The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s

The Complete Short Stories: The 1960s
Brian Aldiss

Following on from the 1950s collection, this is the second collection of Brian Aldiss’ short stories, taken from the 1960s. A must-have for collectors. Part three of four.This collection gathers together, for the very first time, Brian Aldiss’ complete catalogue of short stories from the 1960s, in four parts.Taken from diverse and often rare sources, the works in this collection chart the blossoming career of one of Britain’s most beloved authors. From stories of war robots, to a community of telepaths who have created a unique torture technique, this book proves once again that Aldiss’ gifted prose and unparalleled imagination never fail to challenge and delight.The four books of the 1960s short story collection are must-have volumes for all Aldiss fans, and an excellent introduction to the work of a true master.THE BRIAN ALDISS COLLECTION INCLUDES OVER 50 BOOKS AND SPANS THE AUTHOR’S ENTIRE CAREER, FROM HIS DEBUT IN 1955 TO HIS MORE RECENT WORK.

Copyright (#u6f80ed93-6bd8-527e-8af6-490edd5b693d)

HarperVoyager an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk (http://www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk) First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2015 Stories from this collection have previously appeared in the following publications: The Saliva Tree and Other Strange Growths, SF Horizons (1965), Science Fantasy (1965), New Worlds SF (1965), Worlds of Tomorrow (1965), The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction (1966), SF Impulse, Knight (1966). Copyright © Brian Aldiss 2015 Cover illustration © Shutterstock.com (http://Shutterstock.com) Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015 Brian Aldiss asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Source ISBN: 9780007482290 Ebook Edition © September 2015 ISBN: 9780008148959 Version: 2015-07-31

Contents

Cover (#u4d5f0a30-e12d-51ec-a3b4-0e50e3cad8c3)

Title Page (#ucca0e840-05e0-5c0c-919d-4d645fe4dd99)

Copyright

Introduction

1 The Day of the Doomed King

2 The Girl and the Robot with Flowers

3 How are they All on Deneb IV?

4 The Impossible Smile

5 Man in his Time

6 Old Time’s Sake

7 The Saliva Tree

8 Scarfe’s World

9 The Small Betraying Detail

10 The Source

11 Amen and Out

12 Another Little Boy

13 Burning Question

14 The Circulation of the Blood…

15 The Eyes of the Blind King

16 Heresies of the Huge God

17 Lambeth Blossom

18 The Lonely Habit

19 The O in José

20 One Role with Relish

21 Paternal Care

22 The Plot Sickens

About the Author

Also by Brian Aldiss

About the Publisher

Introduction (#u6f80ed93-6bd8-527e-8af6-490edd5b693d)

As might be expected, these stories resonate with occurrences in life both unfortunate and fortunate.

It seems I have an eloquence for stories, most of which I can see in retrospect as an impatience with ordinary life. And ‘ordinary life’, as many might agree, has its pains and pleasures, its omens and significances.

The ordinary (as I suppose, after my re-reading of this produce of long ago) can be appreciated only by acquaintance with its phantom partner – fiction! – where truth slinks about in disguise.

At the tender age of five, I was sent away from home to a preparatory school on the Norfolk coast. What did I take with me? We were allowed only two items for company – let’s say a teddy bear or a gollywog and a copy of Alice in Wonderland. I took along a microscope and a volume called The Treasury of Knowledge. A good start at an adverse time.

Then, later, considerably later, I am back from a long hazardous tenure – many alien years – abroad in the East, courtesy of HM Government. I am dog poor. Oxford University would not have me. I write a novel entitled Non-Stop featuring a man who does not recognise that he is lost from ordinary life.

This novel went to Faber and Faber. Faber had recently engaged a new director, Charles Monteith. Charles enjoyed many of the perks of life to which I could not aspire. We immediately became friends. Why? Because both Charles and I had served in the British Army in Burma.

Indeed, Charles had fought in the ghastly Arakan where he had been wounded in one leg – a wound that troubled him throughout life. I had been stuck in a nicer part of the jungle – where I shot dead (a disturbing fact I hid from my conscious self for many years) an attacking Japanese soldier. BURMA, with its enormous freight, was Charles’ and my watchword.

We never really spoke about it. But we knew.

So such facts and factors lie behind many of these stories, from ‘Comic Inferno’ to ‘Unauthorised Persons’.

I enjoyed writing them. How do you feel, I wonder?

The Day of the Doomed King (#u6f80ed93-6bd8-527e-8af6-490edd5b693d)

Through his heavy lids, the church hardly appeared to grow nearer until they were upon it. The summer and the wound at his chest made him dizzy. As he stumbled from his horse, the great daisies in the long grass made it seem to him that he was walking across a starry sky, and his perspectives would not come right.

A priest with a rich mantle thrown over his black frock came hurrying to them. He heard Jovann say to the priest, ‘It is King Vukasan, and he is sore wounded. Make ready a couch for him to rest on.’

He muttered into his horse’s flank, ‘We must get to Sveti Andrej and warn them to arm themselves against the Turk,’ and then the daisies and the sky and dappled shade rippled like a banner, and he had a near view of his silver stirrup before blackness closed upon him.

When he roused again, things were better for him. He lay on a bunk in a cool cell, and his head was clearer. Propping himself on one elbow, he said, ‘Now I am able to go on to my kinsmen at Sveti Andrej.’