I’ve talked about James Tiptree Jr. (Alice Sheldon) quite a bit over the past several years. I first encountered their work when I was, I believe, around nineteen years old, in the form of a handful of short stories gleaned from the internet. Folks had recommended them, you see, because when you’re asking for science fiction about gender and sexuality, Tiptree is a requirement for getting acquainted with the kinds of things the field was doing during the New Wave and feminist movements in the late sixties and early seventies.
More importantly, the stories are still excellent. And still disturbingly on-point, with a frequent emphasis on the “disturbing” bit.
So, where do you start if you want to start reading Tiptree—which is a very good idea, given their position as namesake of a genre award for fiction exploring ideas about gender and as an individual whose own complex gender identity threw the field of sf into an uproar when revealed?
The first thing to note is that Alice Sheldon wrote under the names James Tiptree, Jr. and Raccoona Sheldon. While stories published under each name dealt with issues of gender, often the level of externalized rage and aggression is higher in the Raccoona stories; “The Screwfly Solution,” for example, is not a delicate or gentle representation of masculinity—but it is one that makes a stunning impact. There have been two recent omnibus collections that gather up much of Tiptree/Sheldon’s work, both fiction and nonfiction: Her Smoke Rose up Forever and Meet Me at Infinity. The first is all short fiction, while the second also contains other work.
These books are pulling from a history of publications that spans twenty years from 1968 to 1988, generally a few stories every year. Tiptree/Sheldon was prolific, engaged, and provocative; there are eight initial short story collections and two novels that collect much of this work, distilled down into those two previously mentioned more recent books. (A list.)
So, let’s start there. If you’re new to Tiptree/Sheldon, Her Smoke Rose Up Forever is a solid place to begin. The novels, interestingly enough, are mostly regarded as forgettable. This is a writer whose primary mode was short fiction, and whose facility with the medium is hard to debate. All of these are damn good stories, even the ones that are a little “out of date” or are wrestling with the problems of gender and sexuality that were more on the cutting edge in the seventies and strike us as outmoded now.
Once you’ve picked up the collection, my instinct is to tell you to read the whole thing cover to cover. But if you just want a taste—to see what all the fuss is about—there are a few stories that have stuck with me over the years, that I’ve read repeatedly and never gotten tired of. Those are “The Screwfly Solution” (1977), “The Girl Who Was Plugged In” (1973), “The Women Men Don’t See” (1973), “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” (1976), and “Your Faces, O My Sisters! Your Faces Filled of Light!” (1976). Each of these stories approaches issues of society, gender, and otherness; each of them has a distinct point to make about the failings of patriarchal systems of engagement—it’s just that they do it in different ways.
“The Screwfly Solution” and “Your Faces, O My Sisters! Your Faces Filled of Light!” are both Raccoona Sheldon stories. The first deals with the outbreak of a social turning where men have begun killing women at a genocidal rate, the twist being that it’s caused by alien bioengineering. The second, one of the most disturbing of Sheldon’s pieces, is about a young woman with a mental illness who believes herself to be in a safe, other, future world and escapes her hospital only to be brutally attacked as she tries to walk to the West.
These stories are unpleasant and cruel and unflinching; they’re rough reads, and represent well some of the anger and fear of women living under the systems of patriarchy—the brutality of it, too. The Tiptree stories, by contrast, are interested in exploring issues of gender and otherness from a more removed perspective. “The Girl Who Was Plugged In” (1973) is widely considered an early contributor to the cyberpunk genre; it explores physicality, attractiveness, and embodiment using the story of a girl who is ugly, allowed through technology to live in a beautiful body. The underlying narrative of being stuck in a body that is repulsive to the person in question also has resonance with larger issues of gender and self.
“The Women Men Don’t See” (1973) and “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” (1976) are told by male protagonists who get a glimpse of the realities of women’s lives. In “The Women Men Don’t See,” the female lead and her daughter would rather go away with aliens than continue to take the chance of living on this planet any longer; he can’t grasp why they’d do such a thing, but the reader certainly does. “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” approaches the subject from the “battle of the sexes” standpoint: it’s an all-female future, and these male astronauts end up there but can’t be allowed to stay because of their aggression and irrationality. It turns a lot of gendered tropes about women’s behavior on their head in a way that seems almost pat today but wasn’t so much at the time of publication—among a lot of books where all-female futures were presented a ridiculous or dystopic (see Joanna Russ’s essays about that particular subgenre of story).
There are, of course, quite a lot more stories and essays worth checking out by Tiptree/Sheldon—but these few should give the reader a good sampler of the kinds of things they’ll encounter, as well as Tiptree/Sheldon’s prose styles. While these stories aren’t exactly unproblematic, as we say these days, they are intense, thoughtful, and provocative: full of sharp edges and hard questions and harder truths. I still think they’re worth pursuing and considering, and I hope you will too.
Lee Mandelo is a writer, critic, and editor whose primary fields of interest are speculative fiction and queer literature, especially when the two coincide. She can be found on Twitter or her website.
I would also suggest, for reasons of historical interest, the collection Warm Worlds and Otherwise, for the introduction “Who is Tiptree, What is He?” by Robert Silverberg, to help contemporary readers understand some of the mystery and confusion the sf field had in understanding and dealing with the question of author gender. We got it wrong, and it is instructive to see how and why.
Unfortunately, revealing the woman behind the name really did a number on her career:
decade #short works
1960s: 10
1970-1977: 33
1970s: 34
1980s: 23
1990s: 3 (Does anyone know the story behind all the posthumous work?)
2000s: 10 (all seem to be translations)
If she’d been as prolific in 1978 and 1979 as she was from 1970-1977, we’d have another eight or nine stories. Instead there was one.
I@2: “The Girl Who Was Plugged In (Act I)” from 1993 is an adaption of the Tiptree story as a one-act musical rather than an original work by Tiptree.
The isfdb indicates that “Go from Me, I Am One of Those Who Pall (A Parody of My Style)” (1996) may be from the 50’s and that “Please Don’t Play With the Time Machine” (1998) is a 50’s story submitted in 1968. I think that the 2000 story “The Trouble Is Not in Your Set” could be from 1974 and was originally sent out as by Racoona Sheldon; the other original English language story from the 2000s, “Trey of Hearts” is said to have been written in 1985.
A quick run with Google Translate would indicate that the eight other stories after 2000 are translations from a Spanish version of Ten Thousand Light-Years from Home.
Thank you.
The myth that her writing went into steep decline after “the reveal” really needs to die; I’m convinced those who subscribe to that belief haven’t actually read much of it (and are also overlooking just how weak a lot of her early work was). The Starry Rift and Brightness Falls From the Air are both slogs, but the reason for that is clear: they are both space opera, and as much as she loved that genre, it was never her forte.
Up the Walls of the World, her first novel, is a really terrific, imaginative work. Tales of the Quintana Roo is a gem, and the physical book itself is lovely and graced with charmingly grotesque illustrations. Her final true collection, Crown of Stars, contains some of the best stories of her career; she ditched the space opera and regained much of the anger and despair that powered her peak work in the mid-seventies. “Backward, Turn Backward” is a masterpiece, and one of the most personal stories she ever wrote–it’s especially disturbing because it possibly foretells the murder-suicide that ended Tiptree’s life. The twist of “Morality Meat” is obvious, but I think it’s supposed to be (it’s telegraphed in the title), and its grim view of a near-future where the “moral majority” has finally won builds to a crushingly sad final image. These last stories have an unabashed political edge that has aged very well, too, and are arguably just as relevant now, which is a depressing enough prospect on its own.
She was a brilliant writer–possibly my favorite–and I still recall the awe I felt when I first read “The Screwfly Solution” in high school. Her Smoke Rose Up Forever is one of the greatest short story collections of all time.
I was speaking entirely numerically: I think the reveal cost the world at least two years of Tiptree’s work.
For anyone interested in Tiptree’s work, I would highly recommend Julie Phillips’ biography: “James Tiptree Jr. : The Double Life of Alice B. Sheldon” 2006. She was a remarkable writer and she lived a remarkable life.
I never knew what she looked like. She was a formative author on me as a teenager. Let me recommend Love is the Plan, the Plan is Death.
I’ve just been reading Warm Worlds and Otherwise. My edition has Silverberg’s essay, plus a post-reveal addendum.
“Love is the Plan the Plan is Death” is probably the winner in the ‘story title that best summarises Tiptree’s work’ stakes (“The Women Men Don’t See” is a strong runner-up).
“We Who Stole Dream” is my favorite. One of the best science-fiction stories ever written.
Comment 10 made me notice something I had overlooked: Tiptree was pretty good at selling to editors whose tastes were, shall we say, fairly conservative. Del Rey, Bova and so on….
Thanks for this well written introduction to this most fascinating SF Writer. I look forward to reading her work and learning more about her, only one problem, looking at all of her stuff I can find even one Kindle Edition. Wow! Wonder what’s holding up the process, wouldn’t it be wiser to not cut out millions of readers!?
@12: Which country are you trying to buy from? Regional rights vary but there might be a work-around.
Thanks for the nice piece, Brit. I was struck by the fact that you reread “The Screwfly Solution.” I do, too; it’s probably the piece of hers I’ve reread the most. At a WisCon a few years ago, on a panel about rereading, somebody asked the panelists what they would not reread, and many of them agreed on “Screwfly,” that it was too intense and painful to reread, so I was glad to see that someone else rereads it, too.
Alli Sheldon started out writing fairly quickly — her first year, 1967, she wrote 5 stories, then 10 in 1968 and 8 in 1969. When she started taking it more seriously, she slowed down. From 1970 to 1974 her yearly totals were 4, 6, 4, 3 and 5. In 1975 she worked on Up the Walls of the World, and in 1976 she finished that and two stories. 1977 was primarily working with the publisher on the novel, and writing “Slow Music.” Late in 1977 her identity was discovered, and that did stop her writing for a couple years.
She said that she felt Tiptree was “written out,” anyway, that “Slow Music” was possibly going to be his last major story. After that she wrote up some old ideas: “We Who Stole the Dream,” “A Source of Innocent Merriment” and the three Quintana Roo stories. One night, in despair over not hearing Tiptree’s inner voice anymore, she decided to give up and started burning what was left. I don’t know exactly what she burned, but I know she burned the Quintana Roo stories and was about to burn her commonplace books full of ideas when her husband saw what was going on, rushed over, knocked her down and saved them.
Eventually she decided to try again anyway. In 1980 she rewrote the Quintana Roo stories, finished up an old fragment called “Excursion Fare,” and wrote two new stories: “Out of the Everywhere” and “With Delicate Mad Hands.” She felt that “Alice Sheldon the writer” was less succinct and more sentimental than Tiptree, but she was pleased with the two new stories and decided to keep going. She spent the next couple years on her second novel, Brightness Falls from the Air, and then the three novellas of The Starry Rift. There were ten more pieces of short fiction before her death in 1987, mostly written in 1985-6.
What would have happened had Tiptree remained her secret identity, of course we can only speculate about.
New, corrected editions of Tiptree, for both print and pixel, are being worked on, just way slower than anyone hoped.
That’s terrific news! Hoping for a nice, fat hardcover or two of Complete Collected Fiction.
What’s with the “they, their, them” nonsense? You have no idea what pronoun Tiptree/Sheldon would have preferred… Oh wait, yes, you do. “He” for Tiptree, “she” for Sheldon. Geesh.