by Gideon Marcus
This weekend, floating on air with the news of the publication of my first piece of fiction (the lead in an anthology of Sidewise in Time stories — do please pick up a copy!) I took a trip to San Jose with my wife. This was strictly a vacation, you see, a last restful spell before taking on the school year and redoubling our writing efforts. There was no other reason for visiting this peaceful city south of the Bay.
After all, Worldcon isn't for another two weeks.
The trip wasn't entirely science fiction free. I took a recent Ace Double with me, particularly exciting because one half of it, Captives of the Flame, is one of the rare novels written by a Black person (Sam Delany, a newcomer to the scene).
I also finished the September 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction — a less exciting experience.
I knew even before cracking the covers that it'd be something of a lost cause. Robert Heinlein's latest serial, Glory Road, concludes in this issue, and I'd already given up on the book in its second installment. Thus, a huge chunk of the magazine is so much ballast. The rest is varying shades of acceptable. Were Nat King Cole to write a song about them, well, it'd be a sharp contrast to his 1951 hit…
There Is Another Shore, You Know, Upon the Other Side, by Joanna Russ
A wisp of a girl, British by extraction, flutters at the edge of Roman nightlife. Irresistibly beautiful, she remains frustratingly out of reach of all but the most persistent of would-be lovers. When Giovanni does manage to catch the butterfly, she crumbles to dust in his arms. Some things are better left alone.
Joanna Russ appears to have finished graduate school and is turning her pen to writing full-time. This is her third story in F&SF, and her appearances are always welcome. That said, this is the least of the works from this "young and nice" possessor of "very blue eyes." It's vividly written, but it goes on twice as long as it needs to, and the ending is obvious from the beginning. I also found Giovanni maddening in his pushiness. Three stars, but with a hopeful suspicion that this is the author's lowest ebb.
Glory Road (Part 3 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein
I know I'm not alone in my disappointment with this serial. That said, I am already seeing fans salute each other with calls of "Are you a coward?" (a reference to the ad that starts the story's adventure) so I imagine this book will sell reasonably well. You're welcome to tell me how it ends and what you thought.
The Man Who Feared Robots, by Herbert W. Franke
F&SF has been at the vanguard in its offering of foreign science fiction, with stories from French, German, Czech, and even Japanese authors. This month, we get our first taste of SF from an Austrian pen, about a fellow undergoing psychotherapy to treat his irrational(?) fear that everyone he knows is actually a robot. An interesting theme with not particularly noteworthy presentation. I'd love to see a book on this topic some time. Three stars.
Collector's Item, by Jack Sharkey
Readers of this column know that Jack Sharkey is my favorite authorial whipping boy. He just comes out with so much drek so often. That said, he has written stories I have enjoyed, particularly the ones involving the scout service fellow who swaps minds with extraterrestrial fauna. Item features a fellow who delights in subverting hoary similes with physical objects. For instance, he owns loose drums, lazy bees, dirty pins, and so on.
In fact, the so on goes on for a long time, the list of items in the protagonist's collection being nearly as long as the catalog of ships from the Iliad. All to set up a final pair of puns that I found worth my time. It made me smile. Three stars — four if you're a big fan of Feghoot.
Who's Out There?, by Isaac Asimov
The Good Doctor fairly gushes over The Young Doctor, a Dr. Carl Sagan who, at just 27, has already made a big name for himself in planetary science. I understand that this article is the expurgated version, and that the original one was even more praising of the astronomer.
In any wise, this particular piece, inspired by a conversation with Sagan, is on the likely number of extraterrestrial civilizations currently extant in the galaxy. It's an unusually tedious and tentative piece, not up to Doctor A's normal capabilities. Maybe Avram is crimping his style. Three stars.
Unholy Hybrid, by William Bankier
A renowned horticulturalist finds a way to grow a champion squash and do away with an unwanted house guest at the same time. However, he soon finds that the seed of his evil act bears revenge-seeking fruit.
If the anti-woman sentiment doesn't give you pause, the staleness of the subject matter will. And yet, there are moments of crystalline writing here that save the piece from oblivion. Three stars verging on two (or vice versa).
Attrition, by Walter H. Kerr
A poem on the near-immortals who Walk Among Us, their youthful faces just beginning to fray. Worth a read. Three stars.
237 Talking Statues, Etc., by Fritz Leiber
And, at last, a screenplay about a young man and his conversation with his satyric dead father, the latter narcissistically preserved in several hundred paintings and statues. A cute diversion, right in the middle of the great Leiber's range of production. Three stars.
I was once told that my star rating system was flawed because it didn't account for story length. I explained that, in fact, it does. So I shall now pull the curtain back and show you how I calculate my magazine ratings:
There were eight pieces in this issue, seven of which scored 3 stars, and one of which scored 1. The average is, thus, 2.875.
However, if one weights for page length, Glory Road takes up most of the magazine and drags things down. That said, I don't have a direct ratio of pages to impact. In other words, a piece that takes up two thirds of an issue doesn't comprise two thirds of the ultimate rating. Here's my scale:
1-8 pages: 1 length point
9-19 pages: 2 length points
20-40 pages: 3 length points
41-70 pages: 4 length points
71+ pages: 5 length points
Arbitrary, but it keeps the calculations simple. It also means I somewhat equalize the credit between a brilliant vignette and a brilliant novella.
Using this method, this issue gets just 2.286 stars.
I then further flatten things out by averaging the two and rounding the result. Thus, I get a final score 2.6 stars.
In short, my system is about 3/4 based on the quality of pieces and 1/4 based on the length. Agree or disagree, that's the system I've used for years so I now have to stick with it for consistency's sake.
And we all know what foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of…
Congratulations!
Thank you so much! I hope you get a chance to read the story/book. Do let me know what you think (even if you hate it — though if so, don't tell anyone else…)
A beautiful piece of work! The pov is so well done, both seen and written. No wonder the editor made it his flag story.
You do me an honor, Stephanie. If you get a chance, particularly if you enjoy the other stories, I'd be eternally grateful for a five-star review.
I enjoyed the Russ even if it was a touch predictable. I'm usually the first to complain about a story being too long, but I didn't find this tale to be so. Perhaps I was distracted by my annoyance at Davidson's rather sexist introduction.
The Franke was interesting. I'm loath to pin the stylistic problems on the author, as they may well stem from the translator. Having read the story, I have been thinking about looking for his most recent collection, which includes this tale. Haven't gotten around to it yet, but one of these days.
I'm with you on using Jack Sharkey as a whipping boy. His stories you like best, I like least. I'm also a Feghoot fan. But this was just awful.
Dr. Asimov's article was interesting and young Dr. Sagan seems like a bright fellow, but as I understand it, the equation featured in the article was developed by Frank Drake of Project Ozma, based on an earlier article by a couple of other astronomers. There's a great deal of handwaving going on there and most of the numbers seem plucked out of thin air. But it's an interesting starting point.
"Unholy Hybrid" is largely just an old campfire tale. Well-written in spots, but really just filler. And in a magazine where so much is taken up by a serialization, why use filler for the rest?
The Leiber wasn't bad. I found myself wondering if it might have been a little autobiographical. Fritz Sr. was a Shakespearean actor, though I know nothing about him beyond that.
All right, the Heinlein. I read the whole thing. It was… disappointing. There are some interesting philosophical points about what happens after the happily ever after. Can a hero ever really settle down? Would a heroine want him if he did? But it's really just philosophy, and most of it gets dealt with in a conversation between Oscar and Rufo before undertaking a slight practical study of the issue when Oscar comes back to our world for a while and ultimately finds himself questioning his sanity. It's as if Heinlein has forgotten one of the most fundamental tenets of storytelling: show, don't tell. This is almost all "tell".
I *like* Heinlein's stuff. At least up until "Stranger in a Strange Land", which was quite unlike his previous work. And now this… thing. Not just the writing; some of the philosophical rants are downright disturbing.
Heinlein is a big enough name that *someone* will give him a fat check for anything he writes, no matter what it is. I'm getting the nasty suspicion that he's reached that point.
Or it could be a sign that he's getting ready to abandon SF for "mainstream" literary fiction. It's certainly a larger market than SF.
I wonder what the next Heinlein is going to be like…
And, alas, I wasn't intrigued enough to try most of the other stories, and the ones I did, I bounced off in a page or two.
Glory Road's start seemed to key off a perturbed version of de Camp and Pratt's The Incomplete Enchanter . I thought the first half was good enough, but lordy , Heinlein gets on his soap box, is he gonna do more of this?
I very much enjoyed the Leiber, and it does indeed seem to be autobiographical. (You can see his father, Fritz Leiber, Sr., in some old Hollywood movies, too, from the silent "Cleopatra" to the talkie "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" [in which his son has a tiny role, too.])
The elder Leiber really did have paintings and statues made of himself in various roles, so the story very much has a basis in fact.
That was me.