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It was back in the third grade, I think, although it may even have
been the second. I was trolling the school library and found this
book. It might have been the title; even then I could enjoy a good
cultural reference. But whatever the reason, I took it and read it.
I don't know how much of it I understood, although little bits stuck
in my memory. The title, alas, was not one of them. And for years
later I wondered about that early, perhaps even first, encounter with
science fiction.
A little over ten years later I was practically inhaling Heinlein: his
early adult work from the 40s, his more explicitly adult work from the
60s and, as it came into paperback, the 70s. And, as they were
republished, his juvenile fiction from the 50s. Including this
volume, which I recognized almost immediately as that book from the PS
162 school library. And enjoyed in ways that younger me couldn't.
Reading Heinlein's words are a pleasure. Having them read is a
different pleasure. And having them partly acted out, with different
actors giving voice to the dialogue, is different still. This
production gives life to Heinlein's characters. Well, more accurately
it lets us enjoy the life that was already there. Of all the great SF
writers, Heinlein was in my view the best writer, the one who could
create characters and situations that felt the most human. And it may
be that in his juvenile fiction he reached the peak of his
humanity, before his interest in politics and, if I may say, his
obsession with sexuality took over.
I love this book, both for itself and for its ability to invoke
memories of that early precocious-but-innocent self. And to wonder
how to get a little bit of him back.
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