dht@druri.UUCP (Davis Tucker) (10/08/85)
EXCERPT FROM: "A Little Leaven", by Isaac Asimov THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION, 36th Anniversary Issue - OCT '85 _____________________________________________________________________________ My beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter, Robyn, who is now on the job as a psychiatric social worker, got together with her lovely co-worker the other day and decided to compose a fiery memo denouncing some practice or another they considered heinous. They got paper and pens (the easy part) and then started brooding over the wording. Minutes passed, and nothing came to them except a dozen false starts. Finally, Robyn, throwing down her pen in exasperation, said, "Do you believe I'm my father's daughter?" When she told me the story that night, I laughed, for when she was a little girl, there was a widespread disbelief over that very matter. Since Robyn's mother was, in this matter, completely above suspicion (either by me or any- one else), the general theory was that Robyn had been accidentally switched in the hospital with my true offspring. (Actually, I know that is not true for Robyn has, with time, developed unmistakeable Asimovian features and, if it is possible for a gorgeous woman to look like me, she does). Nevertheless, friends of mine staring at a little girl with blonde hair who looked precisely like the John Tenniel illustrations of Alice in "Alice in Wonderland" (she was aked to play the role, at sight, in her grammar school) and then looking at me with a certain shudder of revulsion, would say "Are you sure you weren't given the wrong child at the hospital?" At which I would invariably put my arms around her protectively, and say "Who cares? I'm keeping this one." I told Robyn of this when we talked about the unwritten memo and said that, listening to all the comments of this sort, she was in a good position to make much of the very common fantasy of children that their parents were not really their parents and that the children were, instead, the kidnapped offspring of royalty. "Never!" said Robyn, forcefully. "Never! Not for one moment at any time did I ever doubt that you and Mamma were my parents." Which pleases me. Both Robyn and I have a strong sense of duty. I would dis- charge my paternal obligations punctiliously even if I didn't particularly like her, and she would be equally punctilious, I am quite certain, about being filial under such circumstances. However, there is a tight bond of affection between the two of us which makes all that duty an unbelievable pleasure. And the same, I can't help thinking, goes for these essays. Having agreed to provide the Noble Editor with one essay an issue, I would certainly perform that chore dutifully even if it proved to be a royal pain in the whatever. However, I enjoy the process so much that I keep it up month after month with a light laugh on my lips. In fact, if I have difficulty, it lies in confining myself to doing merely twelve a year. [Followed by a long and very good essay on the scientific history of the discovery of yeast and enzymes.] -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Well, where should one start? With the simple truth that the great Dr. A doesn't know jack about commas, and uses them in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or with his smug, egocentric male chauvinism toward his daughter, her "lovely co-worker", and his wife, whom he refuses to name? How about some- thing more substantive - like why in the hell is this vignette included in a science history article about the discovery of yeast? What does his con- descension toward his beautiful daughter and his resultant foul aspersions on her parentage have anything whatsoever to do with anything that any human being besides an Asimov worshipper would want to know? I mean, "unmistakeable Asimovian features" my left hand of darkness! Does anyone you know talk about his daughters "Jacksonian features" or "Alberryesque features" or "Rospachian features"? How many people do you know who would refer to their daughters in print as "gorgeous women"? How many writers have you ever read that would say "she was asked to play the role, at sight, in her grammar school...", and totally forget that there is no such construct as "at sight" (it is correctly "at first sight")? More questions - how does even the demigod of science fiction, the master of prolix spew, get away without having this kind of ridiculous, embarrasing drivel of a father slobbering over the fact that he actually raised a daughter that ended up looking good and going into some sort of social worker program (that he not-so-subtly hints at being amusingly disapproving of) edited out of his otherwise good and informative article? Why does he think that anyone in his right mind or even his left mind would find what he has to say about his daughter, her adorable liberal tendencies and her Aryan makeup, in any way germane to his article about yeast, or even to the more global, meta- fictional point of essay-writing? I just don't get it. Could somebody clue me in? Davis Tucker
Shiffman@GODZILLA.SCH.Symbolics.COM (10/10/85)
From: Hank Shiffman <Shiffman@GODZILLA.SCH.Symbolics.COM>
Date: 8 Oct 85 02:16:12 GMT
From: druri!dht@topaz.rutgers.edu (Davis Tucker)
EXCERPT FROM: "A Little Leaven", by Isaac Asimov
THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION, 36th Anniversary Issue
- OCT '85
Well, where should one start? With the simple truth that the great
Dr. A doesn't know jack about commas, and uses them in the wrong
place at the wrong time? Or with his smug, egocentric male
chauvinism toward his daughter, her "lovely co-worker", and his
wife, whom he refuses to name?
Ex-wife. And, if his feelings on the subject as delivered in "In Memory
Yet Green" and "In Joy Still Felt" are to be accepted, he avoids
references to her more in sorrow than in anger.
As for his "smug, egocentric male chauvinism", how many men do you know
who are in the least objective about their offspring? Where do you come
up with the idea that objectivity is even desireable in a parent?
Besides, having seen said daughter once a few years ago, I would say
that Asimov is being far from generous in his praise. In simpler terms,
he did good.
How about some- thing more
substantive - like why in the hell is this vignette included in a
science history article about the discovery of yeast?
Why not? As I recall from the days when I read F&SF regularly, the good
doctor always began his science column with some anecdote or personal
story. In general, I found them at least as interesting as the rest of
the column. When I've attended talks he has given, the subject has
generally been personal. And the audience has eaten it up! Maybe the
problem is that you can't stand the idea of someone being liked when it
isn't in direct proportion to the literary merits of their work.
I just don't get it. Could somebody clue me in?
Doesn't surprise me in the least. Personally, I doubt it.
Davis Tuckermr@hou2h.UUCP (M.RINDSBERG) (10/11/85)
> > EXCERPT FROM: "A Little Leaven", by Isaac Asimov > > THE MAGAZINE OF FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION, 36th Anniversary Issue - OCT '85 > > My beautiful, blond-haired, blue-eyed daughter, Robyn, who is now on > > ...... much stuff ....... > > discovery of yeast and enzymes.] > > > Well, where should one start? With the simple truth that the great Dr. A > doesn't know jack about commas, and uses them in the wrong place at the wrong For one thing, people keep buying and enjoying his books. > time? Or with his smug, egocentric male chauvinism toward his daughter, her > "lovely co-worker", and his wife, whom he refuses to name? How about some- > thing more substantive - like why in the hell is this vignette included in a > science history article about the discovery of yeast? What does his con- > descension toward his beautiful daughter and his resultant foul aspersions > on her parentage have anything whatsoever to do with anything that any human > being besides an Asimov worshipper would want to know? I mean, "unmistakeable > Asimovian features" my left hand of darkness! Does anyone you know talk about > his daughters "Jacksonian features" or "Alberryesque features" or "Rospachian > features"? How many people do you know who would refer to their daughters in > print as "gorgeous women"? How many writers have you ever read that would > say "she was asked to play the role, at sight, in her grammar school...", > and totally forget that there is no such construct as "at sight" (it is > correctly "at first sight")? > > More questions - how does even the demigod of science fiction, the master of > prolix spew, get away without having this kind of ridiculous, embarrasing > drivel of a father slobbering over the fact that he actually raised a daughter > that ended up looking good and going into some sort of social worker program > (that he not-so-subtly hints at being amusingly disapproving of) edited out > of his otherwise good and informative article? Why does he think that anyone > in his right mind or even his left mind would find what he has to say about > his daughter, her adorable liberal tendencies and her Aryan makeup, in any > way germane to his article about yeast, or even to the more global, meta- > fictional point of essay-writing? > > I just don't get it. Could somebody clue me in? > Davis Tucker What Asimov trys to do when he writes these seemingly inane pagagraphs is to get the reader involved with himself and his thinking on a personal basis thereby enabling the reader to be more comfortable while reading the text of the actual tale to follow. Usually he tries to lead up to how, and under what circumstances, the text was written. I happen to enjoy the bits and pieces of real life that he usually places between stories in an anthology and read them just as avidly as the stories themselves. Mark ..!hou2h!mr