Etwas erstaunt war ich doch, als ich entdeckte, dass Science-Fiction-Urgestein Frederik Pohl (Jahrgang 1919) seit ein paar Jahren ganz still und heimlich ein Blog führt. Der mehrfache Hugo- und Nebula-Award-Gewinner schreibt dort über seine neuesten Bücher, die aktuelle US-Politik, Ökologie und die Occupy-Bewegung. Besonders interessant ist das Ganze aber v.a. weil Pohl seine Erinnerungen sowohl als Autor als auch als Herausgeber der Zeitschriften Galaxy und If in zahlreichen Beiträgen protokolliert, darunter auch viele Texte über seine langjährige Freundschaft zu Isaac Asimov. Pohls Blog ist darum auch ein einmaliger Insider-Einblick in das Golden Age der Science Fiction. Als kleine Leseprobe soll hier ein Text über die Futurians, eine Gruppe von SF-Fans, -Autoren und -Redakteuren aus New York, dienen. Mehr davon gibt es auf The way the future blogs:

In those long and long-ago days — it’s been half a century! — we were not only young, we were mostly poor. We were all pretty skinny, too, though you wouldn’t think that to look at us now. I know this, because I have a picture of the twelve of us that was taken right around 1939. I dug it out to loan it to my publisher’s public relations people just the other day, and I looked at it for a long time before I put it in the overnight mail. We didn’t took like much, all grinning into the camera with our hairless, hopeful teenage faces. If you’d been given a couple of chances to guess, you might have thought we were a dozen Western Union boys on our day off (remember Western Union boys?), or maybe the senior debating club at some big-city all-boy high school. We weren’t any of those things, though. What we actually were was a club of red-hot science-fiction fans, and we called ourselves the Futurians.

That old photograph didn’t lie. It just didn’t tell the whole truth. The camera couldn’t capture the things that kept us together, because they were all inside our heads. For one thing, we were pretty smart — we knew it ourselves, and we were very willing to tell you so. For another, we were all deeply addicted readers of science fiction — we called it “stf “in those days, but that’s a whole other story. We thought stf was a lot of fun (all those jazzy rocket ships and zippy death rays, and big-chested Martians and squat, sinister monsters from Jupiter — oh, wow!) That wasn’t all of it, though. We also thought stf was important. We were absolutely sure that it provided the best view anyone could have of T*H*E F*U*T*U*R *E, by which we meant the kind of technologically dazzling, socially Utopian, and generally wonderful world which the rather frayed and frightening one we were stuck with living in might someday become.