Back | Next

AFTERWORD

In James H. Schmitz's heyday, he was one of science fiction's best known and loved authors. But that heyday was brief—not much more than a decade. Although Schmitz published his first science fiction story in 1943—"Greenface," which appeared in the August issue of Unknown—his SF writing career was desultory for the next many years.

1961 was the turning point of Schmitz's career. The previous eighteen years had produced exactly that number of stories—most of them (with the notable exceptions of "Grandpa" and the four Agent of Vega stories) of rather mediocre quality. Then, in the dozen years which followed, the same man wrote and publish over fifty. And these stories included his best writing: his four novels—Legacy, The Witches of Karres, The Demon Breed, The Eternal Frontiers—as well almost the entirety of his Federation of the Hub tales. Every one of the Telzey Amberdon stories, which, along with The Witches of Karres, were Schmitz's most popular works, were written in that period.

There has rarely been anything comparable in the history of any SF writer. Throughout the sixties, especially in the first half of the decade before he turned to novels, not more than a couple of months would go by without a Schmitz story appearing in one of the premier SF magazines of the day. And those stories were, with few if any exceptions, invariably the lead story of that month's issue.

That was the period in which I first encountered James H. Schmitz, as a teenager newly introduced to science fiction. To me, he loomed as large in the pantheon of science fiction's great writers as such figures as Heinlein, Clarke and Asimov. I would have been shocked to discover, had someone told me at the time, that he would eventually fade into near oblivion.

Yet, fade away he did. Schmitz's writing career was effectively over by the end of l974, and he died in 1981. Many of the Telzey stories were reissued in paperback in the early eighties, along with a new edition of The Witches of Karres, but those went out of print after a time. Since then, except for the New England Science Fiction Association's 1990 one-volume hardcover edition of some of his stories, there has been nothing.

Why? It's not because his reputation has declined, that's for sure. My own allegiance to Schmitz is by no means uncommon among longtime SF readers. I have met many others who, like me, would never go into a bookstore without checking to see if there might, hopefully, be a new reissue of something by him.

I think, more than anything, that Schmitz fell victim to a profound shift in the science fiction market. Because of the nature of the market in his time, and his own natural talent and inclination, Schmitz was basically a writer of short fiction. He wrote only four novels, and, except for The Witches of Karres, none of them are the length associated in today's world with the term "novel." The Demon Breed, for instance, may well be a perfect short novel—SF's equivalent of Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness. But, although its length (50,000 words) officially qualifies it as a "novel," there isn't a commercial publisher today outside of the young adult market who would accept that short a manuscript.

Today's world is the world of the Novellus Giganticus. It is a science fiction market dominated by thick novels—more often than not, massive multi-volume series. In that new land of behemoths, the supple charm of Schmitz's multitude of short stories, novelettes, novellas and short novels quickly gets trampled underfoot.

The one exception, of course, is The Witches of Karres. But that novel, although it is respectably long even by modern standards and is generally considered his masterpiece, is not enough to keep Schmitz afloat. With rare exceptions, "one-work" authors do not stay in print.

As it happens, however—this is my opinion, at least—The Witches of Karres is not James H. Schmitz's masterpiece. As delightful as it is—and Witches is perhaps the greatest example of a successful picaresque novel in all of science fiction—it takes second place to something else.

That "something else" is Schmitz's universe of the Federation of the Hub, taken as a whole. Depending on exactly where you draw the boundary, that universe includes approximately thirty stories of varying length. Ranging from two novels—Legacy and The Demon Breed—through a multitude of novellas, novelettes and short stories, the entirety of Schmitz's works centered in his Hub universe comprises the majority of his total output and comes to well over half a million words of print. More than enough, even in this modern world of literary dinosaurs, to hold its place.

This edition is the first time—ever—that the Federation of the Hub has been presented that way to science fiction readers. Not in bits and pieces, some Telzey here and the occasional Trigger over there, but as a whole. All of it. For the first time, through four volumes, readers will be able to follow the adventures of Schmitz's characters as they continually intersect, interact, and cross each other paths. Telzey Amberdon occupies pride of place, of course, but you will also find all of Trigger Argee (my personal favorite), the roguish Heslet Quillan, Holati Tate, Pilch, Professor Mantelish, Wellan Dasinger—each and every one.

The end result, for all its length, is not another "series." It is something much rarer, and more precious. It is one immensely talented writer's kaleidoscopic vision of a future universe, painted like an impressionist master might portray the teeming life in a field. It is James H. Schmitz's principal legacy to science fiction.

We will be presenting that universe in four volumes, centered on the three most important characters in Schmitz's Hub universe: Telzey Amberdon, Trigger Argee and Nile Etland. Volumes One and Two present the Telzey saga, with Trigger making her first appearance as Telzey's companion in Volume Two. Volume Three revolves around Trigger. Volume Four will focus on Nile Etland.

This series is the culmination of what, for me, was a daydream for a quarter of a century. For that, I have many people to thank.

First and foremost is my publisher, Jim Baen. Without his support from the outset, this project would have been quite impossible.

Then, I want to make special mention of my co-editor, Guy Gordon. I did not know Guy when I began editing this project. I encountered him purely by accident, as I was surfing the web looking for anything related to James H. Schmitz. Quite to my surprise, I discovered that there was an entire site devoted to JHS—and an excellent one. (It's still there, too—www.white-crane.com/Schmitz/index.htm, or do a web search for the words "Schmitz Encyclopedia"—and I urge anyone with an interest in James Schmitz to investigate it.)

With the collaboration of a number of other devoted fans, Guy set up the site and has spent the past several years assembling Schmitz's complete writings and a host of secondary material. By now, he is quite probably the world's expert on the life and work of James H. Schmitz. Guy and his colleagues generously offered to put those resources at my disposal, an offer which I eagerly accepted. In the months that followed, as we worked together preparing this volume, Guy's role came to be the one which is formally recognized on the title page: co-editor of the series. It has been a genuine pleasure to work with him, and one of the unexpected benefits of this project.

I can't mention by name all of the people who have been involved in the "Schmitz Mailing List"—there have literally been dozens—but the key figures require public acknowledgment for their work: Harry Erwin, Gharlane of Eddore, George Phillies, and Ken Uecker. And thanks also to Arnold Bailey, Patrick Campbell and Sharon Custer for their help along the way. Finally, I'd like to give a bow to all the many people in Baen Books' web page (www.baen.com—then select "Hang Out at Baen's Bar") who cheered the project on from the moment I first tossed it out as an idle thought and Jim responded with an offer to throw his support behind the idea. Let it never be said that a chat room is simply a pleasant waste of time. In a very real sense, this series was born there.

Back | Next
Framed