The foreword to a Spanish translation of Star Maker by Borges as follows:
Around 1930, well into his forties, William Olaf Stapledon approached the practice of literature for the first time. This late initiation is due to the fact that he never learned certain technical skills and that he had not developed certain bad habits. Examination of his style, which shows an excess of abstract words, suggests that before writing he had read much philosophy and few novels or poems. As for his character and his destiny, it is better to transcribe his own words:
I am a congenital bungler, protected (or spoiled?) By the capitalist system. Only now, after half a century of effort, have I begun to learn to perform. My childhood lasted about twenty-five years; it was shaped by the Suez Canal, the small town of Abbotsholme and the University of Oxford. I tried various races and periodically had to flee in the face of impending disaster. At school, I memorized entire chapters of the Bible, the eve of the sacred history lesson. In an office in Liverpool I messed up cargo lists: in Port Said, I candidly allowed the captains to carry more coal than was stipulated. I set out to educate the people: mine laborers and railroad workers taught me more than they learned from me. I remained peaceful during WWI. On the French front I drove a Red Cross ambulance. After: a romantic marriage, children, habit and passion for domesticity. I woke up as a married teenager at thirty-five. I painfully passed from the larval stage to a shapely backward maturity. Two experiences dominated me: philosophy and the tragic disorder of the human hive... Now, with one foot on the threshold of mental adulthood, I notice with a smile that the other steps on the grave.
The trivial metaphor of the last line is an example of Stapledon's literary indifference, if not his almost limitless imagination. Wells alternates his monsters — his tentacular Martians, his invisible man, his underground and blind proletarians — with everyday people; Stapledon constructs and describes imaginary worlds with the precision and much of the aridity of a naturalist. His biological phantasmagorias are not contaminated by human mishaps.
In a study of Poe's Eureka, Valery has observed that cosmogony is the oldest of the literary genres; Despite the anticipations of Bacon, whose New Atlantis was published at the beginning of the seventeenth century, it can be said that the most modern genre is the sci-fi or fantasy. It is known that Poe approached the two genres in isolation and perhaps invented the latter; Olaf Stapledon combines them in this unique book. For this imaginary exploration of time and space, he does not resort to vague unconvincing mechanisms but to the fusion of one human mind with others, to a kind of lucid ecstasy, or (if you will) to a variation of a certain famous doctrine of the Kabbalists, who supposed that many souls can inhabit a man's body, as in the body of a woman who is about to be a mother. Most of Stapledon's colleagues seem arbitrary or irresponsible; Stapledon's work, on the other hand, leaves an impression of sincerity, despite the singular and sometimes monstrous of his stories. He does not pile up novelties to distract or astonish readers; he follows and records with honest vigor the complex and dark vicissitudes of his coherent dream.
Since chronology and geography seem to offer the spirit a mysterious satisfaction, we will add that this dreamer of Universes was born in Liverpool on May 10, 1886 and that his death occurred in London on September 6, 1950. To the mental habits of our century, Star Maker is, in addition to a prodigious novel, a probable or plausible system of the plurality of worlds and their dramatic history.
Jorge Luis Borges