Adam-Troy Castro - Her Husband's Hands and Other Stories

Back in 1968, I met one of my favorite peopleRobert Bloch.

Yes, I know, this is supposed to be an introduction to Adam-Troy Castros collection of stories. Ill get there, I promise. But first I want to talk about Robert Bloch.

Bloch is mostly known as the author of Psycho. He is also known for saying that he has the heart of a ten year old boyin a jar on his desk.

But I remember Bloch as just an all-round good guy. He was one of the funniest and most charming men in the science fiction community, often in demand as a speaker and toastmaster at conventions. One of his best lines came from his sale of Psycho to Alfred Hitchcockactually, not Hitchcock, but to a dummy company Hitch had set up so he wouldnt have to pay as much for the movie rights if his name were attached.

According to the story, Bloch only received $750 from that dummy company. So Robert Bloch went on to claim that he was the forerunner of the gay liberation movement, because he was the first man screwed by Alfred Hitchcock. (This is a joke I have since purloined and used with another producers name inserted.)

But the reason I mention Bloch is because of another joke he once told from the podium. He said he was passing a room where he heard two male voices talking, one saying, Ill put yours in mine if youll put mine in yours. He assumed it was a gay liaison, but when he opened the door it was only two authors assembling anthologies, agreeing to publish each others stories. (This was during the 70s, a time when many SF authors were also editing anthologies. I did five myself.)

That joke came immediately to mind when I sat down to type this introduction. Because Adam-Troy Castro and I are trading introductions. He wrote a generous introduction to my story collection, In the Deadlands, from BenBella Books, available on Amazon, and in return I am writing an introduction to this story collection. Ill put his in mine and hell put mine in his. Robert Bloch can snicker all he wants, Im still not taking a shower with him.

Let me step away from the homoerotic references and recontextualize all of the above as literary back-scratching (with everyone keeping their clothes on) and leap ahead to the subject at hand.

Adam-Troy Castro is a cherished friend. This in itself is remarkable because I am well-known as a cantankerous, reclusive, grumpy old curmudgeon. But Adam-Troy is one of the few people who can tell me that Im full of shit and still remain a cherished friend, because when he says it, hes not only righthes insightful.

(In 1995 at the Nebula Awards Banquet, held in some posh hotel in New York City, I was attempting to be modest, while holding a Nebula award under my arm. It is not possible to be modest with a Nebula trophy under your arm. Adam-Troy Castro stopped me from digging my big toe in the sand and saying, Aw, shucks, and told me I was full of shit. He was right. I do not know how to savor a moment of acknowledgment. Fortunately, that kind of embarrassment does not happen often, so I havent had to learn. But the important part of that story is that he was right.)

Since then, Adam and I have had few more occasions to break bread togethermost memorably that marvelous Brazilian restaurant in Las Vegas, the one where the waiters continued slicing huge slabs of various animals onto our plates until I had to pull a sidearm to stop them because my gut had become so distended I feared my ability to stand might be permanently impairedbut Adam and his wife Judi remain two of the most charming dinner companions this side of Paul DeFilippo and Deb. (This is shameless name-dropping on my part, but its still true.)

Much more relevant is that Adam-Troy and I engage in almost daily exchanges online, often on Facebook, sometimes in private messages or emails, and once even by phone, I think. Usually, these conversations are serious, rigorous, and important enough to slow down and pay serious attention.

You really have to like someone to put up with them on a daily basis. Especially if youre not related to them. But this kind of mutual affection is something that feels unique to the community of science fiction writers. At least, in my not-too humble opinion.

In most other environments, particularly television and movies, writers often behave like bitchy little girls or FBI agents. The highest compliment any Hollywood writer can give any other is healthy disrespect. From there its all downhill. The rest is a demonstration of backstabbing, frontstabbing, malicious name-calling, and lies. (Well, all writers are liarsthe good ones get paid for it.) Hollywood writers will repeat the most abhorrible career-killing stories about other writers, all in pursuit of the illusory staff job or possible script assignment.

Try this experiment. Next time youre having lunch in any restaurant within shouting distance of a studio, ask your waiter how the screenplay is coming along. This will give you some idea of the level of desperation in that particular job market.

Contrast this with the science fiction community.

This is my experience. SF and fantasy writers not only respect each other, they admire each other. Get a group of these authors together and within fifteen minutes theyll be listing the writers who influenced them, the books they loved growing up, and the things theyve learned from each other. Introduce two writers to each other at a convention and youre likely to hear simultaneous cries of, I loved your book I am not making this up. Ive been in the center of this transaction more times than I can remember, once even with a Pulitzer Prize winner. Its weird and embarrassing and joyous.

But even beyond that, even if a writer has not been able to keep up with the torrent of new novels pouring out of several thousand computers every month, science fiction and fantasy writers tend to have a genuine respect for each otherbecause only they know how hard it really is.

Take any other genreromance, history, horror, detective, western, whateverand the rules are already in place. The milieu is established, the resources for research are readily available, the format is understandable.

Not so, science fiction.

Science fiction requires world-building. Everything. It requires a level of research beyond anything required by any other genre. It demands the mutual skills of extrapolation and speculation. It demands awareness of sociology, anthropology, psychology, as wellbecause youre not only creating an environment, youre predicting how human beings will live and act and react to each other within that environment. And the hardest part of all, it has to be believable. The author has to believe in it before the reader can.

The reason there are so many bad science fiction movies, TV shows, novels, and stories is that science fiction is hardits not about eye-candy, its not about special effects, its not about techno-babble, its about that strange and terrible place where human beings are fundamentally challenged by the possibilities of the world that the author has constructed around them. This is what (most) science fiction writers know about themselves and each otherthat any author who has that kind of grasp on the genre well enough to turn out a consistently competent effort is worthy of serious respect.

And that brings mefinallyto Adam-Troy Castro.

As I said above, were friends. As I said above, were trading introductions. But putting both of those things aside, its still a privilege to write an introduction to this collection of storiesbecause Adam-Troy Castro is a damn good writer.

Actually, I need to be more specific than that. This mans virtues as a storyteller are considerable.

First, his sentences are easy to read.

This is one of the highest pieces of praise I can give to any writer. The true test of a writers skill with language is to read his paragraphs aloud. If they flow easily from the tongue, they will flow easily in your mind as you read.