Fritz Leiber's 1966 story opens with a cultural anthropologist congratulating himself on his handling of Earth's first Martian visitor—only to have the alien stand up and ask, 'Excuse me, please, but where is it?' The question triggers a comedy of manners that Leiber builds through careful word choices and physical description. The Martian's complexion is 'textured so like the rich dark armchair' that the Professor's suit seems 'an arbitrary interruption,' a simile that immediately marks the visitor as both familiar and alien. Leiber's dialogue is clipped and precise: the Martian's mouth 'curled upward' for anxiety, 'downward' for happiness—a small inversion that signals deeper cultural differences.

Diction and the Alien Perspective

Leiber's word choices consistently defamiliarize the mundane. The Martian moves with 'an almost hypnotic softly jogging movement,' and his speech is hesitant yet formal. When the Professor's Wife directs him to 'Top of the stairs, end of the hall, last door,' the Martian replies with a polite 'Thank you very much'—a phrase that sounds perfectly human but is undercut by the absurdity of the situation. The Professor's professional jargon ('Function taboos as strict as our own!') clashes with his wife's sardonic domesticity ('I'm glad some of your professional visitors maintain 'em'). This contrast in registers—academic, domestic, and alien—creates the story's comic tension.

Voice and the Professor's Self-Regard

The Professor's voice dominates the opening, full of self-congratulation and anthropological enthusiasm. He rhapsodizes about 'the day not far distant when I'll put his entries in the cross-cultural index,' revealing a mind that sees the Martian as data rather than a guest. His wife punctures this with dry remarks: 'I don't imagine his turquoise complexion will cause any comment at all at a faculty reception.' Leiber uses the Professor's inflated language—'by George!', 'as thrilling as the discovery that water is burned hydrogen'—to underscore his obliviousness. The Little Son's blunt announcement ('Pop, the Martian's gone to the bathroom!') cuts through the pretension, a child's plain speech that the Professor immediately tries to sanitize with 'Hush, dear. Manners.'

Structure and the Unseen Room

The story's structure hinges on what happens behind a closed door. The Martian's request is made, he is directed, and he disappears upstairs. The Professor's attempt to follow is rebuffed with 'something rather final in the Martian's tone.' Leiber never shows the bathroom scene; instead, the narrative remains with the family downstairs, speculating and waiting. This structural choice amplifies the comedy—the alien's most human act becomes a source of anxiety and taboo. The Professor's wife, 'always a perceptive hostess,' understands immediately, while the Professor fumbles for anthropological parallels. The story's title, What's He Doing in There?, becomes the central question, one the text refuses to answer directly.

Setting and the Domestic Frame

Leiber grounds the alien encounter in a thoroughly ordinary home: a study with a 'rich dark armchair,' a pin-striped suit, a wife, a little son. The Martian's otherworldliness is measured against these domestic details. His turquoise complexion and 'baby-elephant nose' are noted but quickly subsumed into family dynamics. The Professor's wife speaks 'darkly' of professional visitors; the son 'squiggled upstairs' to follow the guest. Leiber uses the house as a stage for cross-cultural misunderstanding, where the most profound difference turns out to be not biology but etiquette. The setting never expands beyond the home, keeping the focus on the family's reactions and the closed door upstairs.

Leiber's story rewards attention to its small verbal details—the inverted smile, the clash of academic and domestic speech, the precise physical descriptions that make the alien both strange and familiar. Readers may notice how the author withholds the Martian's interiority, leaving him an opaque figure whose actions drive the plot without explanation. The story's humor depends on this asymmetry: we know more about the Professor's anxieties than about the visitor's needs. Consider how Leiber's choices in diction and structure create a comedy that is both specific to its 1960s setting and oddly timeless in its exploration of hospitality and taboo.