Ted Sturgeon was a nudist, a wild man, a tortured soul who reinvented himself and turned around to help the rest of us reinvent ourselves. It's a pleasure to watch his mind work, and a pleasure to see his stories still running wild and free without him. But his stories may upset you and make you wonder about things you've always taken for granted. His were the real dangerous visions, and his tears are mixed into his work. Reading Sturgeon is like grabbing a live wire, except being shocked never made me bellow with laughter.

Baby Is Three is the wonderful sixth volume in the Sturgeon collection. The collection is organized chronologically by story creation date. Having read and enjoyed the first five volumes, it was hard for me to imagine that I could possibly like Baby Is Three even better. But I did! Sturgeon's writing shows an impressive maturity of idea and flow in this volume, and Paul Williams' story notes kept me flipping to the back of the book to read about what was happening in Sturgeon's life at the time he penned each story. As a psychologist who is also a science-fiction fan, I enjoyed the intra- and interpersonal dynamics within each story, as well as the opportunity to understand and deconstruct the context in which Sturgeon wrote the stories, as offered by Williams' story notes. A bonus: two of Sturgeon's own short, autobiographical pieces are included at the end. For those who love science fiction that is thoughtful, playful, and psychologically based, Baby Is Three is a must-read. And for those who have read Sturgeon's well-known More Than Human, Baby Is Three will add to your understanding and appreciation of that tale, as well.

The first two volumes in this series are fascinating looks at Sturgeon's development, well worth reading for those who are already fans of his. The third is where Sturgeon really starts to hit his stride, though, and this fourth volume is the first that I can wholeheartedly recommend to those previously unfamiliar with his work. Not every story here is superb; some are a bit dull, and some are overlong and predictable. But there's enough excellent material here to make it a solid introduction to Sturgeon's work, and the fascinating end-notes on each story by Paul Williams will make you wonder why other authors' complete-works collections can't be as thoroughly researched or as interestingly annotated. "Maturity," the first story here, is a masterpiece in the old sense of the word: it marks Sturgeon's transition from journeyman to master, while prefiguring _Flowers for Algernon_ (and predating it by a good 20 years). Other high points of this collection include the non-fantastical "A Way Home," the horror story "The Professor's Teddy Bear," the hilarious "Tiny and the Monster," and "Thunder and Roses," which is still relevant after 55 years.

Four volumes in and no clunkers yet, this guy had something special . . . and his Hugo and Nebula winning short story is still about thirty years away. Wow. If you've been following along all this time let me just say that this volume will give you more pleasures than any writer had any right to give you, most writers have a couple truly amazing short stories within them and while not everything Sturgeon wrote was genius the sheer amount of good stuff here is simply astounding. "Thunder and Roses" has to be one of the most humane stories ever written and others like "There is No Defense" or "The Professor and the Teddy Bear" (if it doesn't scare you, you must not have a pulse) stand up remarkably well. Again, you owe it to get every volume of this series and save it for the generations to come, we have so few literate writers these days and those few that we have deserve to be remembered and enjoyed. Sturgeon is one. Read him.

This guy knew how to write about love, in all of it's phases, yet never or rarely descended into mawkishness. And a lot of his considerable output is classic. Buy it if you have to skip lunch for a week. If you've never read Sturgeon before, you're in for a treat, language of a grace and power to rival Bradbury and a way of moving along jauntily that compares with Henry Kuttner (Lewis Padgett) and Alfred Bester.