Golden-age pulp fiction wasn't all mean streets and murder; it had its bright, shiny side too, argent rather than noir, appearing in magazines with names like Amazing and Astounding. It was space opera, and E.E. "Doc" Smith was a master of it. Every space fleet and death star finds Smith somewhere in its family tree; he invented half the clichés in summer movies. The Lensman novels are his greatest achievement, filled with the potential energy of America in the '30s and '40s—can-do and go-for-broke. In these books, generations of technocrats, hatchetmen, and weapon scientists do battle with drug-runners, fifth columnists, and the random alien invasion, slowly realizing that all of human history is part of a vast Alien Conspiracy, or possibly two. Think Eliot Ness in Luke Skywalker's shoes, with Edward Teller on standby. The prose is incredible, too, in a different way; it's so naive it might as well be called folk art. The phrase "poignant probings," used to describe a fatal torture-interrogation, induces cringes in a way Smith probably didn't intend. So does the uncomfortable eugenics story arc. Still, the Lensman books overcome these flaws by their sheer scope and intensity of action. With that in mind, you'd be well-served seeking out these monumentally influential swashbuckling epics.