Magazine

[September 17, 1963] Places of refuge (October 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

10 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

Every animal needs a safe place.  A refuge from the violence and competition of the natural world in which to evade danger, to regather one's strength in security.  The groundhog and the sand crab burrow.  The gazelle seeks the center of its herd.  The cat finds a private place to devour its prey (often just outside your back door).

Humanity, too, needs its sanctuaries.  We've built castles and moats, erected Great Walls, forged mighty nations defended by vast militaries.  Humans also create spiritual refuges, places that couldn't resist the mildest physical attack, but nevertheless provide an island of calm in which we can find shelter from chaos.  Churches.  Temples.  Libraries. 

On the morning of Sunday, September 15, 1963, one of those sanctuaries was violated: someone, or several someones, planted dynamite in the 16th Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, Alabama.  It went off during services, killing four girls (Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson and Carol Denise McNair) and injuring 22 more. 

It is unknown who is responsible, but the motivation is clear, for the victims share a trait beyond their humanity and their gender — they are Black.  And there is an evil set of Birminghamians, undoubtedly White, who would deprive their neighbors even of the dignity of refuge.  It is terrorism, plain and simple.

I heard the news of the bombing in the same manner as most of you, I'm sure.  There was a special bulletin over the radio.  At first, the significance of the event was difficult to parse.  The South has been wracked with violence for years, ever since Blacks dared to challenge the social order and demand the equality that should be their unquestioned right.  Firehoses, police dogs, stonings, lynchings, assassinations — these attacks have become all too commonplace. 

But this latest hideous act involved the mass slaughter of children, in the one place they should have been expected to have been safe.  I'm certain its perpetrators felt it would be some kind of rallying call for White racists to resist the tide of integration.  If public reaction be any indication, it will have the opposite effect.  This nation, already moving toward championing the cause of equality, already committed to deploying soldiers to ensure the civil rights of Black students, can only be spurred with greater urgency to destroy segregation and bigotry before it claims as victims more children, more sanctuaries.

That's the view from 50,000 feet.  On Sunday morning, I was incapable of analysis or even hope.  All I could think about was the horror that had happened, and the families who'd lost their little girls.  One of the dead was the same age as our Young Traveler.  I wasn't ready to process the tragedy.  I needed my own place of refuge, a moment of peace to collect myself.

So I shut out the world and picked up a book. 

The visions of other worlds afforded by the "All Star" October 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction might not turn out to be pleasant, but they would at least let me visit different ones. 

As it turned out, the excursion was just what I needed.  This month's issue is a good one:

Girl of My Dreams, by Richard Matheson

The first tale was, for me, a bit of "out of the frying pan and into the fire."  It's a thoroughly unpleasant tale about a thoroughly unpleasant fellow who marries a possessor of the second sight.  Said wife sees the catastrophes that will befall others in her nightmares, and her scoundrel husband then uses this knowledge to fleece the upcoming victims.  Having a conscience, the clairvoyant sabotages one of her husband's plans on the eve of success.  It is only after he batters her to death for her trouble that he learns that she has foreseen his death and no longer can tell him how to avoid it.

Matheson never writes poorly, but the Twilight Zone twist combined with the rampant domestic cruelty (never lauded, mind you) make this a story you may well want to skip.  Three stars.

Epistle To Be Left In The Earth, by Archibald MacLeish

The low point of the magazine is another "Tell those who come after us that Earth was once a lovely place" poem.  It don't even rhyme.  One star.

Deluge, by Zenna Henderson
(poetic sting by Jeanette Nichols)

Now we come to the part I was most looking forward to, the return of Zenna Henderson's The People.  This episode of the saga is chronologically the first, showing what caused a family of humanoid espers to depart from Home and take refuge in the ruralities of America. 

Henderson's stories are always poignant, emotionally laden pieces.  The problem with this one is there is no real dramatic tension.  Like a movie about the Titanic, we know how it's going to end from the start.  Moreover, it lacks that delicious tension implicit in the stories set on Earth: the worry of discovery, the friction with locals, the adaptation to a new environment. 

Deluge is thus a series of evocative, poetic scenes in an inexorable and rather dull narrative, a piece that would have been better left unwritten, or perhaps simply incorporated in other stories.  Three stars.

(Since we've now gotten the beginning and the (also lackluster) end of the series, one wonders if it's time for Henderson to move on to other subjects.  On the other hand, an official meeting between The People and the people of Earth would be nifty to read.)

Faed-Out, by Avram Davidson

Followers of this column know that I was once a big fan of Davidson's work but feel his latest stuff has been too somber, incomprehensible, or both.  Faed-Out is a return to form, about a veteran B-movie villain with a heart of gold, who helps bring to rest the soul of a departed fellow thespian.

This workmanlike plot is elevated by being a wonderful character piece brought to poignant conclusion in its last paragraph.  Four stars, and welcome back, sir.

How to Plan a Fauna, by L. Sprague de Camp

De Camp has been a writing fiend, lately.  This time around, he points out the typical flaws in science fiction ecologies and gives a broad, if cursory, account of terrestrial predator/prey ratios to be applied to other planets to make convincing faunas.

It's a bit of an argument with a strawman — the examples De Camp draw on are Burroughs and other pulpish folk; truly outdated stuff.  Plus, the survey of Earth's food chains is rather glib and superficial.  Three stars, and I'd rather see the Good Doctor Asimov's take on the subject.

Special Consent, by P. M. Hubbard

Hubbard returns with a tale as different from his pleasant Cornish ghost storyThe Golden Brick as he could get.  Consent tells of a post-atomic world in which women are ascendant and the gender balance is strictly enforced by law.  Would-be mother of a daughter, Madi, must obtain special consent from her husband — by force, if necessary — for the birth.

It's a strange story, and very opaquely written, but it does make you think.  Three stars.

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, by Isaac Asimov

I see Editor Davidson has given up on preambling Asimov's articles, now letting Isaac do the honors.  This development is to the good.  The current month's article is (appropriately) about stars, and it puts paid the notion that our yellow dwarf sun is at all insignificant.  When compared to the red dwarfs that make up the majority of the stellar population, our star looks quite impressive.

It's a good piece, and the bits about sub-stellar objects (stars too small to shine — he calls them "black dwarves") are fascinating, but I was disappointed that he went through all the trouble to tell us about white dwarfs, incredibly dense objects with the mass of a star but the volume of a planet, but didn't bother to explain what they are.  If you don't know already, white dwarfs are the end result of stellar evolution.  Once a star has fused all of its hydrogen, it collapses in on itself, becoming composed entirely of squashed neutrons with shared electron shells.

Four stars that really should have been five.

They Don't Make Life Like They Used To, by Alfred Bester

Last up is the tale I read first, a Garden of Eden analogy set in post-apocalyptic New York.  Call it The World, The Flesh, and the Devil, but instead of Mel Ferrer, you've got aliens.  And Harry Belafonte's White.

Actually, it's quite good, which surprised me since I've got a long-running animosity toward Alfred Bester.  You may be off-put by the assiduous adherence to gender roles in the piece, although I got the impression that the two protagonists were playing up these clichés rather than falling into them unconsciously.  I particularly appreciated the complete absence of romance between the characters throughout the vast majority of the piece.

Detractors: At the conclusion, aliens shatter the post-atomic Eden, and the protagonists commence to screw.  Though I get what Bester was doing, it cheapened the story for me.  The worst bit of the piece, however, comes right at the beginning: The female protagonist is driving to get supplies (in a masterfully told set up that only gradually reveals the post-apocalyptic setting), and it is noted that "her bosom danced enchantingly."  Since the only viewpoint is the owner of the bosom, one has to wonder just who was watching.  Did she notice the enchanting movement herself?  Isn't it unsafe to admire one's jiggling while operating a vehicle? 

Anyway, it kept my interest and, for the most part, I liked it.  Four stars.

I put down the magazine and take a deep breath.  It is September 17th, and I find myself able to once again acknowledge and take on the world's strife.  If you are need of some solace from the storm, try finding it where I found mine: within the pages of this month's F&SF.

10 Comments Leave A Comment
Movies

[September 15, 1963] The Silent Star: A cinematic extravaganza from beyond the Iron Curtain

8 Comments


by Cora Buhlert

In my last article, I gave an overview of science fiction novels from beyond the Iron Curtain, including the works of Polish author Stanislaw Lem. Today I will take a look at a recent East German/Polish movie based on one of Lem's novels.

It will probably surprise you that Eastern Europe has a tradition of fantastic cinema, particularly stunning fairy tale movies that can wow even Western audiences. In fact, the state-owned East German DEFA studios has produced lots of live action fairy tale movies and stop motion puppet films since 1946.

Eventually, the DEFA decided to use the technical expertise gained from making fairy tale movies and apply it to science fiction. In 1957, director Kurt Maetzig announced that he planned to adapt Stanislaw Lem's novel Astronauci (Astronauts), published as Planet des Todes (Planet of Death) in German. Maetzig even hired Lem to write an early draft of the script.

Kurt Maetzig is not a natural choice for East Germany's first science fiction movie, since he is mostly known for realist fare and even outright propaganda films. Though the fact that Maetzig is a staunch Communist helped him overcome the reservations of DEFA political director Herbert Volkmann, who doesn’t like science fiction, since it does not advance the Communist project and who shot down eleven script drafts as well as Maetzig’s plan to hire West European stars.

Slated for 1958, the film, now called Der schweigende Stern (The Silent Star), finally premiered in February 1960. Stanislaw Lem reportedly did not like the movie at all. Nonetheless, it became a success and also played in West Germany under the title Raumschiff Venus Antwortet Nicht (Spaceship Venus does not reply).

The Silent Star begins in the not so far off future of 1970, unlike the novel, which is set in the somewhat further off future of 2003. During excavation work, a mysterious coil with a recording in an unknown language is found. Scientists realise that the message originates on Venus and came to Earth when a spaceship crashed in the Tunguska region in Siberia in 1908.

Once humanity is aware of a civilisation on Venus, they try to establish communication. However, Venus does not reply. Therefore, it is decided to send a spaceship. Luckily, the Soviet Union just happens to have one and kindly donates it to an international Venus mission. This spaceship, the Kosmokrator, must be the prettiest rocket ship ever seen on screen. It looks as if a Hugo Award sprouted three baby Hugos.

The multinational crew consists of Russian astronomer Professor Arsenyew (Michail N. Postnikow), Polish engineer Soltyk (Ignacy Machowski) and his robot Omega, German pilot Raimund Brinkmann (Günther Simon), Indian mathematician Professor Sikarna (Kurt Rackelmann), Chinese linguist and biologist Dr. Chen Yu (Hua-Ta Tang), African communications technician Talua (Julius Ongewe) and the only woman on board, Japanese doctor Sumiko Ogimura (Yoko Tani).

The Kosmokrator crew even includes an American, nuclear physicist Professor Harringway Hawling (Oldrich Lukes), who joins the mission against the wishes of a group of cartoonish American capitalists. The only American willing to support Hawling is his mentor Professor Weimann (Eduard von Winterstein), who hoped to harness nuclear power, but was forced to build nuclear weapons instead. Weimann tells the assembled cartoon capitalists, "Hiroshima was your adventure. His adventure is the mission to Venus."

This is not the only mention of Hiroshima in the movie. Sumiko lost her mother in Hiroshima and was rendered infertile due to radiation exposure, which causes her a lot of angst and also torpedoes her budding romance with Brinkmann, who thinks that she shouldn't be aboard the ship because a woman's place is to bear children. Meanwhile, the fact that the Soviet Union has nuclear weapons and that the People's Republic of China is working on them is not mentioned at all. Apparently, nuclear weapons are only bad when in the hands of Americans.

These propaganda bits are eyerollingly blunt, but the Kosmokrator's multinational crew offers a positive vision of a future where the world's powers are no longer rivals in the space race (cartoon capitalists notwithstanding) but work together. Furthermore, the Kosmokrator's crew includes members from the emerging nations of Asia and Africa, which is a big step forward compared to the all-male, all-white and all-American crew seen in Forbidden Planet. I wonder when we will see Russian, Japanese or African astronauts aboard western spaceships, whether in fiction or reality.  

A crew of scientists, every single one of them the very best in their respective fields, seems like a good idea in theory, but the characters remain bland and I had to dig up my program book to recall their names.

Arsenyew and Brinkmann are both square-jawed and heroic to the point of caricature. The balding engineer Soltyk is memorable because he doesn't fit the image of a heroic astronaut. Sikarna and Hawling are serious scientists. Chen Yu and Talua are given little to do until the end. Sumiko, the only female character of note in the film, mainly exists to angst about her infertility. Even the robot,Omega,is dull.

Once the mission gets underway, the Kosmokrator crew faces the usual perils of space travel such as a meteorite shower and a risky repair in space. They also manage to decipher the message and realise that the Venusians had planned to nuke Earth from orbit in 1908, when their ship crashed. The crew withholds this crucial information from the authorities to avoid causing a panic. They also decide to continue their mission to see if the Venusians have learned the error of their warlike ways.

When the Kosmokrator reaches Venus, the crew still cannot contact anybody and their sensors cannot penetrate the dense cloud cover. Brinkmann and the robot scout ahead, but lose contact with the ship and so the Kosmokrator lands after all.

The crew finds a bizarre Venusian landscape, including a radioactive "glass forest", a glowing sphere and a cave full of metallic spiders, which they initially mistake for lifeforms, but which turn out to be mechanical and part of a Venusian archive.

Chen Yu figures out that the radioactive forest is not biological either, but a gigantic nuclear cannon. Chen Yu and Sikarna also decipher the Venusian archive and realise that many recordings abruptly break off, as if Venus was hit by a massive catastrophe.

You'd think that these alarming discoveries would persuade the Kosmokrator crew to get the hell out of there. However, our brave astronauts continue their explorations and discover a ruined city. They also finally catch a glimpse of some Venusians in the form of humanoid blast shadows. And just in case the viewer might have forgotten, Sumiko reminds us that she saw similar blast shadows in Hiroshima.

The Venus scenes – shot in Agfacolor and Totalvision – are the highlight of the movie and can compete with anything Hollywood produces. The DEFA team managed to create a dreamlike alien landscape that is reminiscent of modern art. The radioactive forest and the ruined city are influenced by the paintings of Salvador Dalí, Joan Miró and Paul Klee. The glowing sphere is based on the geodesic dome designs of Buckminster Fuller, while the Venusian blast shadows are reminiscent of the sculptures of Alberto Giacometti.

In the ruined city, Arsenyew and Hawling come upon the targeting system for the nuclear cannon, while Brinkmann, Soltyk and Sumiko are chased up a spiralling tower by a burbling mass (portrayed by the entire annual East German production of glue, which must have screwed up the plan fulfilment of several industries), which recedes when Soltyk fires at it. At the same time, both the sphere and the targeting system activate. Uh-oh.

Though the Kosmokrator's crew consists of Earth's best and brightest, it takes them a long time to catch on to what is happening. In fact, I suspect that many viewers have figured out the mystery long before the crew does, namely that the Venusians managed to blow themselves up during their attempt to nuke Earth in 1908. However, their cannon is still functional and still aimed at Earth. And our blundering astronauts managed to reactivate it.

The rest of the movie is a race against time, as the Kosmokrator crew scrambles to deactivate the nuclear cannon and the glowing sphere which turns out to be a gravity device holding the Kosmokrator captive. And as if all that wasn't enough, the radiation also causes the robot Omega to run amok.

Chen Yu and Talua deactivate the system, but Chen Yu damages his space suit. Brinkmann takes off to rescue him, but it's too late. The gravity field created by the sphere reverses and hurls the Kosmokrator back into space. Brinkmann is lost and Chen Yu perishes, while Talua is left standing alone on a dead planet.

These heroic deaths should be a lot more affecting than they are. But the climactic scenes feel rushed, especially compared to the staid pace of the rest of the movie. The crew seems unaffected as well. Hence, Sumiko tells the dying Chen Yu that the Venusian seeds he found have sprouted, which will be a great comfort to him as he suffocates. Finally, the film cuts straight to the landing on Earth, where the surviving crewmembers sum up the moral of the story, before the movie ends with everybody holding hands.

"War will only destroy the aggressor" is a popular theme in East European science fiction and may also be found in the West. Rocketship X-M has a similar plot, but set on Mars rather than Venus. Forbidden Planet features another alien civilisation that managed to destroy itself, though by harnessing the power of the mind rather than the power of the atom. I have no idea if Lem or Maetzig have seen either movie, but the similarities are striking. Fear of nuclear war is another common theme in both East and West, which I find heartening if only because knowing that both sides share this fear makes it less likely that someone will press that button.

Spaceships with multiracial and multinational crews can be found in both Eastern and Western Europe, whether in the works of Stanislaw Lem, Eberhard del'Antonio and Carlos Rasch and West Germany's Perry Rhodan series. I wish that American science fiction would follow suit because the future should have room for everybody and not just for Americans and Russians.

American and British viewers did have a chance to watch The Silent Star, for the movie was distributed in the US and UK under the title First Spaceship to Venus, though the US/UK edit is about ten minutes shorter than the original, because the propaganda bits such as the scene with the capitalists as well as all Hiroshima references were cut.

So if you happen to come across The Silent Star a.k.a. First Spaceship to Venus in a movie theatre, should you watch it? I'd say yes, because in spite of its weaknesses, The Silent Star is an interesting science fiction movie with stunning visuals. British and American viewers lose ten minutes of propaganda dialogue, but that's not that much of a loss.

Three and a half stars.

8 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[September 13, 1963] COMING UP FOR AIR (the October 1963 Amazing)

5 Comments


by John Boston

So, there was a big civil rights march in Washington—quarter of a million people, the papers say. Lots of eloquent speeches and fine sentiments. It could make you think that the racial caste system that America was built on is finally starting to change. But I wonder. I work after school and on Saturdays at the local public library here in this small Kentucky town. Every now and then some of my fellow high school students drop in and spend some time at the magazine rack. One of the magazines they always look at is Ebony, which as you probably know is sort of a Life magazine for the Negro community: large-sized and glossy, with articles about famous or distinguished Negroes, social problems of interest, etc. It runs the same ads as Life and other slick magazines, but with Negro models.

These students leaf through Ebony looking at the ads, and snickering. Nothing is more hilarious to them than a Negro wearing a well cut suit, sipping an expensive whiskey, or behind the wheel of a prestigious car. These scoffers are not the local hoodlums; they are kids from respected families who make good grades and don’t get in trouble with the police—the Leaders of the Twenty-First Century, as they like to put it on the Mickey Mouse Club.

So marches in Washington are nice, and the proposed civil rights legislation will be great if it passes, but how much difference are they going to make along the back roads of Kentucky and similar places where attitudes like these prevail? I guess we’ll know in a few decades.

The October 1963 Amazing, on the other hand, is right here and we can pass judgment now. It’s a considerable improvement over last month’s, since there’s nothing in it that’s grossly stupid or offensive (Robert F. Young is nowhere in sight.) There’s nothing outstanding either, but at least some of this material falls short in more interesting ways than usual.

The lead story is Cordwainer Smith’s Drunkboat . Smith’s last seven stories—his production over the past three years—have all appeared in Galaxy, If, or Fantasy & Science Fiction, and this one’s appearance in Amazing strongly suggests that it was rejected by those higher-paying and at least slightly more prestigious outlets. It’s not hard to see why: it’s a mess. On the other hand, a Cordwainer Smith mess is more interesting than many other authors’ successes.

Sometimes with Smith, there is in the end a fairly straightforward story, but it’s told backwards or sideways, and swathed in stylistic antics and bizarre inventions, and the reader’s task is to appreciate them without becoming too distracted to figure out what the hell is going on. Here, the basic idea is one you hear every day on Top 40 radio, 30 or 40 times if you leave it on long enough: guy wants his baby back. Another guy, a Lord of the Instrumentality, has figured out a way to exploit this desire into a world(s)-changing discovery. To get there, you navigate a series of flash-backs and –forwards; an absurd if lively series of events at a hospital of the future, which offers some of the more bizarre medical techniques ever proposed; and a court of inquiry of the Lords of the Instrumentality, along with a rather alarming expository lump about how the Instrumentality actually operates. Much of this is told in a rather affected style that lies somewhere between saga and baby-talk. (First sentence: “Perhaps it is the saddest, maddest, wildest story in the whole long history of space.”)

The problem is the center doesn’t hold.  The distractions overcome the story rather than seasoning it; it’s basically out of control. On the other hand, maybe that’s the point: the main character (the guy looking for his love) is called Artyr Rambo, seemingly named after a French poet who I gather was pretty far out of control himself. He was also fond of absinthe, which may have something to do with the story’s title (otherwise very poorly accounted for).

Anyway, three stars for the entertainment value of sorting it all out. A nod also goes to cover artist Lloyd Birmingham, who picks up on the story’s overtones of childishness with a cover that reflects a close reading of the story and is done in a style reminiscent of what children might do with scissors, construction paper, and glue, though of course much more complex and better executed.

The other novelet represents (be very afraid) the Return of the Classic Reprints, in the form of The Prince of Liars by one L. Taylor Hansen, from the October 1930 Amazing. The L is allegedly for Louise, though Sam Moskowitz says in his introduction that it’s not clear whether Louise actually wrote the several stories under this byline or whether she was fronting for her brother. This question might be more interesting if the story were. It starts out with a disquisition on relativity, then turns into a drawing-room frame story in which the narrator recounts what he was told by a mysterious character whose rooms are full of old books and artifacts.

The story proper starts out with more about relativity, then segues into one about a young Greek man, kidnapped by pirates, who escapes and takes refuge in a temple, where he encounters an extraordinarily beautiful woman, who isn’t what she seems, and soon enough he’s on an alien spaceship, and relativity comes back into play, etc. etc. It’s quite well written and is more the stuff of 1900-vintage scientific romance than of 1930s magazine SF, halfway between Wells and Edgar Rice Burroughs I suppose, but lacking the intellectual incisiveness that keeps Wells interesting even at this late date. Three stars for literacy and readability, but pretty dated.

Philip K. Dick is here with his first short SF in almost four years, Stand-By . He’s been busy in the interim with his Hugo-winning novel The Man in the High Castle and with All We Marsmen, now being serialized in Worlds of Tomorrow.  He's also, rumor has it, made a few unsuccessful attempts at contemporary novels. Stand-By starts with a brilliant small notion: the news clown (can’t you just see it down the road?) but then mostly throws it away. Instead, we are shown a world in which the American Presidency is occupied by a computer, with a stand-by President in case Unicephalon goes out of commission.

Stand-by dies, and his place is taken by lazy schlumpf Max Fischer, because he’s next on the union seniority list. Then Unicephalon goes on the blink, so it’s Max into the breach just as an extraterrestrial invasion fleet breezes into the Solar System. Unqualified President Max learns to enjoy power and its abuses in ways that I am sure could never happen here. News clown Jim Briskin becomes his completely serious antagonist, and upon Unicephalon’s resuscitation, Max is out and the alien invasion fades into the background. This reads more like a rambling stand-up routine than a story, but nonetheless it’s clever, amusing, and readable enough. Three stars, and a hope that Dick regains the form of some of his older and more penetrating stories like Autofac and The Father-Thing.

Roger Zelazny is back with The Misfit , a minor item on a familiar theme that might seem better if we didn’t know he’s capable of more. Protagonist is trapped in an artificial reality; he wants out to the real one; how will he know if he’s found it? Zelazny has the good sense to keep it very short. Three stars for insubstantiality well turned.

Larry Eisenberg contributes his second SF story, The Fastest Draw, which is clever but contrived and a bit turgid. An electronics genius is hired to perfect a simulated old-West gunfighter game for an eccentric millionaire and succeeds too well. For something this trivial, Eisenberg should take lessons in brevity from Zelazny—then maybe he’d rate more than two stars.

Sam Moskowitz has another SF Profile, this one of Edmond Hamilton, which is well below his usual standard both in substance and execution. It ignores major stretches of Hamilton’s career (all of the 1950s,  and most of the 1940s, and his entire engagement with comic books) and is also execrably written, even for klunkmeister Moskowitz. Consider this sentence: “Romance and marriage was approached via many delays and detours.” Two stars, Sam, and you’re getting off easy. Don’t come back until you take some remedial English!

So, once more, this magazine seems to be looking up. But . . . from the Coming Next Month squib: “From the long-locked safe of Edgar Rice Burroughs comes a never-before-published manuscript” in which the protagonists “sail the fiery seas of Molop Az in the search for Hodon the Fleet One and Dian the Beautiful”! I’m scheduling my lobotomy now.

5 Comments Leave A Comment
Comics

[September 11, 1963] Has Marvel Comics become Mighty?

2 Comments

[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]


by Jason Sacks

Fellow travelers, I have a confession to make.

No, I’m not moving to Russia to work for Khrushchev, I’ll never give up my anger about the Dodgers moving to Los Angeles and I will always hate the music of that ugly-voiced Bob Dillon. But I’ve changed in other ways. See, I’ve had a change of heart with my comics book collecting ways.

Though it pains me to admit it after my previous posts to this fanzine, I’ve grown to enjoy the latest offerings from Marvel Comics. 1963 has been a very good year for Stan Lee’s small publishing line. That growth makes me wonder if Marvel just might emerge as one of the premier publishers of the 1960s.

I know that comment may come as a shock, after I’ve relentlessly mocked and ridiculed that quirky, homegrown comics company in previous articles on Galactic Journey. Those feelings were honest. My complaints were sincere. But time has a way of changing things.

They say some cigarette smokers would rather fight than switch, but sometimes life throws you surprises.

Why am I changing my mind about a topic about which I seethed just a few months ago? It’s simple. These comic books are good. Amazingly, in the span of the last few months, Stan Lee and company have produced comics that are almost as compelling as some of my favorite television shows. (Heck, some of these comics are better than Bonanza or good ol’ Dr. Kildare.)

Last week’s edition of Fantastic Four, issue #21, shows the growth that creators Lee and artist Jack Kirby have brought to this title of late. Featured villain Hate-Monger is one of the spookiest villains to appear in comics since Captain America’s vicious enemy the Red Skull.

When I first saw the cover of this issue, with a giant image of the Hate-Monger zapping the Fantastic Four with his ray-gun, it really took me aback. With his ersatz purple Ku Klux Klan hood, the Monger immediately catches the eye and brings a suitable level of terror to the proceedings.

Flipping to the first page of the story, its splash delivers a tableau of dramatic intensity. The Hate-Monger, clad in chain mail and boots with his eerie hood, is situated against a background of fire and barbed wire. His body, shown in an aggressive stance, is surrounded by cameo faces of the Fantastic Four, all looking furious and spoiling for a fight. This bold image sets the tone for one of the most memorable tales of the year.

As the story begins, the Fantastic Four are hanging out in their skyscraper tower, each occupying themselves with their hobbies. One member works on an invention, another throws darts at a picture of Spider-Man, a third tries on wigs. But their daily reliquaries are interrupted by anger from the brutish Thing. “I’m so cotton pickin’ mad, I’ve gotta do something,” he rants. “That crumb who calls himself the Hate-Monger has been causin’ trouble wherever he goes because he’s too smart to break any laws.” Mr. Fantastic replies, “He’s the worst kind of menace! He preaches class hatred, race hatred, religious hatred!”

In that moment our heroes show what is at stake in this story and show that the stakes are higher than mere super-hero battles. This is a story that could have been ripped from the headlines, as the John Birchers do their best to try to stop Democratic efforts to improve America’s immigration and race relations. (I just hope President Kennedy can succeed in improving those aspects of our country, even if it takes his entire second term to do so.)

As the story proceeds, our heroes wander through New York, following the noise to hear the Hate Monger preach his hate. “We must drive all the foreigners back from where they came from! We must show no mercy to people we hate!” The Invisible Girl comments, “Reed, it’s unbelievable! He seems to have the crowd in a trance! They — they’re actually agreeing with his un-American sentiments!” Thank goodness our heroes are exemplars of our post-War consensus on race and immigration. They represent sanity and our great respect of diversity. In that way they show themselves to be real heroes.

That is, until the Monger zaps our heroes with his all-powerful H-ray.

Very quickly the Fantastic Four begin fighting each other, and rapidly the team parts ways with each other due to their anger at each other. Thankfully Reed Richards’s old war buddy Nick Fury, now working for the CIA, shows up and sends the team to help stop a revolution in the South American country of San Gusto.

What ensues reads like a comic version of Castro’s revolution, though with the Fantastic Four on one side of the battle instead of President Batista’s troops. Nick Fury, yelling about how the CIA won’t interfere in other nations’ affairs is able to help Richards escape the power of the H-ray, and soon the rest of the team is healed of its pernicious effects. As they finally defeat the Hate-Monger, our heroes unmask the arch villain. A last page climax reveals the Monger has the face of… Adolf Hitler.

Fantastic Four #21 is a dervish of a tale, a wild mix of politics, heroic action and surprising twists. This story feels both young and traditional with its focus on good and evil juxtaposed against real world concerns. It’s hard to imagine National Comics producing a comic that even mentions any level politics, let alone one that shocks readers with a cameo from Adolf Hitler or revolutions in banana republics. This issue also demonstrates another charming feature of Marvel at late: inter-character continuity. Lee and Kirby throw readers treats by including moments featuring characters like Nick Fury (whose World War II series premiered just last month) and Spider-Man. It’s almost like all these Marvel characters live in one universe!

Though not every issue of FF is so overtly political, most recent issues have been as kinetic and action-packed, and have featured equally adroit character moments. I’ve been bowled over by how thrilling these reads have been.

I’ve also come to enjoy Amazing Spider-Man, a series I once loathed. Before I was frustrated with the angsty life of problematic Peter Parker, but now I’m beginning to gain a love for this humble hero. In issue 7 of the series, former villain The Vulture returns from an earlier appearance and escapes from jail, seeking revenge against Spider-Man.

In a delightful demonstration of the small man become large, bespectacled Peter Parker finds he must sacrifice his social status at his high school in order to fight the Vulture. He also must take photographs of the battle between Spider-Man and the Vulture for a New York newspaper so he can help his elderly aunt pay her mortgage. This element gives the fight higher stakes than another hohum battle between the Flash and Captain Cold. Peter even breaks his arm during the battle with the Vulture, forcing him to lie to everyone in his life about the injury and his secret identity.

I’ve read heroic fiction for most of my life and can’t remember any hero going through such a level of personal pain in order to triumph in battle. This is a brave step out of the norm. It took some time for that angst to move from goofy pastiche to true drama, but creators Lee and Steve Ditko are continuing that journey. Ditko’s brusque art can’t compare with the slick work of Infantino or Kane on DC’s headliners, but it seems fitting for the grittiness of the story.

Thus far we’ve looked at two Marvel books released the week of September 10th that offered intriguing combinations of rough grittiness and seat-of-the-pants storytelling. But the highlight for me from last week comes in the pages of Tales of Suspense #48.

Previously, the millionaire Tony Stark dressed himself in a bulky golden suit that ill-suited our super-heroic Rockefeller. That monochrome monstrosity seemed a magnet for any villain who could melt, smash or mangle metal — or who was blinded by the sheer hideousness of a hero who dresses like a banana.

In contrast, Lee and Ditko debut dynamic new duds for Iron Man in this story. His new red-and-gold armor is a surprising and delightful treat. I love the new modern design, with its complementary colors, its open eye-slits and its nicely placed rivets. The suit looks like millionaire Tony Stark commissioned it from Pierre Cardin. If Steve Ditko of Spider-Man fame designed this suit, he’s delivered another winner.

Sadly, the story in which the suit is introduced is nowhere near the level of last week’s Spider-Man or Fantastic Four. it’s a paint-by-numbers yarn involving an evil puppet master with odd hoodoo powers. In fact, aside from the change in clothing, this issue could pass for one of the better National Comics edited by Julius Schwartz, whose work I praised in previous columns. That’s a high level of quality, one I wish the other National editors could keep up, but isn’t as good as the core Marvel books I’ve grown to love.

Marvel’s mighty releases make for a spectacularly good week for new comics, made all the more so when one considers what my former favorites at National delivered the same week. In comparison, “The Human Starfish” in Blackhawk #190 and “The Terrible Tree-Man” in Tomahawk #89 are embarrassingly juvenile.

National has delivered some wonderful comics in the last few weeks, with the pairing of Hawkman and Adam Strange in separate anthology stories in Mystery in Space #87 providing a tremendous frisson. However, it seems increasingly obvious that, with few exceptions, National’s comics are intended for children as opposed to the more adult-oriented feel of Marvel’s new heroic line. This growth in presentation has resulted in a growth in my appreciation for them, and shows that maybe, just maybe, The Traveler was right about his opinion on these comics (which I shoulda known since I value his opinions on sci-fi so much).

So yes, I’ve changed a bit as I’ve read more Marvel Comics over the last few months. The more I read comics like Fantastic Four, the more I appreciate them. With the super-hero line expanding in recent months with The Avengers, The X-Men, Dr. Strange, and the Master of Black Magic, maybe we will move into a Marvel Age of comics over the next few years after all!

2 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[September 9, 1963] Great Expectations (October 1963 Galaxy)

3 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, is a time of renewal and new beginnings.  This year, it falls on September 18, and it can't be coincidence that the Fall TV season starts around then.  After all, this year is going to see a bumper crop of science fiction television, including the debuts of the anthology show The Outer Limits, My Favorite Martian, and the Japanese import Astro Boy.

In fact, the first episode of the last show premiered just the day before yesterday and, to all accounts, it'll be a big hit.  That was certainly the reaction I observed at the preview showing during this year's Worldcon.  Look out for an article on Astro Boy next month!

In the meantime, you've got plenty of good stuff to occupy your attention.  For instance, Margaret St. Clair has an exciting new book out called Sign of the Labrys — expect a review soon.  There is also the October 1963 issue of Galaxy, an extra-thick pile of fiction that'll give you good company for a day or two.  I've just finished the mag, so let's take a look, shall we?

The Men in the Walls, by William Tenn

Imagine an alien conquest so terrible and comprehensive that humanity is reduced to living in the walls of the extraterrestrials' homes like rats.  Civilization shattered back to the Stone Age, forced to survive on the leavings of the aliens.  The world before has disappeared into legend, and artifacts from the before-time are like magic, their original purpose unknown.

This is the setting veteran author, William Tenn, gives us in the short novel, The Men in the Walls.  Our protagonist is "Eric the Only," a youth on the edge of manhood, who embarks on his first Theft in alien territory.  Originally intending to play it safe and just steal food, he is persuaded by his ambitious uncle to try for the hardest of targets: alien technology.

The components may sound familiar: Tenn's creation shares a great deal of feel with Galouye's Dark Universe (burrow-dwelling humans turned savage) as well as Aldiss' Hot House (humans are tiny in comparative scale, and they commonly give birth to "litters" rather than individuals.) Nevertheless, Tenn delivers his story in a fresh, page-turning manner, and it's a worthy read.

That said, The Men in the Walls is only half a story, ending just as it gets really interesting.  One has to wonder if a sequel or an expanded novel is planned.  Moreover, the writing gets a little repetitive in points; the story could probably have been ten pages shorter.

Three and a half stars. 

For Your Information: King of the Rats

Willy Ley brings us a discussion of the Rat King, a near-mythical phenomenon in which a dozen or more rats are found with their tails spontaneously fused.  It's a weird topic and an oddly short piece.  I wonder if Willy's getting tired of doing these.  Three stars. 

On the Gem Planet, by Cordwainer Smith

On a world composed solely of precious stones, a lone horse wanders masterless through a crystal valley.  The Dictator of the planet and his beautiful heir entreat a young visitor, a crusading exile whose sole goal is to regain the throne of his home planet, for an explanation of how the horse came to his current condition.

Nothing more need be said of this piece save that it is another tale of the Instrumentality by the inimitable Smith, and it does not injure the reputation of the series or its writer.  Four stars.

A Day on Death Highway, by Chandler Elliott

On the other hand, Elliott's would-be whimsical tale of bad drivers in the future is a clunker.  Rendering a piece in artificial slang is always a dicey prospect, and there isn't enough of interest in this story to make it worth the slog.  One star.

Sweet Tooth, by Robert F. Young

Two giant aliens, all head and no body (or all body and no head) terrorize a rural part of the country with their insatiable taste for chrome-plated automobiles.  Are they the vanguard of an invasion…or just a couple of kids in the candy shop?

Robert F. Young has produced some of the most sublime pieces of fiction as well as some of the worst pieces of hackneyed crud I've ever read.  This tale is neither.  Three stars.

Med Ship Man, by Murray Leinster

Calhoun, intrepid healer to the stars, encounters an ominously empty colony.  Why did the entire population flee their homes in a mad rush, often mid-meal?  And is there a connection with the coincident arrival of Allison, a ruthless businessman from the cattle planet of Texia?

I was trepidatious about this story because the previous Med Ship story had been a disappointment.  Thankfully, Leinster is back to form.  Sure, he still writes in that slightly plodding, repetitive fashion that shouldn't work, but it does as the voice of Calhoun, a man I perceive to be fastidious, peevish, and utterly competent.  Four stars. 

In short, this month's Galaxy gives you plenty to look forward to.  Take in the Tenn, the Leinster, and especially, the Smith.  And then pick up the St. Clair.  That should hold you through to the new year!

3 Comments Leave A Comment
Fashion, music, politics, sports

[September 7, 1963] Druids at College: An Old Religion for a New Era

5 Comments

[Our archivist, a self-described "kook," has a strong interest in consciousness expansion and a belief that our world's new technologies need to be integrated with new mental and spiritual techniques. In this, she is not alone. New Age religions have been popping up all over the place as the post-WW2 generation of young adults tries to make sense of our regimented world. She returns to writing to cover one of the latest spiritual organizations. Note, this article is for informational purposes only, and should not be considered an endorsement…unless it's your kind of kookery, of course!]


by Erica Frank

Like many private colleges, Carleton College in Minnesota requires that students regularly attend religious services. They don't specify which religion, expecting that Protestants, Catholics, Jews, and Muslims will each worship in their own way, but they expect the worship to conform to conventional flavors. Earlier this year, in May, a group of students at Carleton found a creative way around this directive: the students recently announced that they are now druids, and that they have been holding worship services at a stone altar outdoors rather than in any of the churches near campus.

Not much is known about the historical druids of Britain, who were suppressed by the Romans until the older religion was either destroyed or went so far into hiding that it faded into folklore. What we know of them mostly comes from Latin and Gaelic writers almost two thousand years ago, reporting that druids served as holy men, doctors, judges, and educators. (They were also reported to be sorcerers, shape-changers, and weather-witches; sorting fact from rumor is difficult.) They were priests of a pre-Christian religion that venerated nature; while they did not build Stonehenge, they are believed to be the spiritual heirs of those who did.  

Taking inspiration from the ancient druids, some students are calling themselves the "Reformed Druids of North America." They have rejected religious orthodoxy in favor of nature-focused spirituality. They insist that their religious ceremonies involve wearing long robes and making sacrifices (of vegetables) to the Earth-Mother… and drinking whiskey, which is derived from grain and is therefore one of the holy gifts of nature.

They outlined the two tenets of their religion:

1. North American Reformed Druids believe that one of the many ways in which the object of man's search for religious truth can be found is through Nature, the Earth-Mother.

2. North American Reformed Druids believe that Nature, being one of the primary concerns in man's life and struggle, and being one of the Objects of Creation, is important to man’s spiritual quests.

Canny readers may notice that these two statements can be rephrased as:

1. Religion is in nature.

2. Nature is religious.

While that's a bit simplistic, it would be hard to argue that there is no truth in the two statements, nor that countless religions have not included similar concepts.

Their services draw from several religious traditions, and membership in their church is available to anyone who asks and partakes of the "Waters of Life" – a phrase which they may have borrowed from Heinlein's recent Hugo winner, Stranger in a Strange Land, although similar concepts exist in many religions. The concept of "water-brotherhood" has appeared among some students; these students aren't claiming to follow Heinlein's fictional religion, but may have been inspired by parts of it.

Their mention of the Earth-Mother may have been inspired by the recent explorations of Catal Huyuk, a prehistoric settlement in Turkey. The site was discovered in 1961, and is still being excavated. James Mellaart's discovery of the Seated Woman sculpture, showing a regal image flanked by lionesses, is widely understood to indicate a paleolithic matriarchal culture worshiping a mother-goddess.

These discoveries match what Gerald Gardner outlined in his 1954 book, Witchcraft Today: that the Stone Age religion worshipped the Great Mother, and that this "Old Religion" is being revived in the modern era. While Gardner's focus is on the "witchcraft religion" in England, several groups inspired by ancient religions have begun to make an appearance in the US, including the Carleton College druids.

Some suspect that the druid group is a prank, nothing more than a way to get out of attending stuffy church services. Instead of listening to a preacher talk about sin, they have a picnic on the lawn, with some robes and chanting to the Earth-Mother to make it qualify as a religious service. If it is just a way to dodge the rules, it is an effective test of the administration's tolerance and adherence to its own policies; since the requirement to attend services doesn't specify religion, there is no way to ban these "services" without declaring that this is not, in fact, a religion.

Their new Arch-Druid said, "Our services of worship are public, and have been held regularly for the past month and a half and we feel that they in every way fulfill not only the letter but the spirit of the religious requirement." The students have been holding public services attended by dozens of people, and their chants and prayers seem to be as spiritual as those of any mainstream faith.

It will be interesting to see what these druids do in the future. The services have started up again this school year, and if the attendees have found some real spiritual value in their "druid religion," it may have some real staying power.

5 Comments Leave A Comment
Conventions/Performances

[September 5, 1963] Oh Brave New World (the 1963 Worldcon)

10 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

This has been a year of many firsts.  My first year as a full-time writer, my first published fiction story, and now, my first Worldcon.  Ever since I became a science fiction fan back in 1950, Worldcons have been mysterious, half-magic events that happened to other people.  I'd read reports in Fanac or Science Fiction Times or heard summaries from attendees, but they were never real for me.

Until now.

On August 31, 1963, I walked through the doors of the Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C. and attended Discon I, August 31 – September 2, 1963.


The Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C.

It was a weekend of panels, shopping, heated debate, raucous partying, fantastic costumes, and writers.  There, in the flesh, I saw some of the titans of a field I am just entering.  Most of them were somehow apart from me, beyond my ability to connect with at more than a perfunctory level.  Others were more than happy to mingle.  For instance, rising star Bob Silverberg, shared banter and contact information. 

Of course, Silverberg is the fellow who wrote the second-most offensive story I've ever read, the one that turned me off of the magazine Venture forever.  One can only hope he's grown out of his reactionary mindset.


Silverbob, himself! (from fanac)

But in addition to the cavalcade of celebrities, there were, of course, the hundreds of fans, and boy did we have fun together.  The names of a few with whom I connected: Denise Head, Al Jackson, Myriam Warren, Larry Niven, Joe Haldeman.  I even spent a little time palling around with young Astrid Anderson (daughter of Karen and Poul — I never quite managed to cross their path).  Precocious kid.  She's going places.

As usual, Galactic Journey presented a panel on the current state of fandom.  The room was packed, and the questions were excellent.  There was just one moment of heat: an attendee took umbrage at our less-than-flattering comments regarding Barry Goldwater.  Well, it's a free country.


Leiber, Emsh, Ley, Scithers, Brackett, Asimov, De Camp (from locus)

On the last day, we crammed into the main hall for the award ceremony.  The highlight of the luncheon was, without a doubt, the final award for "Dramatic Presentation."  You see, Isaac Asimov was presenting, as he usually does (a rumor that it would be Ted Sturgeon turned out to be unfounded — he wasn't there).  He made his little introductions for each of the winners, with increasing irritation as the night wore on. 

You see, he really wanted a Hugo, and he was upset that he had never gotten one in his 25 years of writing.  And now that he'd transitioned to mostly writing science articles, it was becoming clear (to him) that he never would. 

Once he reached the last envelope, he took a moment to treat us all to a tirade.  He knew, he said, why he had never gotten the golden rocketship.  It had nothing to do with merit.  It was anti-semitism, plain and simple.  We were all Nazis.  Yes, even me.

And with a snarl, he ripped open the final envelope and called out, "The award goes to I…" and froze, his tongue tripping on his own name.  It turned out that there was no Dramatic Presentation award this year.  Instead, Asimov was given a Hugo for his F&SF science articles — "putting the science in science fiction," the award read.

The laughter lasted quite a long time. 

As for the rest of the Hugos, well, here's how they went:

Best Novel

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick [Putnam, 1962]

Nominees

Sword of Aldones by Marion Zimmer Bradley [Ace, 1961]
A Fall of Moondust by Arthur C. Clarke [Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962]
Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper [Avon, 1962]
Sylva by Vercors [Putnam, 1961]


H. Beam Piper in tie at the convention (from zarthani)

This selection is truly remarkable.  Not a single one of these books made our Galactic Stars list this year (though, to be fair, A Fall of Moondust was on our list the prior year).  The Dick is decent, but not Hugo-worthy; ditto the Piper.  The Bradley is just awful.  None of us read Sylva, a French novel about a woman who turns into a fox, so we can't judge that one.

Short Fiction

The The Dragon Masters by Jack Vance [Galaxy Aug 1962]

Nominees

Myrrha by Gary Jennings [F&SF Sep 1962]
The Unholy Grail by Fritz Leiber [Fantastic October 1962]
When You Care, When You Love by Theodore Sturgeon [F&SF Sep 1962]
Where Is the Bird of Fire? by Thomas Burnett Swann [Science Fantasy Apr 1962]


Costumes of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser at the convention (from fanac)

Here, we're on more common ground.  Of course, the WorldCon committee only picks five sub-novel length stories to award while the Journey gives out fifteen, which allows more opportunities for overlap between the two sets of awards.

The Vance is really an excellent novella, and I understand a sequel may be in the works.  The Leiber is definitely deserving, and its warm reception appears to have spurred a host of new Fahfrd and Mouser stories.  The Sturgeon is a reasonable choice, though it was not one of ours. 

We were not so taken by the Jennings, and we missed out on the Swann.  Would any of our fellow travelers like to clue us in?

Best Dramatic Presentation

No Winner

Nominees

Burn, Witch, Burn (1962) (alt: Night of the Eagle) [Anglo-Amalgamated/Independent Artists] Directed by Sidney Hayers; Screenplay by Charles Beaumont & Richard Matheson and George Baxt; based on the novel Conjure Wife by Fritz Leiber

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961) [British Lion/Pax] Directed by Val Guest; Written by Wolf Mankowitz & Val Guest

Last Year at Marienbad (1962) [Argos Films] Directed by Alain Resnais; Screenplay by Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet; based on the novel The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares

The Twilight Zone (TV series) by Rod Serling [CBS]


From The Twilight Zone episode Little Girl Lost

As described above, no program managed to secure the gold rocket ship this year.  In any event, I am dismayed that we only covered two of the finalists.  We will endeavor to Do Better!

Best Professional Magazine

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction ed. by Robert P. Mills and Avram Davidson

Nominees

Analog Science Fiction and Fact ed. by John W. Campbell, Jr.
Galaxy ed. by H. L. Gold
Fantastic ed. by Cele Goldsmith
Science Fantasy ed. by John Carnell

Once again, the names are the same but the order changes.  There just aren't that many magazines around these days, though there has been a resurgence lately (and I just read that Wonder Stories may be back!)

I wonder if we should start covering Science Fantasy…

Best Professional Artist

Roy G. Krenkel

Nominees

Ed Emshwiller
Virgil Finlay
Jack Gaughan
John Schoenherr

Krenkel's is a name I was unfamiliar with until recently.  He's the one responsible for the beautiful cover work on the Edgar Rice Burroughs reprints.  The others are, of course, staples of the magazine world.

Best Fanzine

Xero ed. by Richard A. Lupoff and Pat Lupoff

Nominees

Warhoon ed. by Richard Bergeron
Mirage ed. by Jack L. Chalker
Yandro ed. by Robert Coulson and Juanita Coulson
Shangri L’Affaires ed. by Fred Patten, Albert Lewis, Bjo Trimble and John Trimble

"Where is Galactic Journey?" you cry.  After all, it was widely reported that our beloved journal would be on the ballot this year.  Sadly, due to some arcane rule I don't quite understand, Galactic Journey was not eligible for the Hugo in 1963.  Maybe next year…

Despite our not having officially been on the ballot, the Journey was invited to the Sunday night reveling that is traditional for Hugo losers.  We sent a representative; however, the Traveler and Editor decided to get some much-needed rest.  It had been a roller-coaster of a week, and we wanted to be fresh for the return to San Diego. 

Nevertheless, Worldcon was a blast.  We loved the venue, the friends, and the programming.  We will definitely attend next year.  Hope to see you there!

[We'll be discussing the Hugo winners, losers, and shoulda-beens all week, starting now, at Portal 55! Come join us!]

—

10 Comments Leave A Comment
Book

[September 3, 1963] An unspoken Bond (Ian Fleming's On Her Majesty’s Secret Service)

4 Comments


By Ashley R. Pollard

Last month I talked about spies. Spies that were cool, and those who betrayed their country. With the Profumo affair still rattling around the news, I opined that spies and spying would sweep into the public consciousness. Scandals have a habit of doing that.

So, please excuse me, while I take the time to talk about another spy-centric non-SF book for this month's episode on Galactic Journey.

With the success of last year's film adaptation of Ian Fleming's Dr. No., I continue to predict that the next James Bond film, From Russia With Love, which is coming this October, will further raise the public's interest in the heady delights of techno-thrillers featuring spies. So far all I’ve seen are a couple of stills from the set, so it’s hard to make any judgment on the adaptation of the story by the filmmakers.

But until the film arrives on the big screen we have a new Bond novel to sate our appetites.

On Her Majesty’s Secret Service is the tenth James Bond novel, a sequel to the previous novel (once removed), Thunderball. I was lucky to get hold of a copy of OHMSS when it came out at the beginning of April, because both the first and second print runs, totaling over 60,000 copies, sold out in the first month. This should give readers some insight into how popular James Bond has become in Britain.

Since OHMSS is a sequel to Thunderball, a quick reprise of the former novel's plot is in order.

Thunderball centred on the theft of two atomic bombs stolen by a shadowy organization called SPECTRE: SPecial Executive for Counterintelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion.  SPECTRE is the replacement for SMERSH, MI-6's nemesis organization that appears in the earlier novels. These villains were originally loosely based on the real life Soviet counterintelligence organization SMERSH.

The name is a Russian portmanteau, created by Stalin from the words SMERt and SHpionam. Translated it means "Death to Spies."

Why the change? My understanding is that the film producers and Fleming decided to make the villains apolitical. In an interview Fleming said that he wanted to show that the cold war had thawed and changed the name to reflect this.

This criminal organization is led by the nefarious villain Ernst Stavro Blofeld, who returns in OHMSS to cause our hero more pain and suffering. This time round Fleming fleshes out his hero with some fascinating revelations about Bond's character. For example, he discloses that Bond visits the grave of Vesper Lynd every year.  Lynd was a character that appeared in Fleming's first James Bond novel, Casino Royale, where she kills herself rather than betray Bond.

James Bond's relationship with women also breaks new ground, but I don't want to spoil the plot by giving anything away. All I'll say is that OHMSS deals with grief and loss. And most affecting it is too.

As is usual in an Ian Fleming novel, real places are used to add verisimilitude to the narrative, though some of the names are changed. In this case, the description of Piz Gloria makes clear that it is based on the Nazi German eugenic research facility Schloss Mittersill.

Its inclusion as a setting for the plot therefore adds a certain emotional darkness to the story. It's a chilling foreshadowing of the reveal about the purpose of the centre. We later discover that the villain is brainwashing young women he's treating for food allergies. Blofield's plan is to send them home to Britain where they will release a bioweapon to destroy our crops.

Cue loud cackling.

OK. That was probably a tad unfair of me, but the plan strained my credulity to its limits. James Bond stories are not subtle. However, OHMSS is a lot of fun to read. Once I started I had to keep turning the pages to find out what happened next. OHMSS demonstrates Fleming's increasingly assured touch and storytelling confidence.

I will freely admit that the SF trappings are not strongly in evidence in this novel. However, the machinations of the plot are driven by technological developments driven by science. Had this novel been written before the war, it would have been derided for its fanciful SF trappings. Ideas that SF fans take as a given, like rockets, robots, and ray-guns, are now taken for granted.

All right, perhaps not ray-guns, but the terms that used to mark out the genre are now increasingly appearing in everyday usage. In a few short years, SF ideas have moved from the pages of the Pulps and post-war magazines into everyday life. Therefore, in the wake of the success of Ian Fleming's "Bond", what I predict we will see is more techno-thrillers, spy stories with futuristic trappings.

After all, why should Ian Fleming have all the fun?


The Jamaica home where Fleming wrote OHMSS during the filming of Dr. No

[Want to talk to the Journey crew and fellow fans in real-time?  Come join us at Portal 55! (Ed.)]

4 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[Sep. 1, 1963] How to Fail at Writing by not Really Trying (September 1963 Analog)

3 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

A few years ago, I began trying to write fiction.  I'd been reading science fiction regularly for eight years at that point.  I figured if all those other guys and gals could do it, surely I, with hundreds of published pieces under my belt would find the transition an easy one.  So long as I came up with some clever twist, maybe showcased some unique visions of technology, that'd be enough.

I quickly found, as I collected rejection after rejection, that it wasn't.  I started running my stories past my wife and my daughter, both talented and discerning individuals.  It became clear that I was missing the things that make any story good, regardless of genre: pacing, compelling characters, dramatic tension.  A science fiction story must be, first and foremost, a story.

I took that lesson to heart, rewriting all of my salvageable pieces.  The end result?  Last month, I got published, and the future looks bright for my other works.  Now people want to read my stuff.  Heck, even I like my stuff now.


Sadly, this month's issue of Analog, with one notable exception, is chock full of the type of stories I know now not to write.  They are a series of technological travelogues with the barest attempt at fictioneering.  This kind of thing might tickle editor John Campbell's fancy, but it won't win any Hugos.  Moreover, this isn't the first time this has happened.  If this trend keeps up, at some point it's got to impact subscription numbers.  Right?

Take a look and tell me if you agree:



Which Polaris Do You Mean? by Robert S. Richardson

Every planet has got a north pole — that place where you can stand and watch the world rotate counter-clockwise below you.  But do other planets have a "North Star," a bright star like our Polaris that lies directly in line that pole and always points north?  And do Earth and other planets have South Stars?  Robert Richardson offers up an article that answers these questions.  I found it pretty interesting, but astronomy's my bag.  Three stars.

Industrial Revolution, by Winston P. Sanders

A few months back, Sanders wrote a story about planet-divers who plunged into the atmosphere of Jupiter to retrieve valuable industrial gasses.  I don't know how the author managed to turn such an interesting premise into a dull piece, but he did. 

In Revolution, he does it again, butchering the tale of a small venture that tries to turn an asteroid into a profitable fuel trans-shipping concern.  Earth's government sends a battleship out to stop the attempt at space capitalism, but doughty Jimmy Chung (the Chinese guy) and Michael Blades (the Irish guy, and hero) outsmart those evil bureaucrats.

Along the way, we are treated to excruciatingly long explanations of technology, pages of trite dialogue, and that perennial Analog specialty: lousy portrayals of women.  All told in a smug, self-satisfied manner that is also typical of the magazine. 

Those with any knowledge of our genre know that "Winston P. Sanders" is a pen name for old hand, Poul Anderson.  Perhaps he knew that this tale was a stinker and didn't want his name attached to it.  One star.

The Last Straw, by William J. Smith

Months after a deadly plane crash that took the lives of more than seventy passengers, Inspector Kessler still can't give up the investigation.  Was it sabotage?  A drunk passenger?  Or perhaps some kind of conspiracy?  All of the leads come up short…until a final clue puts the mystery in focus.

Straw is just three separate dialogues, and yet, the writing is so deft that we learn everything we need to know just from conversation.  The rule is generally "show, don't tell," but an experienced author can "show by telling" without it feeling expository.  I'm impressed.

As for the story, it's a fine, short "who-dunnit."  Or perhaps "what-dunnit" is a better description.  Four stars.

i>Chrono-Control, by Frank A. Javor

In the future, incorrigible prisoners are stuffed into one-person satellites and subjected to a life of privation and strict time-management.  One such convict decides he can't take it anymore and hatches a plan to break his mechanical warden.  But is Heaven in a pod better than Hell?

Aside from the utter implausibility of the setup, the pages upon pages explaining the prisoner's plot are incomprehensible.  The ending is silly, too.  In other words, Javor commits all of the sins described in my preamble. 

Two stars.

The Thirst Quenchers, by Rick Raphael

A hundred years from now, science has transformed every profession but one — that of the hydrologist.  These intrepid measurers must still manually plant sensors in remote locations to ensure an accurate picture of our water budget.  And in the 21st Century, water is such a precious commodity that no drop can be spared.

A fellow reviewer described this tale as "A cross between a railway timetable and a mail-order catalogue," which I find hard to improve upon.  It reads like an educational film views, and when the "action" starts, half-way through, it is stripped of all excitement. 

Some points that stood out, though:

1.  In the future, won't satellites be able to monitor our water supplies? 

2.  If water is in such short supply, and power so abundant (nuclear fission is ubiquitous, and dams have been abandoned), why aren't there large-scale desalination operations?

3.  Analog is a particularly masculine magazine with few/no female characters or writers.  Sometimes this quality approaches self-satiric levels, as with this sentence spoken by a ranger who is rebuffed when he offers a hydrologist a cup of substandard coffee:

"Man's drink for a real man," the ranger grinned.  "Us forestry men learn to make coffee from pine pitch.  Makes a man outta you."

One star.

Am I Still There?, by James R. Hall

This year saw the first successful lung transplant, easily the most significant organ transfer operation to date.  One can easily foresee a future in which every part of the body can be exchanged, granting a kind of immortality.  But what happens when your brain starts to wear out?  Can a new one be regrown, imprinted with your memories, and implanted?  Are you still you after such an operation?

It's a fascinating concept, but you won't find it well-explored in this story.  After a competent setup, Hall simply leaves the central question unanswered.  Two stars.

We are left with the question: Do Analog's stories stink because the writers can't write, or do Analog's contributors write poorly because that's what Campbell wants?  The fact that Anderson, at least, often turns in good efforts suggests the latter — or at least, they just don't try as hard for Campbell's mag. 

Anyway, here are the numbers for this month: Analog garnered a dismal 2.2 stars, beaten to the bottom only by Amazing, which got 2.1 stars.  F&SF was also a disappointment this month, though its sins tend to go in the opposite direction of Analog.  It got 2.6 stars.  Fantastic rounds out the losers with a 2.9 average.

On the winning side, Worlds of Tomorrow features solid works by Laumer and Dick, though the balance of the issue drags things to just 3 stars.  Experimental IF, which featured two woman authors (F&SF had one, the others, none), clocked in at 3.3 stars and had my favorite story.  And New Worlds scored a surprising 3.4 stars and the top spot, in large part due to its continuing serial by John Brunner.

All in all, August wasn't a great month for science fiction, but as usual, there was enough quality to see us through.  Speaking of which, Worldcon 21 has begun, and we will soon learn what the fans thought was the best of SF published last year.  There will be a full report when it's over…

[Want to discuss the Hugo winners in real-time?  Come join us at Portal 55! (Ed.)]

3 Comments Leave A Comment
Science / Space Race

[August 29, 1963] Why we fly (August Space Round-up)

1 Comment


by Gideon Marcus

We've become a bit spoiled of late, what with space spectaculars occurring on a fairly regular basis.  So, I was not too surprised when a friend buttonholed me the other day and exclaimed, "When is the Space Race gonna get interesting again?"  After all, it's been a whole two months since the Vostok missions, three since the last Mercury mission, and even satellite launches have been few lately.

Oh ye of little faith.  The real work doesn't happen when the rockets go up, but after their payloads are aloft.  A lot happened in the arena of space this month — you just have to dig a little to learn about it.  Here are the exciting tidbits I gleaned (and the journos missed) in NASA's recent bulletins and broadcasts:

Bridging the Continents

Communication satellites continue to make our world a smaller place.  Syncom, built by Hughes and launched by NASA late last month, is the first comsat to have a 24-hour orbit.  From our perspective on the Earth's surface, it appears to do figure eights around one spot in the sky rather than circling the Earth.  This means Syncom can be a permanent relay station between the hemispheres.

It's already being used.  On August 4 the satellite allowed Nigerian journalists and folks from two U.S. services to exchange news stories as well as pictures of President Kennedy and Nigerian Governor General Dr. Nnamdi Zikiwe.  Five days later, voice and teletype was exchanged between Paso Robles, California and Lagos, Nigeria.  This 7,700 mile conversation represents the longest range real-time communication ever made.

And, on the 23rd, Syncom carried its first live telephone conversation — between President Kennedy and Nigerian Prime Minister Sir Abubaker Tafawa Balewa, as well as several other official conversations.  One has to wonder if the whole scheme wasn't hatched just so Jack could expand his pen pal list to West Africa…

More comsat news: RCA's Relay 1 is still alive and kicking, having been used in 930 wideband experiments, 409 narrowband transmissions, and 95 demos of TV and narrowband broadcasts.  And in a stunning imitation of Lazarus, AT&T's Telstar 2 came back on-line after having been silent since July 16.  I understand there will be an unprecedented experiment next month: NASA is going to use Relay and Syncom to bounce a message from Brazil to Africa.  Expect that kind of satellite ping-pong to become common in the future.

Finally, NASA's passive comsat, Echo 1, continues to be used for tests.  Come winter, it will be joined by Echo 2.  Because if there's anything space needs, it's more balloons.


First pass of Echo 1 satellite over the Goldstone

Predicting the Weather

Mariner 2, the Venus probe that encountered the Planet of Love last December, went silent early this year.  Yet its reams of data are still yielding discoveries.  During the spacecraft's long flight toward the sun, it took continuous measurements of the solar wind — that endless stream of charged particles cast off from the roiling fusion reactor of our nearest star.  These measurements were then compared to readings made on Earth and in orbit.  Scientists have now determined that the sun's radioactive breeze blows in gusts from 500 to 1350 kilometers per second, the bursts correlated with expansions in the solar corona.  When a particularly strong stream of electrons and protons, sizzling at a temperature of 500,000 degrees F., slams into the Earth's magnetic field, it causes disruptions in broadcasts and communications.

Closer to home, Explorer 12 soared far from Earth in its highly eccentric orbit, charting long-lived solar plasma streams in interplanetary space.  The satellite determined that these gouts of plasma caused geophysical disturbances more than twenty days after their creation.

One can imagine a constellation of satellites being deployed to provide solar system-wide space weather reports.  Not only would they help keep astronauts safe as they journeyed from planet to planet, but they'd also let radio operators on Earth know when to expect static in their broadcasts.

And speaking of weather forecasts, Tiros 6 and 7 continue to be our eyes in the sky, tirelessly shooting TV of Earth's weather.  They've already tracked the first hurricane of the season, Arlene.  Who knows how many lives and dollars they will save with their early warnings?

Previews of Coming Attractions

The ill-starred lunar probe, Ranger, has failed in all five of its missions.  In fact, NASA is 0 for 8 when it comes to moon shots since 1959.  Perhaps Ranger 6, set for launch around Thanksgiving, will break this losing streak.  It will be the first of the Block 3 Rangers, lacking the sky science experiments that flew on Rangers 1 and 2, and the big seismic impactors carried on Rangers 3-5.  The new Rangers will just shoot TV pictures of potential Apollo landing sites.  This sacrifice of science in deference to the human mission has not gone without protest, but given the dismal track record of the program, the labcoat crowd will have to take what they can get.

A full year after Ranger (hopefully) reaches the Moon, a pair of Mariners will set sail for Mars.  Unlike last year's Mariner 2, Mariners 3 and 4 will carry cameras to provide our first close-up view of the Red Planet.  Let's just hope neither of these upcoming probes meet the same fate as Russia's Mars 1, which died last March.

At some point in the mid-60s, even bigger Mariners will fly to the planets, carried by the big liquid oxygen "Centaur" second-stage.  The first successful test fire took place on August 17 just down the way from my house — at General Dynamics/Astronautics San Diego

And finally, another 271 space candidates applied to NASA this year.  They have been screened to 30, and out of them, 10-15 will be selected in late October to comprise the third group of astronauts.  None of them are women yet, but perhaps there will be some in time for Group Four.


Pilots Jerrie Cobb and Jane Hart testify before the Subcommittee of the House Committee on Science and Astronautics, July 1962.  That's an Atlas Centaur model next to them.

Who knows?  Maybe you'll be one of them!

[Want to talk to the Journey crew and fellow fans in real-time?  Come join us at Portal 55! (Ed.)]

1 Comment Leave A Comment

55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction