Among my favorite all-time anthologies are The Science Fiction Hall of Fame, the SFWA's selections of the best SF published prior to the advent of the Nebula Awards in 1965. The one volume devoted to short stories and novelettes was truly wondrous, but the two volumes devoted to novellas might be the best SF anthologies ever.

In 1992 the Science Fiction Writers of America became the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America, belated recognition that science fiction is closely intertwined with fantasy and that most, if not all, of the organization's members write fantasy with at least as much frequency as they do science fiction. So wasn't it inevitable that The Fantasy Hall of Fame would soon follow?

The only confusing part of the new anthology is that the groundrules have changed since the original three SF volumes. All eligible short stories and novelettes for the latter volume must have been published between 1939 (when John W. Campbell, Jr. supposedly established the basis for modern fantasy with the publication of Unknown) and 1990. While I understand the upper limit of 1990, since stories need at least a few years to percolate in members' memories before they can be considered true classics, why is every fantasy story written prior to 1939 not true fantasy? The SFWA members made no similar attempt to relegate all pre-Gernsback science fiction as false science fiction, and the Gernsback / Campbell duo were much more influential in restricting genre science fiction than Campbell ever was with fantasy. I wish editor Silverberg had been a bit more expansive in the organization's reasoning for such a strange restriction.

Not that the guidelines have emasculated the anthology in any way. But it has restricted its contents to familiar authors and mostly familiar stories, while depriving it of forgotten nuggets such as can be found in David Hartwell's Masterpieces of Fantasy andWonder and Masterpieces of Fantasy and Enchantment.

I decided to read this anthology in an unusual order. The book contains the 15 stories voted all-time best by SFWA and 15 runners-up, so I am reading the stories in order of voting, from top to bottom, and I will discuss the stories briefly in that order. A disclaimer though: I will make no attempt to argue relative positions of stories since that would be a trivial, and probably petty, task. I will only consider the merits of the stories being included in such a volume at all.

#1: The Lottery, by Shirley Jackson. It was quite interesting that after SFWA set groundrules that restricted stories to the genre-fantasy era, the winning all-time short story was written by a non-genre author. That seems a clear call for expanding the groundrules when they compile their all-time novellas (which Silverberg indicates "may be published at a later time"). I had a small problem with this story falling under the umbrella as fantasy when it is primarily horror. But that quibble aside, it is a quite effective story, but one in which too much discussion of its contents will rob it of its effectiveness. Suffice to say it is very quiet horror, set in an ordinary small town in which people are seemingly going about their normal business. Yet there is an obvious feeling of wrongness underlying their actions, a feeling which grows stronger as the story progresses. There was obviously some serious manipulation of the story's ending - why that particular woman? Surely the reader's emotions towards her were blatantly squeezed to make the ending more effective? - but even that did not dilute the story's effectiveness. If you've never read The Lottery, that is reason enough to buy this $14.00 trade paperback.

#2: Jeffty is Five, by Harlan Ellison. Ellison probably missed being in The Science Fiction Hall of Fame by a single year, if my guess that 'Repent, Harlequin!' said the Ticktockman would have made the volume if it stopped in 1966 rather than 1965. Instead he earned a rather lofty position in this latter volume with perhaps his most famous fantasy story ever. I had good memories of the poor little 5 year old forever doomed to a lifetime of childhood, and his former playmate who has grown up and become his mentor while still his buddy. It was a tale chockful of sweetness and bitterness, of bitter memories and sweet nostalgia blended together as only Harlan Ellison could blend them.

Rereading the story after twenty years, all those elements were still there, as well as all the other aspects of Harlan Ellison writing at the top of his form. Except the story had other aspects which I did not recall at all. Such as considerable overwriting. While Harlan Ellison at his best can wring considerable emotions from the very substance of a story, at his worst he manipulates the reader's emotions in a way that is totally divorced from the story itself.

And Jeffty is Five is a prime example of that. The first three pages of the story have absolutely nothing to do with poor Jeffty. Oh, sure, his name shows up in the last line of virtually every paragraph, and his condition is alluded to as frequently, but really those pages are about Harlan Ellison's writing style, his beautiful way of twisting words and emotions into a heart-rending melange, in this instance artfully comparing the pleasures of his childhood - movie serials, radio dramas, Clark bars for Christ's sake! - with the warped, materialistic world that has emerged from it.

As a result, Jeffty is Five is two totally unrelated stories in one: Harlan Ellison waxing nostalgic about his childhood, and the sad situation of the poor ageless boy trying to live in a world that is passing him by. What I recalled as a bittersweet ending has become a planned manipulation of the reader's emotions, so illogical in its events - why did the kids beat Jeffty so cruelly? Why did the other moviegoers watch without interfering? - that I was not moved by it at all.

Don't get me wrong: Jeffty is Five has many good aspects, particularly the writing and the portrayal of Jeffty, but the story does not stand up to serious contemplation at all. Where The Lottery is subtly manipulative of the reader, this story is blatantly so.

#3: Unicorn Variations, by Roger Zelazny. While this story is certainly not Zelazny's most important story along the lines of He Who Shapes or Home is the Hangman, it is easily one of his most enjoyable stories ever. A drifter enters a decrepit saloon in a ghost town and finds a chess board set up in the middle of a game. He starts moving pieces, only to find himself in the midst of a game with a unicorn. A unicorn? Well, sure, it seems that whenever humanity causes the destruction of another Terran species, a supernatural species moves into the void. Such as griffins and sasquatches, both intricate parts of the story. And now unicorns are anxious to come to Earth too, but in order to do so they must somehow cause the demise of one more species - humans!

As you have probably already guessed, the drifter soon finds himself playing a chess game with the unicorn for the fate of the human race. Sounds like a thriller out of an old western? It might be in other hands, but this is Roger Zelazny, so soon we find the drifter taking month-long breaks between moves to seek out his chess mentor, a sasquatch, and the game takes on another aspect entirely.

Nor will you ever guess the story's ending, not that it matters because all the machinations are so much fun that you might as well just sit back and enjoy the ride! Even somebody as deadly serious about fiction as I am cannot help but admit that sometimes great can be synonymous with fun.

#4: Bears Discover Fire, by Terry Bisson. This is a story which absolutely should not work at all! The premise is the title, and that's pretty much all that happens the entire story. Bears have stopped hibernating because their discovery of fire offers them a better way of keeping warm during the winter. Large groups of bears start spending their winter sitting around fires in the wooded areas on the median of divided highways.

And yet, despite its total lack of plot, somehow this is one of the most heartwarming stories I've ever read. I suspect it touches the same human core that is touched by sitting around a campfire late at night surrounded only by pitch dark and the sounds of the wilderness beyond. Much of the story actually consists of humans and bear sharing a campfire, doing nothing but enjoying the moment. And that's exactly how I felt about this wonderful tall tale.

#4 (tie): That Hell-bound Train, by Robert Bloch. This was the first, and for many years the only, fantasy to win a Hugo Award. It was a traditional deal-with-the-devil story, about a poor roustabout who devises a deal seemingly impossible to lose: in return for his soul, the devil gives him a watch with the ability to stop time at any moment for all eternity.

As expected, the roustabout is too clever for his own good. He keeps stalling seeking a moment of perfect happiness worth maintaining for all eternity. A good job and relative comfort? Not yet. A wife and cute young children? Maybe, but just a bit longer. And so it goes, until he finds himself divorced, unhappy, broke again, aging, dying. All too soon there is no reason to stop time because he is so unhappy that who wants that moment to last forever?

And then the devil returns, ready to take his side of the bargain...

#6: Come, Lady Death, by Peter Beagle. I have only read a single Beagle short story prior to this one, a story I don't remember at all, but this story has certainly whetted my appetite for more. At heart it is a combination mystery and very quiet horror story. Death herself has been invited to a fancy ball given by the richest woman in London. All the guests wait anxiously for Death's appearance, wondering what that appearance will actually be. And after spending several hours in Death's presence, their foolish pride forces one of them to be chosen by Death as her replacement. This story is sharp as a blade, keeping you turning pages quickly to learn more about death and her choice of replacement. It reminds me of Fredric Brown's equally-sharp short stories, but this one has more of a human touch, more of a fitting human ending. This is another story, like The Lottery and Bears Discover Fire, that themselves are worth the cost of the book. I'm definitely going to have to look up some other Peter Beagle fantasies.

#6 (tie): Basileus, by Robert Silverberg. All right, I guess I could not expect to like every story in this collection equally. Although Robert Silverberg is one of my very favorite all-time SF writers, I've never been a big fan of his fantasy, starting with his Majipoor series and ending, I guess, with this story. The protagonist is a stereotypical computer programmer - you can probably guess what I mean: lonely, obsessive about programming, an irrational genius able to write a program that can ignite a world-ending war between the U.S. and U.S.S.R. - who is loading his computer with angels, all simulacra based on real angels found in the Bible and other sacred writings. But the angels are developing personalities of their own, so they elect their programmer as the chief angel, the ultimate judge of the value of life on Earth, so for some obscure reason his first act as chief angel is to run his war-igniting program as the story ends.

This was a story totally without heart or soul, none of the humanity that made the other stories in this volume so successful. *sigh*

#8: The Golem, by Avram Davidson. This is not a fantasy story at all, but a comedy routine featuring an old retired couple sitting on their porch when a golem comes by. A golem? All right, perhaps it is an android instead, but it walks like a golem and it comes to their porch to threatens them while they try to ignore its interruptions and continue their conversation. The interplay between the couple is right out of the Marx Brothers, and the golem's attempts at instilling fear are right out of Young Frankenstein until the story actually reaches a clever, funny, suitable ending.

One of the best fantasy stories ever written? Of course not, but if they ever compile the funniest tall tale comedy routines of the past sixty years this one belongs alongside Mel Brooks and Carl Reiner, or Woody Allen or Myron Cohen. Good stuff.

#8 (tie): Buffalo Gals, Won't You Come Out Tonight, By Ursula K. Le Guin. The six weeks I spent at the Clarion West SF Writers' Workshop in Seattle, Washington in 1972 is an experience I will never forget. It was chockful of wonderful, memorable experiences. One small incident occurred the day a young writer named David Wise submitted a beautifully-constructed story to be critiqued by the 25 attendees. Although I loved reading the story, I had absolutely no idea what it was about, nor did one other attendee (whose first name was Doug but whose last name eludes me). But all the other attendees analyzed the story, finding in it depths and meanings that totally eluded me.

The last person to critique a story was always the week's writer-in-residence who that week was Harlan Ellison. Harlan looked at David with a knowing smile and said, "This story is The Emperor's New Clothes, isn't it?"

David smiled back mischievously and admitted that the story had absolutely no meaning at all.

Now, twenty-five years later, I have some of the same feeling of inadequacy for Buffalo Gals, Won't You Come Out Tonight. Oh, sure, I realize the story is based on Native American mythology about animals seeming to be human while maintaining their animal natures and characteristics. It's also the story of a young girl who is rescued by one of them and lives among the animals, becoming like an animal herself. But eventually the animals force her back to live with her own people, since that is where she belongs, not as an animal.

But that is merely the story's plot. I really have no idea what the story is about. Is it a story about how cruel humans can be - after all, humans try to shoot Coyote and later kill her by leaving her an offering of poison salmon? Or the natural incompatibility of humans and animals? I have no idea, just as I had no idea ten years ago when I first read the story. It's enjoyable, and quite pleasant at times, but something is drastically missing from the story, and I'm not sure if that is my lack or the story's lack. The fact that so many members of SFFWA voted it among the best fantasies of all time make me suspect I'm the one who's missing something here. But, of course, the cynic deep inside me can't help but wonder if maybe they all fell victim to The Emperor's New Clothes.

#10: Her Smoke Rose Up Forever, by James Tiptree, Jr. For some unexplained reason, this story is not included in the volume, nor is there any explanation as to why not. Since I cannot find a copy of it in any of my Tiptree collections, I cannot discuss it here.

#10 (tie): The Loom of Darkness, by Jack Vance. I have certain specific dislikes in fantasy, just as in science fiction. For the latter, space opera and "hard" science generally bore me; for the former, sword and sorcery and mock-medieval adventures. So I was fairly pleased that I read 9 stories in this volume before encountering a fantasy quest filled with deeds of daring and magic.

OK, a Jack Vance story is never stereotypical, but still this story contained enough of the routine quest to bore me: a blustering hero who kills freely and joyfully, traveling with sword and magic talisman, blundering in upon a beautiful witch, failing to win her heart (or her passion) with pure bravado and sex appeal, so instead setting out on a foolish quest determined by her. Yeah, the ending was clever, and somewhat justified, but not a classic shock ending ala Bob Leman's The Window - one of my favorite endings of all time! - worth its selection as one of the best fantasy stories ever written. I suspect this story was included more as representative of the great Jack Vance, whose novel-length fantasies could not be included here, so instead this short story excerpt won a position. Alas, this story does not do him justice at all.

#10 (tie): The Drowned Giant, by J.G. Ballard. This story is in many ways a fit companion to Terry Bisson's Bears Discover Fire. Both stories have their premise completely described by the title, then meander plotlessly to endings totally dependent on mood and atmosphere. But where the Bears' effect is based on eons' old racial memories, Giant has considerably more to say about the nature of beauty and the inevitability of decay. The fate of the drowned giant might not be totally realistic, but it is both apt and thought-provoking, particularly the bittersweet ending when the protagonist describes the ultimate fate of the unfortunate giant.

This is another story whose description does not do it justice, but it is quite worthwhile reading indeed.

#10: The Detective of Dreams, by Gene Wolfe. This is a story deliberately written as a pastiche of 19^th century detective mysteries. A French detective is asked to investigate the case of a sinister "dream master" who is entering the minds of his victims and creating particularly terrifying dreams in each of them. While the story is very moody and atmospheric, typically 19^th Centuryish, at its core it is still a mystery whose ultimate effect depends on its ending. As such, the clever shock ending, while worth either a chuckle or a nod of agreement depending on one's philosophical bent, is really too slight to be totally fulfilling.

So while this is a fun story, and a successful pastiche, I find it strange that members of the SFFWA consider it one of the 15 best fantasy stories every written.

#14: The Jaguar Hunter, by Lucius Shepard. This is actually two different stories in one. The first half is a beautifully-realized story of traditional values and closeness to nature versus greed and materialism. A retired South American jaguar hunter, now a struggling farmer, is forced to agree to kill one last animal, a sacred black jaguar, because of the combined greed of his wife and a rich entrepreneur. Shepard's beautiful writing creates a gorgeous background as the tortured hunter sets out on his unfortunate task.

But soon the story changes from thoughtful and philosophical to a more routine story of love and political lust wrapped around some scenes straight out of a routine jungle adventure novel. And while the writing remains excellent, the ending seems more forced and routine than the earlier half of the story led me to expect.

Lucius Shepard so obviously loves Latin America that all of his stories set in that land are filled with beauty and wonder as well as mystery and terror. It is just unfortunate that the second half of The Jaguar Hunter could not live up to the glories of its first half.  But for that wondrous first half, this remains a highly-recommended story.

#15: The Compleat Werewolf, by Anthony Boucher. Anthony Boucher's chief fame is as a mystery critic and one of the founding editors of The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction, but occasionally I will read one of his stories that are usually proof that he was an outstanding writer was well. The Compleat Werewolf is a tongue-in-cheek romp about a lovelorn college professor named Wolf who during a drunken escapade in a bar encounters a real magician who realizes the professor is actually a werewolf. Thus begins a series of outlandish adventures in which Wolf rescues a lost child, deters a nighttime mugger, appears stark naked in front of one of his classes auditions for the role of a wolf dog in a movie starring the woman of his dreams, and gets involved with a nest of spies using a satanic religion as their cover. It has enough plot complications to satisfy Ludlum fans and the story never slows down anywhere near a crawl.

This story is pure fun, certainly the least serious story of the fifteen ranked stories, but as long as you are able to read it in the spirit of wonder and fun it is quite enjoyable reading. So what if it has no place in a volume of the supposed best fantasy stories ever.

Besides the winning stories listed above, the book also contains fifteen runners-up by such authors as Theodore Sturgeon, C.L. Moore, Ray Bradbury, Jorge Luis Borges, Robert A. Heinlein, Clifford D. Simak, Tanith Lee, and Philip K. Dick. In total, it is a superb collection of fantasy stories, a worthwhile companion to the three-volume Science Fiction Hall of Fame. I recommend it highly indeed.