The Last Dangerous Visions (Unreleased Sci-Fi Book 1972)

For some reason, I cant embed that second link--it doesnt like that comma in the URL. So I've transcribed it here.

THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS

An enquiry into the non-appearance of
Harlan Ellison's
THE LAST DANGEROUS VISIONS

written by Christopher Priest

with comments from:

Brian Aldiss
Michael Bishop
Graham Charnock
John Christopher
Harry Harrison
Barry Malzberg
George R.R. Martin
Charles Platt
Bob Shaw
Ian Watson
(...and many others)


Copyright (c) 1987 - 1994 Christopher Priest. All rights reserved.
Published in England

This text is for private distribution and consumption only. Although
it may be downloaded and printed out, it may NOT be sold for gain, and the
text MUST NOT BE ALTERED IN ANY WAY.

Quotations out of context may only be made with the EXPRESS ADVANCE
WRITTEN CONSENT OF CHRISTOPHER PRIEST.

All enquiries to CHRISTOPHER PRIEST as follows:

E-mail: cpriest@cix.compulink.co.uk
Fax: UK - 0424 719739
outside UK - (+44) 424 719739





Table of Contents
=================

Introduction
The History of The Last Dangerous Visions
The Background; A Decade of Broken Promises; The Next 13 Years; Some
Questions
Why Does LAST Remain Unpublished?
Why Have So Many Promises Been Broken?
Will LAST Ever be Published?
How Will It End?
The Steady State Theory; The White Dwarf Theory; The Big Bang
Theory
Pre-Publication Letters
Graham Charnock; Ian Watson; Harry Harrison; C.S. Youd (John Chris-
topher); Michael Bishop; Bob Shaw; George R.R. Martin; Charles Platt
Notes
Post-Publication Letters
Michael Bishop; Brian Aldiss; R.I. Barycz; Laurence M. Janifer; Barry
Malzberg; Greg Feeley; Eddy C. Bertin; Taral Wayne; Steven Bryan
Bieler
Postscript
The Summing Up
The Remedy





Introduction

by Christopher Priest


This is the full text of THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS, an essay I wrote in
1987 and published at my own expense in a fanzine called Deadloss. It was
an attempt to bring journalistic techniques to a subject that from the
point of view of anyone outside the sf world might seem an odd one for
enquiry: the non-publication of a book.
Of course, the book was Harlan Ellison's anthology 'The Last Dangerous
Visions', a title surrounded from the beginning by so much hype,
exaggeration and persistent invisibility that it has been a subject of
interest to a generation (literally) of sf writers and fans.
I approached the subject as an investigative journalist might, the
intention being to find out whatever truth there was, and then report it.
However, THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS is not "objective" in the way that much
excellent American journalism is objective, but is from a different
tradition. It is a polemical pamphlet, written to express a point of view
and to persuade others of that view.
A pamphlet is not "balanced". For instance, the subject has no chance
to defend himself, and indeed is quoted only so that he may condemn himself
with his own words. Pamphlets are usually written by members of minorities
who feel that there is a body of thought which has already had more than
its share of air-time. In this case it can be easily shown that Harlan
Ellison has had a great deal to say about 'The Last Dangerous Visions', and
has said it publicly for almost a quarter of a century. By 1987 a pamphlet
expressing the other view was long overdue.
However, with objectivity and balance out of the window, it might seem
that the only thing left is personal attack. Mr Ellison and his followers
are quick to point this out. In fact, calling it a feud is just about the
only comfort Mr Ellison can take, because then he can try to ignore what
people are saying about him.
This essay is not one side of a feud: my sole contact with Harlan
Ellison is described later. I know few things about him (other than the
fact that we are both professional writers working in or around the sf
world) and I have read very little of his work. My interest in him was
first aroused by his defensive braggadocio about 'The Last Dangerous
Visions', which made me wonder what was going on and what he was trying to
hide. After I had done some research I realized what a terrific story it
was. In brief, I still feel uninterested in Mr Ellison himself, but the
story is fascinating.
My general argument in the following essay is that Mr Ellison has spun
a web of contradictions around the book. I argue that if he would face up
to them, and not continually spin more, then there is a chance for him to
escape. In other words, I depict him as a victim of his own actions, or
inactions. This makes it sound as if I see what has happened as
inadvertent. I'm sure there's an element of this (Mr Ellison is the first
to complain about the sheer hell he has been suffering), but much of it has
arisen through inattention to the needs, opinions or feelings of others.
One critic of an early edition of 'Deadloss' said that I had set out
to embarrass Mr Ellison, as if this was an unacceptable motive. I was glad
of the insight: Mr Ellison has a lot to be embarrassed about, and it was
high time someone told him so. But there's a difference between pointing
out unwelcome truths, and accusing him of wrongdoing.
With this essay written and published, I became identified as a
leading Ellisonian antagonist. Those with an axe to grind would write and
tell me their frightful anecdotes about the great man, or try to tip me off
to some other perceived outrage, while Mr Ellison's faithful fans either
went to ground or bluntly accused me of jealousy. It would therefore be
untrue to claim that I am now as impartial as I was when I wrote the main
essay. In addition, it's pretty difficult to remain impartial about
someone who threatens, in a fit of pique or exhibitionism, to have you
killed. Mr Ellison did this soon after I published the pamphlet. The fact
that I didn't take the threat too seriously, and also that Mr Ellison, when
challenged on it by someone else, quibbled that he had intended it as a
"joke", doesn't diminish the squalid reflex that the original threat
revealed.
Finally, let me say that one of the main motives for writing a
pamphlet is to try to influence events.
In the case of Harlan Ellison and 'The Last Dangerous Visions' it is
perfectly clear how the events should be influenced, and as you read my
essay you will see the process taking place: much of the idea is to spur
Harlan Ellison into action. But not any old action.
By deliberately exposing his familiar gambits as muddle, boastfulness
and procrastination, the idea is to encourage others to stand up to him.
In the end he will be cornered by his own contradictions, and will finally
have to do the right thing.

#

A word about the format of the present edition.
In this era of flexible media it is possible for a text to be revised
and expanded at short notice. Even in its printed version Deadloss went
through many different editions. The main sequence was as follows:
The first 1987 edition consisted of the essay plus letters from
writers who had seen the first draft, and an appendix of notes.
The second edition, also published in 1987 (between September and
December), contained everything from the first edition, with minute
corrections, plus the text of a diary I started to keep when the responses
started pouring in. As the diary was being constantly updated copies were
issued serially. Many different versions are in circulation, bearing
different finishing dates.
At the end of 1987 I became bored with the whole exercise, and stopped
adding to the diary. With the help of Andy Richards at Cold Tonnage Books
I printed a "complete" third edition (everything from the first two
editions brought up to date). This was distributed steadily for five
years; it was first released in January 1988, with the last copy mailed in
1992.

This electronic text is an advance release of the fourth edition,
which will be published in 1994. It consists of the following:

This new Introduction.
The main essay. I have made a few textual corrections, brought some
of it up to date, and generally tightened the criticism of Mr
Ellison.
Pre-publication letters.
Notes. These are various lists of named writers, known to have been
involved with The Last Dangerous Visions at one time or another.
Post-publication letters. These letters made up much of the bulk of
the original diary section. (I have deleted the other diary
entries, as they had mainly topical interest.)
The Summing Up. This includes a section called The Remedy, which is
addressed to any writer whose work is still being held by Mr
Ellison. It is a practical guide.





The History of The Last Dangerous Visions


1. The Background
==================

In 1967 Harlan Ellison published 'Dangerous Visions', a long anthology of
short stories and novellas by contemporary science fiction writers. The
book is a child of its time: the editorial concept was to encourage and
allow writers to deal with certain themes then considered "taboo" by the
mainstream of publishing, especially science fiction publishing.
The book owed its source primarily to the great social changes then
taking place in the United States--caused by the Civil Rights movement, the
Vietnam war, drugs, rock music, student unrest, and so on--and to a lesser
extent to the "New Wave" science fiction then being written (predominantly
in Great Britain) and the apparent breakthroughs being achieved by 'New
Worlds' and a few other outlets. The fact that Mr Ellison's perception of
the "New Wave" seems to have been based on effects rather than causes is
neither here nor there: the book was a major success, and had an undeniable
influence on the way science fiction was latterly written and published, at
least in the United States.
A follow-up anthology, 'Again, Dangerous Visions', appeared in 1972.
By this time the need to flout "taboos" was less urgent. 'Again, Dangerous
Visions' is longer than the first volume and contains more stories, but in
spite of commercial success has not been as influential. The second book
introduced a novelty that was to have a bearing on the third: no writer who
had appeared in 'Dangerous Visions' was invited to contribute to the
follow-up. The three volumes are therefore intended to be of a piece,
presumably representing a cross-section of work from this period of science
fiction's development.
What follows is a brief account of the early years in the life of the
third book, from the time it was announced (1971) until the end of the
1970s. This is the most "public" period in the book's existence: it was
widely seen as a live and exciting project, and many people eagerly
anticipated its publication.
During this period, though, certain events took place that by
repetition quickly established themselves as constants. An annotated
description of this period will show how the pattern took shape.

[Throughout I use a shortened form of the book's title: "LAST".
The abbreviation commonly used by Mr Ellison and many science
fiction commentators is "TLDV" (some of the letter writers use
it) but in my view this harmless abbreviation has become part of
the iconography of the unfinished book. The familiarity of the
term has come to imply acceptance of, and therefore a kind of
tacit approval of, what has been going on.
[I prefer my own disjunctive abbreviation. Apart from
anything else it implies non-acceptance of, and tacit disapproval
of, whatever it is that has been going on.]



2. A Decade of Broken Promises
===============================

The first published reference to LAST that I have been able to trace is in
the Introduction to the second paperback volume of 'Again, Dangerous
Visions'. Mr Ellison said then:

"[LAST] will be published, God willing, approximately six months
after this book."

This Introduction was dated 6 May 1971, and 'Again, Dangerous Visions'
appeared in 1972. Was God willing, six months later? He was not.
In this same article Mr Ellison revealed that he already had stories
on hand from a total of 19 named writers (plus a "gaggle" of others), and
added that stories had been promised from 12 other writers ("and a few
more"). There are therefore _at least 31 writers_ who have been waiting
more than 20 years to see their stories in print, although to my knowledge
some of those stories were written and sold to Mr Ellison in the 1960s.
(See *Note 1*.)
1971 was the year in which 'The Lathe of Heaven', 'Tau Zero', 'A Time
of Changes' and 'A Soldier Erect' were published. Richard Nixon was in his
first term as President of the USA. Charles Manson went to prison. A
first-class postage stamp in Britain cost 3p. Harlan Ellison was 37.
Of the writers named in this article, many have subsequently died.
(See *Note 6*.)

#

23 June 1972
Announcement in 'Locus' 115:
---------------------------

"New American Library has purchased paperback rights for $60,000
to all three Dangerous Visions books. They will publish 'Again,
Dangerous Visions' late in 1973 in a boxed two-volume set and
will publish 'Dangerous Visions' in a one-volume edition after
Berkley's license to publish it has expired in 1974. The
paperback of 'The Last Dangerous Visions' will be published by
NAL sometime after the hardcover has been released."

Announcements in 'Locus' do not come out of the air, and this one will
probably have come from Mr Ellison himself. Although it does not actually
say so, the clear implication from this is that LAST has been completed.
One could reasonably infer that LAST will be published soon after the other
arrangements described, perhaps in 1974 or 1975.

#

18 August 1973
Announcement in 'Locus' 147:
---------------------------

"According to Harlan Ellison, LAST will be completed by September
15 and will be turned into the publisher."

This one is at least unambiguously attributed. (Presumably Mr Ellison
himself didn't write this; his grammar is better.)

#

13 September 1973
Letter from Harlan Ellison in 'The Alien Critic', No. 7, November 1973:
----------------------------------------------------------------------

"...here is a current (as of 13th September 1973) table of
contents for [LAST], with word-lengths appended. The manuscript
of the anthology is now in a file box, ready to go to New York,
with the manuscripts standing on end. The box is three feet
long, and it is jammed. Please bear in mind, as you read this
Table of Contents, that this is _not_ the order the stories will
appear in the book, that the book is closed AND I DAMMIT TO HELL
DON'T WANT TO SEE SUBMISSIONS FROM ANYONE EVER AGAIN IN THIS
LIFE! and that I'm waiting on rewrites from [3 named writers],
but that beyond those three, the book is complete. Save for the
60,000 words of introductions that I have yet to write, or the
50,000 words of Afterwords that are written but haven't been
included in the total wordage indicated on the list.
"I think you'll all like this book. And thank _God_ this
bloody ten-year-millstone has been removed from my aching neck!"

Mr Ellison goes on to list 68 authors and stories (plus the three promised
rewrites), and estimates a total word-length of 445,250. That, plus the
110,000 words of introductions and afterwords he refers to in his letter,
makes a book well in excess of half a million words. (See *Note 3*.)
Mr Ellison also reveals that the book will contain 75 full-page
illustrations by Tim Kirk.
This letter is a significant document in the tortuous history of LAST,
because for many people it was the first revelation of the sheer length of
the projected book. I'll have more to say about the length of the project
later, but it's instructive to try to imagine exactly what we are talking
about.
'War and Peace', in its English translation, is about 600,000 words in
length. Vikram Seth's novel 'A Suitable Boy' (1993), which at 1,350 well-
packed pages is the longest novel written in English since Samuel
Richardson's 'Clarissa', is probably bigger than that. Stephen Donaldson's
'The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant the Unbeliever' (initial trilogy only)
totals about 510,000 words. John Brunner's 'Stand on Zanzibar', one of the
longest science fiction novels ever published, was about 215,000 words
long.
But LAST is already so big (at least in prospect) that questions of
scale have to be seriously considered. At 550,000 words it's the length of
approximately seven normal-length novels, or two and a half copies of
'Stand on Zanzibar' bound together.
The rest of the letter is interesting, too. Taken together with the
announcement in 'Locus' ("...completed and turned in by September 15"), and
itself dated 13 September, it sounds plausible, even to sceptics.
We're told the manuscript is "ready to go", that no more submissions
will be read, and so on.
But a shadow of doubt does remain, partly because of those three
unreliable authors who are having to rewrite their stories (one of whom,
interestingly, was one of those announced two years earlier in 'Again,
Dangerous Visions' as being definite--see *Note 2*), and partly because of
the small matter of the 60,000 words Mr Ellison himself is yet to write.
Things don't seem so certain after all. Working flat out, a fast
writer could conceivably produce 60,000 words of publishable text in a week
or so, but this letter was written only two days before the deadline!
It's also worth pointing out that this letter was clearly intended as
a public announcement, not as a private letter. Richard Geis's 'The Alien
Critic' (later 'SF Review') was a fanzine with a large circulation, and Mr
Ellison must have known and intended that it would be read by many people,
including the writers whose work he was sitting on. (At one point he says
"you'll all like this book", and there is a general impression of an
announcement being made.)
So why was Mr Ellison announcing in public that the book was complete,
when not only was it self-evidently incomplete, it could not have been
completed in the time remaining?
In 1973 President Nixon began his second term of office, and the
Watergate scandal broke. The Arab oil embargo was imposed. The movies
'Last Tango in Paris', 'Godspell' and 'Soylent Green' were released.
Harlan Ellison was 39.

#

February 1974
Letter from Harlan Ellison in 'The Alien Critic', No. 8, February 1974:
----------------------------------------------------------------------

"Since I haven't given out the complete table of contents to
anyone else, I wanted to keep you up to the moment with addi-
tions. Though the book is closed, I could not pass up the
following. Please add to the list you have."

Mr Ellison then lists seven more stories, and summarizes the whole book in
the following way:

"Total stories: 78. Total authors: 75. Total words: 491,375,
with Preface, Forewords, Afterwords, Introduction, etc., yet to
be added."

Assuming that the non-fiction matter still amounted to 110,000 words, the
book has now reached over 600,000 words in prospect: equivalent to seven
and a half normal-length novels. (See *Note 4*.)
Again, this is a psychologically interesting letter. For instance,
there is no attempt to rationalize this letter with the previous one, in
which finality and imminent delivery were so strongly featured, and no
mention of what happened about that deadline, five months earlier. There
is again a clear intention that anyone reading the letter should believe
that the book is emphatically finished ("complete" table of contents, "the
book is closed", etc.), yet at the same time Mr Ellison has neatly provided
himself with a delaying tactic against expectations: his foot is generously
still in the door, and it will stay there long enough for a few more
stories to squeeze their way in.
Was LAST delivered to the publisher in February 1974? It was not.

#

14 June 1974
Letter from Harlan Ellison to Christopher Priest:
------------------------------------------------

"Dear Mr Priest:
"The hour grows late, time grows short, and I'm chagrined
that I was never able to buy the free moments to write you before
this. [LAST] is closed, and I'm in the process of readying the
massive final volume of the trilogy for Harper & Row. In taking
stock of the important writers who haven't been represented in
the previous volumes, your name looms very large. The past few
years and your work during those years have placed you among the
handful of serious writers of imaginative fiction who can simply
be called sui generis. I cannot express in so brief a letter my
admiration for 'Indoctrinaire', 'Darkening Island' and--most
memorable of all, probably because I just finished reading it and
marveling at it--'The Inverted World'.
"Though money is gone on the book, I'm prepared to pay as
best I can out-of-pocket to have a new, unpublished anywhere
Priest story, an important story for a milestone book. It was
always my intention to write and ask you to do one for me. But
time ... and circumstance....
"It would be a terrible omission were there not to be a
story by you in this landmark trilogy, now being taught in over
200 colleges and universities. Please! If you can do something,
or have something available ... any length, but extra-special,
challenging, something you wouldn't be ashamed to have logged in
the book of posterity ... please send it along posthaste.
"I'll hold open the book for you until I hear one way or the
other. But please keep this invitation to yourself; as far as
the rest of the world is concerned, the book is closed.
"With high expectation"
(signed) Harlan Ellison

With this letter began my brief personal involvement with Mr Ellison and
his unpublished book.
Although I would normally keep professional correspondence
confidential I have included this letter for a number of reasons, not the
least of which is that it reveals that four months after the letter to
Richard Geis the anthology was still far from finished. If the door then
had been jammed open with a foot, now it was locked and bolted, but one
manuscript--mine--could still be slipped through the gap at the bottom.
Or so it would seem. In fact, the letter feels phony (as it did on
the day it was received); it has the weird unreality of a computerized form
letter from a mail order company. This unworthy suspicion was unexpectedly
confirmed a couple of weeks later when another British writer confided to
me that he had received an almost identically worded letter at the same
time. (What he actually said was: "If you were to put my letter against
yours and hold them up to the light, the only difference would be the
titles of our books.") I suspect this was one of many letters sent out in
the same period, trawling through the lists of writers Mr Ellison had not
previously approached. (See *Note 5* for a list of some of the others!)
But assume for a moment that the letter is sincerely intended. An
editor approaches a writer and offers to buy a story. What could be wrong
with that?
Well, the use of flattery is excessive, and manipulative in intent.
Sui generis, indeed! He says that I loom large as one writer who wasn't in
earlier volumes. To speak of me looming at that time is nonsensical. When
the first Dangerous Visions was published I had written and sold only a
handful of fairly inept stories, published in Britain. He couldn't
possibly have known of me or my work. In 1971, when he completed the
second book, the only work of mine that had appeared in the USA was my
first novel 'Indoctrinaire' (which vanished almost without trace), and my
first short story 'The Run', published in the Judith Merril anthology
'England Swings SF' (again, a volume of commendable obscurity).
And while seeming to flatter me he is actually using his letter as a
chance to promote himself. Note the use of the words "milestone" and
"landmark" to describe his own book. Of course, he is trying to sell
someone on the idea of writing for him, but the way he brings in this self-
congratulation is actually fairly repugnant. He says that someone writing
for him should produce something "extra-special", something that can be
"logged in the book of posterity". Most writers try to write something
"extra-special" every time, and don't need flattery as a goad.
As for posterity: assuming that a writer cares a fig for posterity,
why does Mr Ellison presume that only by writing for him will posterity's
book be logged?
The reference to payment "out-of-pocket" is a disingenuous ploy,
because it implies a favour. Even in 1974, struggling endlessly with a
feeling of failure and a perpetual shortage of cash, I wanted no favours
done me. A sale should be entered into professionally. Furthermore, most
anthologies are paid for out of the editor's "pocket", because the usual
arrangement is for the publisher to pay the editor an advance, out of which
the contributors will then be paid. What Mr Ellison meant, but didn't say,
was that he had over-spent his advance but was willing to over-spend a
little more. He couldn't resist dropping this into the letter, thinking it
would be an extra inducement, a heightening of my presumed importance to
him.
And where does Mr Ellison think the recipient of this letter has been
living? Already by 1974 the non-completion of LAST had become an open joke
in fannish and professional circles. (It is perhaps difficult to realize,
a quarter of a century later, that even from Mr Ellison's first
announcement many people suspected he would never deliver the book.)
A letter like this is an intimate appeal. It cynically exploits
vanity, goodwill and a desire for success. The writer of the letter
asserts his sincerity, good taste and admiration, and pleads for
confidentiality so that other writers might not grow jealous.
But because the appeal is actually written for self-serving purposes,
the recipient would have to be pretty insensitive not to notice the
insincerity dripping from it. He gets a queasy feeling in his stomach, but
cannot easily phrase a refusal: it's nice to be asked to write something,
no matter by whom. Flattery gets under your defences, however hypocritical
it is. You want to avoid hassles, but you're cornered. Prevarication or
excuses will only bring a more concentrated appeal, and so, feeling
cornered, you agree reluctantly to send something along. The letter has
manipulated you in exactly the way it was intended.

[I prevaricated and made excuses, and duly received a more
concentrated appeal. In August 1974 I reluctantly broke off from
the novel I was writing, wrote a short story called 'An Infinite
Summer', and sent it to Mr Ellison.
[A long silence followed. After four months without any
reaction at all from Mr Ellison, I instructed my agent to get the
story back from him.
[I have never regretted this, even though I was subjected to
a stream of abuse and threats from Mr Ellison. This was
peculiarly unpleasant, but I had one consolation he could do
nothing about. I had promptly resold the story for real money,
and by the time Mr Ellison was calling me names it was already in
print. It was subsequently republished in a "best of the year"
anthology, and since then has been regularly reprinted in books
and magazines all over the world. Two decades after I wrote it,
'An Infinite Summer' is still being resold, and brings me a small
but regular income.
[If I had left the story with Mr Ellison it would today be
sitting in a cardboard box somewhere in his house. No one would
be reading it. Because it escaped this fate, 'An Infinite
Summer's' sojourn in Mr Ellison's hands is irrelevant to this
essay. What is relevant, though, is the fact that if I hadn't
whipped it away from him when I did my story would be in that
joyless box with well over a hundred other stories, most of them
written several years before mine.
[No one is reading them, most people don't even know they
exist ... but this essay is about them.]

#

19 February 1976
Announcement in Locus 185:
-------------------------

"For those who keep asking, Ellison's anthology [LAST] still
hasn't been turned in to Harper & Row and is still unscheduled."

#

7 July 1976
Interview with Christopher Fowler, in 'Vector' 75, July 1976:
------------------------------------------------------------

(Ellison): "[LAST] is done, is closed ... I'm finished up
writing the introductions now. It goes into Harper & Row--it
will not be published by Doubleday. I pulled it away from them
two years ago, three years ago. It's being published by Harper &
Row. It will be in a two volume, boxed set, and it will sell for
approximately $26. It has over 100 stories ... it is over a
million and a quarter words. That is the equivalent of 13 or 14
full-length novels. It's longer than 'War and Peace', and it's
about three times as long as 'Gone With the Wind'. ... It goes
in September 1st [1976]. ... It'll be on sale in America in the
Spring of 1977. I think after ten, eleven, twelve years of this
project, this book will be the final road-marker of a project
that is now clearly indicative of where the field has been and is
over ten years."

One of the features of being in Mr Ellison's company is that he frequently
makes verbal claims about having finished and delivered LAST. These claims
are invariably made in such an emphatic way, supported by plausible-seeming
detail, that it's impossible to challenge them except by having to call Mr
Ellison a liar.
These repeated claims have become part of the ritual, in which others
seem content to connive. Few people are prepared to stand up to Mr Ellison
in person, and no one believes the claims (or even knows anyone else who
believes them) so they vanish into the air. But every so often there's a
tape recorder running, the words get transcribed and are eventually
enshrined in print. This is one such case.
As Mr Ellison never publicly retracted or corrected this, we can take
it that he was not misquoted.
So here is the latest untrue claim that the book is finished and about
to be delivered. A million and a quarter words: 1,250,000 words. Using my
own yardstick of "average" length, that's actually equivalent to nearly 16
novels. In pages? If the "average" novel runs to 250 pages in hardback,
LAST would work out at more than 3,000 pages. (The London Telephone
Directory, printed on A4 paper in three columns of tiny type, contains over
3,000 pages.)
This "road-marker" that indicates where the "field" has been for the
last ten years is clear to read. The "field" has been in a box in Mr
Ellison's house.
Incautiously, Mr Ellison adds a publication date. We all remember
that Spring of 1977, just over a decade and a half ago, when 'The Last
Dangerous Visions' was at last published, don't we?
1977 was the year President Jimmy Carter took office. New York
experienced its first "brown-out". The space shuttle flew for the first
time. Harlan Ellison was 43.

#

14 December 1977
Letter from Harlan Ellison, circulated to all LAST contributors:
---------------------------------------------------------------

This is far too long (and too tediously self-serving) to be reproduced in
full, but here are salient extracts:

"We are now forthcoming from Harper & Row." [A new contract is
enclosed, with alterations.] "The most significant [alteration]
is a guarantee that the book will be published before Christmas
1978. Over the outraged howls of Harper & Row I have made it a
13-month guarantee. I did that to restore faith with those of
you ... who have waited literally years to see the work in print,
and despite delay after delay--justified or not--have stuck with
me. As this will be a 3-volume boxed set, over 600,000 words, it
will take Harper & Row a good nine months to send the book(s)
through production. I know I'm cutting it close with you, but I
felt I had to do it if I was to summon up the gall to ask you to
re-sign with TLDV. It is incumbent on me to advise you once
again that the stories have, in fact, reverted to you. Long
since. You can refuse to sign, keep the advance payment you
received, and sell the story elsewhere. Or you can trust me just
one more time and stay with the project."

[Mr Ellison explains he and the publishers have retained Victoria
Schochet as an outside consultant editor to complete the book.
Ms Schochet is a well-known and highly respected New York
editor.]

"[Victoria Schochet] came out here to Los Angeles from New York
for ten days, to work on this deal exclusively. Her assistance
has permitted me to plunge through to the final edge of the
project, and because of her help the manuscript is now ready to
go. I have some writing to do, but I'll have that done in
January and the book will be sent to Harper & Row by February 1st
for immediate pre-production layouts."

[Mr Ellison encloses a note from Victoria Schochet; see below.]

"Over the next few months I'll stay in touch to let you know what
stage the production of the book has reached. Harper & Row will
be renegotiating the NAL paperback contract, which will mean more
money almost immediately, and there will be, of course,
continuing royalties, unto the 10th generation. With DV and A,DV
having sold millions and millions of copies in hard and soft,
translations and UK reprints, all you need do to reassure
yourself that you're investing in an annuity, is to query anyone
who appeared in the first two books."
(signed) Harlan Ellison

Here is the handwritten personal testimony from Victoria Schochet, enclosed
with Mr Ellison's letter:

"_Please_ do be assured that this enormous project is in the
final stages of completion. I say Please because it would truly
be a tragedy to lose any of the pieces in the volume. Having
spent the last week reading through all 600,000 words of it, I
promise you that no claim for its significance, scope, and
excellence could possibly be extravagant. I have never had the
honor of working on as fine a project. I know it's been a long
time coming for us all, but the waiting will have been worth it.
"The manuscript is now all together, in order, finished.
All that remains is to integrate your (_immediate_) responses and
it's off to the publisher. The book will be a 3-volume, large-
sized (D), about 650 pages each. The illustrations are equal to
the stories -- the set will be a beautiful, mind-boggling
product. Harper & Row recognizes the importance of TLDV and is
preparing to support its publication in force.
"The editors and publisher thank you for your patience and
understanding and have faith that you'll be well pleased with the
rewards."
(signed) Victoria Schochet

Thrust out of your mind the distracting hindsight knowledge that LAST did
not actually appear in December 1978, and try to put yourself in the place
of the writers who received this in 1977. It's a fine and convincing
performance: open, frank, plausible, attested to by an independent witness.
You would be a distrustful churl indeed to question this full-frontal
assault on your mind and heart, with its confession of fault, willingness
to let old stories be released, optimism about the future ... and its
promises of untold wealth.
The integrity of Victoria Schochet is not in question. An intriguing
element in all this, though, is that Mr Ellison makes heavy weather of her
fine reputation, and underlines the fact that she did not write her letter
under duress. (At one point in his letter he says: "Vicky's credentials
speak for themselves; and not even thumbscrews could get her to write those
words if she didn't mean them." Why should he make such a meal of this?
Why on earth should he think that anyone would suspect otherwise?)
What went wrong after these letters were sent? After all, here we
have unambiguous statements concerning the book's completion. Mr Ellison
says, "the manuscript is now ready to go." Victoria Schochet says, "The
manuscript is now all together, in order, finished." If these statements
are true, why was the book not published 15 years ago?
It wouldn't be anything to do with the single betraying flaw, would
it? Mr Ellison says, "I have some writing to do."
Meanwhile, what's all this about "continuing royalties"?
"Continuing" implies there is a process that started in the past and
will continue uninterrupted into the future. Is Mr Ellison suggesting that
the writers have been receiving "royalties" even before the book is
published? (A royalty is a payment made to a writer based on retail sales
of a book.) Using the word "royalties" is an interesting semantic
stratagem, because it implies that the book has somehow come into existence
before it is published!
The reality of LAST payments to contributors is that anything paid is
in the nature of a payment on account until publication. The source of
this will be the original advance, contributions from Mr Ellison's
"pocket", and, most important of all, surpluses created by the payment of
larger advances whenever the projected book is moved to a new publisher.
The passage of time and price inflation allow replacement publishers to pay
an advance which is sufficiently larger than the one immediately before.
This enables the old publisher to be paid back, and the surplus distributed
as "royalties" (see below).
Insofar as I have been able to trace actual payments of these
"royalties", I understand one distribution was made ("out of pocket") in
August 1973, and another was made in early 1984. More might have been paid
since then. (My argument is with Mr Ellison's terminology--which creates
misunderstandings--not with his honesty.)
By the way, did you notice how in 18 months the estimated word-count
dropped mysteriously from 1,250,000 to 600,000 words?

#

29 January 1979
Letter from Ellison to contributors. ("SUBJECT: Impending Publication"):
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

"As the enclosed letter will inform you, there has been a major
change in the status of [LAST] and, as a result, a major
improvement in your position in the book.
"G.P. Putnam's Sons will be doing the book in a three-volume
boxed set. They are advancing us $50,000. After repayment of
the monies owed to Harper & Row and New American Library, I will
be dispersing most of the remaining thousands directly to you, as
an additional advance payment for your work in the book.
"The entire month of February will be spent completing the
prefatory material and the introductions; delivery is scheduled
for 15 March and publication--if all goes as expected--will be
Christmas of this year.
"It is a year later than my last communique with you
indicated, and God knows most of you have waited far longer to
see your work in print than I had any right to expect; but I
think you'll agree this is a most salutary development.
"This is the third publisher to contract for [LAST]. We
started with Doubleday a long time ago, then moved the book to
Harper & Row, and now Putnam. A number of you have been
(properly) annoyed at what seemed to be unnecessary delays in
getting the book out. I've always tried to be candid with you
about these delays; and with only a few exceptions you've all
understood that I take my custodial responsibilities for your
work very seriously. It is precisely that sense of
responsibility that brings us to this point. Please understand:
I've seen too many rotten examples of anthologists who've conned
you into doing original stories that went into books that
instantly vanished from view. And you never saw another cent of
royalties.
"Everyone who has ever published a story in one of the
Dangerous Visions books can attest to the large and regular
royalties that keep on coming, year after year. I feel it is the
most basic element of my obligation to you, to keep on making
money for you. A story in a DV book has life, it will be an
annuity. So as caretaker, I have to go with my instincts about
marketing. Thus far I've been correct."

[Two rambling paragraphs follow, in which Mr Ellison explains why
he keeps changing publishers.]

"Well, last year Vicky Schochet came out here from New York to
help me finalize the book. She read it from front to back, and
was more enthusiastic than I can say. Now she's the editor at
Berkley/Putnam who has arranged for the buy-out with H&R. She
wants to do the book, she knows how good the book is, and she has
fired up Putnam's so _they_ want to do the book.
"The way it should be done.
"With major advertising. With special packaging. With
heavy promotion. And with a $50,000 advance payment.
"That's the story. I tell you all this, of course, to get
you to hang in there for one more month. By March 15th the book
will be in Vicky's hands and she'll circularize you confirming
same. But before that time, we'll have an advance check of fifty
grand. I'll pay back the advance we got from Harper, the money
New American Library gave us, and the vast bulk of what's left
will be divided into pro rata shares and sent off to you. Within
a month you'll have a big schlug of money to cement your staying
with the project so we can do it right.
"I've run out of ways to beg you to stay with me; you've
long since run out of patience with me. TLDV has become one of
the big myth-objects of our time. Like Atlantis or Reagan's
intellect. But that very word-of-mouth advertising, that bated
breath attitude on the part of the audience, serves you all in
the extreme. When Putnam's releases TLDV for the Christmas
season, it has a guaranteed trade sale waiting.
"And we're talking a _very_ expensive package here. Three
books, approximately 700,000 words, over 115 stories. And huge
profits for all of you. The attached letter from Berkley will
buttress all the foregoing. Be patient for another month and
enjoy a second advance payment as a mark of good faith, as well
as my way of saying thankyou for your patience up till now."
(signed) Harlan Ellison

This letter, like the one in 1977, was accompanied by one from a publisher.
The writer this time was Rena Wolner, Vice President and Publisher at
Berkley Publishing Corporation:

"To the contributors to The Last Dangerous Visions.
"Welcome to Berkley! Thanks to the involvement of Victoria
Schochet, our new senior editor for science fiction, Berkley is
now negotiating to take over the publishing of [LAST]. I would
like to take this opportunity to tell you just how proud and
excited we are to be the publisher of this final volume in the
remarkable Dangerous Visions series.
"I would like to tell you something of our publishing plans
for the project. We intend to bring out a hardcover edition,
under our Berkley/Putnam imprint, on our winter 1979-1980 list.
We recognize that publication of [LAST] will be an event of great
importance in the science fiction field, one which has been
awaited for some time. Although it is too early to be specific,
I want to assure you that we are planning to promote the project
with all due fanfare, and see that it receives the meticulous
production attention and post-publication notice that it
deserves. (This will involve publicity releases, posters,
adequate review copies, and the like.) And of course we will be
bringing out the paperback editions later in 1980, and have grand
plans for selling and promoting the books again at that time.
"I hope that you are as pleased to have [LAST] published by
Berkley as we here are to have it on our list, We know that the
project will be a tremendous success for all of us."
(signed) Rena Wolner

This was another convincing performance, one which must have seemed
plausible on that wintry day in 1979.
There is hardly any reference to Mr Ellison's broken promises in the
past, except by implication. By concentrating on the change of publisher
Mr Ellison also manages to imply that the further delay was caused by this,
not by him. In a confident manner, Mr Ellison gives every impression of
being back in control: publication is "impending", etc.
You will have noted Mr Ellison's ingenuous reference to anthologies
that "instantly vanished from view". This could not have been said
accidentally (because if so it is insensitive to the point of crassness) so
what on Earth could he have meant? No other book in modern publishing has
"vanished" so publicly and over such a long period of time as LAST. Was he
using verbal legerdemain, trying to persuade his writers that although they
probably think the book has vanished, in fact it has not?
Mr Ellison of course contradicts himself on this. The amusing joke
about Atlantis and Reagan's intellect is trying to make a virtue of the
book's long period of non-appearance.
Later in 1979, Margaret Thatcher became Prime Minister of the UK. In
1980, around the time the paperback was expected, Ronald Reagan was elected
President of the USA. 'Star Trek - the Motion Picture' was released in
Britain. Harlan Ellison was 46.

#

June 1979. Report in Locus 222:
-------------------------------

'Locus' published a list of the contents of LAST, presumably obtained from
Mr Ellison. The book was said "to be published next year by Putnam". A
total of 113 stories were listed, amounting to just under 645,000 words.
(See *Note 5*.)
"Next year" was of course 1980, and of course the book was not
published then.

#

August 1980. An eye-witness account:
------------------------------------

During a visit to New York I went to a party where Harlan Ellison was
present. (This is one of the very few occasions when I have been in the
same room with him, although we have never actually been introduced.) A
large number of writers, including myself and Mr Ellison, were sitting
around chatting about this and that. Suddenly one of the others said, "How
are you getting on with TLDV, Harlan?"
"I just delivered it!" he cried. "I handed it in this afternoon!
It's over!"
Amid squeals of delighted scepticism, raspberry noises and general
hilarity, Mr Ellison managed to look hurt and indignant.
"Listen, you guys," he said. "This time I really did."
He launched into some complicated story about how he had had to get a
cab to take him and the oversize box to the airport.
"It's OK, Harlan," somebody said. "We understand. But you don't have
to bullshit us. We won't tell the fans."
Mr Ellison look chastened, but relaxed a little. He then explained
that although he hadn't, you know, actually _delivered_ the manuscript, the
delay was a mere technicality. As soon as he got back to Los Angeles he
would be setting aside a whole month to write the introductions, and ...
Everyone cheered up. The status quo had been restored.
A few days later, at the worldcon in Boston, I heard part of a long
and colourful speech Mr Ellison gave about his life and works. During
this, a question from the floor raised the same subject.
While the laughter rang out, Mr Ellison lowered his head in mock
modesty. As the laughter died he raised a clenched fist and shook it in
triumph.
"I was in New York last week," he declared. "And I handed it in!
IT'S DONE!"
The whole place erupted with cheers. Mr Ellison trotted happily to
and fro across the stage. People stood up: it became a standing ovation.
Then I noticed that some of the people who had been at the same party
as me, and who had heard the reluctant truth from Mr Ellison's own lips,
were also clapping and cheering ...
I left the auditorium, bemused by all this. As I went through the
doors I heard Mr Ellison begin his entertaining story about getting his
oversized box into the cab.




3. The Next 13 Years
=====================

Thus the history of LAST to 1980. It has been going on like that ever
since, and simply because in that time the book still has not been
finished, delivered or published, to go on detailing the saga would be
pointless.
From the above it is possible to discern a wave pattern with a period
of about two or three years.
The first phase is a sudden burst of activity from Mr Ellison: tables
of contents are released, a new publisher is named, a glitzy advance is
paid, publication dates are announced, consultant editors are flown out to
Los Angeles at Mr Ellison's expense, Mr Ellison promises that writing the
introductions will take no more than two or three weeks. Then there is a
period of apparent retrenchment: more stories are acquired from new
writers, old stories are rewritten, somewhere in the background another
contributor or two drops dead. The third phase arrives insidiously:
nothing much happens, Mr Ellison no longer tells everybody he is working on
the introductions, the publisher waits, the contributors wait, the
manuscripts sit in a box.
Then, out of the blue, another burst of activity ...
The ten-year history detailed above was drawn from the public record,
or from sources that were easy to find. It is therefore documented, and
can be checked by anyone who cares to do so.

#

The undocumented record is wider still; there can be few people who go to
American conventions who have not heard Mr Ellison renew his claims and
promises. For instance, three months after the worldcon in Boston, Mr
Ellison took part in a three-way telephone link-up that was broadcast at
another science fiction convention. In this conversation with Fritz Leiber
and Arthur C. Clarke, Mr Ellison again repeated his claims:

"I'm getting ready for the final push [on LAST]. It's going to
press. Berkley/Putnam is doing it. They're taking a year to
publish it in three volumes. ...That's it then, that rock's off
my back forever."
[Transcript in 'Science Fiction Review' 40, Fall 1981.]

Again the unambiguous assertions: the book is _going to press_, it's off
his back _forever_ (and never mind what he had said in public only three
months earlier).
Any professional writer will know that when a book is "going to press"
it has already been in the publisher's hands for some weeks or months. The
implication is clear: the manuscript must have been delivered.
And that same writer will want to believe it, and will put aside the
memory of the earlier qualification: "I'm getting ready for the final
push."

#

Since 1980, of course, the book has still not been published, nor has it
even been announced. As always, the exact situation is difficult to
determine, but the book appears now to be under contract to Houghton
Mifflin.
Mr Ellison has been widely criticized over his tardiness. Most of
this is in private (he would probably be appalled to know what people say
about LAST when they know he can't hear them ... fear of reprisal from
Harlan Ellison is a very real phenomenon, as some of the following letters
will confirm), but some, inevitably, gets into print.
One such was by the American writer and critic, Gregory Feeley
[published in 'Thrust', Spring/Summer 1984].
This made a point I had not seen before: that many of the longer
stories in the first two Ellison anthologies had been expanded into novels,
and that LAST contained a large number of long stories, many of which would
seem likely candidates for the same expansion. Feeley pointed out that the
writers of these--with one or two exceptions--were effectively barred from
developing their work so long as Mr Ellison was sitting on them.

#

I realized while I was researching that to be one of Mr Ellison's friends
is something to be avoided. Mr Ellison does not hesitate to recruit his
friends to mouth his words for him.
In October 1983 yet another letter went around to LAST contributors,
this one purportedly written by the science fiction writer Ed Bryant.
Writing on Mr Ellison's headed notepaper, Ed Bryant uses his _first
paragraph_ to go out of his way to establish his credentials as someone
"not wont to hyperbole" or "unwarranted enthusiasm in regard to matters
such as TLDV."
From the first moments, then, the weary LAST contributor is presented
with another hypocritical performance. Why on Earth should Ed Bryant begin
a letter with such a disclaimer?
Could it be explained by the fact that he is using Mr Ellison's headed
notepaper paper in Mr Ellison's typewriter on Mr Ellison's desk in Mr
Ellison's office, no doubt with Mr Ellison standing right behind him? If
he had been at his own typewriter, in his own office, would he have
launched into this degrading "Honest Ed" routine? Whatever the truth, all
the signs are instantly up: truth is going to be a rare commodity, yet
again.
Inevitably, familiar matters are raised:

Yes, Mr Ellison paid Honest Ed's air fare out to Los Angeles.
Yes, Mr Ellison is busy writing the introductions.
Yes, there's a new publisher (this one Houghton Mifflin).
Yes, there's a major promotional budget.
Yes, there's a new publication date (Spring 1984).
Yes, Mr Ellison has been busy litigating "out of his own pocket" on
the contributors' behalf, this time against a bankrupt British publisher.
Yes, the previous publisher reneged on the deal, and the fact that Mr
Ellison left them is _nothing_ to do with the book not being delivered on
time.
Yes, what Mr Ellison says about paying lots of money is EVER SO TRUE.
Yes, Mr Ellison has had health problems.
Yes, it is a letter disgracefully wont to hyperbole and unwarranted
enthusiasm in regard to matters such as TLDV.

One cannot help feeling sorry for Ed Bryant, a pleasant man, and hope he
was at least well paid.

#

A poignant glimpse of what it's like to be one of Mr Ellison's long-
suffering contributors appeared in 'Science Fiction Review' 46, Spring
1983. In an article called "How Not to Write Science Fiction", Richard
Wilson wrote:

"Another way not to write is to sell a story to Harlan Ellison
and wait for it to be published in [LAST]. You sit and wait with
visions of rave reviews, foreign and other subsidiary sales, a
movie or television option, fame and money, money, money. You
wait and wait. The story was at one time only a gleam in my eye,
a fragment no one was interested in until Harlan saw 17,000 words
of it. He liked it and demanded more. It grew and grew and in
1969 it was 40,000 or 47,000 words long, depending on who was
counting, and Harlan bought it. I heard the book will be out
real soon now. It's only 13 years later, so I really shouldn't
complain. You don't hear me complaining, do you?"

Mr Wilson died in 1987, without seeing his story published.

#

As the years slip by the macabre roster of dying contributors gets ever
longer, and seems to acquire a ghastly relevance. (See *Note 6*.) It is
of course fortuitous, but only an inexcusably delayed book as this is prone
to so many reminders of human mortality. A scurrilous but amusing article
in 'Patchin Review', by the pseudonymous "Jane Doe", did not shrink from
the delicacy of this topic and made much wicked play with the mortality
rate among LAST contributors.
She published a tabulated list of the contributors' known ages, noting
which ones had died since selling to Mr Ellison, and estimating how many
(on past record) were likely to die in the coming years. According to Doe,
more than 50,000 words of LAST were written by writers now deceased, and
that by 1991 a total of 210,000 words will be by writers then aged 60 or
over. (Several of the writers who were alive in 1981, when this article
appeared, have in fact died since.) Beneath the dark mischief of this
article lay the serious if obvious question: how much longer will this go
on?

#

It is now the winter of 1993/94.
Most of the books mentioned here as historical markers have come and
gone; the films are now seen only on video, or as TV re-runs.
When LAST was announced Watergate and Irangate had not happened. The
USA was still embroiled in the Vietnam war, and men were walking on the
moon. Half the world was communist, or communist-dominated. The Berlin
Wall stood, Yugoslavia was one country, the Ayatollah Khomeini was in
obscure exile in Paris. No one would have credited that a second-rate
Hollywood actor and a former research chemist would for a time become the
two most powerful leaders in the West.
Satellite TV and home video recorders did not exist. CD records did
not exist. Home computers were used only by enthusiasts. A pocket
calculator or a digital watch cost several hundred dollars.
Kim Philby, Brook Benton, Raymond Carver, the Shah of Iran, Robert A.
Heinlein, Art Blakey, Mao Zedung, Graham Greene, Indira and Rajiv Gandhi,
Joel McCrea, Leonid Brezhnev and John Lennon were still alive.
Salman Rushdie had not yet published any novels.
No one had heard of Aids.
A baby born when Mr Ellison first started acquiring stories is now an
adult.
Harlan Ellison, who was a young man when all this began, will be 60 in
1994.



4. Some Questions
==================

Why Does LAST Remain Unpublished?

Why Have So Many Promises Been Broken?

Will LAST Ever be Published?

How Will It End?

Over the next few pages these questions will be addressed directly,
and some answers will be proposed.





Why Does LAST Remain Unpublished?



Anthologies have failed before. They have been started and not completed.
They have been published late. They have been unsatisfactory to the
publisher when delivered: over-long, or unsuitable in some other way. They
have not lived up to expectations.
In the generality of things no blame attaches, only disappointment,
and then only from a few in the know. One book that does not after all get
published is neither here nor there; no one loses face, no one is too
surprised or alarmed. The publishing of books is an uncertain business,
and many projects fail.
'The Last Dangerous Visions' appears to be different, though, because
of the interest that has been aroused in it. That interest has been
created by Mr Ellison himself.
From the outset he has boasted about the brilliance of the stories,
has made exaggerated claims about the importance of the project, has
pointed to the reputation of his first anthology, has periodically raised
hopes and expectations of seeing the book in print.
Interestingly, none of this has come from the writers themselves:
certainly, the ones I have spoken to have been extremely modest about their
work, and in many cases have been noticeably defensive about it, because
they feel that what they sold to Mr Ellison no longer represents their best
work.
Unlike other books in progress, insider knowledge of LAST is not
confined to a few writers, a handful of people in the publisher's office,
the editor. LAST is known around the world. There can hardly be a science
fiction fan anywhere in the world who not only does not know about it, but
who has not got an opinion about it. In this wider circle of insider
expectation the book has become something of a sick joke, synonymous with a
project that has never been completed and likely never will be.
All this cynicism, this defensiveness, all these anticipations, arise
from one source alone.
Only Harlan Ellison still seems to believe that the book is viable,
only he keeps bringing up the subject. He single-handedly stokes the fires
of expectation.
Why can he not let the book go?
The problem seems, quite simply, to be one of fears about credibility.
So much has been put at stake: personal integrity, professional
reliability, the regard of peers, the importance of not seeming to be a
quitter ... all these have become part of the book's rationale. Too much
boasting has been done in public, too many grand statements have been made,
too many promises about annuities.
Behind this facade of bluster and strutting must lie a deep sense of
insecurity.
Mr Ellison is the author of his own problems. We expect of him only
what he has made us expect, and if he thinks the non-appearance of the book
will represent indignity and failure, then so will we.
Any hint of disbelief in the project (e.g., when a writer tries to
withdraw his story) is greeted with such a display of bad temper,
wheedling, renewed promises, emotional blackmail, accusations, threats, and
so on, that few will challenge him. Writers living both in the UK and in
the USA have been on the receiving end of this kind of thing, but few will
talk about it. (See Pre-Publication Letters.)
One of the immediate consequences of crossing Mr Ellison is a broad
and enduring distaste for the whole subject, part of which is clearly the
wish not to renew the trouble. Fear of reprisal: this has been mentioned
before, but it is surprisingly common. What should be a matter for free
comment is rarely discussed, because people don't like being vilified.
The forcefulness of Mr Ellison's personality is obviously not in
doubt, and there is no question but that should he channel his energies he
probably could make the anthology succeed.
Then why has he not? Why has 'The Last Dangerous Visions' not so far
been published?

#

At a very basic level, the problem of LAST is a classic example of someone
biting off more than he can chew.
Yet it's easy to see how it happened:
A few stories held over from 'Again, Dangerous Visions', a
perfectionist desire to crown a project with something even bigger and
better. Past efforts have been successful, feedback is coming in from
readers. The idea of the book is sound: a publisher leaps at it and puts
up some money. Writers are approached, stories are written. The book gets
bigger, the stories look good, but time is starting to pass. The publisher
calls up to see how it's coming along. Meanwhile, five of the stories are
being rewritten, three young and hitherto unknown writers are nominated for
prizes (and the book won't be complete without stories from them), and
there is the small matter of all those stories that were promised last year
and haven't been delivered yet ...
The first publisher gets tired of waiting, but a second is only too
eager to step in. More money is paid. The book goes on getting bigger,
and time is still passing. A visit to France introduces a welcome touch of
the exotic to the contents page, but raises an unwelcome thought: what
about German writers, Swedish writers, Australian writers ...? Meanwhile,
in the time it takes to go to France and back, five more young American
writers have emerged who should be included. Letters go off. Then...the
inspiration! The book must contain every writer of note who wasn't in
either of the first two anthologies. After a hurried search through the
SFWA Directory, more sycophantic letters are sent, more stories are
promised, more stories are delivered. The book is getting bigger and
bigger, and now represents a major investment of time and energy. Mean-
while, there are television scripts to write and lawsuits to pursue. The
publisher changes again, writers begin to get restless. The fans are
gossiping, speculating ... some coveted writers refuse to take part, others
try to withdraw their stories, hassles are developing all around.
Afterwords need to be rewritten, and introductory articles already written
have drifted out of date. Contributors start to die; things don't look so
good.
The larger the book grows the more unmanageable it becomes, not only
physically but also creatively.
All books represent an idea, but now the idea of LAST extends over a
huge period of time, with dozens of different writers working at different
stages of their careers; young writers whose work was snapped up at
workshops, old writers teased out of retirement. Even to try to think
about it gives you a headache. And what about all those sui generis
writers who won't have anything to do with the book? Doesn't their very
absence imply something might be wrong?
Then another attempt to impose order: reassuring letters go out, but a
large number of the contributors respond by asking if they can change the
ending of their story, or suggesting that they send in something more
recent instead, something a bit longer but more up to date. Meanwhile,
word comes in that two more contributors have inconsiderately died.
The book is out of control.
Like a man who has to keep running to save himself from falling, Mr
Ellison moves the book on and on, shouting to keep his spirits high.
This is undoubtedly what has happened, and what is still going on. It
does not necessarily indicate what will happen in the future, but it does
explain what went on in the past.
It's difficult not to feel some sympathy for the problem.
No one, not even Mr Ellison's worst detractor, has ever suggested that
his motives were not the highest. He undoubtedly intended to produce a
worthwhile book, and probably still believes that that is possible. But Mr
Ellison has become the victim of scale and the scale of his own ambition.
It was too much. It is a book that is no longer possible.





Why Have So Many Promises Been Broken?



The record is plain: one promise after another has been broken.
LAST has been falsely announced more often than any other book in
history. Many of these false predictions have been highly specific, almost
incontestably so. The claims are so specific, so exact, so apparently
binding, that people have been gulled by them again and again.
If Mr Ellison were ever confronted with this record, he would
doubtless have a string of excuses to hand, most of them entirely
plausible. Each promise would be documented with a note of its breach, a
deft explanation of someone else's failure or betrayal, his own human
error, an unwelcome attack of one of his famous incapacitating chronic
ailments. Individually, each excuse might well be valid.
But taken as a whole, he has been crying wolf about this book since
1971.
Why? What is the real reason?
Theories are easy; the previous section contained one that was not
hard to envisage. But the phenomenon of the multiple false claims about
this unfinished book is extremely interesting. Clearly, things are more
complicated than they seem, and any attempt to explain them must be equally
as complex. The problem has to be approached indirectly.

#

Harlan Ellison is famous. It's likely that he is not as famous as he
thinks, but for a writer whose work consists almost entirely of short
stories he has done remarkably well. He has won awards, he has been
anthologized all over the world, he goes on TV chat shows, he has been
guest of honour at numerous science fiction conventions, he has fans and
allies and friends. His writing is taken seriously in American
universities, he has done unpublicized work to encourage young writers, his
views and his presence are widely respected.
But all writers, famous or otherwise, have one thing in common. They
see themselves as individuals, and that only by individual qualities will
they prevail. The two qualities most prized by writers are ability and
integrity. They stand or fall by these.
Mr Ellison's past ability with his anthologies has been demonstrated,
and is not in doubt. He has nothing to prove.
Nor is his integrity in doubt ... yet here we approach the answer.
The appeal Mr Ellison makes _is_ to his integrity. By his public
announcements, his lurid claims on convention platforms, his answers to
interviewers, his specific naming of dates and details, he is throwing down
a challenge.
He is saying, in effect, "I, Harlan Ellison, say this is so. If you
question what I say, you are not questioning the fact but casting suspicion
on my integrity and professional reputation."
It is a curiously effective way of suppressing criticism, because his
integrity is not an issue with anyone else.
His fame, his record, his word ... all these are accepted. It is Mr
Ellison himself who makes integrity an issue; if he did not, no one else
would be bothered about it.
The position of any anthology editor is one of trust: he is first
trusted by the publisher, then by the writers who send him stories, and
finally by the readers who buy the book. Trust is implicit in this kind of
work, and anthologies would not be possible without it.
Why then does Mr Ellison bring it in as an issue?
Why are doubters given such short shrift? Why are writers who
withdraw their work treated as if they have betrayed a cause? Why are the
periodic promises to his surviving contributors couched so emotionally?
(In his circular letters Mr Ellison uses phrases like "your trust may be
better placed this time", "appeal for solidarity", "imploring", "I've
always tried to be candid with you", "hang in there for one more month",
"I've run out of ways to beg you to stay with me", and so on.)
These appeals are obviously sincere, but they are equally obviously
calculated ... and the effect is manipulative.
Mr Ellison sincerely believes in what he is doing, sincerely believes
that he is worthy of trust ... but at the same time he does not shrink from
using that trust as a weapon of challenge. Few will take up the challenge,
because it is not at issue.
Only the reckless respond, try to get their stories back or point out
that this is the umpteenth time the anthology has been promised ... and the
fury of a man who feels his integrity impugned is turned full upon their
hapless heads.





Will LAST Ever be Published?



It is always possible that everything will happen just as Mr Ellison has
always claimed.
The Herculean labours will come to an end, the manuscript will be
delivered, the publisher will accept it, the book will come out. It will
be a two- or three-volume boxed set of handsome hardcovers in a fine
edition, superbly designed and illustrated. It will of course be expensive
(obviously much more than the $26 mooted several years ago), but a
reasonably priced paperback will follow. The book will be an instant
collector's item, it will stay in print for years, universities will
compete to be the first to put it on the syllabus ... and a group of
slightly elderly writers will at last start receiving their annuities.
Can it happen?
When I first drafted this long essay in 1984 I found it difficult to
suppress the nervy feeling that everything I was writing would be rendered
invalid in an instant, if LAST suddenly appeared in the shops. It turns
out I need not have worried: the intervening years have seen, if anything,
a decline in the likelihood.
Even so, again, now in 1993, I cannot easily suppress the same
feeling. So plausible is Mr Ellison's vehement belief in himself that even
an unbeliever like myself is periodically beguiled.
Only when I think about the numbers do I feel certain.

#

The last published list of contents that I have been able to trace was in
1979, when there were 113 stories with a total length of 645,000 words.
But that was nearly a decade and a half ago. How many stories have been
added or withdrawn since, and what is the word count now?
On past performance it seems unlikely that the list has remained
unchanged.
Between 1974 and 1979 (a period when the book was "closed") the number
of stories increased from 78 to 113. Those 35 new stories represented a
percentage increase of about 45%, or a straight-line increase of about 9% a
year.
Have more been added since? If so, how many? In 1982 I was told by
one of the contributors that the number had risen to 180, but this is of
course hearsay. Discounting this and being conservative: let's assume that
in the last fourteen years Mr Ellison has not actively sought new stories.
Even so, irresistible new writers must have come to his attention. A
glance at any Hugo or Nebula nomination list from the last ten years will
reveal there are dozens of top-class writers not on his 1979 list.
If we assume that Mr Ellison's rate of acquisition has slowed in
recent years, but that he has even so gone on buying stories, what would be
a realistic estimate? That he has acquired, say, just four new stories a
year?
That would produce a further 56 stories, bringing the total to 169.
(Using the same basis, this means a percentage increase of about 50%, or a
straight-line increase of about 3.5%. Both these figures are drastically
lower than before.)
The average length of each individual story in 1979 was about 5,700
words, but we know that several of these are very long indeed--Richard
Wilson's is 47,000 words--and that even Mr Ellison must by now be trimming
his sail to suit the wind.
To stay on the conservative side, let's assume the average length of
the new stories is 4,000 words.
The total length of the book then increases to 869,000 words. (That's
the known 645,000 plus 56 stories x 4,000.) I suspect that this huge
amount of wordage is none the less an underestimate.

#

The one thing we know for sure about the Dangerous Visions books is that
they do not confine themselves to short stories.
There are the introductions to each story (written by Mr Ellison), the
afterwords (written by the authors), and an overall introduction (Ellison).
On past form the introductions run to at least 2,000 words each, and
the afterwords average out at about 1,000 words, and these have to be added
to the overall total.
If we assume (against all likelihood) that the overall introduction is
a minimalist 5,000 words, and that there is only one (and not one each for
the separate volumes in the boxed set), we arrive at a grand total:

Introduction 5,000
Stories 869,000
Author introductions 338,000
Afterwords 169,000
_________
Total 1,381,000
=========

The closest estimate to this Mr Ellison has ever made is the one he
gave to Christopher Fowler in 1976.
(If you prefer to believe that the 1979 contents list remains the
final one, the same basis of calculation produces a total of 989,000
words.)
And while we're at it, let's not forget Tim Kirk's 75 full-page
illustrations. Assuming there is one for each story, more must have been
executed since: presumably there are now 169 of these, also to be included.
169 pages of a book take up roughly the same amount of space as 45,000
words of text, so these too should be added to the nominal total.
It seems likely that Mr Ellison, a writer who normally only produces
short stories, cannot properly conceive what a book of this length actually
means in physical terms.
If the publishers chose the normal large format of a hardcover, and
used 8pt or 9pt type, they would still have to produce a total volume at
least 4,000 pages long, perhaps closer to 5,000 pages.
(My small-type, war-economy 1941 edition of 'War and Peace', with
which Mr Ellison compares his own book, has a mere 1,352 pages.)

#

Physically producing a book of this length would be a nightmare.
Length aside, remember that the text will consist of 169 (or 113)
different manuscripts, each produced on a different typewriter or word
processor, and each having its own ideas about spelling, punctuation,
paragraph layout. The first thing any publisher would have to do is send
the book away to be copy-edited; one publisher's editor I spoke to
estimated that copy-editing alone could take up to four months, all of
which will obviously have to be paid for.
Typesetting would take at least as long again ... and never mind the
overheads which are accruing while all this is going on. Then there are
the costs of purchasing the paper, making the plates, binding, warehousing,
distribution ...
Is such a book practicable these days? How much would the book cost
to print? How many copies would have to be printed to get the cover-price
down to $26? (Actually, millions and millions, which happens to be the
numbers Mr Ellison unconvincingly claims the earlier books have sold.)
Would the market exist to support such a print run?
Being sensible, and assuming a print-run of the same sort of size as a
bestselling novel, the book would still have to be noticeably more
expensive than the average hardcover. To pluck a figure out of the air:
say $75.00 for the 3-volume set.
The book would obviously sell well, even at that sort of price. But
well enough?
Rich collectors would snap it up, of course, and those 200
universities would scramble for copies. Perhaps 1,000 copies could be
counted on as certain sales ... maybe twice that if you feel generous.
But Mr Ellison's sights are clearly set higher than this: he imagines
it will become a bestseller.
The book, in fact, must become a bestseller. There is no other way it
could conceivably be published.
You start to sense the divine lunacy of the project at this point.
Science fiction has become a bestselling category in recent years; surely
LAST, one of the most heralded, talked-about books in years, surely this
would slide into the bestsellers list with regal assurance?
Maybe it will.

#

The publisher does have other ways of saving money.
The print-run can be increased by doing a deal with a book club; this
would bring down the unit cost of the book a little. Mr Ellison has always
stoutly maintained that cheap editions will not be allowed; but suppose he
were over-ruled ... how many copies would a book-club want? How would they
release it? As a "choice" or an "alternate" for that month? Surely it
would make an ideal premium title, the sort that is offered for a few
dollars as an inducement to new members ...
Will it end up being practically given away?
Another option open to the publisher is to make co-production deals
with other English language publishers. An American paperback house, say,
or a British publisher.
Would the typography required for a massive hardcover be suitable for
reproduction in paperback? Might it not have to be re-set?
And what about Britain? The only British deal Mr Ellison has ever
mentioned was with Millington Books, back in 1976. But Millington went out
of business years ago, and no other British publisher has announced it
since.
Another possibility would be for someone to bring out the book using
electronic media, such as CD-ROM. Even Mr Ellison's vastly over-sized text
would fit comfortably on a 650Mb compact disc. Indeed, this is so close to
an answer that one can all too easily imagine hearing from him in the near
future about the upcoming CD-ROM edition. ("I've pulled it back from those
tardy book publishers. There's this outfit in Santa Monica who can
manufacture CDs for under $1 a disc. There's room for _hundreds more
stories_, and I'm reading manuscripts right now. I just have the
introductions to write, and--")
But before anyone succumbs to waves of relief, take a calm look at two
significant facts:
Firstly, the current state of CD-ROM technology is not final. It is
still in development. Although many great and wonderful things are
promised for CD-ROM, the technology is expensive to buy, optimally requires
a computer using at least a 486DX chip to drive it properly, and might yet
turn out to be the Betamax format of the future. There is already a valid
use for texts stored in CD-ROM, but the format is not yet a replacement for
books. The CD-ROM revolution has begun, but people are advancing on the
presidential palace _slowly_.
Secondly, where is the weak link in LAST? Where have we realized,
time and time again, the delays are arising? The common link is Mr
Ellison's apparent inability to finish his editorial work.

#

The odds are stacked against the book.
After more than 20 years of promises, Mr Ellison still appears not to
have finished the necessary work.
The idea has gone out of control: too many stories are too old, too
many contributors have died, too many good or recent writers are missing.
The book is far too long, and virtually impossible to publish with any
realistic hope of a financial return.
But none of this reckons with Mr Ellison himself. He continues to
insist that the book will appear. He WILL finish the work, he WILL deliver
it. Not only WILL it be published, it WILL be a major success. A
"roadmarker", a "milestone", a "landmark", an "annuity" for its writers.
This insistence is all that his writers have.
They have to set aside his quarter-century of non-completion. Set
aside the string of broken promises. Set aside all their objective
experience of practical publishing. Set aside the fact that they will be
represented by work they wrote years ago. Set aside any fears they might
have about the book's market potential.
In short, they have to set aside every justifiable doubt and worry
they have entertained for years.
Against all this, Mr Ellison offers only his unchallengeable
integrity, and expects of others the same faith he has in himself.
How will it end?





How Will It End?



We have to imagine what seems to Mr Ellison to be the unimaginable.
The book is never actually completed. Alternatively, it is completed
and delivered in a form that turns out to be unpublishable. What then?
Three possibilities present themselves.

#

The Steady State Theory
-----------------------
The book will never be finished, it will never be published. 'The Last
Dangerous Visions' will continue forever, an institution, a legend in its
own right. It has after all been running for at least 22 years, so what is
there to stop it now? The promises of impending publication will be
repeated from time to time, publication dates will be regularly announced,
the publisher will be changed at regular intervals, the advances will go up
to keep pace with inflation.
More and more stories will be purchased, and these will replace the
trickle of withdrawals: stability will probably be attained somewhere
around the 200 mark. Young writers will replace the older ones, as they
die.
In the end, everyone will write for LAST, and everyone will die.

#

The White Dwarf Theory
----------------------
Someone will present Mr Ellison with a face-saver.
Above all he is in a dilemma: he has put his integrity at stake, but
everything is tied up in a project which even he must acknowledge is
hopeless.
But given that he at last delivers _something_ to a publisher, control
of the book's destiny will pass out of his hands, at least temporarily.
The publishers will do the sums, and after an appropriate pause could
propose a solution to the dilemma.
They could offer to bring out a shortened version of the book. A
"trial" first volume, say, to test the market ... or perhaps even a 'Best
of Last Dangerous Visions'.
In spite of Mr Ellison's assertion that the book must be published
whole or not at all, this might be a way out for all concerned. The book
could be published economically, several of the writers would see their
work in print, the others would have their stories returned, the book would
probably sell well, and so on.
And Mr Ellison would come out of it in fine style. In public he could
protest his best endeavours, tell his funny stories about treacherous
publishers and shifty fans and moving large boxes about the country,
receive his standing ovation ...

#

The Big Bang Theory
-------------------
Finally, the book could be abandoned.
Harlan Ellison could abandon it at any time; his writers could make
him abandon it if they really wanted him to.
Frankly, it seems improbable that Mr Ellison would ever abandon the
book of his own free will. His dilemma is too entrenched, he has too often
vested his integrity in completion. But he could do it easily, it's an
achievable end.
It would not take long to write and photocopy a polite note of
apology, attach it to each story, slip it in an envelope and mail it back
to each of the writers.
It would be done, finished forever.
No one would mind, no one would complain, no one would accuse him of
failure. On the contrary, I suspect most people would admire his
pragmatism, and support him publicly.
But there are problems, not the least of which, of course, is the
outstanding advance paid by the most recent publisher. Something would
have to be done about that. But Mr Ellison is a popular writer with a
large following, and he could surely supply an acceptable replacement title
for the publisher.
Another problem for Mr Ellison would be having to come to terms with
the momentum of the past: the vehement claims, and so on. This is almost
certainly the major impediment to voluntary abandonment. He would
interpret it in terms of failure, a defeat for integrity. But the opposite
is the case: a dignified withdrawal from this impossible muddle would
redound to his favour. His stature would increase, and he would receive
much sympathy and respect.
The other kind of abandonment is also a possibility: his writers could
force his hand. If they can't imagine how, the POSTSCRIPT to this provides
an answer.

#

It seems a negative conclusion to reach, that the work of 22 years should
now be set aside, but when all is said and done what's the alternative?
By all objective criteria the project is out of control, and Harlan
Ellison is in an untenable position. But any discussion of bringing LAST
to an end inevitably has to take account of Mr Ellison himself: some
writers have had unpleasant personal experiences (see Pre-Publication
Letters).
Harlan Ellison is possibly unaware of the way his mercurial
personality influences those around him, and how the darker side of that
personality can intimidate and suppress comment. Knowing I have been
intending to write this, and conceding that factual accuracy would be
paramount throughout, colleagues have even so warned me against it. They
speak of abuse, verbal violence, career threats ... even litigation. Such
is the fear of Mr Ellison when his temper is tested! Yet aside from
detailed attention to the record, there is little in this that hasn't been
said by other people over the years.
Why does it matter?
A lot of creative energy has been expended, and a lot of time has been
wasted. Much of that energy and time has been Mr Ellison's, but by no
means all. Hundreds of thousands of words have been written for him.
Uncountable letters have gone to and fro. Hopes have been raised, dashed,
raised again, dashed again. Writers have been cajoled, flattered,
traduced, bullied and misled.
Writers have wanted to see their work in print; they have had to wait.
They have wanted to use their work in their own story collections; they
have had to wait. They have wanted to turn their stories into novels; they
have had to wait. They have tried to withdraw their stories; they have had
to wait.
It is an inexcusable mess, inflicted by one writer who should know
better on more than a hundred other writers who feel themselves helpless to
act.
It surely speaks for itself why it matters.





Pre-Publication Letters



When I had completed the first draft of the preceding essay I
sent it to a number of professional writers, all involved at one
time or another with 'Dangerous Visions', and solicited their
views. I mentally divided these writers into three groups of
roughly equal size: those I thought were loyal to Mr Ellison and
broadly supported his work on the anthology, those I knew were
hostile to him or had suffered at his hands, and those whose
attitude I simply did not know.
I offered all of them the same: I would publish anything
they might write without interference.
The only responses I got were from the latter two groups.
None of the people loyal to Harlan Ellison sent me anything I
could print. Some of them simply ignored my request, others
warned me sepulchrally of the danger in which they perceived I
was putting myself, while the rest, most interestingly of all,
egged me on to greater efforts by telling their own horror
stories about working with Mr Ellison, then forbade me from
quoting them or paraphrasing them or even hinting that they might
have been in touch with me on this terrifying subject.
(I have always honoured these silences, and continue to do
so now. The silence of Mr Ellison's lambs is a key factor in the
story.)

#

Graham Charnock:
---------------
It was good to be around in nineteensixtyoomph, contributing, however
casually, to a body of literature one felt was certainly dangerous and
visionary. I mean of course, what went on in and around the 'New Worlds'/
Moorcock/Platt/Harrison/Sallis/Hall axis. I even gave up my day job, not
to become a writer, nothing so positive, but simply because it was contrary
to the spirit, yes the dangerousness, of what was in the air at the time.
(I was an advertising executive and deadlines for quarter-pages in the
'Sutton Advertiser' were definitely contra-indicated.) So I became a
waiter in a summer holiday hotel in Norfolk (good for jacket blurbs--next
step was to become a lumberjack, or sail around the Horn, or become a gun-
runner).
That lasted three weeks, because Harlan accepted my story for LDV. He
wanted rewrites and, under-producer that I am, it meant I needed time and
clear horizons to do them.
It was nice being edited by Harlan, because for better or worse it was
positive editing, the story went backwards and forwards about three times
whilst one naff section was tightened up. In truth what this amounted to
was the beefing up of a certain soft-edged exchange between hero and
heroine by substituting macho sex and violence (he hits her) for angst-
ridden soul-searching. It was Hollywood, it was Harlan Ellison, it surely
wasn't me, but it worked in the context. Even my mother joined in, sending
notes: "Harlan's right. This woman's been hurt and abused all her life--
she just wouldn't say _that_ ..." Today I still tend to see editors as
mother-figures wiping the snot from your nose, correcting your diction,
making sure your shirt covers your arse....
However, it _was_ a good feeling: something had been worked up, had
grown, been praised eventually. Furthermore I was joining what I saw as a
select group of peers (how many contributors to LDV _now_?); the Dangerous
Visions series did have a reputation and this was my last chance to climb
aboard the bus a lot of my drinking and writing buddies had already climbed
aboard. I was writing for _them_, of course, not any faceless readership,
not even for Harlan. That's how movements, schools, call them what you
will, grow, isn't it...? A constant and quick exchange of ideas, themes,
etc--you are influenced, or just plain steal, but you feed it back into the
network. That was the process, of course, that 'New Worlds' then
exemplified more than any other medium before or since in the sf field.
What happened to LDV in this respect is history, of course, but I
suppose it represents my main sadness over the enterprise. Harlan took the
cream (I modestly exclude myself from any inference in this metaphor--I was
merely coat-tailing) and let it go stale. Perhaps one can take it further:
he took the cream and goddamn ate it _himself_. Substitute blood for cream
and vampiric analogies spring to mind ... I'll stop this before it gets
too fanciful.
I'm sorry I never got the chance to read and feed off the work of my
peers when it would have been an enriching experience, when it would have
meant something.
Why didn't I withdraw my story and try to sell it elsewhere? Entropy
rules OK. Things cool down.
Two years pass and maybe the markets are still there and maybe the
story still glows a little in your heart, but Harlan's had it so long and
it can't be much longer now ...
Five years pass and the reason you wrote the story is as historical as
the story itself: the people you wrote it for don't particularly need it
any more. You don't go to the bar to buy someone a drink and return with
it five years later.
Ten years pass and ... poot. Frankie Goes To Hollywood are at number
one this week ... that'll keep me going until the next sensation.
When LDV does appear I understand it may be in a box. Make it of good
solid oak with finest brass fittings ...

Ian Watson:
----------
I like Ellison's writing (see my review in 'Foundation' 24). I like his
public stances. But I don't like his behaviour as editor of LAST, least of
all his conduct when you eventually withdraw a story: the bluster, the arm-
twisting (often by proxy), the sense that you're on a shit-list. I escaped
comparatively unscathed--but an author friend of mine was treated vilely.
No one should have to put up with treatment such as this from a fellow
writer. Ultimately this wipes out one's sense of the moral integrity of
Ellison's other work. And that's a big shame. Ellison should realize
this, and that he isn't _defending_ his reputation by soldiering on with
LAST using untruths and bullying and braggadocio. He's just damaging it.

Harry Harrison:
--------------
I look at this entire matter with a sigh of regret. I'm sorry that Harlan
has let the anthology get away from him in the manner it has; sorry that
you had to bring him up short. Since you are both friends of mine let me
intervene on the side of the angels. Harlan, old chum, the facts that
Chris has put on the record look like facts to me. His conclusions are his
own, so let me stick to the facts, as the good sergeant used to say. The
stories are gray with age, any value they might have had for the authors
has long since been diminished to the vanishing point. I think we would
all heave a sigh of relief--I know I would--if you simply returned the
stories and called the whole thing a day. No one will consider this a
failure on your part in any way. You know I have gone along with you all
through the years--out of friendship and no other reason. You asked me not
to pull back the story--and I didn't. I wouldn't have taken that for 5
minutes from a commercial editor. I'm still not pulling the story back.
But I am asking you, please, to close the books and drop the entire matter.
With all sincerity--Harry Harrison.

C.S. Youd (John Christopher):
----------------------------
I believe I am one of the very early contributors to LDV, and I would
confirm, in general, your account of the happenings of the last twelve
years.

[There follows a documented synopsis of a protracted correspond-
ence with Mr Ellison concerning interim payments in 1983-1984.
This has been cut with Mr Youd's consent. In April 1984 Houghton
Mifflin wrote to Mr Youd saying that Mr Ellison had promised
delivery of LDV within seventy days.
[Mr Youd also points out that several writers, himself
included, accepted an initial lower rate because the money,
according to Mr Ellison, had run out. Mr Ellison apparently said
in 1971 that things would be equalized when the main money rolled
in. When a renewal contract was offered to Mr Youd in 1977, he
deleted a clause referring to this, since he felt it contradicted
the promise of equalization.]

I feel that part of the problem is psychological. Harlan has so identified
himself with the various Dangerous Visions that maybe he can't bear to turn
in LAST. (A sort of psychical death.)

Michael Bishop:
--------------
First of all, your assessment of the TLDV situation strikes me as being
spot-on and fair. Ellison would probably construe my saying so as an
attempt at self-justification, however, because after I withdrew 'Dogs'
Lives' (in the Fall of '83), he accused me of just about every conceivable
personal failing from paranoia (he may have been right about that one) to
betrayal to money-grubbing to self-righteous hypocrisy and concluded this
page-and-a-half attack by saying that he wished to have "no further
congress" with me. It's a long and complicated story, which I really don't
want to try to summarize here, but one simple fact that remains with me is
that Ellison purchased 'Dogs' Lives' from me in the spring of 1974 for $100
and that is all the money I realized from the story until this past
November when, after pulling it from TLDV, I sold it to 'The Missouri
Review' for a special SF issue.
Moreover, I was unable to use 'Dogs' Lives' in either of my two
hardcover story collections, 'Blooded on Arachne' and 'One Winter in Eden',
even though, by rights, it deserved a place in one or the other.
For almost ten years I stuck by Ellison, believing that, yes, finally,
the anthology/anthologies itself/themselves would be coming out and that I
would soon be receiving one of the auxiliary payments that Ellison
periodically promised for hanging in there, usually upon the shifting of
the project from one publishing house to another. But TLDV has still not
appeared, and I never made a dime above the original $100 (approximately
two cents a word) that Ellison sent me in 1974. Until I pulled the story
and got it into print a rapid six months after doing so, that is. I
intend, further, to reprint it in an anthology of my own that, interesting
to note, will also contain your would-be original for TLDV, 'An Infinite
Summer'.
At this time, there is really nothing more I wish to say about the
subject except that I hope TLDV does indeed appear soon, for Ellison's sake
and the sake of those who have had the requisite trust in him to resist the
impulse to withdraw. I hope that he and they all profit enormously.
Meanwhile, I have no regret whatever about pulling my own story--although I
do regret that the messy circumstances attending its withdrawal ended what
had been a cordial, albeit pretty intermittent, relationship between us. I
admire much of Ellison's work, and I derived a great deal of pleasure from
the first two Dangerous Visions anthologies.

Bob Shaw:
--------
I know it has all dragged on forever, but my feelings are a bit like those
of a compulsive gambler caught in a losing streak--I have invested so much
time in LDV that I can't bring myself to pull out now, admirable though
that course might be.



George R.R. Martin:
------------------
The 1978 volume of my own 'New Voices/Campbell Awards' anthology series
will probably be published some time in 1985, so I don't think I'm the
person to make pronouncements, stern or otherwise, about the lateness of
TLDV. I know all too vividly how easily and how badly these things can get
out of hand. Still, there's no doubt in my mind that the lengthy delay of
TLDV has been a tragedy--a tragedy for readers like myself who have been
looking forward to the book, a tragedy for the field that badly needs a
shot of the sort of literary adrenaline the previous DV volumes have
supplied, a particular tragedy for the writers involved, and especially a
tragedy for Harlan himself. I can only hope that, somehow or other, this
tragedy will turn out to have a happy ending. Despite everything, you
know, I'd still like to read the book, and so would a lot of other people.

Charles Platt:
-------------
When 'Again, Dangerous Visions' grew too large, my story was one of the
first to be held over to the projected 'Last Dangerous Visions'. "I had to
keep some really dynamite stuff for the last book," was the way he
justified it to me. "But don't worry, publication is scheduled for 1972."
This mixture of hard-sell, flattery, and seemingly factual promises was to
become wearyingly familiar over the next fifteen years. His style reminded
me of a used-car salesman, the difference being that in his case he never
actually delivered any merchandise.
Years passed, my uneasy friendship with Ellison continued, and the big
cardboard box of LDV manuscripts remained undisturbed (so far as I could
tell) except for a biannual ritual in which his secretary checked through
them and issued grovelling form-letters and contract renewals to the
contributors. I began to see the project as a source of amusement, but
Ellison's sense of humour didn't stretch that far. I once visited him with
my friend Graham Hall, another 'Last Dangerous Visions' contributor, who
made the mistake of openly poking fun at the project. Ellison's face
turned grim, and he summoned us into his study, like a school principal
disciplining two wayward children. "You probably don't realize how much
extra money you're going to make after LDV appears," he lectured Graham.
He located the royalty payment records for a story of comparable length
that had appeared in the first 'Dangerous Visions' almost ten years
previously. In a staccato voice, like that of an auctioneer, he rattled
off a string of payments for miscellaneous subsidiary rights, mostly in the
$10 to $30 range. "That's a total of nearly _two hundred dollars_," he
finished up. "Not bad, eh, for a 3,000-word story?"
"Wow," Graham said dutifully, too embarrassed to mock Ellison's
largesse any further.
The dialogue may not be verbatim, and I may have the total wrong by
$50 either way, but the essence of the account is factually correct, being
transcribed from a diary that I kept at the time. Needless to say, not
even $200 of royalties ever materialized for Graham Hall. He died a few
years later, while his manuscript remains now where it was then: in the big
cardboard box with all the others. Personally, I doubt they will ever earn
royalties for anyone.
Around the time when Richard Curtis became Ellison's literary agent
and remarked that he was going to make Ellison's name "synonymous with
honesty", Edward Bryant visited Sherman Oaks, ostensibly to assist Ellison
in preparing the book for publication. A few days later, all 'Last
Dangerous Visions' contributors, including myself, received a letter signed
by Bryant, testifying that he had _actually seen Ellison working on the
book_, writing story introductions. Bryant has a reputation for integrity
that some would say exceeds that of Harlan Ellison, and it looked to me as
if Ellison had purchased that reputation for the price of a plane ticket
between Denver and Los Angeles. My suspicions increased when Bryant
returned home after spending just a week or so in Sherman Oaks.
Preparation of the book, of course, was still unfinished, but the letter
had been issued to placate the contributors, as if that had been Ellison's
only real concern. Yet even the letter seemed bogus; it had the same used-
car salesman cadences I had come to know so well, and I doubted that Bryant
had actually written it. When I asked him this a few days later he refused
to answer the question, and wearily begged me to forget about the whole
thing.
The current version of the contract with Ellison for my 'Last
Dangerous Visions' story wisely sets no publication date. Thus, he has no
further need to write every couple of years, crying "mea culpa", itemizing
the traumas of his life, and begging my indulgence "just once more", in the
hope that I will allow my work to languish still longer in anticipation of
its eventual appearance. At this point I don't really care. The story was
written almost twenty years ago, expressly for his editorial tastes, and
would seem out of place if I withdrew it and sold it somewhere else. Thus
I see it, in a way, as part of the albatross Ellison has created and hung
around his own neck.
There are other contributors, however, who presumably still imagine
that their work will see print, and have made greater sacrifices than mine
by allowing their stories to reside in Ellisonian limbo. At the very
least, these contributors should be told the facts.
[To explain an apparent duplication: Charles Platt wrote this
letter to me after he had read a version of the essay which did
not include my account of the Ed Bryant letter. However, I felt
our two accounts dovetail, so both remain in this version. CP]





*Notes*



1. 'Again, Dangerous Visions', Introduction. The writers named in this
as contributors (or said to have promised stories) are:

Russell Bates
Doris Pitkin Buck
Octavia Butler
A. Bertram Chandler
John Christopher
Avram Davidson
Chan Davis
Gordon Dickson
George Alec Effinger
Howard Fast
Franklin Fisher
Ron Goulart
Wyman Guin
James Gunn
Graham Hall
Frank Herbert
Steve Herbst
John Jakes
Daniel Keyes
Anne McCaffrey
Vonda McIntyre
Michael Moorcock
Charles Platt
Mack Reynolds
Fred Saberhagen
Thomas Scortia
Robert Sheckley
Clifford Simak
James Sutherland
Richard Wilson
Laurence Yep

#

2. Wyman Guin--announced in 'Again, Dangerous Visions' in 1971 as one of
the authors with a story already purchased--was said in 1973 to be
rewriting his story.

#

3. The 68 authors announced as contributors by Harlan Ellison in 1973
were as follows. Names marked with ## do not appear in the list for 1979,
and presumably withdrew their stories:

Russell Bates
Alfred Bester
Michael Bishop
Anthony Boucher
S. Kye Boult (pseud. for William E. Cochrane; see Note 5, below)
Hamilton/Brackett
Mildred Downey Broxon
Edward Bryant
Frank Bryning
Doris Pitkin Buck
Octavia Butler
Grant Carrington
Delbert Casada
A. Bertram Chandler
Graham Charnock
John Christopher
Gerard Conway
Arthur Byron Cover
Jack M. Dann
Avram Davidson
Chan Davis
Hank Davis
Gordon R. Dickson
Stan Dryer
Gordon Eklund
George Alec Effinger
Howard Fast
Leslie A. Fiedler
Franklin Fisher
Jacques Goudchaux ##
Ron Goulart
Joseph Green
James E. Gunn
Joe W. Haldeman
Graham Hall
Frank Herbert
Steve Herbst
Leonard Isaacs
John Jakes
Susan C. Lette
Robert Lilly
Janet May
Anne McCaffrey
Vonda N. McIntyre
Michael Moorcock
Ward Moore
John Morressy
Edgar Pangborn
Doris Piserchia
Charles Platt
Jerry Pournelle
Joseph F. Pumilia
Mack Reynolds
Fred Saberhagen
Thomas N. Scortia ##
Robert Sheckley
Clifford D. Simak
James Sutherland
The Firesign Theatre
Robert Thom
Robert Thurston
Lisa Tuttle
A.E. van Vogt
Daniel Walther
Richard Wilson
David Wise
Robert Wissner
Laurence Yep
Rewrites were in progress by:
Gardner Dozois
Wyman Guin
Charles L. Harness

#

4. The additional authors listed by Harlan Ellison in February 1974 were:

Michael G. Coney
Charles L. Harness
Harry Harrison
Richard E. Peck
Cordwainer Smith
Wallace West
Robert Wissner
[Note that Mr Ellison's count of authors is at this stage 75. As
68 had been previously announced, and 7 more are listed here, we
can presume that at this date Gardner Dozois and Wyman Guin had
not yet delivered their rewritten stories.]

#

5. The authors listed in 'Locus' 222, June 1979, were as follows. Those
marked with ** were added since 1974 (when the book was announced as being
"closed"). Gardner Dozois and Wyman Guin do not appear, and presumably had
not delivered their rewritten stories at this date. They might have done
since:

Russell Bates
Alfred Bester
Michael Bishop
Nelson S. Bond **
Anthony Boucher
Hamilton/Brackett
Mildred Downey Broxon
Edward Bryant
Frank Bryning
Doris Pitkin Buck
Algis Budrys **
Octavia Butler
Orson Scott Card **
Grant Carrington
Delbert Casada
A. Bertram Chandler
Graham Charnock
John Christopher
W. E. Cochrane (see 'S. Kye Boult' in Note 3, above)
Michael G. Coney
Gerard Conway
Arthur Byron Cover
Philippe Curval **
Jack M. Dann
Avram Davidson
Chan Davis
Hank Davis
Gordon R. Dickson
Stan Dryer
G.C. Edmondson **
George Alec Effinger
Gordon Eklund
Howard Fast
Jonathan Fast **
Leslie A. Fiedler
Franklin Fisher
Felix C. Gotschalk **
Ron Goulart
Joseph Green
James E. Gunn
Joe W. Haldeman
Graham Hall
Charles L. Harness
Harry Harrison
Frank Herbert
Steve Herbst
Pat C. Hodgell **
Leonard Isaacs
John Jakes
Langdon Jones **
Raul Judson **
Daniel Keyes **
William Kotzwinkle **
Susan C. Lette
Robert Lilly
Janet May
Anne McCaffrey
Vonda M. McIntyre
Michael Moorcock
Raylyn Moore **
Ward Moore
John Morressy
Edgar Pangborn
Richard E. Peck
Doris Piserchia
Charles Platt
P.J. Plauger **
Jerry Pournelle
Joseph Pumilia
Tom Reamy **
Mack Reynolds
D.M. Rowles **
Fred Saberhagen
Bob Shaw **
Robert Sheckley
Clifford D. Simak
Cordwainer Smith
Bruce Sterling **
Craig Strete **
James Sutherland
The Firesign Theatre
Robert Thom
Robert Thurston
Wilson Tucker **
Lisa Tuttle
Steven Utley **
John Varley **
A.E. van Vogt
Daniel Walther
Ian Watson **
M. W. Wellman **
Wallace West
Jack Williamson **
Richard Wilson
David Wise
Robert Wissner
Laurence Yep
Pamela Zoline **

#

6. The following writers, said at one time or another to be contributors,
are all known or thought to have died:

Alfred Bester
Anthony Boucher
Leigh Brackett
Frank Bryning
Doris Pitkin Buck
Bertram Chandler
Avram Davidson
Wyman Guin
Graham Hall
Edmond Hamilton
Charles L. Harness
Frank Herbert
Leonard Isaacs
Ward Moore
Edgar Pangborn
Tom Reamy
Mack Reynolds
Thomas Scortia
Clifford D. Simak
Cordwainer Smith
Robert Thom
Manly Wade Wellman
Wallace West
Richard Wilson





Post-Publication Letters



Michael Bishop:
--------------
I hope you're still alive when you receive this. I don't think it's likely
that Ellison has hired a gunman, but if you're dead when you get this, or
soon after, that will establish how little I've learned about Ellison over
the years.

Brian Aldiss:
------------
Talk about getting a bomb through the post from Harlan ... your yellow
book, 'Deadloss', has a similar shattering effect. I dropped work
immediately to read it.
The most unpleasant aspect of the whole matter of LAST is that various
people, including yourself, think that you put yourself in danger by
discussing this matter. I'm very divided about Harlan. He can be
magnificently generous and caring and kind; he can be tremendously amusing;
but on the other hand he is trailed by a sinister shadow which every so
often overwhelms him. What was prankish becomes threatening.
To my mind, the seeds of destruction of LAST can be seen (if only by
hindsight) in the first anthology (DV), where the stories are swamped by
all the florid editorializing surrounding them. The habit of talking
everything up brings disaster in its wake. Really, the whole business of
LAST is tragic--and I mean not least for Harlan. LAST has been talked up
to the point where it is impossible to let go without losing face.
['Deadloss'] is argued with an almost Swiftian restraint and I admired
it.

R.I. Barycz:
-----------
... A most instructive two quids' worth of restraint under provocation at
long distance. What makes it sad is that, by his own lights of perfection,
Harlan Ellison saw and still sees nothing amiss in his actions. I'm sure
there was many a pulp hack of the Thirties who could tell a more terrible
tale of a MS accepted but sat upon by an editor not keen to pay for it on
publication; but that was then and this is now, and there are no excuses.

Laurence M. Janifer:
As a writer who's been involved with Harlan off&on since The Earliest Days
when he came whooping into NY--and one who was never asked, probably for
good reason, to contribute to any Dangerous V. at all--I want to thank you
for 'The Last Deadloss Visions'. It's a lovely job and all it lacks is an
obit list, though most of its readers can probably write that up for them-
selves from the various lists of authors with stories in LAST. Perhaps
future editions, additions, and so on will carry the obits, updated as more
and more writers die. And, as suggested in the Steady State, younger
authors come along to fill the spaces.
Harlan is the original yes-but, a phenomenon about whom it is
impossible to say anything not thoroughly mixed.

Barry Malzberg:
--------------
I'm very glad to have 'Deadloss' in hand; thank you. It is precise, cold,
reasoned and utterly professional, as was your expressed intention.
I have long felt that the only real weapon freelance writers--
isolated, lonely, vulnerable, unorganized--have is _information_, if it is
not the truth that will set us free (actually, it is my latterday
understanding that the truth entraps us) it is knowledge. Therefore, I am
happy to add the following material to what is already on hand: 'Still-
Life' which appeared in 'Again, Dangerous Visions', was sold on 11 August
1969 for $120.00 (2 cents a word for 6,000 words) and was published in
April 1972. Including pro-rata royalties subsequently paid, the story has
earned $519.00. The last royalty payment--for $33.00--appeared on 20
November 1982 and despite the fact that 'Again, Dangerous Visions' was
republished by Berkley in a large paperback trade edition in 1983, there
have been no subsequent payments.
[Barry Malzberg's information about payments seems to support
Michael Bishop's earlier letter. If any writers can confirm they
have been receiving what Mr Ellison calls an annuity from their
stories, I'd be pleased to incorporate what they say in future
editions of this. CP]

Greg Feeley:
-----------
You acknowledge a willingness to see "the facts that embarrass [Ellison]
collected in one place". I was consequently surprised that your chronology
did not pay any more attention to Ellison's frequent announcements of
never-to-appear novels and other books, but it occurs to me that the
British editions may not include his revealingly optimistic listings of
'forthcoming' works. A quick romp through this Ellisonian apocrypha may
prove edifying.
'Partners in Wonder' (Walker, 1971) lists twenty-one books by or
edited by Ellison, plus ten noted as 'forthcoming'. Only the first four
have ever appeared. The others include LAST, 'The Sound of a Scythe', 'The
Prince of Sleep', 'The Harlan Ellison Hornbook'*, 'Dial 9 to Get Out', and
'Demon With a Glass Hand'.
[*NOTE: The Harlan Ellison Hornbook appeared in 1990. CP]
Of the four books that did ultimately appear, one of them, 'The Other
Glass Teat', is mentioned on the dust-jacket as having already come out.
In fact, 'The Other Glass Teat', although scheduled to appear soon after
'The Glass Teat' in 1970, was published only in 1975, with an introduction
that claims that the book was essentially suppressed by the Vice President
of the United States, a charge that would have made national headlines in
that post-Watergate climate had anyone else credited it.
'The Sound of a Scythe' is identified as a revision of Ellison's 'The
Man with Nine Lives' (1960), and was eventually sold to Pyramid as part of
a uniform edition of his works in the mid-Seventies. In the October 1968
issue of Fantasy & Science Fiction, Ed Ferman describes Ellison as
"completing two novels, 'Demon With a Glass Hand' and 'Dial 9 to Get Out'."
Addressing the 1972 World Fantasy Convention in Los Angeles, Ellison
described 'The Prince of Sleep' as being based on 'The Region Between'
(novella, 1970). In 1972 this novel was announced as forthcoming from
Ballantine. In the July 1977 Special Harlan Ellison Issue of F&SF, a full-
page advertisement from Dell "salutes Harlan Ellison" and announces 'The
Prince of Sleep', "his first new novel in over fifteen years, a major work
of fantasy for 1978". In the early 1980s the 'New York Times' mentioned
that Ellison had sold several books to Houghton Mifflin (presumably at the
same time as LAST), including a new novel called 'Shrikes' and, yes, 'The
Prince of Sleep'. 'The Harlan Ellison Hornbook' was to be another
collection of underground press columns.
That is the annotation for the "forthcoming" books listed in one
Ellison title of the early 1970s. Would anyone sit still for a thorough
listing of these ghostly titles? Most of these non-books continued to be
listed as forthcoming in Ellison's front matter throughout the 1970s, with
new ones added, until Ellison finally stopped listing 'forthcoming' titles
around 1980.
What this rather wearying compilation shows is how very badly Ellison
wants to write novels, as he once did early in his career. Even without
counting the scuttled 'Dark Forces' (or a short novel involving elves and
the Brooklyn Bridge, mentioned in an interview I don't have to hand, which
Ellison said Ace would be publishing in an illustrated edition), the list
includes seven novels, all but one known to have been sold to publishers,
some repeatedly.
When you collate these announcements with the claims for LAST, the
appalling dimensions of Ellison's last fifteen years begin to emerge.
During this period, Ellison has also been late on delivering story
collections, non-fiction collections, columns for a number of periodicals,
introductions to other people's novels, and one other original anthology,
'Medea: Harlan's World' (which did appear, seven years late, in 1985).
The fact of the matter is that, aside from his short stories, Harlan
Ellison has since the early 1970s given priority to his various television
and film projects, and when one of these gets a go-ahead, earlier
commitments are deferred.
Ellison gives eloquent if inadvertent testimony to this in the January
1988 issue of 'F&SF', where he defends the irregular appearance of his film
column by noting that "although suchlike as Charles Platt and Christopher
Priest may bend themselves into hyperbolic pretzels proving I'll never
complete LAST, that and other matters of import command most of my
attention most of the time". Yet just four pages later Ellison is alluding
to the "June-to-September hell in which I lived while writing 'Cutter's
World' for Corman and NBC".
In an article in the November 1987 'Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction
Magazine', Ellison says, "From December 1977 through December 1978 I wrote
nothing very much ... apart from the two hundred and thirty-five pages of
screenplay entitled 'I, Robot'".
Robert Silverberg's memoir of Harlan Ellison's hungry days of trying
to break into the professional SF world of the early 1950s (published in
the special Ellison issue of 'F&SF') remains, for all its affection, a
striking portrayal of the young Ellison, constantly claiming to have made
professional sales he had only imagined.
Your assertion that Ellison's integrity "is not at issue" is true
insofar as he does not _intend_ to injure those writers and publishers who
have trusted him; but what Silverberg calls "a hunger for literary success
so powerful that it dissolves the fine but vital distinction between fact
and fantasy" must by now be so clear to Ellison that his insistence upon
making these assurances finally renders him--like the self-aware alcoholic
who begins to drink although he must drive home on icy roads--as
responsible for what he wreaks as if he had intended it.

Eddy C. Bertin:
--------------
'Deadloss' is everything I had hoped it to be: informative and rational-
minded; as such an interesting piece of SF history. It also makes for
absorbing reading, only a pity that it is such a sad story, else it would
be highly amusing.

Taral Wayne:
-----------
Thanks to you I've been given a whole new perspective on LDV--a whole new
issue to get steamed up over, and a few nasty laughs at Ellison's expense.
I've no doubt your intentions were more honourable than inspiring the likes
of me with malicious fun. When I put 'Deadloss' down, however, I found
that reading your fanzine hadn't been the usual disposable experience that
fanzines are. I didn't just put it down. I had ideas.
You and those who wrote in reply pitied the harm done to the writers,
to the readers, and to Ellison himself. I think you left hints that harm
was done to the field itself, but much was left unsaid. Ever unsubtle,
I'll say it.
Ellison boasted that the stories for LDV were top-notch, cutting-edge,
and, well, dangerous. You estimate he may have as many as a hundred and
forty-five of them in his box--a hundred and forty-five stories that
Ellison has denied the field for so long that even if they were to appear
in publication tomorrow they would be old news, hardly dangerous. Taking
Ellison at his word about those stories, the damage he's done to the very
cause he espoused must be immense. Imagine that no LDV exists, nor any of
the stories written for it. Imagine instead that a hundred and forty-five
of the stories that have been published since 1972 vanish from view, sucked
by Ellison's persuasion into the black hole under his desk. A hundred and
forty-five stories would nicely fill [the following story collections]:
'Blooded on Arachne' by Michael Bishop
'Particle Theory' by Ed Bryant
'Burning Chrome' by William Gibson
'Nine Hundred Grandmothers' by R.A. Lafferty
'A Song for Lya' by George R.R. Martin
'The Wind's Twelve Quarters' by Ursula Le Guin
'Still I Persist in Wondering' by Edgar Pangborn
'San Diego Lightfoot Sue' by Tom Reamy
'The 57th Franz Kafka' by Rudy Rucker
'Ten Thousand Light Years From Home' by James Tiptree Jr
'The Persistence of Vision' by John Varley
'The Island of Doctor Death and Other Stories and Other Stories' by
Gene Wolfe
and, appropriately, 'Deathbird Stories' by Harlan Ellison
This list is a pound of flesh. Torn out of the body of SF it would
leave a large, bleeding hole, and just such a hole may exist without our
awareness of it.

Steven Bryan Bieler:
-------------------
I've just this moment finished 'Deadloss'. I could not put it down.
Though I had seen the notices in 'Locus' and elsewhere regarding
LAST's pending publication, they appeared over many years and gave me time
to forget them. To see all the evidence together, to read it all at once,
is startling, to say the least. One man has tied up the work of so many
writers and the attention of so many more readers--and he has done it by
doing nothing!
In rereading my first letter, I see I was incorrect in my statement
that Houghton Mifflin intended to publish LAST in early 1985. The three
volumes were to be published over six or eight months, beginning in late
1984. I actually believed that my story could appear in a matter of weeks!
Of the many things that struck me about 'Deadloss', I was especially
taken with Mr Youd's information, regarding Harlan's promise to Houghton
Mifflin in April 1984 that the book would be delivered to the publisher
within 70 days. Harlan and I met for the first time near the end of that
period; a little over a month later he bought my story. So perhaps I am
responsible for that particular delay for game?
Well, Harlan is not an angry god, nor am I a sinner in his hands;
having argued with him over the phone, he reminds me more of my parents. I
appreciate, and treasure, the kindness he showed me in 1984. But holding
my contribution all this time is a clear violation of our contract.
(Incidentally, I have yet to receive a renewal contract, nor have I had any
contact with Harlan since November 1984.) Your zine has shocked me out of
my apathy. I still like my little story and I want people to read it, so
with the new year I will write to Harlan and withdraw it from the book. I
will keep you informed of developments, if there are any.
An enterprising publisher might be interested in an anthology of
stories withdrawn from LAST. According to 'Deadloss', Ian Watson, Michael
Bishop, Jacques Goodchaux, Thomas N. Scortia and yourself have all
withdrawn stories. That's a good start on an interesting book.





Postscript

by Christopher Priest



THE SUMMING UP

The letters included here reveal something that cannot be emphasized
forcefully enough. No one who has read Deadloss, _not a single person, in
the fannish world or the professional_, has stepped forward to defend Mr
Ellison.
True, a few correspondents did attack _me_. They said I was settling
a personal score, or breaking ranks with a fellow professional, or deliber-
ately misinterpreting Mr Ellison's mercurial personality ... but the funny
thing was that they attacked me while making snide comments about him out
of the corners of their mouths. I would publish these letters if I could,
but in every case the writer begged me not to, even anonymously.
As far as I can tell (and I believe I did a reasonable job of seeking
response from Mr Ellison's friends) he has no defenders. Everyone is sick
to death of this non-existent book, and all that surrounds it.
Mr Ellison has no supporters. His constituency is nil.

#

The response taught me something I did not know; at the same time I appear
to have informed others of things they did not know.
What I learned is that as recently as 1984 Mr Ellison was still
acquiring stories for LAST; there are reports I can't verify that he has
been buying stories since then.
In its turn, 'Deadloss' appears to have revealed, at least to a
substantial section of American fandom, that the reality of LAST is not the
same as its myth.
In particular, it seems that Mr Ellison has managed to portray himself
and his contributors as being united in their commitment to the project,
arms locked together, heads down against the foe. For instance, until
'Deadloss' pointed out the opposite it was widely believed _that no writer
had ever withdrawn a story_.
Perhaps those people in American fandom who by acquiescence have given
Mr Ellison tacit support will now be less gullible.

#

Until I started writing this essay I did not actually think very often
about Mr Ellison and his anthology. After all, Mr Ellison is just one
writer whose work I never read among so many others whose work I do ... and
LAST is just one book that doesn't exist among so many others that do!
Writing the essay made me remember what I used to think about Mr
Ellison and his anthology before I became inadvertently involved. In those
days, most of what I knew about him was all the ridiculous literary/macho
stuff found in the front of his books--those introductions that he became
famous for. They interested me because they seemed defensive in some way,
as if trying to cover up some imagined shortcoming. His posture on the
'Dangerous Visions' anthologies seemed to be much the same. He kept
reminding us how long they were ... just as his progress reports about LAST
almost invariably include an awe-struck remark or two about size.
Unfortunately, promises of immense length do not legitimize what he
has been doing for all these years. For all the bragging and sycophancy
that has gone on, and all the threats that have been uttered, there is
still nothing there.
To spell it out: 'The Last Dangerous Visions' does not exist. Good or
bad, it does not exist. Long or short, it does not exist.
Bluff all he may, it will never exist until Mr Ellison finishes his
work.
The only tangible evidence of LAST in existence is the story about it
I have told here. It is ironical that this essay is in fact the only
testament. Already, more people in the world have read these words than
have read the manuscripts that make up the anthology, even when you count
all the people flown out to Los Angeles to do so.
And this story, fascinating though it is for many people, is none the
less a degrading one. It is a saga of bragging and sycophancy and threats.
Any morals to be drawn from all this? Two perhaps. That the short is
as worthwhile as the long ... and that just as there is virtue in com-
pleting that which has been begun, so there is courage in knowing when to
abandon that which cannot be finished.




THE REMEDY



You are one of the many remaining contributors to LAST. Ever since you
sold your story to Harlan Ellison you have been holding on, waiting for the
book to appear. In spite of your own private doubts (as well perhaps as
extra doubts raised by THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS), you still hope and
believe the book will actually appear with your story included.
However, the story was written several years ago, and although it was
amongst your best work at the time, you have grown away from it and are now
less than completely satisfied with it. You feel that if it doesn't appear
in LAST within the next few months you'd like to have it back so you can
revise and resell it.
You have always held back from asking Harlan Ellison to return the
manuscript for fear of repercussions.
On the whole you have come to the conclusion it is better to lie low
and get on with your work than to keep thinking about this ancient dilemma.
But you can't stop remembering how strongly you feel about the whole
business. You wish he would either publish the book, or return your story.
If only there was something you could do ...
There is.
Here is a plan in 8 easy stages:



Step 1: ESTABLISH THE FACTS
---------------------------
Brief yourself on all pertinent minor details concerning your story. For
instance, establish the date on which you and Mr Ellison made first contact
about contributing to his anthology. If Mr Ellison made any promises or
guarantees then or later, make a note of what they were. Find out the date
on which you actually submitted the story, and the date he responded.
Other relevant dates would be those when he sent you the contract, or
progress reports about completion, or made payments on account, or gave you
estimated publication dates.
The point of this research is that when Mr Ellison raises these
matters he is sometimes imaginative with his interpretation of facts.
Ready yourself, so that you cannot be thrown off course by pettifogging
side issues.


Step 2: DO YOU KNOW ANYONE ELSE IN THE BOOK?
--------------------------------------------
THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS contains many names of writers who have at one
time or another been involved with Mr Ellison's anthology. You might be
friendly with some of them. You might be in contact with others, through
Internet, or through membership of a writers' organization like SFWA. Make
contact, specifically on this subject. Compare notes, compare facts,
compare promises. Most of all, compare feelings and opinions.
Tell people about THE LAST DEADLOSS VISIONS if they haven't read it.


Step 3: SET UP A SELF-HELP GROUP
--------------------------------
By making contact with other contributors you are already halfway to this.
How self-help groups organize themselves is entirely up to the members, but
you should identify yourselves under a particular name so that there is a
sense of cohesion. (A conference within Internet would be ideal.) When
your self-help group members make up approximately one half of the
surviving contributors to LAST, and there is a consensus of broad opinion,
you are ready for the next step.
The purpose of this group is not to act on its own, but to coordinate
a series of actions that will be taken by individuals.
NB: Group action is not recommended. Group action would be
ineffective on Harlan Ellison: he would ignore such an ultimatum by simply
refusing to recognize a newly formed body. However, he cannot ignore
personal letters from individuals.
Make sure he receives these personal letters all on the same day (or
given the vagaries of the U.S. Postal Service, within a week of each
other).
You must put this in writing. Do not try to do this over the phone.
(A fax message would be OK, though.)


Step 4: AGREE A DATE
--------------------
The date to be agreed is the one on which all members of the self-help
group will write and mail their individual letters to Harlan Ellison.
It is crucial to the success of this Remedy that a large number of
people write to Mr Ellison at the same time.
For obvious reasons, avoid any date close to public holidays,
worldcons, etc. Give the man a chance to read his mail, and consider his
position.


Step 5: AGREE THE WORDING
-------------------------
It is crucial that the letter you send to Harlan Ellison should cover the
same ground as everyone else's, without seeming like a form letter. Mr
Ellison is not a fool, and even if he doesn't get wind of this Remedy in
advance, it won't take him long to work out what's going on. You will want
to be on speaking terms with him after all this is history, so respect his
intelligence. Therefore, write him the sort of letter you would normally
write him.
However, it is also crucial to the Remedy that no matter how each
individual phrases it, all the letters that Mr Ellison receives on this
momentous day should contain the same message.
The message I suggest is as follows. The wording should be as firm as
possible.
You should say:
That you have run out of patience, and you no longer believe what he
says about projected delivery and publication dates.
That you have come to the conclusion the only way your story will be
published is if you take personal control of it again.
That you are therefore setting the following achievable conditions:
a. That within 3 months of date of your letter he sends you
unambiguous proof that the whole and final manuscript of 'The
Last Dangerous Visions' has been sent in to the publisher, and
that your story was included.
b. That within 4 months of date of your letter you will receive a
letter on the headed notepaper of the publisher and signed by the
Vice-President in charge of Publishing which confirms that:
the whole manuscript of 'The Last Dangerous Visions' has
been received from Harlan Ellison;
it has been accepted for publication;
your story is included;
and a (specified) publication date has been set.
You then say that unless these conditions are fulfilled exactly, all
rights to your story will automatically revert to you on the first stated
deadline (3 months from the date on the letter). If the first condition is
fulfilled but the second is not, then rights will revert on the second
stated deadline (4 months from the date on the letter). In either case you
will consider yourself to be free to revise the story in any way you feel
necessary, and to sell it to another market.
This reversion will be absolute and is non-negotiable, now or later.
(You could optionally add that if he feels the conditions are
impossible to meet he could let you know straight away, whereupon the story
will revert to you at once.)


Step 6: WRITE THE LETTER AND MAIL IT
------------------------------------
This must be done. If you procrastinate, or decide to wait to see what
results other writers might get first, then the Remedy will fail.
If your resolve starts to weaken, talk to your self-help group. Get
people you know and respect to confirm personally that they too will be
sending their letters on the agreed date.


Step 7: WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
--------------------------
There are four possible outcomes, and here is what to do in each case:

i. Harlan Ellison replies, and accepts your conditions

This is the best outcome. Write back at once and say how pleased you are,
but remind him that the conditions are real and non-negotiable, and that
you have no intention of shifting. The whole manuscript _must_ be
delivered by the first stated deadline, you _must_ be given the letter from
the publisher by the second stated deadline.
If either of the conditions is subsequently breached, especially the
first, pull the plug on Mr Ellison at once ... as in (iv) below.
The second deadline is harder to exercise, because a third party is
involved. However, if the first deadline has been met but the second has
passed, write to the publisher and ask the relevant questions. The reply
will tell you what you have to do. See (iv) below, if necessary.
If you give way at this point, all the good work will be undone and
the wretched situation will continue indefinitely.

ii. Harlan Ellison replies, but rejects your conditions

This is the worst outcome, and the hardest to deal with.
You will not need reminding that Mr Ellison is an effective demagogue,
and that he writes emotional and provocative letters, and goes in for
histrionic phonecalls. He will interpret the letter you sent him as having
called into question his professionalism, his personal reliability and his
integrity. He will also see it as a betrayal of past friendship or
favours. Most editors, faced with a discontented contributor, would reply
calmly and practically, but Mr Ellison will not. He is capable of almost
anything: wheedling, bullying, flattery, self-pity, even threats.
The best advice is this: having come so far you should stick to your
guns. To be discouraged now will mean a return to the status quo.
Reply (in your own words) to say this:
You have made up your mind, and will not be wheedled, bullied, etc.
You have allowed him a generous and adequate time in which to complete the
book. You point out that the more time he spends trying to persuade you to
change your mind, the less time he will have in which to complete his
editorial work. You remind him of his deadline dates, and your absolute
determination to exercise them.
Wait for the first date, then pull the plug on him. See (iv) below.

iii. Harlan Ellison makes a counter-proposal

Another tough one. It is up to you to judge whether the counter-proposal
is a real and reasonable one, or is just a delaying tactic. If you decide
it is the latter, see (ii) above.
On the other hand, it might just be reasonable. Say that you first
have to consult the other writers in your self-help group, and you'll
contact him again. Tell him that until you do, the original deadlines
remain in place.
If you and other members of your self-help group agree that his
counter-proposal is not only genuine but reasonable, then agree to his
terms. Again, write to him as individuals, not as a group. You should,
though, maintain the unyielding attitude that this really _is_ his last
chance, and that if you accept his counter-proposal and he misses the
revised deadline the rights to your story will revert, and you will pull
the plug. See (iv) below.
If you reject his counter-proposal, remind him of his deadline then
stand by to pull the plug.

iv. Harlan Ellison does not reply

Pull the plug.
On the first stated deadline day (or as soon as possible after) send a
registered letter to Mr Ellison. Do not delay this. Do not think you
should "give him a few more days". A deadline is a deadline.
Your letter should say that as the deadline has expired he is no
longer permitted to use your story, and that you are now going to sell it
elsewhere. Remind him that this is non-negotiable. Make no excuses, and
give no ground. Be polite.
Send a copy of this letter to your agent, and to the publisher of 'The
Last Dangerous Visions', and mark Mr Ellison's letter with the information
that these copies have been sent.


Step 8: IS THAT IT?
-------------------
Yes.