Naturally the judgments of the casual reader are often attended with sneers of contempt by those in the know. Those in the know, know that Silverberg and Haber are very able editors, writers, and extremely nice people. But about half of these stories are not only among the year's worst, some actually don't make any sense at all. The odd choices are Robert Reed's "Coelacanths" and Orson Scott Card's "Angles." The Reed story is one of those intentionally confusing stories that compels the reader to "figure out" what's going on--as if readers really enjoy doing that, particularly when the reader is never, ever told, even in the end. Were the human beings in the story actually "bacteria" living on the surface of one character's bicuspid? Were they microminiaturized and living in multi-dimensions? I read the story twice and I still never understood where this was taking place or why. The Card story, published on his website (which means it was probably rejected by all other magazines), is part lecture about parallel universes and part story with obscurely elitist overtones. Only the last three pages make any kind of sense whatsoever. (I thought, in structure, "Angles" was trying to do what Harlan Ellison did so expertly in his story "Deathbird" of a decade ago.) Then there's the opening story by Charles Stross called "Tourist," an over-written, hyper-cyberpunk story that must have been included because of Mr. Stross' clear control of the English language. It's also a story that attempts to out-cyber William Gibson. But sparkly, techno-hip lanugage does not necessarily a techno-hip story make.

The truly great stories here are those by Brian Aldiss, Christopher Priest, and Geoffrey A. Landis. Indeed, the Landis might even be a classic of a kind. It's an old-fashioned John W. Campbell Jr. romp about conflicting ideologies regarding individualism and a great chase through relativistic space across the centuries. It's also very economically written and drew me right in.

But overall the anthology is very uneven and inexplicably eccentric. Like all other anthologists, Silverberg and Haber are mostly spotlighting their friends and not looking to publish the ACTUAL best stories of the year. (What a concept!) Card may be the success story of the year (perhaps the decade, and some would say of the century), but his contribution is easily his weakest story here and probably should have remained on his website. It was, however, the reason I bought this anthology in the first place.

I recommend buying any other collection but this, especially if the Landis is in it. Oh, one other thing: Be advised: there are only three SHORT stories in this collection. All others are Novella or Novelette length, a lot less bang for your buck.

To avoid differing writing styles, I generally prefer anthologies by a single author rather than these 'Best Of ...' type books. I purchased this because some of the authors count amongst my favorites in the genre. My opinion hasn't changed after reading this.

There are a couple of gems included. However, without going into the details of each story, I was slightly disappointed with the overall quality and consistency of this collection.

Everyone has different preferences, but these are authors that I have *really* enjoyed reading in the past. Having called these the years best is an exaggeration, as I felt at a minimum there had been far better short stories printed in the Analog and Asimov magazines during the year.

I wish I could regale you with all of the redeeming elements of this book. But there aren't any. Silverberg doesn't even resort to a little camp in this paint by numbers yawn.

In which our hero, Quellen, who has the charisma of a basset hound on Prozac, gets claustrophobic. We are in the late 25th century, and despite limits placed on procreation, the proles are crammed into single rooms inhabited by scads of people. The only way to get a little room is to climb the corporate/government ladder. But unemployment is chronic.

The only apparent diversions which have been created to escape this stifling existence are sniffer palaces, where one inbibes a potion and gets a little fantasy which is always interrupted right before it gets good. There's a little crime, but nothing detailed, and religious cults, including a cult of regurgitation, which I'd rather not go into. Let's just say it involves drug-laced dough and a big bowl.

So a guy who's discovered the trick to dropping humans into the past (literally, as for some strange reason they come out about ten feet above ground) figures he'll solve the unemployment problem and make a little cash. They want to stop him because the records show when the hopping stopped, but they don't want to alter the past, etc etc..

Quellen, as a secretary of crime, is responsible for stopping this heinous behavior. But Quellen has set up a secret hideaway in Africa for when he wants to go where nobody knows his name. There are side plots involving his brother-in-law on the dole, a fat underling who knows about his African retreat and secretly wants to be a Roman, and a world leader who get his liver replaced about as often as Firestone puts out tire recalls and is terrified that one of his ancestors will be prevented from getting back to the past to make babies. Quellen figures he'll use that fear for a little personal gain.

It's an unimaginative work with few thrills, dull tech, and a very simplistic plot. It's a 180 page novel that should have been a 20 page short story, and that's stretching it.

The plot is a little predictable but that is coming from our modern day view. This book was written 35 years ago and from that perspective, it is more interesting. Science fiction seen from the backward perspective often is. It is short, but that is good given the quality--I don't know if I'd enjoy it if it went on for 400 pages. Silverberg's view of how our world will end up if we continue to overpopulate is intriguing and a little frightening.

Why would anyone want to listen to dark, dreary stories of the undead, Angels that drink blood, this book was very misrepresented in the title. "Deamon" fantasies is much more appropriate. I was looking forward to a spiritual uplifting, instead I threw all the tapes and box into the trash, right where it belongs.