by Victoria Silverwolf
This Too Shall Pass
There is an ancient fable of Persian origin, retold many times over the centuries, about a monarch who asked the wisest sages in the realm for a statement that could apply to all possible situations. The answer, of course, is the title of this piece.
It is impossible to deny the ephemeral nature of all Earthly things, even if we speculate that the universe may be eternal. (The truth of that is still a matter of scientific debate, as to whether the cosmos will expand forever, or eventually collapse into itself.)
Evidence for the temporary nature of politics, for example, came with the unexpected fall of Nikita Khrushchev from power in the Soviet Union, as discussed by our host in detail.
Americans were caught by surprise, it seems.
Obviously, the most common evidence for the fragility of humanity is the universality of death. To mention just one recent example, Herbert Hoover passed away this month, at a more advanced age than any other former President of the United States.
Let him be remembered for his extraordinary work providing supplies of food to millions of starving Europeans during and after World War One, rather than his failure to deal with the Great Depression.
In a less sober way, the 1964 Summer Olympics, the first to be held in Asia, came to an end as well, with a memorable closing ceremony in the Tokyo setting.
Why summer games in October? To avoid the heat and typhoon season.
Few things are as short-lived as popular music, as shown by the fact that two songs reached the Number One position on the American charts this month. First came Oh, Pretty Woman, a tribute to feminine beauty by singer and guitarist Roy Orbison.
I'm used to seeing him with dark glasses.
This was quickly replaced by the nonsensically titled Do Wah Diddy Diddy by the British group Manfred Mann.
Confusingly, the name of the band is the same as the name of the keyboard player.
In Search of Eternal Life
Fittingly, the two lead stories in the latest issue of Fantastic deal with futile attempts to escape the ravages of time.
Cover art by George Schelling
The Knocking in the Castle, by Henry Slesar
Interior illustrations also by Schelling
We begin with a chilling tale set in modern Italy. A widow attends a party, during which the host suggests an excursion to a nearby castle, said to be haunted. The woman reluctantly goes along, only to scream in fear when a knocking emerges from within the dungeon. A flashback reveals the reason for her horror at the sound.
In the United States, she married a man whose ancestors built the castle. Once a year he goes back to the family estate, where his sister lives year-round, rarely emerging from seclusion. We soon discover that the man is well over two hundred years old, despite his youthful appearance. He returns to the castle for an annual dose of the liquid which keeps the siblings from aging.
The magical elixir, a few drops of which drives back the Grim Reaper.
A violent quarrel breaks out between brother and sister when the man wishes to share the potion with his bride. Driven to extreme measures, the sister hides the key to the chamber holding the supply of liquid in a particularly macabre way.
Extreme measures, indeed.
What follows is a grim account of the man's desperate attempt to find the key before time runs out. It all leads up to the frightening conclusion, explaining the woman's terrified scream.
I found myself imagining this story as one of those Italian Gothic horror movies that make their way to the USA in badly dubbed and edited form. That's one reason I enjoyed it, to be honest. I pictured Barbara Steele, veteran of such films, in the role of the mysterious sister. I could see the gloomy interior of the castle in glorious black-and-white, and hear the spooky violin music on the soundtrack.
From a fan of Shock Theater and Famous Monsters of Filmland, a very subjective four stars.
Elixir for the Emperor, by John Brunner
Illustrated by Virgil Finlay
Our second account of a quest for eternal life also takes place in Italy, but goes back thousands of years to the days of the Roman Empire. A general and a senator plot against the life of a popular emperor. Their subtle plan involves offering a large reward for an effective elixir of immortality, convincing the emperor that it really works, thanks to the deceptive aid of the ruler's trusted slave, and substituting poison.
Complicating matters is an old man, saved from death in the arena by the emperor's mercy. In gratitude, he manages to create a genuine potion granting endless life, but is too late to prevent the emperor from being murdered. He hatches his own plot against those who slew his savior.
This is mostly a story of palace intrigue and vengeance, with just a touch of fantasy. The ancient setting is convincing, and there's a bit of philosophical musing at the end. It's very readable, if not particularly memorable, and not quite up to the author's usual high standard.
A middle-of-the-road three stars.
The Man Who Found Proteus, by Robert Rohrer
The gods of mythology, with some exceptions, enjoy the freedom from death sought by the protagonists of the first two stories. This comic romp features the god Proteus, famous for being able to change into any shape.
A grizzled prospector encounters the deity, first as a moving rock, then in the form of a talking mule, and later as a series of letters appearing on the ground, allowing the god to announce his desires in writing. His wants are simple enough; he's eternally hungry, ready to devour anything the prospector can provide. As you might imagine, things don't work out well for the old sourdough.
For the most part, this is a silly comedy, more notable for a certain amount of imagination than for belly laughs.
A slightly amused two stars.
Seed of Eloraspon (Part 2 of 2), by Manly Banister
Illustrations by Schelling again
The hero of this thud-and-blunder yarn may not be immortal, but it sure seems that way some times. As you may recall from last month, he set out to find the ancient city of the long-vanished, technologically advanced inhabitants of an alien world, accompanied by a warrior princess, an enemy turned friend, and a fellow Earthling. After many battles with the wicked Tharn, and a strange encounter with their mysterious rulers, the Bronze Men, they were about to be killed by huge flying monsters.
The author cheats as badly as any old movie serial, by setting up a cliffhanger from which there seems no escape, and then offering a disappointing way out. It seems that the hero, because he's got the advanced mental powers of what the story calls a magnanthropus, is able to communicate with the creatures. It seems that they're on his side, and want him to fulfill his quest. (There's a weird explanation that the flying beasts, along with other beings on this world, are the incarnation of emotions. That seemed really goofy to me.)
A typical battle. I like the use of the circle.
After getting out of that scrape without any effort, our quartet of adventurers fight the Tharn, get captured, escape, and so on. Eventually the hero discovers the secret of the Bronze Men, which will come as no surprise to anybody who has ever read any science fiction, and triumphs over all challenges. This pretty much just involves pulling a lever, which is pretty anticlimactic.
A defeated Bronze Man, although it sure looks more like a stone statue to me.
I got the feeling that the author really rushed through this half of the story. Things move at a breakneck pace, but without much purpose or meaning. The whole thing just sort of fizzles out at the end, leaving the reader exhausted and unsatisfied.
A disappointed one star.
Hell, by Robert Rohrer
(The Table of Contents credits the story to somebody named Howard Lyon. As best as I can figure out, this is a pseudonym meant to disguise the fact that the author has two pieces in the same issue. Rohrer and Lyon, get it? The Table of Contents also lists the author of The Man Who Found Proteus as Robert H. Rohrer instead of plain Robert Rohrer, so I guess there was some confusion around the editorial offices.)
A man finds himself, as the simple title implies, in the infernal regions. He passes some damned souls lying immobile on a beach under a cloudy sky, then takes a ride across the water with a demonic boatman assumed to be Charon. The fellow has no fear of eternal punishment, because he feels ready to face any psychological torment Hell might provide. As you expect, his attitude turns out to be badly mistaken. In a way, he faces the worst kind of immortality, if only in a spiritual sense.
The ending of this brief tale is not surprising. I never did figure out what the point of the motionless bodies on the beach was supposed to be. The story is decently written, but there's not much to it.
A confused two stars.
The Mermaid and the Archer, by Barry P. Miller
Illustration by Robert Adragna
The title characters in this romantic fantasy are two department store manikins, unable to move but conscious and able to communicate through a kind of telepathy. They were crafted by a master puppet-maker, whose affection for his creations gave them life. A violent storm threatens their physical existence, but a painter is able to preserve their love in his art.
This gentle, bittersweet fable suggests a kind of immortality in the works of gifted artists. Written in a introspective, poetic style, it is sure to touch the reader's emotions.
A sentimental four stars.
Daughter of the Clan, by Wilton G. Beggs
A teenage girl, who was adopted as an infant, experiences a gnawing, unsatisfied hunger. An attempted rape leads to the discovery of her true nature, and she meets others of her kind. A particular kind of immortality is implied.
Despite a certain moody intensity in the author's style, this is a simple, predictable tale, which ends just when it starts to get more interesting. Like the lead story, it attempts to produce old-fashioned chills, but not as effectively.
An unsatisfied two stars.
From Here to Eternity
Although none of the stories in this issue are likely to win undying fame, a couple of them should remain in the reader's memory for quite some time, if not forever. It makes me wonder how long copies of the magazine are likely to exist; if not in paper form, maybe on microfilm or some other medium. Whether anybody will be reading this issue in the distant future is an unanswerable question. Let's just be grateful we can enjoy the best of it here and now.
[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]
"Knocking" was pretty good. I found it a little long, though. It was obvious where things were going fairly early on. It was a pleasant journey to a known destination, but the author could have taken a slightly less scenic route.
I spent the whole of "Elixir" complaining about the erroneous historical details. Perhaps that's foolish in a fantasy story, but Brunner seemed to want to put it in a real place and time. Alas, the whole time I was thinking "That's not a proper Roman name, none of these people was ever Emperor, the last person who wasn't an Emperor to get a triumph was under Augustus, so why is this guy upset," etc.
I never got the feeling that "Proteus" was the actual god, but rather some sort of demon or alien. In any case, it wasn't much of a story.
After about two pages, I decided life is too short to devote any more time to a story that would have been considered schlock back in the days of pulp, let alone today. I will never know, nor care how "Eloraspon" turned out.
Victoria summed up everything wrong with "Hell" very nicely. 'Nuff said.
"Archer" felt like a take on Hans Christian Andersen's "Little Tin Soldier". I hate Andersen, but this was quite well done.
I liked "Daughter" better than Victoria did, though not much. Probably not even enough to move it to three stars.
It seems to me that Fantastic has been off for a while. It was usually the better of the two Ziff-Davis mags, but the last two or three months, at least, have not been good. Since the average quality of Fantastic and Amazing is fairly constant from month to month, that's been good news for John, but I hope Fantastic gets back to form soon.
Given how miserable the weather is here it was nice to curl with my copy which had a lot of stories related to fire. Perhaps the editors were also feeling the chill in the air?
The Slesar was interesting but I felt the ending left something to be desired. It definitely had a good atmosphere and shape but something felt off to me (possibly due to having to jump to the end to finish it, something which always makes me grumble).
Elixir was definitely one of Brunner's lesser efforts. I was hopeful at the start but my interest quickly faded.
Proteus was just far too silly for me and I didn't bother with the Banister after how bad the first half was.
After a poorer first half, I definitely enjoyed the remainder of the magazine much more.
Hell I found very evocative and atmospheric. Not as good as Ballard's Terminal Beach stories but definitely one I enjoyed.
The Mermaid and the Archer I thought was quite beautiful and definitely the highlight of the issue.
Still not 100% sure what to make of Daughter of the Clan but I did enjoy Beggs' writing style a lot. I also enjoyed his writing in last year's issues a lot more than Victoria did. Long may he continue.
So not the best issue but I like that I don't know what I am going to get when I open up a new issue of Fantastic and definitely was an interesting selection.