INTRODUCTION
James Van Pelt
I’m almost sorry to say that my introduction to Ken was through one of the short stories in this book: “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk,” and the reason I’m almost sorry for that is that for a long time, Ken’s story of a very, very brave toy doing the best he could for noble purpose is what I thought of when someone else mentioned his name, or I had a chance to make reference to him. That makes me sorry because it took me a while to discover Ken’s writing is so much larger, varied and encompassing than that one story, because Ken is not a one-note flute. He commands the entire orchestra.
But I did discover Ken through that story. It provoked one of the first fan letters I’d written. “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk” got to me through emotion, and that’s what I told Ken in my note. I’ve been reading fiction for a long time, a good deal of that time as a teacher and writer myself, so when I read a story I’m often paying attention to the writer’s craft, sort of like a dancer going to the ballet or a painter going to the gallery. I see the work differently now. When I was young, fiction always swept me away. Within a hundred words I’d forget that I was reading, and the author would have me. But growing up, reading a lot, becoming analytic, took the experience of reading for pure joy away.
I’m not totally sad about losing my joy in everything I read. I’ve gained some knowledge during that time. My writing is better for it, I hope, but I don’t read much for recreation. Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I can’t ignore the man behind the curtain. Mark Twain wrote about the effect of too much knowledge in Life on the Mississippi. About his first steamboat trip he said, “I stood like one bewitched. I drank it in, in a speechless rapture. The world was new to me, and I had never seen anything like this at home.” That’s how all reading struck me. Every book was beautiful. All words in a row mesmerized. Then, I studied structure and character and language rhythm. Like Twain, for me the river changed. He said, “Now when I had mastered the language of this water and had come to know every trifling feature that bordered the great river as familiarly as I knew the letters of the alphabet, I had made a valuable acquisition. But I had lost something, too. I had lost something which could never be restored to me while I lived. All the grace, the beauty, the poetry had gone out of the majestic river!”
Reading hasn’t become totally without its charms for me, but the beautiful moment comes much more rarely. I got it when I read Connie Willis’s Passage. It happened when I read Robert Holdstock’s Mythago Wood. Neil Gaiman, Kelly Link and Ted Chiang can consistently make me forget that I’m reading. And it happened to me again when I read “Edward Bear and the Very Long Walk.”
So I became a Ken Scholes fan. I think you will too.
My personal favorite in the collection is “Soon We Shall All be Saunders,” with its surreal, cruel and funny look at corporate life. Well, it would be my favorite if it weren’t for “Action Team-Ups Number Thirty-Seven,” that made me laugh about superheroes, nursing homes, and archenemies at the end of days. Did I say “Action Team-Ups . . .”? I meant, “Of Metal Men and Scarlet Thread and Dancing with the Sunrise,” which shows that Ken can blend fantasy, steampunk and political intrigue like nobody’s business.
Okay, I can’t pick a favorite, because as soon as I start trying I think of “Summer in Paris, Light from the Sky,” that did the impossible of actually making me like Adolf Hitler, or I remember the twisted metaphysics of “Into the Blank Where Life Is Hurled.”
Here’s another problem in trying to pick a favorite from this collection: have you ever gotten into a discussion with a bunch of Stephen King fans? Eventually one of them will ask, “What is your favorite King novel?” They’ll all think about it for a minute, and then the questioner will say, “Not counting The Stand, or course.” The reason they eliminate The Stand is that not only is it an amazing story, but it’s so much larger than the others. Comparing The Stand to the rest is like comparing a haiku to a sonnet. In this collection, the sonnet closes the book, the heart-rendingly funny and sad “The Last Flight of the Goddess.”
I probably could pick a favorite as long as I don’t count “The Last Flight of the Goddess,” of course.
Here’s the real joy in this collection: it’s an 82,000 word long sampler, a teaser. Ken has novels on the way. He undoubtedly will do other collections. You have the rare privilege of getting in on the Ken Scholes ground floor. There’s a lot more of Ken Scholes than appears in this wonderful collection.
Good thing you bought this volume! Put it on your bookshelf when you are done (where you can easily get to it for rereading and lending), but leave a lot of empty space to the right. That’s where the next books from Ken will go. I know you are going to want them too.