Magazine

[June 16, 1963] Blues for a Red Planet (August 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The planet Mars and its inhabitants have long been favorite themes for science fiction writers, from The War of the Worlds to The Martian Chronicles.  Will the age of space travel put an end to our wildest fancies about that alluring world?

The Soviet spacecraft intended to study Mars have all failed.  NASA's Mariner program, so successful in studying Venus, is not scheduled to turn its attention to Mars until next year.  Because the red planet is still something of a mystery, authors are free to use their imagination for a while yet. They may create a world where humans can live, or depict Martian canals and the civilization that created them.

The third issue of Worlds of Tomorrow upholds this tradition, with the first section of a major new novel set on Mars.

All We Marsmen (Part 1 of 3), by Philip K. Dick

The latest work from the author of last year's critically acclaimed alternate history novel The Man in the High Castle (which got only a mixed review from our esteemed host) is set on a traditional version of Mars.  There are humanoid Martians (called Bleekmen), although they are a dying people.  There are canals, although they are in a poor state of repair.  Humans can survive on the planet, but only under harsh conditions.

By the end of this century, human colonies exist on Mars.  Founded by Earth countries, businesses, or labor unions, they are under the control of the United Nations.  Against this background, the reader is introduced to several characters.

Silvia Bohlen is a housewife and mother.  She takes barbiturates to sleep and amphetamines to wake up.  Her husband Jack is a repairman.  While flying out on an assignment to fix a refrigeration unit, he gets a call from the UN to aid a group of Bleekmen dying of thirst.  During this errand of mercy he meets Arnie Kott, head of an important union, whose own helicopter flight has been interrupted by the emergency.  Kott despises the Bleekmen, and argues with Jack about the need to help them.  Despite this disagreement, he comes to respect Jack's skill, and hires him for an important repair.  In a flashback sequence, we learn that Jack came to Mars after an episode of schizophrenia.

Norbert Steiner and his family live next to the Bohlens.  He works as a health food manufacturer, and secretly imports forbidden luxury foods from Earth.  His son Manfred is severely autistic, and lives at a special facility for children with mental or physical disabilities.  A shocking event involving Steiner leads to a crisis for his family and his neighbors.

There are many other characters I haven't mentioned and multiple subplots.  It's not yet clear what direction this novel is going.  There are hints that schizophrenics and autistics have precognitive abilities, and I believe this will be a major theme.

Some readers may be dismayed by the lack of a simple, linear plot.  Others will find the novel depressing, as so many of its characters are unhappy with their lives.  The picture it paints of a Mars inhabited by a large number of humans by the 1990's is likely to seem unrealistic.  However, the author appears to have created a complex, serious work of literature, worthy of careful reading.  Four stars.

A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber

In a distant solar system, two men are aboard a spaceship on a routine mission.  One of the men develops a bizarre psychosis.  He imagines that his partner, the narrator, is really two people.  When he's around, he calls him Joe, and thinks of him as a hero.  When he's gone, he speaks to the imaginary Joseph, and insults him.  The narrator puts up with this weird delusion, but when he goes outside the ship, the situation becomes dangerous.

This story combines psychological drama with a technological puzzle that could have appeared in the pages of Analog.  As you'd expect from this author, it's very well written.  The situation is interesting, if somewhat artificial.  Three stars.

To the Stars, by J. T. McIntosh

A manufacturer of starships is blackmailed, on the basis that his ships are more dangerous than others.  He disposes of this threat easily enough, with evidence that they cause no more deaths than any other ships.  What is kept secret, however, is the fact that his ships are vulnerable at a particular moment during their time of use.  When his daughter leaves on her honeymoon aboard one of his ships during this hazardous time, he takes measures to prevent a possible disaster.

I found the plot of this story contrived and inconsistent.  The female characters are more fully realized than usual for this author.  Unfortunately, the effect is ruined by an irrelevant paragraph explaining that women will never be equal to men in the business world, even two centuries from now.  The reasons given are "women never trusted women" and "women didn't really want equality."  Two stars.

The New Science of Space Speech, by Vincent H. Gaddis

This article discusses research into ways to communicate with extraterrestrials.  It covers a lot of ground, from radio telescopes to dolphins, and from artificial languages based on mathematics to unexplained radio echoes.  Some of this material is interesting, but the author covers too many subjects in a short space to do more than offer a taste of them.  Two stars.

A Jury of Its Peers, by Daniel Keyes

A professor of physics invents a small computer that has consciousness.  During a lecture he tells the students that the computer can think, forgetting that the state has passed a law against making such a claim in the classroom.  A trial follows, with the computer itself called as a witness.

This scenario is clearly based on the famous Scopes Trial of 1925, which tested the law against teaching human evolution in Tennessee schools.  Ironically, the law against teaching machine intelligence is in New Jersey, and the lawyer defending the professor is from Tennessee.

If this were merely an allegory for academic freedom, the story would be only moderately effective.  However, the author has more in mind.  The professor must face his own limitations, as well as those of the computer, when it gives its testimony.  Although not the masterpiece one might expect from the creator of Flowers for Algernon [If he had a nickel for every time a reviewer said this…(Ed.)], this is a fine story with depth of characterization.  Four stars.

The Impossible Star, by Brian W. Aldiss

Four astronauts explore the region of space beyond the Crab Nebula.  A problem with their spaceship strands them on a small, rocky planetoid near a star of such immense mass that not even light can escape from it.  (This may seem fantastic, but in recent years physicists have speculated that an object of sufficient size could produce a gravitation pull so strong that this could happen.) The men struggle with the bizarre effects of the black star.  The stress of their situation soon has them at each other's throats.  The concept is an interesting one.  Even in an issue full of downbeat stories, this is a particularly bleak tale.  Three stars.

Until the Mariner project takes away our dreams of glittering Martian cities, rising from ruby sands along emerald canals, let's keep reading about that fascinating world in the pages of our Earthling magazines.

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Magazine

[June 13, 1963] THUD (the July 1963 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Jack Sharkey’s serialized novella The Programmed People, which concludes in this July 1963 Amazing, describes a tight arc from mediocre to appalling and lands with a thud.  It opens with our hero Lloyd queuing up with everybody else in the Hive in front of the Proposition Screens in order to Vote before the Count.  Yes, it’s another stilted dystopia (a small isolated world run by a big computer, the Brain) in which all the horrors get capital letters.  Also, Voting is mandatory, and there isn’t enough time for everyone to Vote, and Lloyd can’t afford to miss the cut-off because he’s already missed two Votes this quarter out of an allowable Three, excuse me, three.  On the next page, Sharkey has apparently lost count; now he says Lloyd will have to be hospitalized for Readjustment if he misses this Vote.  Lloyd gets the young woman in front of him to let him jump the line, only to discover that she is the pariah they’ve been warned against who has refused to submit to Hospitalization.  He pities her and lends her his girlfriend’s Voteplate (don’t ask) so she can get out of the Temple unrecognized, and then hides her in his room.  She tells him that Hospitalization is a ruse for disposal of anyone who is sick or injured, in order to keep the population steady. 

There are a lot more busy plot mechanics not worth recounting; it’s reminiscent of a TV sitcom, and the characters act and talk like sitcom characters too.  Sharkey has clearly not thought through just what it would be like to live in a state of constant surveillance, fear, and enforced ignorance.  At the end of Part I Lloyd has gone to the Brain that controls everything and asked it “Why is the Hive?” Part II has the answer, in a flashback that starts with the 1972 presidential election and goes on for 19 pages, covering more than 50 years of political history, becoming more absurd as it goes on.  Then there’s another 15 pages of silly melodrama and thankfully we’re done.  One star is too much.

Onward, with trepidation, to the rest of the issue.  The cover story is Robert F. Young’s long novelet Redemption, in which space freighter pilot Drake, en route to Mars, is alone on his ship when there’s a knock on the door.  It’s a girl!  She’s wearing the uniform of the Army of the Church of the Emancipation, but even so, she is, as the author puts it, stacked.  Also, she’s named Annabelle Leigh, an allusion the author does nothing with.  She has stowed away and wants him to drop her off at the planet Iago Iago in time for the expected resurrection of a saint.  He declines and locks her in a storeroom, then his ship runs into a Lambda-Xi field (say what?), which destroys the part of the ship with her in it, and renders the rest of it, and him and his cargo, translucent.  When he gets to Mars, he makes inquiries and learns that Annabelle was a saint. 

He then sets off on a quest both to sell his damaged cargo and to trace her history, hoping to find evidence that she wasn’t so saintly all the time and thereby make himself feel less guilty about accidentally killing her.  He does, sort of, and also learns that this Lambda-Xi field was even more puissant than he realized, capable of generating any contrivance the author needs, including time travel, two varieties of it, the sum of which, overlaid with Young’s characteristic sentimentality, ends up like something A.E. van Vogt might have written for a Hallmark Cards promotion (or maybe vice versa).  There are also further strong hints that Young has a few screws loose on the subjects of women and sex—not surprisingly in light of such previous efforts as Santa Clause and Storm over Sodom in F&SF.  Maybe somebody else can find something to appreciate here, but it leaves me cold, and annoyed as usual with this all too prolific author.  The cover blurb says “A Story You Will Never Forget!” I hope it’s wrong.  One star.

After such Redemption, what redemption?  Some, at least.  Neal Barrett, Jr.’s shorter novelet The Game—his fifth appearance in the SF magazines—is a somewhat crude but grimly effective horror story of Earth colonists who encounter an incomprehensible alien entity that just wants to play a game, with devastating consequences for the humans.  It’s refreshingly straightforward after the metaphysically baroque Young story.  Four stars.

Now, the crumbs at the bottom of the box.  Ron Goulart’s The Yes Men of Venus is a parody of a certain famous pulpster, heavily disguised here as Arthur Wright Beemis, which seems both pitch-perfect and, therefore, almost superfluous.  But it’s short enough to be amusing.  Three stars for trivia well executed.

Arthur Porges’s The Formula is another contrived and arid gimmick story, involving a highly artificial psi experiment undertaken on a bet.  The story turns on appreciating some specialized information that is disclosed in passing about the surroundings.  It’s like a grossly expanded version of a filler item in a science magazine.  Two stars, generously.

Well, that was depressing.  The Barrett story is the sole bright spot in this mostly abysmal issue—and not bright enough by half to redeem (excuse the expression) the disaster of the two lead stories.

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Book

[June 10, 1963] Foma: Lies, Damned Lies, and Statistics (Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.'s Cat's Cradle)

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by Victoria Lucas

When a friend lent Kurt Vonnegut Jr.'s newest novel, Cat's Cradle to me, I thought, “Oh, I know this book!" because I saw, as I flipped through it, the "ice-nine" and "Bokonon" I'd heard people buzzing so much about.  So I was glad to read it and understand the phenomenon.

But that's where my joy ended.  Vonnegut is a fine writer.  His style is idiosyncratic, askew; this is a novel novel.  But no one would accuse him of being optimistic or hopeful about the human future.  No Pollyanna he.

So in this account of the immediate future of our species, not only is there "The Bomb" to worry about, but there is a complex web of events that involves a new Doomsday Machine (ice-nine) and a new prophet (Bokonon), as if we didn't have enough of both of those.

The narrator, John, was recently divorced by his second wife because, as an optimist, she found it impossible to live with him, an ostensible pessimist.  He has writer's block ("loafing") on a book about the day the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima (title: The Day the World Ended), and slowly he is drawn into the events of the story by actions he has taken to get to know members of the Hoenikker family, children of the "father" of the bomb.

It is hard to say what Vonnegut means by pessimism, because nearly every time something happens in the book, good or bad John seems surprised.  I thought pessimism meant expecting the worst in all situations.  On the other hand, he is surprised when one of the few good things in the book happens: the music Hoenikker's daughter plays is not just good but exquisite.  Just when he thinks he has the world figured out as a terrible place, there it is–beauty!  "I shrieked at Julian Castle, who was transfixed, too, 'My God–life!  Who can understand even one little minute of it?'" Obviously not John. 

And this turns out to be part of his religion, the belief system written by a black man named Boyd Johnson but called Bokonon in the dialect (of what language?) used on an island called San Lorenzo — an island on which events will shortly cause the whole world to end.  The author quotes The Fourteenth Book of Bokonon, with the title "What Can a Thoughtful Man Hope for Mankind on Earth, Given the Experience of the Past Million Years?"  The Fourteenth Book answers in one word: "Nothing."

In case I haven't already made it clear, this is a work of apocalyptic fiction.  In explaining how the doomsday tangle of vectors one might call a "cat's cradle" occurred and how attempts to untangle it failed, John uses a new vocabulary invented by Bokonon that has a certain ring to it.

For instance, Boku-maru is an act of intimacy and worship performed by two people placing the soles of their feet together.  The members of John's (or any) group who are fated to act together in something important are a "karass."  I particularly like "granfalloon," the word for an imaginary connection that (unlike the linkage of a karass) has no real significance (alumni of a school, for instance, or people from a particular state). 

"Foma" are "harmless untruths" to be distinguished from the "damned lies" of politicians and corporations which Mark Twain (or Benjamin Disraeli) placed in his famous phrase in my title.  As for the statistics, John mentions his two wives, 250,000 cigarettes, and 3,000 "quarts of booze" preceding the events of the book. 

About "foma," Vonnegut's epigraph reads, "Nothing in this book is true.  'Live by the foma that make you brave and kind and healthy and happy.'  The Books of Bokonon.  I: 5" Of course the existence of the "Books of Bokonon" is also fictional, but several of the quotations from it, when not black humor or bordering on it, seem almost optimistic.  This one, for instance, asserts that a person can believe in lies that make one happy.

This book of foma didn't make me particularly happy, but, dripping with irony, it was entertaining, and it has probably stirred up the college students all over the US as it has on my campus, so I'll give it a 4 out of 5.  I recommend it to anyone with a sense of humor who doesn't mind feeling slightly depressed about prospects for human peace and a long and healthy human future.

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[June 8, 1963] The Future in a Divided Land (An Overview of Science Fiction in East and West Germany) Part 1

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[The Journey is joined today by talented author and fan, Cora Buhlert, who expands our coverage of the world significantly…]


by Cora Buhlert

Living in Germany, you cannot help but feel cut off from the wider world of science fiction. Therefore, I always look forward to receiving the latest issue of Galactic Journey in my mailbox, because it allows me to keep up with the latest developments in the genre in the US, the UK and elsewhere.

As a big fan of the Journey, I was thrilled to be asked to give you an overview of the current state of science fiction in Germany. Everybody who regularly follows the news will of course know that since 1949, there are not one but two Germanys: the Federal Republic of Germany, commonly referred to as West Germany, and the so-called German Democratic Republic, better known as East Germany. In the past fourteen years, the border between the two Germanys has become increasingly insurmountable, culminating in the construction of the Berlin Wall two years ago.

I am fortunate enough to live in West Germany and therefore the main focus of this article will be on West German science fiction. However, I will also take a look at what is going on in East Germany.

In the US and UK, science fiction is very much a magazine genre, even if paperback novels are playing an increasingly bigger role. In West Germany, there are a couple of science fiction publishers, such as the Balowa and Pfriem, which specialise in hardcovers aimed at the library market, as well as the paperback science fiction lines of Heyne, Fischer and Goldmann. The three paperback publishers focus mainly on translations, whereas the library publishers offer a mix of translations and works by German authors. Though Goldmann has recently started publishing some German language authors such as the promising new Austrian voice Herbert W. Franke in its science fiction paperback line.

However, the main medium for science fiction and indeed any kind of genre fiction in West Germany is still the so-called "Heftroman:" digest-sized 64-page fiction magazines that are sold at newsstands, gas stations, grocery stories and wherever magazines are sold. Whereas American and British science fiction magazines usually include several stories as well as articles, letter pages, etc…, a "Heftroman" contains only a single novel, technically a novella. "Heftromane" are the direct descendants of the American dime novel and the British penny dreadful – indeed, they are also referred to as "Groschenroman", which is a literal translation of "dime novel".

There is a huge range of "Heftromane," covering various genres. The most popular are probably the western and romance, with subgenres such as aristocratic romance, alpine romance or doctor and nurse romance. Crime and mystery series are also popular, as are adventure and war stories. By comparison to these flames, science fiction is still a small but growing flicker.

There were shortlived German language science fiction "Heftromane" published in the late 1940s in Germany, Austria and in Switzerland. However, the postwar era of (West) German "Heftroman" science fiction began exactly ten years ago in 1953, when Pabel, one of several publishers of "Heftromane", introduced its latest series Utopia – Jim Parkers Abenteuer im Weltraum. Though the first issue was anything but utopian, considering that it was set in a penal colony on the moon, where convicts are forced to shovel nuclear waste. The protagonist is Jim Parker, an American space ship commander in the employ of the Atomic Territorium. Together with his German pal Fritz Wernicke, Parker spends the next 43 issues bouncing around the solar system, while tangling with the villainous "Yellow Union". The Jim Parker stories were written by one Alf Tjörnsen whose identity remained mysterious for many years. Though Tjörnsen has recently been revealed as a pen name for author Richard Johannes Rudat.

Compared to American science fiction, the Jim Parker stories felt old-fashioned, a throwback to the 1920s and 1930s. The science was often laughably bad as well. And so, after 43 biweekly issues of Jim Parker's adventures in space, Utopia changed its name to Utopia Zukunftsroman and began alternating standalone novellas with the Jim Parker stories. Initially, those standalone stories were written by German authors, usually operating under house names, but from 1955 on, Utopia also published translations of American science fiction by authors such as John W. Campbell, Leigh Brackett and Murray Leinster, as well as Britishers like Eric Frank Russell. Due to the constraints of the "Heftroman" format with its 64 page limit, these translated works were heavily abridged. Nonetheless, to many German fans they served as the first introduction to the wider world of American science fiction.

The success of Utopia Zukunftsroman spawned several spin-offs. The first of these was Utopia Großband, a thicker 94-page "Heftroman" which debuted in 1954 and allowed for publishing translations of American science fiction novels, though once again many novels were mercilessly cut to fit the format. Utopia Sonderband, later Utopia Magazin, an anthology magazine in the style of the American science fiction magazines, followed in 1955. The final spin-off of the Utopia family was Utopia Kriminal, which debuted in 1956 and billed itself as a series focussed on futuristic crime novels, inspired by the success of the Edgar Wallace thrillers with their mixture of suspense, science fiction elements and outright horror. Utopia Kriminal published a lot of translated weird fiction by writers such as Frenchman Jean David and Americans Norvell W. Page and A. Merritt.

However, after its initial success Pabel's Utopia franchise has fallen on hard times of late. Utopia Kriminal and Utopia Magazin were cancelled in 1958 and 1959 respectively and Utopia Großband followed this year. Utopia Zukunftsroman is still hanging on for now, though the quality of the authors and stories translated has declined notably in recent years.

The reason for this is increased competition in the German science fiction market. Inspired by the success of Utopia, the "Heftroman" publisher Moewig launched its own science fiction series Terra Utopische Romane in 1957. The format was similar to Utopia Zukunftsroman, a mix of standalone science fiction novels by German authors and translations of American science fiction. However, the imitator quickly eclipsed the original, for Terra offered higher quality translations and quickly snapped up the A-list of American science fiction authors, leaving only second and third rate works for its competitor Utopia. Indeed, in some cases one novel in a series would be published under the Utopia banner, while the sequel appeared in Terra, to the frustrations of many readers. Like Utopia, Terra also spawned two spin-offs. Terra Sonderband, a thicker 96-page 'Heftroman" similar to Utopia Großband, premiered in 1958. And only last year, the reprint series Terra Extra debuted.

West German genre readers in general and science fiction readers in particular tend to be very americanophile. And so "Heftroman" publishers quickly noticed that translations of American science fiction tended to sell better than works by German authors. The fact that homegrown science fiction wasn't always up to the snuff, especially when compared to the best of American science fiction, did not help either. So magazines eventually stopped publishing original science fiction by German authors and focussed solely on translations. As a result, it became very difficult for budding German science fiction writers to persuade a publisher to take a chance on their work.

One of those budding German science fiction writers was Walter Ernsting, who first encountered science fiction while working as a translator for the allied forces after World War II and quickly fell in love with the genre. In 1955, Ernsting cofounded the Science Fiction Club Deutschland, Germany's biggest fan club. By the mid 1950s, Walter Ernsting was working as an editor and translator for the Utopia line, but was unable to get his own novels published. So the enterprising Ernsting passed off his own writing as the work of a fictional British author named Clark Dalton and promptly had it accepted. Clark Dalton's stories were well received by the readers of the various Utopia titles and so Ernsting kept on writing and publishing as Clark Dalton, even after the secret of his identity was revealed. Nor was Walter Ernsting the only German writer who circumvented publisher prejudice by writing under a British or American sounding pen name. Instead, westerns, science fiction and crime 'Heftromane" are full of German writers pretending to be Americans with varying success. 

In 1958, Ernsting left Pabel for competitor Moewig to work on the Terra line of 'Heftromane". Terra was more open to publishing German authors than Utopia and one of their stars was K.H. Scheer, a prolific young author who had gotten his start writing for the library hardcover lines of Balowa and Pfriem.

Together, Ernsting and Scheer came up with the idea to create an ongoing science fiction series focussed on the adventures of a central character. Now "Heftroman" series following the exploits of a single character are popular in the crime genre – the best know example is probably G-Man Jerry Cotton, which chronicles the adventures of a fictional FBI agent in New York City – but were largely unknown in science fiction following the demise of the rather bland Jim Parker. Nonetheless, Ernsting and Scheer persuaded Moewig to take a chance on their idea and retreated to Ernsting's home in the idyllic Bavarian village of Irschenberg to hammer out the details and come up with a rough plot outline for the first ten issues.

The result, entitled Perry Rhodan – der Erbe des Universums (Perry Rhodan – Heir to the Universe), debuted on September 8, 1961 and has quickly become a sensation in the twenty months since, turning into West Germany's most successful "Heftroman" series with a monthly print run of approximately one million. Unlike the old-fashioned and rather dull Jim Parker stories, Perry Rhodan literally starts with a bang and only keeps getting better. Initially planned to last between thirty and fifty issues, Perry Rhodan is now closing in on issue 100. If the authors manage to keep up the quality, I can see this series lasting a very long time indeed.

And that's it for today. Next time, I'll give you an overview of the Perry Rhodan series and the competitors spawned by its enormous success. I hope you have enjoyed!

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TV

[June 6, 1963] Bringing it home (The Twilight Zone, Season 4, Episodes 17-19)

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by Natalie Devitt

I finally finished the fourth season of The Twilight Zone. For the most part, I enjoyed the most recent episodes. The entire season has been all over the place, which unfortunately meant that I really did not know what to expect this time around. The final three episodes of the season retained this record, which meant they were not without their disappointments, but also not without selling points. This is my breakdown of the final three episodes of the season.

On Thursday We Leave for Home, by Rod Serling

The month of May got off to a great start with what is probably the most well-made episode of the month, On Thursday We Leave for Home. James Whitmore stars as Captain Benteen, the leader of a colony in space. It is the year 1991. Captain Benteen’s people fled Earth three decades ago in hopes of starting a better life in space, on a more peaceful planet. What they found was a planet with a harsh climate, where they spend their days just struggling to live to see another day.

The group contacts Earth with the intention of returning to the planet, which some members of colony hardly remember and others have never seen before. As they wait to return to their planet of origin, the people in the colony begin asking questions about Earth. At first, they listen carefully as Benteen tells them about the planet. After a while, they begin to romanticize Earth, so much so that it begins to affect the captain’s ability to control his people.

The script paints a pretty bleak picture of the future, even though I am sure that some people will argue that the episode comments accurately on the world today. Certainly one could see Captain Benteen as a man with too much power, or perhaps this is on its most basic level a tale about a man refusing to adapt to the rapid changes taking place around him. This kind of deep and allegorical story is what audiences used to expect regularly from the series.

Having said that, I must mention that I have only one small complaint about the episode, regarding the sets. I know I am probably just looking for something wrong in an otherwise very strong episode, but is there an episode that takes place in space that does not reuse something from Forbidden Planet? It took only seconds for me to recognize a spaceship from the film.

Of course, if I only have one complaint, then this must be a solid entry in the series. This one easily earns four stars.

Passage on the Lady Anne, by Charles Beaumont

Passage on the Lady Anne is the story of the Ransomes, a young couple played by Lee Philips and Joyce Van Patten, who after years of marriage, can barely keep their relationship going. In their final attempt to save what is left of their marriage, they decide to take a cruise. They visit a travel agent, who reluctantly books them a trip aboard an aging ship. Upon boarding, the young couple notices that all of passengers aboard the ship are senior citizens, and while friendly, are constantly trying to discourage them from staying on the ship. At first, the Ransomes shrug it off, but after a while, they begin to grow suspicious.

While many might argue that this episode is not quite on the same level as On Thusday We Leave for Home, it still has plenty of charm. It does not hurt that I am kind of partial to the episodes written by Charles Beaumont. As a warning to those who prefer their entertainment faster-paced, this is definitely one of the slower and more atmospheric stories on The Twilight Zone. There is also plenty of fog, which helps to create a very haunting atmosphere.

Most people will probably figure out where things are headed long before the conclusion, though it is never really completely spelled out for the audience, which just adds to the aura of mystery. All in all, it is a fun journey with some recognizable actors playing the elderly characters. I rate it at three and a half stars.

The Bard, by Rod Serling

The Bard is the story of a struggling screenwriter named Julius. While in a bookstore one day, Julius, played by Jack Weston, finds a book on black magic and takes it home. He decides to try out some of the book’s spells, one of which helps Julius to conjure up the spirit of none other than William Shakespeare, played by John Williams, who he uses to help catch his big break as a screenwriter.

After the last two solid episodes, I knew things were going a little too well. Then I watched The Bard. The episode was yet another failed attempt at comedy for The Twilight Zone. As much as I like stories about black magic, I found very few redeeming qualities in The Bard. First, the episode is jam-packed with cheesy one liners like, "I’m conjuring, baby." Second, the constant reliance on sound effects to remind the audience to laugh wore very thin over the course of the episode. Third, the ending made a silly episode even sillier. The one thing the episode had going for it is Gunsmoke actor Bert Reynolds doing a pretty good Marlon Brando impersonation, but even that was not enough to save this trainwreck of an episode.

This story barely earns one and a half stars.

On Thursday We Leave for Home was a return to form for the series, then Passage on the Lady Anne kept things going strong. Sadly, The Bard single-handedly destroyed this month’s winning streak. I can only hope that such a disappointing episode will not cause the curtain to finally come down on the anthology series. I really would like to see the show end on a high note. I guess we will just have to wait and see if the show gets picked up for another season.



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Magazine

[June 4, 1963] Booked passage (July 1963 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

How quickly the futuristic becomes commonplace.  Just two years ago, I marveled about how fast one can cross the oceans by jet.  Now, on the eve of another trip to Japan (we really have joined the Jet Set, haven't we?) I look at the flight itinerary and grumble.  Why must we stop in Hawaii?  That adds several hours to the trip — it'll take more than half a day to get from LAX to Haneda.

Spoiled rotten, I tell you.

Speaking of travel stories, a fresh crop of science fiction digests has hit my mailbox.  Many of them will be joining me on my trip to the Orient, but I finished one of them, the July 1963 IF, pre-flight.  All of them feature some element of star-hopping, and so this issue sets a fine mood as we embark on our latest journey:

That Notebook Again, by Theodore Sturgeon

I find it interesting that editor Fred Pohl has gotten Ted Sturgeon to write his editorials for him.  I'm not complaining — it's always nice to see Sturgeon in print in any capacity.  This time around, he treats us to a number of technological proposals, a wishlist of inventions that should be right around the corner, given a little interest and effort.  I found his idea for a home TV-tape camera and player particularly titilating (and not farfetched — my nephew already audio-tapes television shows onto reel-to-reel).

The Reefs of Space (Part 1 of 3), by Jack Williamson and Frederik Pohl

A good third of the issue is given to a new serial (illustrated on the cover — EMSH is big in this issue, though I also like the work of Nodel, who is new to me).  Hundreds of years from now, Earth's population is highly regimented, its economy utterly socialized, under the authority of The Machine and its master Plan.  Dissent is punished by incarceration and the forced wearing of an explosive ring around one's neck.  Further disobedience results in one's "salvage" (dissasembly into component body parts for the use of others). 

Steve Ryeland is an experimental physicist, a touchy job to have when scientific advancement poses both boon and risk for the Plan.  At Reef's beginning, he has been a prisoner for three years, unaware of his crime, but consistently questioned about "spacelings," "fusorians," "reefs of space," and "jetless drive" — terms about which he knows nothing.  Adding to his confusion is a three-day gap in his memory.

And then comes the urgent summons — the Machine will have Ryeland discover the secret of the reactionless drive, and soon, or be sent to the Body Banks.  For at the edge of the solar system lies a biological construct, the tremendous analog of a coral reef created by organisms that live on interstellar hydrogen.  Not only does this alien structure pose a hypothetical threat to the Plan, but it affords sanctuary to a more existential opponent — the revolutionary-in-exile, Donderevo.  Can Ryeland accomplish his mission in time to save his hide and human society?  Is such a goal even worth fighting for?

It's an interesting concept for a novel, but the execution leaves a bit to be desired.  It suffers from the same plodding repetitiveness as Simak's concurrent serial in Galaxy, but betrays none of Simak's literary expertise.  The writing is simple, uninspired, and the scientific concepts (including Hoyle's steady-state theory, which I find uncompelling) feel dated.  Two stars, but with cautious hopes for the next installment.

The Faces Outside, by Bruce McAllister

Here is a short tale of a married couple, the last of humanity, mutated to live in a large alien aquarium with a host of other terrestrial life forms.  The Terrans have the last laugh when the male of the pair develops psychic powers and compels the aliens to commit mass suicide.

McAllister is the first and weaker of the two new authors featured in this issue.  His writing shows potential, though.  Two stars, trying hard for three.

Mightiest Qorn, by Keith Laumer

Another IF, another Retief story.  This time, the omnipotent but much-suffering Terran agent is tapped to investigate the sudden reappearance of the fearsome Qorn, a race of dreadnought-wielding, glory-seeking warriors who appear to have the power of teleportation.

Unfortunately, the Retief shtick is starting to wear thin (arguably, it raveled a while ago), and it's really time Laumer focused his attention to the more worthy efforts we know he's capable of.  The bright spot is that Retief's nominal boss, Magnan, is now pretty game to do whatever his "underling" says.  Some might call that progress.  Two stars.

In the Arena, by Brian W. Aldiss

Given up?  Take heart — it's all better from here.  Prominent British writer, Aldiss, gives us another man-and-woman pair in the thrall of aliens.  In this case, it is two gladiators performing for a race of insectoids who have conquered the Earth (but not all of humanity).  Call it Spartacus for the 30th Century.  It's a nicely written trifle.  Three stars.

Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin

14-year old Mia Havero is part of a society of human space-dwellers, resident of one of the eight galaxy-trotting Ships that represent the remains of Earth's high technology.  She and 29 other young teens are dropped on a primitive colony as part of a rite of passage.  There is always an element of danger to this month-long ordeal, but this episode has a new wrinkle: the planet's people are fully aware (and resentful) of the Ships, and they plan to fight back.  Can Mia survive her coming of age and stop an insurrection?

Panshin hits it right out of the park with his first story, capturing the voice of a young almost-woman and laying out a rich world and an exciting adventure.  Finally, I've got something I can recommend to the Young Traveler.  Four stars, verging on five.

The Shadow of Wings, by Robert Silverberg

The last story introduces Caldwell, an expert in the dead language of Kethlani.  He is called back from a family vacation when a real live Kethlan shows up, bearing the banner of peace.  Can the linguist overcome his revulsion of the alien's form and forge a partnership between the two species?

This piece could have been a throwaway save for Silvergerg's careful drawing of the Caldwell's personality.  I found myself wishing the story had been longer — certainly, it could have taken some of the pages away from the stale stories of the first half.  Four stars.

Like my impending vacation, this month's issue starts with a hard slog but ends with great reward.  I'd say that's the right order of things.  See you in Tokyo!

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Movies

[June 2, 1963] Too close to home (The movie, The Mind Benders)

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by Gideon Marcus

[Today's article is a true treat — a full three Journeyers caught the latest science fiction flick, an import from Britain.  We hope you enjoy this, our first review en trio…]

Think "science fiction" movie, and you might conjure up a rubber-suited monster or a giant insect or perhaps a firework-spouting bullet of a spaceship.  Once in a great while, we get a Forbidden Planet or The Time Machine — high quality films but no less fantastic in subject matter. 

Now picture a "horror" film.  Perhaps it involves the supernatural or monstrous terror.  Maybe it's one of Hitchcock's genre-creating numbers like Psycho or The Birds.  Often, the lines between SF and horror are quite blurry as in films like Wasp Woman and The Day Mars Invaded Earth.  After all, the unknown can be quite terrifying, and what is SF but an exploration of the unknown?

The Mind Benders is a new British film that straddles the line between science fiction and horror and yet bears no resemblance to any of the examples described above.  It is, in fact, a movie set in the now and portraying modern (if cutting edge) science.  And the horror depicted is all the more jarring for its common nature. 

Two nascent sciences are the basis for this movie.  One is that of brainwashing, the technique of forcibly altering someone's beliefs, generally through some kind of torture, privation, or other constant pressure.  This is the sort of thing covert agencies are good at, but you can also see it on a national level, through effective use of propaganda and fear.  The other science is sensory deprivation.  Several experiments have been done into the effects of having all of one's senses dulled.  A subject is suspended in warm water, in the dark, unable to smell, taste, or hear anything.  The results include disorientation, agitation, and hallucination. 

The film starts with aged sensory deprivation scientist Sharpey, paranoid and in a daze, taking his own life by throwing himself off a moving train.  In his satchel are thousands in pound notes.  Army Intelligence Major Hall is called in to investigate, and he quickly determines that Sharpey had recently sold secrets to the Communists.  Ready to brand the scientist a traitor and close the case, he is persuaded by Sharpey's colleague, Longman, that Sharpey was a patriot, and that any lapse in loyalty must have been a result of a recent sensory deprivation experience. 

Longman is introduced as a loving husband and a doting father, humorous and cynical, and possessed of a tremendous fear of sensory deprivation after several terrifying experiments.  Nevertheless, he offers himself up for a final test, a full eight hours in the deprivation tank, to show that it does something to a person.  Having shown that, Longman can prove that Sharpey was not responsible for his treasonous activities. 

Hall agrees, and with the assistance of a third colleague, Tate, who has not been a subject, conducts the experiment on Longman.  Floating alone and in the dark, the scientist suffers countless subjective hours of anguish (though only a third of a day passes outside), and at its end, he is reduced to a blank, malleable state.  Hall recognizes this condition — a broken man in this state is easily brainwashed.  But this is not enough.  They must compel Longman to engage in activity completely counter to his nature, to shake him of his strongest-held belief.  So, they pull Longman from the tank, dazed and vulnerable.

And with a just a few choice words, they cause him to hate his wife, Oonagh. 

Yet, due to the circumstances under which they effect their plot, it is unclear that they have succeeded.  Longman is released, the experiment seemingly a failure.  So ensues six months with Oonagh, increasingly pregnant, incessantly nagged and belittled until she is a shell of herself.  Longman is also a changed man, bitter and resentful, completely unaware of what has been done to him.  That Oonagh endures for so long is British "stiff-upper-lipism" carried to its absurd limits.  That this state of affairs goes unnoticed for half a year is because Tate, himself in love with Oonagh, cannot bring himself to check up on the ruined couple.

Blessedly, once Hall does find out, he is (with no little difficulty) able to reverse the process.  The marriage is repaired and Sharpey's name is cleared.  But, by God, at what price?

As a movie, Benders is a success, cinematographically compelling and with superb acting.  What makes this horror so effective is its utter plausibility, and as a family man, myself, the situation struck me at my core and left me shaken. 

It's not a perfect film.  I imagine 15 minutes could have been cut with no great loss.  And the overlong period of estrangement runs a bit beyond the lengths of credulity, and yet… is it not all too common for women to suffer indefinitely with men they once loved in the hopes that things might, one day, return to how they were?

I couldn't watch The Mind Benders again, and I can't recommend it to those who will find the subject matter unbearable, but I must recognize the skill with which the movie was crafted.  Four stars.


by Lorelei Marcus

I didn't have very high hopes going into The Mind Benders, thinking it was going to be another campy science fiction movie using a shaky camera for special effects. Instead, I got a rather dark film about the capacity of the human mind and its reaction to prolonged isolation. The concept was very fascinating, and the story even more haunting from being based on real experiments. The acting was excellent, even too real at times.

However, it was not all good. The movie was much too long, and I believe it could benefit a lot from having a few of the “man bicycles around the city” scenes taken out. Even with the interesting premise, it also lulled at times, and I found myself wondering when the movie was going to end. Even so, I would give this movie three stars out of five. It wasn't anything super special, but it wasn't bad either.

This is the Young Traveler signing off.


by Natalie Devitt

The tagline for The Mind Benders described the film as being “perverted… soulless! The most dangerous and different motion picture ever brought to the screen!” So, naturally that piqued my curiosity. What I ended up with was a pretty ambitious story about brainwashing.

Luckily, I’m a sucker for a story about brainwashing.

Overall, the film was well-shot with believable acting. The movie did run out of steam a little towards the end, and I’m not totally sure that I bought the ending, but it was an otherwise effective sci-fi/thriller. The film’s somewhat disturbing plot and dream-like qualities kept it on my mind long after it ended. Three and a half stars.

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[May 30, 1963] Held back? (June 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Graduation day is rapidly approaching.  Around the world, high school seniors are about to don cap and gown and emerge from their academic cocoons.  They will be transformed creatures, highly improved in comparison to their state upon entering school.  They'll go on to be the next Picasso, Wright, Salk, or Meitner.  Such are our hopes, anyway.

Science fiction is in the midst of a similar transition.  Gestated in the womb of Mary Shelley's mind, SF was born in the late 19th Century, Mssrs. Verne and Wells serving as midwives.  In the 20s, it entered grammar school under the tutelage of Hugo Gernsback, editor of Amazing Stories.  At the time, SF was an undistinguished pupil, little different from its fellows at Pulp Elementary.  But in 1937, SF entered Astounding Middle School, which had a most extraordinary principal, John W. Campbell, aided by a student council led by Heinlein, Asimov, and Leinster.  It was a Boys' School, of course, though a few females snuck or fought their way in.  This was the period in which SF began to shine, displaying a characteristic intelligence, innovation, and devotion to scientific principles.

The genre entered Galaxy High School in 1950 after taking a few preparatory classes at F&SF School for the Gifted.  Galaxy High was (and to a limited degree still is) a co-ed school, and it was here that SF fully flowered, displaying hitherto unseen nuance, breadth, and passion.  Its vista spread beyond the solar system to the stars.  Having mastered the subjects of math, physics, and engineering in Middle School, it now turned to the subtler arts: psychology and sociology.  It achieved high marks in English such that some of its compositions were included in literary anthologies alongside the works of other, older genres.

After 12 years of High School, SF is approaching its own time of graduation.  Where will it head from here?  There is some indication that the genre will head to New Wave University, possibly at its British campus, where it can major in philosophy and advanced writing techniques.  Or it may elect to go to the twin Goldsmith Universities.  The opportunities there include exciting placement in the worlds of both science and fantasy.  Plus, that's where the women are…


(Accurate depiction of the SF genre — note the demographic ratio)

But there are also signs that SF may not be ready to graduate at all.  Its output isn't what it used to be, and in many cases, it seems to be just going through the motions.  Lately, the genre has been visiting its old stomping grounds, Astounding Elementary (recently renamed to Analog School for the Psychically Inclined).  Each time, the result is a regression in the quality of its work.

Just take a look at SF's latest exam results, the June 1963 Analog.  Outwardly, it reflects the work of a mature student.  After all, it's a full 8.5" by 11" in dimensions and printed on slick paper.  But note the content — if you were on a college (or army) recruiting board, would you take this as a sign of promise?

The Big Fuel Feud (Part 1 of 2), by Harry B. Porter

There is a war being waged inside the United States (or perhaps it is merely a spirited competition) between the factions that favor liquid-fueled rockets and those that like the solid-fueled kind.  In other words, does your propellant splash or crumble?  There are advantages and disadvantages to both methods, and they are of differing importance depending on whether your application is putting people in space or blowing up people in Russia.  The author lays out, comprehensively and legibly (if a bit disorganizedly, particularly at the end) the history and current state of the art in solid fuels.

I found it interesting, but then, it's also my pigeon.  Three stars. 

The Trouble with Telstar, by John Berryman

Some science fiction takes place in the far future against an as yet dimly conceivable tableau of advanced technologies and galactic locales.  Other SF is taken right out of tomorrow's headlines.  This is, perhaps, the easier to write.  On the other hand, it is also the most readily accessible.

Berryman, who normally writes competent psi-related stuff for Analog, turns in this competent (if annoyingly male-chauvinist) straight engineering piece on in situ satellite repair.  In it, the nationalized space telcom has discovered a fatal flaw in its new Telstar line of communications satellites.  Unfortunately, six of the constellation of eighteen have already been launched, and the problem cannot be duplicated precisely on the ground.  A technician advances the idea of diagnosing and repairing the issue in space, arguing that it's cheaper and quicker than starting all over on the ground.  Not only is the proposal accepted, but (to his dismay) the technician is drafted for the job.

Trouble is set in or around 1966 and features the real-world Saturn rocket and Air Force "Dyna-Soar" spaceplane.  The details of the repair trip are incredibly authentic, down to the manufacture of specialized tools for disassembly of the Telstars in orbit, and the depiction of the tech's several spacewalks.  I found myself utterly riveted by this snapshot of the near future, convinced of its reality.  Four stars.

Hermit, by J. T. McIntosh

A lone male officer at a remote military outpost has orders to destroy any incoming human vessel.  But when a lifeboat appears with one beautiful young woman aboard, he must decide between following his instructions or following his heart.

This is a setup that, when done well, can be quite compelling.  My favorite example is Hallunication Orbit, in which the solitary caretaker of a far-off observatory must determine whether his visitors are real or not.  Interestingly, that fine example was written more than a decade ago by none other than…J.T. McIntosh!

Hermit compares poorly with McIntosh's earlier tale.  Not only is it clear from the beginning that the "castaway" is a spy, but the sentry's actions are illogical, treasonous, and only explained by exposition in the last few paragraphs.  Two stars, and an admonition — don't plagiarize, especially from your own work!

Territory, by Poul Anderson

The trouble with do-gooding is that it's a contract with no consideration.  If the people you're helping don't understand your motivations, they don't appreciate the help.  At least, that's Anderson's assertion in Territory, in which human scientists were trying to avert an impending Ice Age are slaughtered by the aliens they were trying to help.

The project is salvaged by Nicholas van Rijn, a recurring Anderson character whose key traits include girth, malaprops, obnoxiousness, and the pursuit of profit.  He determines that the aliens won't take assistance, but they will jump into a mutually lucrative trade deal that accomplishes the same goal.  Win-win-win.

Well, wins for the characters — not for the reader.  Van Rijn is barely tolerable at his best, and when Anderson has the sole surviving scientist, a young woman, fall for the lout, it took great restraint to not throw the issue into a nearby toilet.  Two stars.

Ham Sandwich, by James H. Schmitz

Last up is an inconsequential story that is nowhere more at home than in the pages of Analog.  An oily character, specializing in the desires of the rich, offers True Insight to those who can afford it.  Such Insight is marked by the cultivation and demonstration of psychic powers, which can be greatly aided through the purchase of certain tools, available for just $1200 a-piece.

One reads the story waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it does, it is with a dull thud.  The flim-flammer is brought in on bunko charges — turns out he really is con artist.  But he's then let free to continue his scheme in another city because, it turns out, he is effective at discovering latent psychic talents, who can then be recruited by the government.

It's just not very good.  Two stars.

Pencils down everyone.  It's time to grade the last test results before graduation day.  Oh my…  This month's Analog scored a dismal 2.6 stars.  That's as bad as June's Galaxy (our High School is failing our pupil, too, it seems).  But let's not judge out of hand, shall we?  Amazing clocked in at 2.8, New Worlds at 2.9.  Mediocre, but not entirely damning.  Fantastic scored 3.2 stars, and F&SF garnered an impressive 3.5 star grade.

In the end, I wouldn't say this is a set of failing marks.  Rather, they indicate that the genre has spent more than enough time in school and must strike out on its own to new vistas to reach the next level.  Let us allow SF to graduate

We might also consider replacing the Principal at Analog — his methods are highly outdated, and we don't want to unduly burden any new pupils, now do we?

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Magazine

[May 27, 1963] A Clang of Doom?  (New Worlds, June 1963)

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by Mark Yon

One sad piece of news to start with this month. I have just found out that Science Fiction Adventures has published its last, with the May 1963 issue. I understand that sales were not what they used to be in its heyday. It is hoped that this may be a temporary measure, but previous history suggests to me that, sadly, this may be the end. [The latest Science Fiction Times seems to indicate that the cancellation is permanent (ed.)]

If this is part of a general trend, then it may explain some of the recent changes with New Worlds, including this month’s cover:

Well, at least this month’s cover doesn’t have the egregious spelling error last month’s issue had. We also have one large photo on the cover, which is an improvement on those of recent months without one.

However, it does raise issues – are things that bad that New Worlds needs the lure of a movie on its cover to raise sales? I think Editor John Carnell has tried to improve sales this month by putting a movie review head and shoulders above the fiction. (This also happened with the July 1962 issue as well, when the cover showed television programme Out of This World.)

More worryingly, with Mr. Carnell being distracted by such events away from New Worlds has he lost his focus on the magazine? I have, in recent months, raised worries about some of the recent changes, which now make sense. The use of Guest Editors over the last year may have given Mr Carnell space and time to sort things out, but I am still concerned that whilst this issue is full of experienced writers and magazine regulars, it the magazine is becoming less about the fiction and more about what is going on outside its pages. 

Beer In The Wine Bottle, by Mr. John Ashcroft

This month’s guest editor is another unusual choice. Like Mr. Michael Moorcock, back in March, he is better known for his fiction outside of New Worlds. As the magazine profile suggests, Mr. John Ashcroft has had stories published in sister magazines Science Fantasy and Science Fiction Adventures, but is relatively unknown here.

That’s a pretty big claim at the end of the profile, but the Editorial made a point that many s-f readers will appreciate: "Contemporary science fiction is generally more competently written; but it is more complacent." Mr. Ashcroft advocates that that old "sense-of-wonder" is important and that current writers need to raise their game. 

From The-Old-Man-In-The-Mountain, by Mr. Joseph Green

I must admit I was not looking forward to Mr. Joseph Green’s novelette this month. As the third story of an unimpressive series (so far), albeit in a longer form, I was prepared to be underwhelmed. However, it is a pleasant enough tale of the increasingly mutual interaction between colonising humans and the hirsute aliens named Loafers, even if the Loafers remind me of Mr. H. Beam Piper’s Little Fuzzies, with added telepathy. In this tale it all turns a bit Midwich Cuckoo with a young Loafer abducted by an embittered human outsider, but, with teamwork from the humans and the aliens, unsurprisingly ends with all being well. A better effort than Mr. Green’s others in the series, if still rather unmemorable. Evidently the last in the series is in next month’s issue. 3 out of 5.

To the other stories.

End-Game by Mr. J. G. Ballard

By contrast, and like Mr. Brian Aldiss last month, this is a welcome return to New Worlds of an author who had moved on to a wider literary field. This is even better than Mr. Ballard’s last tale of consumer stress (The Subliminal Man, January 1963). End-Game is another typically Ballardian tale of isolation and emotional anguish, featuring an imprisoned man to be executed but at a time unknown to him. It becomes a psychological battle of wills between the condemned and his executioner, masked by a series of chess games that imply a fight between a police state and the individual. As with the best of Ballard, it is complex and intelligent, making me believe something that could happen behind the Iron Curtain. It even self-knowingly references Kafka! Not surprisingly, the best story in the issue. 4 out of 5.

Occupation Force, by Mr. David Rome

From another returning regular, Mr. Rome’s tale is quite different to his last (Meaning, December 1962).  Occupation Force is a war story, telling of the uneasy relationship between a nuclear-weapon-wielding occupying army and the seemingly innocent oppressed "natives." In these times of campaigns for nuclear disarmament, it is a thought-experiment of a possibility that could also be relevant in 1963. Sadly, it is also short, predictable and, even with the attempt to shock through a downbeat ending, surprisingly forgettable. A lesser effort. 2 out of 5.

Dipso Facto, by Mr. Robert Presslie

Mr. Presslie’s return to New Worlds is also a disappointing effort. Even if I ignored the "poor, dumb natives" angle, this attempt to be humorous in a story of competitive eating and drinking is a long, long way away from the intelligence of similar stories, such as Mr. Poul Anderson’s Nicholas van Rijn tales.  It fails pretty quickly. Also 2 out of 5.

Window On The Moon, by Mr. E. C. Tubb

And so to the last of this serial. Last month’s part ended with a couple of shocks – an explosion that destroyed the Royal Commission sent to the British Base, and the Americans who visited the Brits also mysteriously killed on their journey back to their base. This issue deals with the aftermath and gives us a cause for the strange happenings. I’m pleased to say that the US and British bases did not declare war on each other, and it is left to our hero, Felix Larsen, to resolve things. I did predict the villain of the piece a couple of issues ago, but this didn’t stop me enjoying this last part of "Brits in Space." Window on the Moon is a tale told with energy and enthusiasm, even though I felt that it didn’t know how to draw it all together at the end convincingly.  Not quite as good at the end as in the earlier parts. It made me wonder what someone like Mr. Arthur C. Clarke would do with it. 3 out of 5.

Film Review: The Day of the Triffids, by Mr John Carnell,

The last part of the magazine is given over to stills and a commentary of this film I looked forward to seeing, back in July 1962, so it is odd to just now get to read a review. The good news is that, I understand, it has recently been released in the USA, so you will be able to see it yourselves. Fellow Traveller Ashley described it in detail back in July. Like her, I was a little disappointed at the differences between the film and Mr. John Wyndham’s fantastic novel, but here Mr. Carnell is more glowing in its fulsome praise, despite the concerns over its delay and production issues. According to the editor, even the author, Mr. John Wyndham, was rather impressed, despite the changes.

In summary, the June issue is, thankfully, another generally solid issue, but with the odd misstep. Not quite as strong as last month’s, but worthy of a read. Despite my concerns mentioned earlier over Mr. Carnell’s editorship, it must be said that the last couple of months have produced issues that have been both memorable and thought-provoking. For all of its faults, there is nothing else quite like New Worlds. I am rather feeling that I must make the most of magazines such as this, whilst I can. I fear that the writing might be on the wall…




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Magazine

[May 24, 1963] Past Tense (June 1963 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

What's past is prologue.
—The Tempest by William Shakespeare

The past is never dead.  It's not even past.
—Requiem for a Nun by William Faulkner

People, things, and events of the past were in the news in recent weeks, as if to demonstrate the truth of these two famous quotations.

Sir Winston Churchill, who has been an important figure in world affairs since the beginning of this century, announced his retirement from politics.  On a smaller scale, another politician of historical significance left the public stage, as Richard Nixon made plans to join the law firm of Mudge, Stern, Baldwin & Todd.  Whatever we may think of these two men, let us wish them well as they return to private lives.

Terrible memories of the Second World War returned to many this month.  The Soviet Union, after nearly two decades of denial, confirmed that it had recovered and identified the burned remains of Adolf Hitler at the end of the war.  This should put an end to the rumors of his survival in South America.

Happier times came to mind as Telstar II went into Earth orbit.  It will continue the duties of its older sibling, which is no longer functioning.  It remains to be seen if this second satellite in the Telstar series will inspire another hit song like the first one did.

Speaking of hit songs, the most recent tunes to reach Number One in the USA also brought back memories of the past.  Early in the month, Little Peggy March reached the top of the charts with I Will Follow Him.  This passionate love song takes its melody from the instrumental composition Chariot by French musician Franck Pourcel.  Multilingual British singer Petula Clark already had hits on the Continent, but not in the UK or US, with versions of the same tune in English, French, Italian, and German.

Currently, the biggest hit song in the United States is If You Wanna Be Happy by Jimmy Soul.  This humorous warning against marrying a pretty woman is a remake of Ugly Woman by calypso singer Roaring Lion, from way back in 1934.

[My nephew, David, loves this song.  His new bride, Ada, does not seem very amused. (Ed.)]

Appropriately, many of the stories in the latest issue of Fantastic involve past and present coming together.

The Mirror of Cagliostro, by Robert Arthur

Les Brown Coye's striking cover painting, the first color work of his that I've seen, sets the mood for this eerie tale of black magic.  In London, more than fifty years ago, a man murders a woman, then takes his own life.  The scene changes to contemporary Paris, as a professor of history, researching the life of Count Alexander Cagliostro, makes a strange discovery in a catacomb.  He later obtains the enchanted mirror of that alleged sorcerer.  Things quickly worsen, as the evil Count continues his horrible crimes in the modern world.  This is an effective Gothic chiller, but typical of its kind.  Three stars.

Plumrose, by Ron Goulart

An author best known as a humorist offers a similar plot told in a much different style.  A time ray brings a modern man back to the Nineteenth Century.  It seems that an occult detective wants his help in solving the murders of several young women.  Despite this grim premise, the story is a lighthearted parody of the kind of thing that used to appear in Weird Tales.  It provides a reasonable amount of amusement.  Three stars.

On the Mountain, by Dave Mayo

A man hikes far out into the wilderness.  Lost during a blizzard and far from any other human being, he sees a strange red light that terrifies him.  The outcome is unexpected.  This is a brief story that adequately tells its simple tale.  Once again, it involves the past and the present.  Three stars.

The Penalty, by John J. Wooster

A native New Yorker who has never left the city gets in trouble with his boss and has to take a week off without pay.  He decides to visit what he thinks is the country, by riding the subway as far as he can go.  He winds up at an old mansion.  A young woman offers to solve his problems, if he will follow her instructions exactly.  She warns him that failure to do so will carry a severe penalty.  What follows reminds me of the classic story What You Need by Henry Kuttner and C. L. Moore, writing as Lewis Padgett.  (This story was later adapted for television twice, on Tales of Tomorrow and Twilight Zone.) Despite this link to a past work, the author creates an original tale with an unusual mood and a unique ending.  Four stars.

A Hoax in Time (Part 1 of 3), by Keith Laumer

The first part of the latest novel from this prolific author sets up the premise quickly.  A man inherits a mansion from his great-grandfather.  Unfortunately, it doesn't really belong to him until he pays an immense amount of overdue taxes on it.  He discovers that his deceased progenitor created a super-advanced computer, which receives all recorded information.  The computer has become conscious, and improved its capacity until it is virtually omniscient.  It – or I should say she, since the computer takes on a female personality – can recreate past events in full detail.  The man decides to use this ability to raise money, by allowing audiences to view historical events.  The computer creates a robot body for herself, in the form of a beautiful (and naked) young woman, so it can act as a hostess for these shows.  During a test, things go very badly.  Typical for the author, this is a fast-moving, humorous adventure with a touch of satire.  It's heavy with dialogue, and features plenty of ideas thrown in left and right.  So far, it's superficial entertainment of an enjoyable kind.  Three stars.

The Hall of CD, by David R. Bunch

This is a bizarre, surreal story that is difficult to describe.  The narrator goes through a series of rooms and witnesses various weird events, usually disturbing.  I suspect that many readers will hate it or love it.  I'll stay in the middle.  Three stars.

A Museum Piece, by Roger Zelazny

An unsuccessful artist disguises himself as a statue and goes to live in a museum.  He soon discovers another person hiding from the world in the same way.  Others appear, and complications ensue.  Once again, a new tale reminds me of a classic story.  This time it's Evening Primrose by John Collier, in which people secretly live in a department store.  The new story is more than just a rehash of the old one.  The author writes in an elegant, slightly affected way.  (Characters say things like "Alas" and "'Tis".) In a lesser talent, this could be annoying, but here it works very well.  There's an unexpected touch of science fiction at the end, which adds to the story's charm.  Four stars.

Overall, this was a worthy issue, with no bad stories and a couple of very good ones.  Let's hope this level of quality doesn't become a thing of the past.

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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction