The Early Asimov or, Eleven Years of Trying
The Early Asimov chronicles the author's 1938-1949 writing journey. Through memoir and early stories, it reveals his struggles, rejections, and persistent evolution into a clearer, skilled writer.
This is the narrative woven within the pages of The Early Asimov, or Eleven Years of Trying. It isn't a single fictional tale in the usual sense, but rather a powerful and insightful story about the making of a writer. Think of it as a chronicle, a memoir stitched together with examples of his early work, covering the crucial period from 1938 to 1949. It is, the book suggests, a record of eleven years dedicated to persistent effort.
This narrative begins with the enthusiasm and relative inexperience of youth. The author was just eighteen years old when this journey commenced. The story tells of his first breakthrough, selling a story called “Marooned off Vesta” to a magazine in 1938. This initial success ignited a spark, one that, the book makes clear, would fuel decades of writing. We see him, in the story, pounding away at a typewriter, full of burgeoning ideas, navigating the world from his parents' candy store in Brooklyn.
The early chapters of this narrative, represented by stories from 1938 to 1940, reveal a writer still finding his footing. Tales like “The Weapon,” “The Callistan Menace,” and “The Secret Sense” are described as lacking polish but brimming with imagination. They showcase themes common in the magazines of the time: distant planets, encounters with alien life, and interplanetary commerce, often structured with elements like last-minute rescues, mysterious technology, and surprise endings. But perhaps more compelling than these fictional elements is the behind-the-scenes narrative: the story of repeated rejections, particularly from the influential editor John W. Campbell. Crucially, the book emphasizes Campbell's role not just as a gatekeeper, but as someone who encouraged the young writer to refine his craft, a challenge the author met with fierce tenacity. This interaction becomes a central thread in the book's account of development.
As the story progresses into the years between 1941 and 1944, the narrative depicts a period of persistent experimentation and growth. The author begins to move beyond simple action plots, venturing into more complex territory involving moral questions, logical puzzles, and explorations of human behavior. The seeds of the mature writer, familiar from his later, well-known works, start to become visible here. The book points to stories like “Trends,” which was accepted by Campbell, as examples where the author began to grapple with societal resistance to new technology, hinting at his enduring interest in the relationship between science and society. A significant moment in this part of the story is the creation of “Nightfall” in 1941, a piece described as a milestone and widely considered a classic. The book highlights how the prose in this story demonstrates a maturation—becoming more measured, layered, and metaphorical.
Interwoven with the fictional narratives are reflections akin to diary entries, offering a personal window into the author's life during these formative years. The story includes accounts of nervous visits to the editor, interactions with fellow writers, and the balancing act of academic pursuits at Columbia University. It paints a picture of a mind constantly generating ideas, sometimes finding inspiration during lectures or while commuting on the subway. The narrative also incorporates the impact of the war years, detailing how the author worked at the Navy Yard while still dedicating his nights to writing fiction. Stories from this time, such as “Catch That Rabbit” and “The Red Queen’s Race,” illustrate a growing ability to blend scientific concepts with psychological depth. The book shows how his approach to robots began to evolve during this period, moving away from simple mechanical figures to beings grappling with logic and its potential pitfalls.
The third phase of this journey, covering 1945 through 1947, shows the author, now in his mid-twenties and pursuing a Ph.D. in biochemistry, refining the thematic preoccupations that would define much of his career. The book emphasizes the emergence and development of the Robot series as a central element. Stories like “Little Lost Robot” delve into the complexities of the Three Laws of Robotics, exploring their potential loopholes and the unexpected outcomes of attempting to encode morality into artificial minds. Unlike some contemporary writers, the book notes, this author presented machines not inherently as threats, but as reflections, sometimes complex, of human morality and logic.
This period also showcases a growing confidence and willingness to experiment. The book points to stories like “The Dead Past,” which mixes serious scientific concepts with elements of satire, and especially “The Endochronic Properties of Resublimated Thiotimoline,” described as an absurdist parody of scientific writing that highlights the author's emerging humor. The narrative illustrates that he was now able to effortlessly move between different tones without losing depth. Further examples of this experimental spirit mentioned include a story written in verse, “The Author’s Ordeal,” and “No Connection,” set in a distant post-human future, which explores biological and evolutionary ideas, foreshadowing his later work in popular science.
By the final years chronicled in the book, 1948 and 1949, the story shows a writer who has gained a firm command of his voice, narrative structure, and the integration of scientific concepts. The stories from this time are presented as cleaner, more concise, and driven by a clear purpose. The author is no longer just trying to impress; he is using fiction to explore profound questions that genuinely interest him: questions about the morality of machines, the feasibility of societal planning, and the potential double-edged nature of knowledge. The narrative of the book also reveals the author's personal life maturing; he becomes a husband and works towards his doctorate, developing a sharper awareness of the world's complexities. The story notes that a darker tone begins to enter his fiction during this time, with themes like political manipulation, environmental concerns, and population issues appearing, such as in the story “Mother Earth”.
A major thematic thread that solidifies in these later years, according to the book, is the complex burden of prediction and control. In the story “The Evitable Conflict,” the narrative explores a society where benevolent supercomputers, referred to as Machines, have taken on the role of making decisions for humanity. The book presents this not as a standard dystopian scenario, but as a nuanced inquiry, posing the question of whether the potential costs of freedom might be inefficiency, while the potential costs of achieving a form of perfection could be a surrender of control. The story continues to offer insights into the author's process by commenting on the editorial back-and-forth with Campbell, explaining what was accepted or rejected and the underlying reasons. These reflections provide a rare glimpse into the thought process of a writer who was constantly revising, not just for better writing, but for greater scientific accuracy and logical consistency.
The narrative concludes its account of these "eleven years of trying" not with a definitive declaration of mastery, but with a sense of ongoing process and continuity. By 1949, the story shows the author is no longer a beginner, having published many stories, but his most iconic works, like the Foundation series and much of his popular science writing, are still ahead. The central lesson learned, and shared within this book-as-story, is that success in writing comes from persistence, clarity of thought, and an insatiable curiosity. The book is presented as proof that achieving one's potential is not about instant genius, but about the endurance of the process itself. The author admits to the flaws in his early work—plots that didn't quite land, dialogue that felt awkward, and ambitions that were sometimes misplaced—but he recounts these with the perspective of a skilled craftsman examining his initial sketches.
Overall, the book, The Early Asimov, functions on multiple levels. It is presented as a practical guide for anyone aspiring to write, a vivid recollection of the key figures and atmosphere of the "Golden Age" of Science Fiction, and a testament to the power of focused and disciplined imagination. The overarching narrative of the book is a compelling study in evolution. Every piece of writing, successful or not, every note from an editor, every late night spent revising, contributes to a larger developmental arc. This arc is not just the story of Isaac Asimov becoming the author we know, but also reflects the maturing of science fiction itself as a literary form during this vital period. The book doesn't just lecture; it teaches through the powerful example of one writer's journey. And the core message woven throughout this story of early struggle and growth is simple yet profound: the importance of never stopping writing, never stopping thinking, and above all, never stopping imagining.
