rival "Blackie" DuQuesne, Amazing Stories readers, whose ranks I had recently joined, clamored for a sequel. So, in "Skylark Three", which followed in 1930, Smith took his atom-powered voyagers out again to the rescue of the people of the Green System who faced annihilation by the marauding Fenachrone. This "tale of the galactic cruise which ushered in universal civilization" presented a stupendous panorama of alien life-forms, mile-long spaceships, traveling faster than light, devastating ray-weapons, and frightful battles in the void ending in inevitable triumph for the visiting Earthmen.
To keep him in tow, Amazing paid Smith more generously for this three-part serial, to which he wrote an epilogue suggesting that his readers had heard the last of the all-conquering Dick and his musical sweetheart. By way of a change, in 1931 he came up with another story, "Spacehounds of IPC", which confined his new heroes of the Inter-Planetary Corporation to the solar system. This, he insisted, was true scientific fiction, not pseudo-science, and he planned to make it the first of a series - but it wasn't what his fans wanted. "We want Smith to write stories of scope and range. We want more Skylarks!" was the cry. And Amazing's 80-year-old editor Dr. T. O'Conor Sloane, who still had seven years to go before he retired, pointed a lean finger out towards the Milky Way.
But whatever the critics said about the results of his labors, Smith was never a "hack" writer. He planned his stories with care, and took his time writing them. Invariably he would plot a graph to help him in developing his plot, the reactions of his characters to the situations they encountered and the background atmosphere he weaved into the story. "Not that I ever managed to stick to one of them all the way," he confessed. "Somehow my characters always break loose and take the yarn out of my hands - which is a good thing, I guess."
As science fiction advanced into the 1930s there were other editors, too, who wanted to get hold of his stories. Competition had set in - but so had the Depression, and if it had not suffered a temporary setback in 1933, Astounding Stories would have featured "Triplanetary”, the story which gave rise to the "Lensman" series. In any event, it went to enliven four issues of Amazing in 1934. It was this story that introduced the concept of the "inertialess drive" by which, it was assumed - since it could neither be proved nor disproved - spaceships might traverse the impossible gulfs of Smith's literary cosmos. When asked about the scientific probability of such a device, Smith responded: "It is not probable at all, at least in any extrapolation of present-day science. But as far as I can determine, it cannot be proved absolutely impossible and that is enough for me. In fact, the more improbable a thing, the better I like it - so long as it cannot be demonstrated mathematically impossible. I got the idea of inertialessness from a lecture given at the University of Michigan in 1912."
So, this time, the eight-limbed amphibians of the far planet Nevia, who were greedy for iron rations, were properly frustrated by Conway Costigan and his colleagues, and obliged to sign a Treaty of Eternal Peace. And thirteen years later, to make a book of it, Smith wrote six new chapters to precede the Amazing story, harking back to the dawn of creation, recalling the end of Atlantis and the fall of Rome, and drawing on his own experiences during two world wars. All history is seen as a titanic struggle between two races of super-beings, the Arisians and the Eddorians, who influence human-kind for good or ill as civilization advances to the era of the Triplanetary League.
When the book appeared in 1948, even Smith's gentler critics had difficulty in digesting this turgid mixture of cosmic imagery and rip-roaring adventure. Nevertheless it was accepted as a useful prelude to the "Lensman" saga—most of which had already run its course in the revived Astounding Stories. The missing link was "First Lensman", which Smith wrote specially for book publication in 1950 to bridge the gap between "Triplanetary" and "Galactic Patrol", first serialized in 1937-38. By that time Astounding readers had claimed "Doc" Smith for their own. Prodded by editor F. Orlin Tremaine, he had produced a third "Skylark" story which the magazine presented with a fanfare in 1934 and ran through seven issues. With the first installment of "Skylark of Valeron" the magazine's sales soared, and at the end the author had increased his fans by thousands. He had also put what seemed to be an irreversible end to the luckless DuQuesne by reducing him to a capsule of pure intellect and flinging him into the fourth dimension. But good villains die hard, and he was still immortal...
That Astounding was in its most expansive conceptual period at this time lent power to Smith's imagination, and thus Dick Seaton's mental capacity, his new spaceship and area of operations were all enlarged to maximum proportions. After Valeron it seemed there was nothing left to explore, nor any more possible variations on the familiar themes which had made Smith's tales so popular. And he was still a part-time writer; he had business problems to wrestle with. For seventeen years he had been employed as chief chemist with a Michigan firm concerned with the specialist art of compounding doughnut mixes. In 1936 he moved to a new firm in which he had a financial interest, and it left him little time for science fiction. Yet, within a year, Smith was busily plotting the "Lensman" series, which began in Astounding at about the same time that Olaf Stapledon's "Star Maker" appeared, which outdistanced Stapledon's previous work "Last and First Men".
To equate the beloved "pulp" writer Smith with the equally genial philosopher Stapledon might seem almost profane; yet, though their methods and literary styles are poles apart, in the final analysis their works are essentially similar, especially in the scope of their projection and their concern with the eternal struggle of good and evil which, in Smith's stories, is reduced to its simplest elements. The idea of an interstellar police force protecting a community of worlds against piracy and insurrection was familiar in American science fiction when Smith devised his Galactic Patrol. But he used it to better effect against a more elaborate background in which the ancient Arisians, who had sown the seeds of life throughout the galaxy, enlisted the Lensmen in the struggle to subdue the power-crazy rulers of Eddore, a planet in another space-time continuum.
The Lensmen and their ladies, selected from many worlds for their superior qualities, are so-called because they carry a device enabling them to communicate with any form of sentient life their creator can dream up, and which brings quick death to unauthorized users. Their leading heroes are First Lensman Virgil Samms, who extended the Triplanetary League to embrace the entire solar system; Grey Lensman Kim Kinnison, whose exploits range over two galaxies, and his mate Clarissa MacDougall, the red-headed nurse who made good as a Second Stage Lensman. Not until many tyrants have been overthrown on as many as many planets are Kim and "Mac" able to get married and complete the ages-long breeding program culminating in the five Children of the Lens, who are destined to succeed the Arisians as the Guardians of Civilization.
In all, the "Lensman" series helped to fill out eighteen issues of Astounding over a ten-year period ending in 1948, during which that exacting editor John W. Campbell held sway. In between times the number of science fiction pulps had multiplied, but few of the newcomers survived the war years; the real boom came afterwards. One of the casualties was Comet Stories, edited by Tremaine, for whom Smith agreed to write new series featuring "Storm" Cloud, a nuclear physicist and spaceman whose job is to snuff out atomic power plants when they run wild like oil wells. Only one story appeared before the magazine was extinguished in 1941, leaving Astonishing Stories to feature two more before it too folded. Because of their loose connection with the "Lensman" tales, in 1960 the three stories were combined in a book titled "The Vortex Blaster", published here more recently as "Masters of the Vortex".
The war hit Smith hard, too. He found himself redundant and was forced to live on his savings until, at 51, he went to work in an ordnance plant. Only when he was back in the cereals business in Chicago after the war did he essay "Children of the Lens" - with an eye to his own three children and their offspring. "This," he informed me, to settle arguments between his fans over the proper sequence of these stories, "is the real Lensman story, to which the other three are merely introductory material." This led up to something he especially wanted to say about his endings and which he repeated elsewhere "It's a darn hard job to write a book which is part of a series and yet have it end clean, without a lot of loose ends dangling. Many authors - Edgar Rice Burroughs, for instance - didn't try. But I hate loose ends. Besides, suppose the author should die or something without ever finishing the damn thing? In Galactic Patrol and Grey Lensman I could clean them up -without too much trouble, but in Second Stage Lensman it was practically impossible. I sweat blood . .." And how he got over the impasse he told in his essay on "The Epic of Space". (In Of Worlds Beyond: The Science of Science Fiction Writing. Fantasy Press, Reading, Pennsylvania, 1947; Dobson, London, 1965.)
In 1957 Smith retired to live in Florida - and continued his writing. For he could not ignore the current trends in science fiction, which challenged his powers; especially after his earlier work, which he had spent ten years revising for revising for book publication, had been diminished by relentless critics, for example, P. Schuyler Miller, who, reviewing Grey Lensman in 1952, lambasted his "incredible heroes, unbelievable weapons, insurmountable obstacles, inconceivable
In 1957 Smith retired to live in Florida—and continue his writing. For he could not ignore the current trends in science fiction, which challenged his powers; especially after his earlier work, which he had spent ten years revising for before publication, had been diminished by relentless critics, for example, P. Schuyler Miller, who, reviewing Grey Lensman in 1952, lambasted his "incredible heroes, unbelievable weapons, insurmountable obstacles, inconceivable, omnipotent villains, and unimaginable cataclysms." And Groff Conklin, in whom it evoked "alternate waves of incredulous laughter and dull, acid boredom" because, he inspected, "science fiction is growing up and leaving these primitive artifacts behind." So, in The Galaxy Primes, he introduced the sort of concepts that were being encouraged in Astounding, deriving from what editor Campbell termed 'psi phenomena": Smith's pseudo-living, telepathic Lens, he instanced, was "essentially a psi machine." But Campbell didn't care so much for his new story, which Amazing found more acceptable and serialized in 1959 before it emerged, finally, as a paperback.
Undaunted, Smith contrived to make his last appearance Astounding the following year with Subspace Survivors, a short story paving the way for a novel—which Campbell found wanting. It reached Smith's devoted fans in 1965 as a hardcover book entitled Subspace Explorers. And towards the end he found a more receptive market for his work in the magazine Worlds of If, which in 1961 - featured Masters of Space, a two-part tale which al carried in its by-line the name E. Everett Evans. Of Smith's army of admirers, this one-time secretary of The Galactic Roamers fan club was the most constant, and when he died leaving this novel unfinished, Smith revised it completely.
The affectionate regard in which "The Doc" was held the science fiction fraternity was demonstrated when, 1963, at the 21st World Convention in Washington—where The Skylark was hatched—veteran fans presented him with their Hall of Fame award. By then he was having trouble with his eyes, but he had still not done with writing. The following year he reappeared in If with The Imperial Stars in which he tried to recapture some of the atmosphere the "Lensman" stories. This tale, too, gave promise of series featuring a troupe of circus performers involved sabotage in a galactic empire. Then editor Frederik Pol having egged him on, surprised Smith's old-time followers by presenting Skylark DuQuesne, in which the legendary villain who had been dispatched thirty years before w reincarnated, and compelled to join Dick Seaton in resisting another grim menace from afar. The serial had hardly ended when the news reached his friends, in August 19 that "Skylark" Smith had died of a heart attack. In the end of what If had called "the most famous science fiction saga of all time."
* In Of Worlds Beyond: The Science of Science Fiction Writing. Fantasy Press, Reading, Pennsylvania, 1947; Dobson, London, 1965
WALTER GILLINGS Ilford, Essex, 1975.
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Larger Than Life
From "Expanded Universe" ~ Robert A. Heinlein ~ 1980 ~ Ace Books
August 1940—a back road near Jackson, Michigan— a 1939 Chevrolet sedan:
"Doc" Smith is at the wheel; I am in the righthand seat and trying hard to appear cool, calm, fearless—a credit to the Patrol. Doc has the accelerator floor-boarded . . . but has his head tilted over at ninety degrees so that he can rest his skull against the frame of the open left window—in order to listen by bone conduction for body squeaks.
Were you to attempt this position yourself—car parked and brakes set, by all means; I am not suggesting that you drive—you would find that your view of the road ahead is between negligible and zero.
I must note that Doc was not wearing his Lens.
This leaves (by Occam's Razor) his sense of perception, his almost superhuman reflexes, and his ability to integrate instantly all available data and act therefrom decisively and correctly.
Sounds a lot like the Gray Lensman, does it not?
It should, as no one more nearly resembled (in character and in ability—not necessarily in appearance) the Gray Lensman than did the good gray doctor who created him.
Doc could do almost anything and do it quickly and well. In this case he was selecting and road-testing for me a secondhand car. After rejecting numberless other cars, he approved this one; I bought it. Note the date August 1940. We entered World War Two the following year and quit making automobiles. I drove that car for twelve years. When I finally did replace it, the mechanic who took care of it asked to be permitted to buy it rather than have it be turned in on a trade ... because, after more than thirteen years and hundreds c thousands of miles, it was still a good car. Doc Smith had not missed anything.
Its name? Skylark Five, of course.
So far as I know, Doc Smith could not play a dulcimer (but it would not surprise me to learn that he had). Here are some of the skills I know he posessed:
Chemist & chemical engineer—and anyone who thinks these two professions are one and the same is neither a chemist nor an engineer. (My wife is a chemist and is also an aeronautical engineer—but she is not a chemical engineer. All clear? No? See me after class.
Metallurgist—an arcane art at the Trojan Point of Black Magic and science.
Photographer—all metallurgists are expert photographers; the converse is not necessarily true.
Lumberjack
Cereal chemist
Cook
Explosives chemist—research, test, & development
—product control
Blacksmith
Machinist (tool & diemaker grade)
Carpenter
Hardrock miner—see chapter 14 of FIRST LENSMAN, titled "Mining and Disaster." That chapter wa: written by a man who had been there. And it is a refutation of the silly notion that science fiction does not require knowledge of science. Did I hear someone say well. In this case he was selecting and road-testing fo me a secondhand car. After rejecting numberless other cars, he approved this one. I bought it. Note the date that there is no science in that chapter? Just a trick vocabulary—trade argot—plus description of some commonplace mechanical work—
So? The science (several sciences!) lies just below the surface of the paper . . . and permeates every word. In some fields I could be fooled, but not in this one. I've been in mining, off and on, for more than forty vears.
Or see SPACEHOUNDS OF IPC, chapters 3 & 4, pp. 40-80 . . . and especially p.52 of the Fantasy Press hardcover edition. Page 52 is almost purely autobiographical in that it tells why the male lead, "Steve" Stevens, knows how to fabricate from the wreckage at hand everything necessary to rescue Nadia and himself. I once discussed with Doc these two chapters, in detail; he convinced me that his hero character could do these things by convincing me that he, Edward E. Smith, could do all of them . . . and, being myself an experienced mechanical engineer, it was not possible for him to give me a "snow job." (I think he lacked the circuitry to give a "snow job" in any case; incorruptible honesty was Dr. Smith's prime attribute— with courage to match it.)
What else could he do? He could call square dances. Surely, almost anyone can square-dance . . . but to become a caller takes longer and is much more difficult. When and how he found time for this I do not know— but, since he did everything about three times as fast: as ordinary people, there is probably no mystery.
Both Doc and his beautiful Jeannie were endlessly hospitable. I stayed with them once when they had nine houseguests. They seemed to enjoy it.
But, above all, Doc Smith was the perfect, gallant knight, sans peur et sans reproche.
And all of the above are reflected in his stories.
It is customary today among self-styled "literary critics" to sneer at Doc's space epics—plot, characterization, dialog, motivations, values, moral attitudes. etc. "Hopelessly old-fashioned" is one of the milder disparagements.
As Al Smith used to say: "Let's take a look at the record."
Edward Elmer Smith was born in 1890, some forty years before the American language started to fall to pieces—long, long before the idiot notion of "restricted vocabulary" infected our schools, a half century before our language was corrupted by the fallacy that popular usage defines grammatical correctness.
In consequence Dr. Smith made full use of his huge vocabulary, preferring always the exact word over a more common but inexact word. He did not hesitate to use complex sentences. His syntactical constructions show that he understood and used with precision the conditional and the subjunctive modes as well as the indicative. He did not split infinitives. The difference between "like" and "as" was not a mystery to him. He limited barbarisms to quoted dialog used in characterization.
("Oh, but that dialog!") In each story Doc's male lead character is a very intelligent, highly educated, cheerful, emotional, enthusiastic, and genuinely modest man who talks exactly like Doc Smith who was a very intelligent, highly educated, cheerful, emotional, enthusiastic, and genuinely modest man.
In casual conversation Doc used a number of clichés . . . and his male lead characters used the same or similar ones. This is a literary fault? I think not. In casual speech most people tend to repeat each his own idiosyncratic pattern of clichés. Doc's repertory of clichés was quite colorful, especially so when compared with patterns heard today that draw heavily on "The Seven Words That Must Never Be Used in Television." A 7-word vocabulary offers little variety.
("But those embarrassing love scenes!") E. E. Smith's adolescence was during the Mauve Decade; we may assume tentatively that his attitudes toward women were formed mainly in those years. In 1914, a few weeks before the war in Europe started, he met his Jeannie—and I can testify of my own knowledge that, 47 years later (i.e., the last time I saw him before his death) he was still dazzled by the wonderful fact that this glorious creature had consented to spend her life with him.
Do you remember the cultural attitudes toward romantic love during the years before the European War? Too early for you? Never mind, you'll find them throughout Doc Smith's novels. Now we come to the important question. The Lensman novels are laid in the far future. Can you think of any reason why the attitudes between sexes today (ca. 1979) are more likely to prevail in the far future than are attitudes prevailing before 1914?
(I stipulate that there are many other possible patterns. But we are now comparing just these two.)
I suggest that the current pattern is contrasurvival. is necessarily most temporary, and is merely one symptom of the kaleidoscopic and possibly catastrophic rapid change our culture is passing through (or dying from?).
Contrariwise, the pre-1914 values, whatever faults they may have, are firmly anchored in the concept that a male's first duty is to protect women and children. Prosurvival!
"Ah, but those hackneyed plots!" Yes, indeed!—and for excellent reason: The ideas, the cosmic concepts, the complex and sweeping plots, all were brand new when Doc invented them. But in the past half century dozens of other writers have taken his plots, his concepts, and rung the changes on them. The ink was barely dry on SKYLARK OF SPACE when the imitators started in. They have never stopped—pygmies, standing on the shoulders of a giant.
But all the complaints about "Skylark" Smith's alleged literary faults are as nothing to the (usually unvoiced) major grievance: Doc Smith did not go along with any of the hogwash that passes for a system of social values today.
He believed in Good and Evil. He had no truck with the moral relativism of the neo- (cocktail-party) Freudians.
He refused to concede that "mediocre" is better than "superior."
He had no patience with self-pity.
He did not think that men and women are equal— he would as lief have equated oranges with apples. His stories assumed that men and women are different, with different functions, different responsibilities, and different duties. Not equal but complementary. Neither complete without the other.
Worse yet, in his greatest and longest story, the 6-volume Lensman novel, he assumes that all humans are unequal (and, by implication, that the cult of the common man is pernicious nonsense), and bases his grand epic on the idea that a planned genetic breeding program thousands of years long can (and must) produce a new race superior to h. sapiens . . . supermen who will become the guardians of civilization.
The Lensman novel was left unfinished; there was to have been at least a seventh volume. As always, Doc had worked it out in great detail but never (so far as I know) wrote it down . . . because it was unpublishable—then. But he told me the ending, orally and in private.
I shan't repeat it; it is not my story. Possibly somewhere there is a manuscript—I hope so! All I will say is that the ending develops by inescapable logic from clues in CHILDREN OF THE LENS.
So work it out for yourself. The original Gray Lensman left us quite suddenly—urgent business a long way off, no time to spare to tell us more stories.
