Gathered here for the first time are Miles J. Breuer’s first publication, “The Man with the Strange Head”; his neglected dystopian novel Paradise and Iron (appearing here in book form for the first time); stories such as “Gostak and the Doshes” and “Mechanocracy”; and Breuer’s essay “The Future of Scientifiction,” one of the early critical statements of the genre. Also included are some of the author’s letters from the Discussions column of Amazing Stories .
Much of what we know as science fiction saw the light—and found its themes, styles, and modes—in the science fiction magazines of the early twentieth century. It was in these magazines of the 1920s and 1930s that Breuer often led the way. Breuer himself found his inspiration in the work of H. G. Wells and in turn influenced science fiction masters from Jack Williamson to Robert A. Heinlein. The Man with the Strange Head and Other Early Science Fiction Stories collects the best work of this pioneer of the genre.
Miles John Breuer was an American physician and science fiction writer. He was part of the first generation of writers to appear regularly in the pulp science fiction magazines, publishing his first story, "The Man with the Strange Head", in the January 1927 issue of Amazing Stories. His best known works are "The Gostak and the Doshes" (1930) and two stories written jointly with Jack Williamson, "The Girl from Mars" (1929) and The Birth of a New Republic (1931).
This collection of a short novel and 10 short stories highlights an influential early writer of science fiction who heralded from Lincoln, Nebraska. Miles J. Breuer was a medical doctor in Lincoln, who was a prominent contributor of SF stories to the early pulp magazines of the 1920s and 1930s, particularly the groundbreaking magazine Amazing Stories. Breuer had pretty much fallen off the radar of most genre fans, but the University of Nebraska Press released this collection, with biographical notes by UNL's Michael R. Page, in 2008, as part of their Frontiers of Imagination reprint series. Although the stories are quite dated now, I still highly recommend this collection to those wanting a look back at one of the early 20th century masters of the genre. Lincolnites in particular should find references to our city, both overt and subtle, in several of Breuer's stories. Particularly enjoyable among the shorter stories are "The Gostak and the Doshes" and "A Problem in Communication." Originally reviewed for my local library's website: http://www.lincolnlibraries.org/depts... I also appeared on an episode of local independent radio station KZUM's "Book Talk" series, interviewing this book's editor. That episode is available to listen to online at: http://www.nlc.state.ne.us/audio/Book...
I'm finding it hard to write any sort of review that doesn't make it sound like I hated it. I didn't hate the stories, but I found them dry and dated.
For the time, I can understand how this was influential. It does fit the time period.
It's not so much the science fiction that bothers me, actually, it's the writing. And I'm sure I would have liked this more if Breuer had been a better writer or even had a modicum of finesse in his craft. I mean, the world of Paradise and Iron was rather well-constructed, I just couldn't stand any more of Davy's American stoic heroism, which goes for most of the other main characters as well. Pip-pip, hooray, all sort of machismo.
Granted, this does cycle back around to it being dated. And trust me, I'm not one for faulting men because they are men and they write for a masculine audience, but the treatment of women in this as pretty, frail, helpless things with such homely names as Mildred (who started out as a particularly strong character and became more subdued over the course of the novel) was dated unto offensiveness.
Onto his endings. I actually liked the ending to the first story, thought it worked rather well in its abruptness, but then as the stories continued I discovered that all of them came to a rather abrupt, almost brusque, end. Rather as if the writer had figured he'd wrapped up all the ends nicely in a bow, and had nothing else to say or do, and without any finesse simply up and stopped. Pip-pip. Hooray.