But It’s Really Not a Story

Last week I picked up a steam-punk anthology called . . . Steampunk’d.  I think “Punk’d” is the way Ashton Kutcher spells his TV trick show.  Maybe that was a clue. I sent my review of the whole anthology to fantasyliterature.com and I don’t want to bore you with it here, but I do want to comment on one or two things. 

 The essence of steampunk is that steam-technology changed society in some way.  Most (not all) steampunk stories have an alternate history aspect to them.  If nothing else, something got invented earlier or differently than it did for us; that’s the basic premise. That premise is not as easy as it seems. And no matter how well-polished your rivets are, and how shiny your goggles, you still have to tell a story. 

In one long set of words in this book, a famous American inventor and his sister Alva live together.  We’ll call the inventor Tom.  Tom and Alva must hide his inventions and his experiments, because in this story, a political group called the Puritans has come to power, and they frown on scientific experimentation. Tom, who wants to create a less labor-intensive way to provide lights for houses, has to keep these experiments under wraps. 

Wow, suspenseful!  Exciting!  Will Tom succeed?  Will the Puritans find out, and will he have to go on the run?  Will the Puritan party stop him from conducting his tests and achieving his goal? 

Well, no.  A few pages later, the Puritans are voted out of office. 

Hurray!  Will Tom finish his experiments?  Alas, no, because he blows up his lab and injures himself.  Alva races to his side.  Barely conscious, he murmurs something like, “Whatever you do, don’t let Daniel have my journal.”  Seconds later, a handsome young man enters the lab.  “Hi, I’m Daniel!  Is Tom all right?” 

Oh, no!  Will Daniel find the journal before Alva does?  Will he steal credit for Tom’s experiments?  

Well, no.  Alva hides the journal under her shawl and she and Daniel transport Tom to the hospital.

 Oh, no!  Will Tom die in the hospital?  Will Alva have to finish the experiment herself?  Perhaps she will come to trust Daniel to help her? 

Well, no.  While Tom recuperates, Alva reads his journal.  She thinks it’s charming, and takes it upon herself to correct some of his drawings.  Soon Tom is well enough to come home. 

Will Alva take her place at her brother’s side and will the genius siblings create something wonderful? 

Well, no.  About this time, Alva says, “I’m glad you’re feeling better.  You know that old dirigible HG Wells left you?  I had some time while you were sick, so I cleaned it up, and you know what?  I think it will go to the future!” 

At first I thought this was a metaphor, you know, “With this test flight, we fly into the future.”  But that’s not what Alva means.  She gets her cloak and her best hat and she and Tom jump into the dirigible and. . . they fly into the 1960s.  Really. The end.

I don’t know what this is, but it is not a story.  It may be an early narrative outline, maybe, but  not a story. 

Imagine how much fun it would have been to read a story about a famous American inventor and his loyal sister, who has to hide his experiments from the government, and who is intrigued by her brother’s friend/rival Daniel, a handsome young man who wants to help.  Can Daniel be trusted?  Is he a spy for the Puritans?  Does he want Tom’s information to bolster his own work?  Who can Alva trust?  What will she choose?  This is the kind of story you could read, if the writer didn’t kill the conflict at every point.

What this means is that this is not a good anthology.  There are scores of excellent science fiction writers who dabble in steampunk.  There are hundreds of gifted writers who have a better sense of story than these two examples, who would love to be given a chance.  I don’t know what the selection process was for this book, but I know I will avoid future anthologies edited by Jean Rabe and Martin H Greenberg.  Unless the whole thing really was a joke, and I’ve been punked.