The Best of Randall Garrett (1982) SSC by Randall Garrett

Author:Randall Garrett [Garrett, Randall]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci-Fi Collection
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 1986-01-28T00:00:00+00:00

A little more than half a light year from Sol, when the ship reached the point where its occupants could see the light that had left their home sun more than seven months before, they watched it become suddenly, horribly brighter. A hundred thousand times brighter!

RANDALL GARRETT

Frank Herbert

In the Sunday California Living magazine for September 8, 1968, there is a beautiful color photograph taken beneath the oaks of the Marin County watershed near San Rafael. In the right foreground a bearded man uses an authentic reproduction of medieval cutlery to carve a roasted pig, complete with apple in its mouth. In the crowd of Creative Anachronists around this groaning board there is another bearded face with an impish smile. This is Randall Garrett waiting for his share of the good food—perhaps for more than his share because that was his way With many good things of life—including food and women.

This is not a sexist remark because Randall was not a sexist in the conventional sense; he was just completely sexual. You could follow his movements around this creative Anachronists’ picnic by the squeals of women whose bottoms he had just pinched. This was one of Randall’s mannerisms, fully in keeping with his other habit of leaning close to a well-developed woman and peering down her cleavage with a lascivious leer.

For this marvelous day, I remember, Randall wore the brown robe of a Friar Tuck. And I can recall thinking at the time a paraphrase from Dorothy Parker—“There but for a typographical error goes the story of his life.”

There is no doubt that the merriment of that memorable occasion was amplified by Randall Garrett’s presence. He was a bit of medieval humanity, openly ribald and earthy, temporarily in exactly the right setting. At a similar gathering in the proper setting between the years 900 and 1650 a.d., no one would have paid particular attention to his antics—no one, that is, except an outraged husband or two ... or three....

I began my magazine article about that picnic with these words: “Did you-awaken this morning fed up with the 20th century?”

That’s the story of Randall Garrett’s life. I suspect he has awakened every morning fed up with the 20th century.

One more thing: I recall that I went through that day exercising my prerogative which was to call Randail “Randy.” He professed to hate this nickname and objected to it loudly. But I’ve always felt that it described him perfectly—at least on that day.

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