The near future is represented by “Kings Who Die” showing the effects of war on society and the soldiers who fight. There is “The Martian Crown Jewels” in which some priceless jewelry is stolen from an unmanned spaceship. A Martian detective, who bears a striking resemblance to a 19th century Earth detective who also appeared in “Time Patrol”, solves the problem. “The Alien Enemy” examines the after effects on a colony invaded by an unknown enemy.

“The Double-Dyed Villains”, “The Live Coward”, and “Enough Rope” are three stories describing the adventures of Wing Alak. In his introduction to “The Double-Dyed Villains”, in Astounding Science Fiction John W. Campbell noted that E. E. Smith described one way to run an empire, and that Poul Anderson described another.

We have the far future. The Hugo winning “The Sharing of Flesh” and “Starfog” both of which look at the reintegration of planets into a Galactic civilization after the collapse of empire.

Poul also wrote a huge amount of verse. A small but representative example will be found scattered throughout this volume.

Space considerations prevent a discussion of all the stories in this volume. You will find ideas and concepts in the stories that seem familiar and standard. That is because later writers incorporated the ideas that Poul articulated for the first time.

Rick Katze
November 2008

Poul Anderson
by Greg Bear

In 1962, at age ten, I came across Poul Anderson’s novel The High Crusade in a navy station library in Kodiak, Alaska. The library was well-stocked with science fiction novels and anthologies from the 1950s and 60s, but I remember being bowled over by this lean, elegant, and funny tale, full of unexpected twists and turns.

I followed Poul’s works with respect and admiration for years, but in 1970, his full range and brilliance became even more obvious when I read The Broken Sword and Tau Zero back to back. In 1972, I arranged to have Poul come south to speak at San Diego State College. When asked by a member of the audience (me) what it felt like to write a masterpiece like Tau Zero, he answered, from behind a wall of humility in which I could find no flaw, “Well, it was a good yarn, but really, just another story.” Utterly charming.

The story-tellers we discover in our own golden age of literature fill special places in our lives. They become part of our growing bones and blood, and our gratitude is almost that of child for parent. Ultimately, I was privileged not just to be guided by Poul Anderson’s fiction, but by the man and his family. I was brought into his life as with no other writer. He remains with me as a powerful presence, gentle and kindly, but also uniquely intelligent. His slightly veiled gaze, a paternal generosity of eyelids, seemed at once patient and friendly, but brows and lids could unpredictably vault to high and expressive arcs, revealing startled pale blue eyes. At rest, his face showed pleasantly bowed lips through which he delivered halting but well-formed speech, hands ascribing unbalanced curves in space. Hunched shoulders belied the strength of a man who fought in Society for Creative Anachronism tourneys; his face-folding smile, eyes almost disappearing, went perfectly with the slow rumble of his voice.