(Original review, 1980-10-29)

At WorldCon, Harlan discussed this story a bit, and read an hour's worth of it to us. The story is pseudo-autobiographical; i.e., bits and pieces of Harlan's and Bob Silverberg's personalities and lives are entwined into both of the "main" characters (Bedloe and Crowstairs). For example, we all know Silverberg's books to be rather "restrained and conventional" compared to Ellison's stuff, but in the story Crowstairs says to Bedloe:

"You know I'm a better writer than you, don't you? Not just sales... BETTER. There's heat in my stuff; it works, it pulls the plow. BETTER. For Christ's sake, Larry, there's nothing but cold dead air blowing through your books. They ought to hand out wooly mittens with every copy of your stuff."

Now, Bedloe is the narrator and thus should supposedly correspond to Ellison if the story were purely autobiographical ... yet the roles seem to be reversed here, with Bedloe's writing more like Silverberg's. Thus, the ghost writer theory might apply to either Silverberg or Ellison or both; more likely, neither ... I think it's just something Ellison threw in to spice things up. Just because there are bits of real people in the story doesn't mean that EVERYTHING in the story is based on reality. Ellison is a "fantasist", remember? As a fantasy/character study, the story is spellbinding even if the reader doesn't follow Ellison the Real Person and his escapades.

Does it appear, as it does to some of us, that the "intensely personal" aspect of the story means that Harlan himself is masquerading as one of the main characters? And if so, does anyone feel, like several of us do, that Harlan is actually Kercher Crowstairs, (the deceased...) Among the evidence, aside from the descriptions of Crowstairs which seem to fit Ellison quite well, is the fact that Ellison did have a maid who wore a transistor radio which looked just like a hearing aid, just as it is in the book.

Well, if you assume that the Crowstairs character *is* more-or-less Harlan Ellison, that leaves one disturbing question ... Is he trying to tell us that someone else actually ghosted several of his books? O.K. Who? And which ones? Or then again, is Harlan just foolin'?

[2018 EDIT: This review was written at the time as I was running my own personal BBS server. Much of the language of this and other reviews written in 1980 reflect a very particular kind of language: what I call now in retrospect a “BBS language”.] ( )

This is a book that will be of primary interest to the Ellison completists (he demurely hangs his head to indicate that he is a member of that clan) and some interest to the less fanatical fan. But that sentence diminishes what has been accomplished. First, to devote a book (small as it is) to “All the Lies That Are My Life” speaks to the power and importance of this story. At the time publication was planned, Harlan could not place the story. As explained in one of the many sidepieces (sidepieces that take up half of this 130 page book), there is little market for novellas outside science fiction and, in spite of the fact that this is the story of a science fiction writer, the story is not science fiction. Yes, it was eventually placed in Fantasy & Science Fiction, but that had to do with Harlan’s street cred and the strength of the story.

The story is about the death of writer (sometimes science fiction) Jimmy Crowstairs, and is told by his friend, another writer, Larry Bedloe. It is a reminiscence of Jimmy’s life. However, it is much close to the way other’s actually remember the dearly departed than they are willing to admit. It is a loving story that also speaks to the hate that can exist between friends – friends who know truths about each other they may not even know. (Yes, that is an important key to the story.)

The story has a lot of Ellison in it, quite a lot. (But then, so much of his writing does already.) If you know much about Ellison, then you already know some of the stories that are actually from his life. But, don’t read too much into the stories you have never heard before – that is another part of this tale. The writer is not the story, and the story is not the writer.

But, beyond the story’s treatment in a stand-alone book, the other thing that sets this book apart is all those sidepieces. Harlan is relatively quiet in this regard (only jumping in to correct the historical inaccuracies of Philip Jose Farmers’ afterword.) For those used to his extensive introductions to his short stories, this is a bit of surprise. While an advocate of “let the story stand on its own”, his predilection for telling stories around the stories is well documented. Yet, in this instance, he lets his friends tell the stories. What they tell is very interesting. In some instances they have chosen to talk about the story, in others they talk about the man, and some talk about both. All provide interesting insights but, for me, the best was the last afterword (strange concept) by Edward Bryant. It is a morning in the life of Harlan at Ellison Wonderland. It contains many microcosms of what we in the outside world believe we know about Harlan. But the ending, Harlan sprawled on the dining table, makes the piece because it is so disturbing. Is it a goof, or is it real. Bryant does not tell us.

There is much to suggest this book. Another example of a book that should not be given to someone who does not know the author. But one that should be shared with any who are learning to appreciate the talent of Harlan Ellison ( )