By Robert Silverberg, Bob Eggleton
The sf Grandmaster's stick to as much as the profession retrospective stages of the Moon is a look again to the earliest days of his occupation. integrated with pulp tales no longer reprinted in many years could be extra of the observation that made stages much more than simply a collection.
"I need to confess, correct up entrance the following, that you're going to now not discover a good deal within the method of poetic imaginative and prescient in those tales, or making a song prose, or deep perception into personality. Nor are those tales that would inform you a lot that's new to you in regards to the human . those are tales in what's now pretty well a misplaced culture in technological know-how fiction, the easy and unselfconsciously fast paced experience tale of the pulp-magazine period. they're tales from the sunrise of my profession, which begun within the remaining years of that period, and are undemanding stories of motion, generally, that have been written in part for enjoyable and in part for money."
--Robert Silverberg, from the advent
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Additional info for In the Beginning: Tales from the Pulp Era
Guardian of the Crystal Gate (1956) Amazing Stories and its companion magazine, Fantastic Adventures, were big, shaggy pulps published by Ziff-Davis of Chicago. They featured fast-paced adventure stories aimed at adolescent boys, a group to which I belonged when I started reading them in 1948. I loved nearly everything I read, had fantasies of writing for them some day, and had no idea that the two books were staff-written by a dozen or so regular contributors whose work was bought without prior editorial reading and who worked mainly under pseudonyms that the editor, Ray Palmer, would stick on their material at random.
She had a bright little smile, and seemed to have forgotten all about the slap. He looked at the thought-converter. The wires were in place. The Crayden luck was holding true to form. He kissed her, and she responded as he had taught her. After a while, he picked up the thought-converter and held it fondly. "Kejwa," she said. This was his chance to find out, he thought. He reached underneath and snapped on the converter. Her lips formed the word "Kejwa" again. But through the converter came a stream of unexpected concepts.
Sharane's people were under the domination of still another alien race from deep in the galaxy—the dread Llanar. And the Llanar were forcing Sharane to operate this lonely trap on the edge of the universe, waiting like a spider to net the unfortunates who happened to find one of the treacherous diamonds she scattered. " I asked. "Yes," Sharane said. "But—" Then she looked upward, and I saw the sky darken. Coming down, straight above us, was a gleaming golden-hulled spaceship! Suddenly Sharane came to life.