The Many Worlds of Barry Malzberg by Barry N. Malzberg
159 pages, Paperback
Published January, 1975 by Popular Library
I grabbed this collection to read on my train journey to LA for the Speculative Fiction Across Media Conference in LA. I started it the night before and finished it before boarding the train. The main reason I wanted to bring this book was to read The Final War, although published under the pen name K.M. O’Donnell, Barry considered this one of his best stories, and as far as I can tell the readership agreed. All the stories were good but two stood out.
Yes, The Final War was great, deserving of the praise, but the big shocker for me was a short piece called The Union Forever. Let's talk about this one first. It is only a few pages long, but in the limited word count, BM is able to comment on Presidential insanity (something we are dealing with today), Technocratic dictatorship, and AI. If you don’t want it spoiled, go read it now…
Lets look at how the story opens…
“Carlyle decides to assassinate the president. Enough of this garbage. President is a small, clumsy man who sits alone in a long room papered over in white and gold and makes all the decisions about the course of the Republic and Carlyle, for one, is good and fed up with the autocracy, even though he is one of the leftover volunteers from the president's last campaign apprentices now employed as a confidential typist) and actually took him seriously at one time period now Carlisle only feels betrayed the war for one thing continues…”
The story told in a three-act play with each section opening with a former campaign manager wanting to kill the president, the second act, the president wants to kill him. And then the third act.
“The president and Carlyle decide they must kill one another. This is a conundrum since the fact is that neither truly exists. They are merely circuits and a giant computer which, as we all know, took over the world at the world's at the wars conclusion in 2561…”
I could be reading the story wrong, but I got the impression that BM was commenting on the programmed nature of the system that seems to be a game that plays time after time in a cycle. That seems quaint compared to the unpredictable sundowning fascist we have at the moment.
The Final War on the other hand…
It is another cynical BM Vietnam era masterpiece, similar in the sense that it is about the hollow vibe of a war fought for a forest and a nearby estate. The Soldiers don’t even remember why the conflict started.
“The forest was the right place to be. In the first place, the trees gave privacy, and in the second, it was cool. It was possible to play a decent game of poker, get a night’s sleep. Perhaps because of the poker, the enemy fought madly for the forest and defended it like lunatics. So did Hastings’ company. Being there, even if only on Thursdays, Saturdays and Tuesdays, made the war worthwhile. The enemy must have felt the same way, but they, of course, had the odd day of the week. Still, even Hastings was willing to stay organized on that basis. Monday was a lousy day to get up, anyway.”
There is a surreal feeling to it. The war, the world it takes place in is vague, undefined, but that adds mystery and power to the story. Our main character is a soldier asking to go home. This request denied over and over. A statement on the soldiers of the modern war at the time of this story. Unwilling, not understanding why they are they are there and still they fought.
The reasons for this final conflict are strange and interesting to ponder. Who is the President? What country?
“On election day, the company had a particularly bad experience. The president of their country was being threatened by an opposition which had no use for his preparedness policy; as a defensive measure, therefore, he had no choice on the day before election, other than to order every military installation in the vicinity of the company’s war to send out at least one bomber and more likely two to show determination. Hastings’ company knew nothing whatever of this; they woke on the morning of the election cheerful because it was their turn to take the forest. Furthermore, the tents of the enemy seen in the distance were already being struck, a good sign that the enemy would not contest things too vigorously. The men of the company put on their combat gear singing, goosing one another, challenging for poker games that night: it looked as if it were going to be a magnificent day. All indications were that the enemy would yield like gentlemen. Some of the company began to play tag, leaping through the abutments, comparing them to the forest that would soon be theirs.”
It doesn’t matter. Barry Malzberg has written several works of genius. The final war is one of them.
