The impact that Roger Zelazny had on science fiction and fantasy
was considerable. During his career, he won six Hugos and three Nebulas
as well as most of the other major awards in the field. Several of his
novels and short stories are considered landmarks, including Lord of
Light, Creatures of Light and Darkness, "Home is the Hangman," and "A
Rose for Ecclesiastes." The ten volume Chronicles of Amber is regarded
as a classic fantasy series and has been adapted for comics, for role-playing,
and even for an early computer game. Zelazny's novel Damnation Alley
was made into a rather weak movie and his novella "The Last Defender
of Camelot" was adapted by George R.R. Martin as an episode of the new
Twilight Zone. One of the works published in the last years of his life,
Wilderness written with Gerald Hausman, took him outside of science
fiction and into the field of historical fiction.
Like many of the characters in his early fiction, Zelazny was a
poet. He had three published books (When Pussywillows Last in the Catyard
Bloomed, To Spin is Miracle Cat, and Hymn to the Sun) and myriad scattered
poems to his credit. Although writing novels was how he made his living,
he admitted that the short story was his preferred form. Not surprisingly,
he had four volumes of short stories published in his lifetime and continued
writing short fiction right until the end.
However, despite his evident talent as a writer, Roger held a variety
of jobs before becoming established in the field. After taking a Masters
Degree in English from Columbia University in New York, he enlisted
with the Ohio National Guard. He taught Freshman Composition for one
brief term and then split his energies between writing and working for
the Social Security Administration. Only after seven years of this dual
career did he take the plunge and become a full-time writer.
For the last twenty years of his life, Roger lived in Santa Fe,
New Mexico, arriving before the town became the trendy artistic center
it is today and watching with some amusement as it changed around him.
Self-conscious artistic poses such as are common in Santa Fe were not
a part of Roger's personality. His roots were in Euclid, Ohio, a town
on the fringes of Cleveland. When he left Ohio, he moved to Baltimore,
Maryland before moving to Santa Fe.
Although frequently praised for the artistry of his prose, Roger
was equally proud of being a working writer who could write an essay
on a tight deadline or a short story to meet the request of an editor.
Not for him the pensive musing, the artistic pose, the fits, tempers,
and blocks that so many writers effect. His breadth of enthusiasms meant
that frequently he had many irons in the fire and he was not unknown
for delivering a novel past deadline. However, when he turned the novels
in they required so little polishing and editing that the editors patiently
learned to accept the delay.
Roger was not an Isaac Asimov, unhappy when separated from his
typewriter. Writing was both a love and a profession, but he had interests
beyond it. He was an accomplished martial artist with a black belt in
aikido (which he also taught) and a working knowledge of several other
martial arts. The collection Warriors of Blood and Dream which he edited
reflects his abiding interest in this field. Another enthusiasm was
music -- folk, jazz, classical, and some rock (I got him listening to
David Bowie). He read widely and voraciously, collected oriental rugs,
and delighted in sweets. He was also a good father to his three children:
Devin, Trent, and Shannon. During the year that we lived together, the
kids were frequently in and out of our house, bringing their triumphs,
problems, and concerns. He had a reputation for knowing just about anything
and one of my favorite memories of his relationship with his kids was
the night that Trent's long- time friend, Matt Suhre, called because
a paragraph in his biology textbook didn't make sense. Roger listened
to the paragraph, explained that a key term had been misspelled -- thus
distorting the meaning -- and explained what the book should say. All
of this was done without ever seeing the textbook in question.
Roger's patience with new writers also became legendary. I benefitted
firsthand from his gentle but firm critiques. Although he was not afraid
of offering advice where it was needed, he refused to tell another writer
how to write a story. His goal was to encourage writing, not to turn
out a flock of Roger Zelazny clones. Over the years, he taught at most
of the major writer's workshops, both those connected to science fiction
and those established independent of genre. His approach normally mingled
practical writing tips with equally practical information on agents,
contracts, advances, and other jargon of the profession.
Another powerful thing about Roger was that he did not talk down
to newer writers. As far as he was concerned, a professional was a professional
whether he or she had one story or a dozen to his or her credit. The
younger writers usually responded with respectful but friendly awe and
were met in return by Roger's shy, gentle friendship. In this way, Roger
never fell into the rut that so many senior professionals do, a rut
of only associating with his own generation and missing the insights
of the newcomers. Thus, between his reading and such contacts Roger
escaped the staleness that plagues many writers with careers as long
as his own.
One persistent legend that clings to Roger is that he was a computer-phobe.
This is not true. He certainly was not a computer-phile, preferring
composing either in long-hand on yellow legal pads or directly on his
typewriter, but he did not fear computers. In fact, during the past
year when we shared an office in our home, he would frequently watch
me work on my computer and muse that perhaps he should consider changing
over. During a visit, our friend and fellow writer, David Weber, introduced
Roger to the capacities of his lap-top computer. I strongly suspect
that if Roger had been given a bit more time he would have made the
change.
Even the cancer that finally ended his life could not blunt Roger's
enthusiasm for growing and changing. During that final year when I lived
with him, he tried role-playing games, sampled Japanese anime, and learned
to cook. He edited several anthologies, continued his own writing, and
found ample time to be a sweet and considerate companion. Repeatedly
over the past year he marvelled how well I had gotten to know him. From
that position close to his life and his heart, I feel safe in reassuring
those who admired him and enjoyed his work, that he was happy and vividly
alive throughout his final days.