In Praise of James Blish’s Star Trek adaptations
By Alex Bledsoe
I was a second-generation Star Trek fan. I discovered the series in syndication between the end of the show’s network run in 1970 and the first movie’s release in 1979. The reruns were broadcast on Channel 13 out of Memphis, usually the fuzziest of the three or four stations we could get out in the swamps.
That’s an important bit of context. We had no cable TV back then; instead, we had a thirty-foot aluminum antenna that someone, usually me, had to physically turn while someone else, usually my dad, shouted whether the picture was better or worse. Weather determined a lot of what we watched: the ABC station in Jackson was closest, so its signal was strongest. There was no other reason I would have ever watched that many episodes of The Love Boat. More often than not, during an hour-long show like Trek, the signal would go in and out, reducing chunks of the episodes to snowy static.
Thank the Great Bird of the Galaxy, then, for James Blish.
Blish was already a noted science fiction author when he took on the task of novelizing episodes from the original series. His Cities in Flight series, the Pantropy stories and many others had already placed him among the best serious SF writers of the Fifties and Sixties. He even, according to Wikipedia, coined the term “gas giant.”
I’m not sure if Blish felt a special affinity for Trek, or if adapting the show was just a job. But for a fans stuck is pre-internet isolation, these books were crucial. There was no such thing as “home video” in any form; the best one could do (and I did) was make audiotapes of the episodes by holding a tape recorder up to the TV speaker. For a lot of us, the Blish books were the only way to experience the episodes without being at the mercy of TV station programmers, our parents’ whims (“That show’s just weird!”) and the weather.
The first volume, originally published in 1967, presented seven episodes from the first season. Although two of them got retitled (“Charlie X” was called “Charlie’s Law,” and “The Man Trap” retitled “The Unreal McCoy”), Blish did not do a hack job. He brought his full writing skill to bear, translating the scripts into genuine prose and turning out short stories that, while not “original” in the true sense, nevertheless worked as literature.
What writer wouldn’t envy this as an opening line:
When the Romulan outbreak began, Capt. James Kirk was in the chapel of the starship Enterprise, waiting to perform a wedding. (“Balance of Terror”)
Or,
Nobody, it was clear, was going to miss the planet when it did break up. (“The Naked Time”)
Even if you know nothing of Trek, these are grabbers.
In 1970 Blish also wrote the first original Trek novel, Spock Must Die! It’s an odd read now, with the characters stiffly thrust into a hard-SF plot. But it was the first genuinely new Trek adventure outside fan fiction. It also gave me my first hints about how professional publishing works: the book’s editor, clearly no fan, changed McCoy’s nickname from “Bones” to “Doc” throughout, something Blish apologized for in an author’s note.
As the adaptations progressed, Blish became more faithful to the actual scripts. I don’t know if this was a function of his health issues (he died of lung cancer in 1975 aged 54), or simply an attempt to give the readers what they really wanted: Star Trek at their fingertips. Either way, it was my introduction to the details of Trek, and through Trek, to science fiction as a whole. It allowed a nerdy teenage redneck in the swamps of west Tennessee to feel connected to something bigger than himself. And without that connection, without the belief that there were more people like me out there, I wouldn’t have become the kind of writer I am. So thanks again, Mr. Blish, for bringing that final frontier a bit closer.
Accompanying illustration 1: a photo of my original copy of the first Blish Trek, which I still have. Illustration 2: Bledsoe-The Next Generation
Alex Bledsoe grew up in west Tennessee an hour north of Graceland (home of Elvis) and twenty minutes from Nutbush (home of Tina Turner). His novels include The Sword-Edged Blonde and Blood Groove.
Agree completely. I, too, first encountered Star Trek in syndication and in Blish’s books. It’s was Blish’s and Foster’s Star Trek adaptations that first introduced me to science fiction. My life — as a reader and a writer — would have been a lot different without these influences.
I too remember these books fondly, having bought several of them when I was a young teenager. (They’re probably still in my old bedroom at my parents’ house.) They and the two books that were published about the making of ST were read by me many times over the years. The interesting thing for me was that the ST adaptations were what I only knew about Blish’s writings until I was an adult. It was only when I was in my 20s that I actually got around to reading his non-ST work, such as Cities in Flight and A Case of Conscience.
I found your site accidently through http://unknownnews.org/myslinks.html – but when I saw the cover of the Star Trek book, I knew you’d be writing about something I’d want to read. I remember getting that book too. That cover brought back instant recognition. Is it the original edition from 1967?
I don’t remember exactly when I read the Blish book, but I bought it new while ST:TOS was showing. I was going though a short period of reading TV novelizations, including The Man From U.N.C.L.E. and other shows from the times.
I am having an interesting experience with James Blishes Star Trek adaptations. I was born in ’82 and did not even discover Star Trek until the reruns of The Next Generation. I really like the show and followed all of the subsequent incarnations of the show. However, I always had trouble when I would sit down to watch the Original Series. I had a hard time with the special effects and he story telling was just a little different then what I was used to. Could have had something to do with the 25 to 30 year gap. Recently I picked up Blish’s adaptations at a second hand store and have been so thrilled. I have been totally drawn in and am really enjoying getting to know these original series characters. I have also been extremly impressed with the depth of the stories the Great Bird cooked up all those years ago. If Blish was still around today I would send him a nice letter (or e-mail) telling him how much I enjoyed his work.
Here here!
One of my prized possessions continues to be the gift set of the first — ugh, I can’t remember 8? 10? of those books, which I received as an Xmas present probably, what? 30 years ago. I read every single one and used to take it out from time to time and just STARE at the covers.
Your article really hit home for me. In the pre-video tape, pre-movie, pre-cable era, there was not much Trek out there other than catching the shows during reruns, and the James Blish books. I remember discovering them at the public library in Canfield, Ohio. I devoured them, even though I had seen most of the episodes by then. I checked them all out at the same time, and kep them on my desk. I remember begging my mom to keep renewing them, because I didn’t want to part with them. I was just hungry for more Trek content and information. I wanted to learn how everything worked—the transporter, the warp engines, all the technology.
I loved your story about audio-taping the episodes, too. I did the same thing. For a geeky kid from rural Ohio, the Blish books let me know that my adoration for Trek was more wide spread than just myself.
You have an cool site!
I just passed up a perfect condition set of all of Blish’s novelizations for a paltry sum…. Now I feel really stupid… Great blog!
reading science fiction books is the stuff that i am always into. science fiction really widens my imagination -`;