[May 24, 1967] Heavyweight Champion (Avalon Hill's Blitzkrieg)


by Gideon Marcus

With Muhammad Ali stripped of his title as heavyweight champion, owing to his refusal to enlist in America's armed forces to fight for nameless hills in Vietnam, the boxing world remains, for the moment, without a titular head.

Not so for the wargaming world.  A year and a half ago, Avalon Hill released its biggest, most complex title to date, and it still remains the monster amongst its hex-and-counter brethren.  Blitzkrieg is a truly impressive beast: three mapboards instead of the usual two, 100+ pieces per side (compare to chess' 16 or Afrika Korp's ~50), 16 pages of rules.

Yes, it's sure a big'n–but is it fun?  Read on!

Red vs. Blue–2

Nine years ago, Charles Roberts kicked off the board wargaming hobby in a big way with his Tactics 2 (there had been a Tactics (1) released a few years before, but its impact was slight).  Tactics 2, like chess, featured two more-or-less identical opponents with no geographical ties to any real world nations.  They fought with abstractions of regular forces, all army units.  So primitive was this game that it used squares instead of the now-standard hexes (still, paradoxically called "squares") that were a revolution in simulating movement.

Tactics 2 was not a fun game. It was a boring, endless slog.

Blitzkrieg is Tactics 2 done right.

You've still got the two generic countries, in this case "Great Blue vs. Big Red", but now the map is a lot more interesting.  In between the two titans are seven "minor countries" that can be occupied for more production potential.  There are beaches to land on, deserts to cross, mountain ranges to hole up in, oceans to sail.

And the other armed services aren't just abstractions anymore.  The Navy still is, with transport represented simply by the number of troops which can be at sea at any time (and fleets can't shoot each other as they pass by), but now there are Marines (well, Rangers) that can land anywhere as opposed to their GI cousins who must make assaults on beaches only.  And there is a profusion of Air Force units: three types of bombers, from the short-ranged assault type to the long-ranged strategic variety, not to mention escorting fighters.  There are also airborne units that can fly from airfields and land great distances away–critical to taking farflung strongpoints behind the lines.

Even the Army is heterogenous, with units representing infantry, armor, and artillery (though functionally, they all work the same–the only difference is their movement and combat factors).

Cities are essential to the game: a player can only support 12 combat factors of units for every city controlled.  A player who loses cities may find his or her units evaporating without a shot being fired.

The game is won one of two ways: either one side completely destroys all of the other side's units, or (more achievable), one side occupies all of the other side's cities for a turn.  A third option says the game can end by negotiated surrender, just like real life.  In practice, this is the most common outcome.  There comes a point when the end is inevitable, even if it be far off.

Easy to learn, hard to master

Taken individually, none of the rules in Blitzkrieg is particularly challenging.  At the base of it all is the standard move, fight sequence of all other Avalon Hill games.  The Combat Results Table (CRT) is novel–instead of the standard "Defender/Attacker Eliminated", "Defender/Attacker Retreats", "Exchange" results, both sides have the chance to lose strength points.  This means that after every fight, a player is usually "making change", exchanging full strength units for depleted ones.  This is more realistic as individual battles rarely destroy entire units.

There are stacking limits (no more than 15 combat strength to a square), terrain modifications (units doubled on defense in towns and mountains), zones of control (units going next to others must stop and fight), replacement units and reinforcement units–all standard stuff.

The new rules aren't too onerous.  Invasions work kind of like in D-Day where assaulting units line up on the beach and fight their way ashore.  If there's no one defending the beach, they get to zoom inland. 

In addition to the aforementioned parachuters, a player can also move 12 units of Army from one city to another–including ones just taken from the enemy that turn.  This can be huge.

The Air Force adds a completely new dimension…literally!  Tactical bombers add their strength to an attack while strategic bombers bomb completely separately, interdict supply, or reduce towns to rubble.  Medium bombers can do either!  Fighters engage bombers or each other.

There are even weather, nuke, and sea-based aircraft rules!

Again, none of these are particularly difficult to apprehend.  But in order to win the game, all must be employed, and skillfully.  Neglect the air capabilities of an opponent in favor of the human wave tactics that won you Stalingrad or Waterloo, and you'll soon find troops behind your lines eating your supply.  Neglect the threat of naval invasion, either to your shores, or as a thrust to throw the enemy off balance, and you lose a powerful component of strategy.

So, that's the game, but I haven't answered the original question, have I? 

In Practice

At the beginning of the year, we set up the behemoth that is Blitzkrieg for a try.  Nominally a two-player game, we decided to make it a four-player game by having two people per side.  This makes a match both competitive and collaborative, which I find more fun than a straight head to head.  Plus, Janice is smarter than me, so she ensures we don't make dumb mistakes.

Against us were two Travelers, Lorelei and Elijah.  Would youthful vigor defeat aged wisdom?

Because of Great Red's proximity to more minor countries, and also because of somewhat better planning, Janice and I were able to take four of the seven minor countries with fewer losses and more quickly than our opponents.  This was not decisive, but it didn't help the kids.

Now, with both sides directly facing each other, with troops at sea threatening each other's shores, the question was where the first blows would land.

We quickly identified the largest concentration of Red troops that could be "bottled up".  If they could be taken out of the fight, Red would lose much of its offensive capabilities.  Accordingly, we landed in force on the middle south, around Curry Bend.  A titanic battle began that would take several turns to resolve and suck up more and more forces from both sides.

But what's this?  Elijah and Lorelei had paid more attention to the rules than we did.  They parachuted across the desert into one of our vacant cities in the northeast and promptly flew in another 12 points of units, which went on to occupy even more of our hinterland!  Our rear was open to the wind, our supply threatened.

Well, two could play at that game.  We took two of their cities in the northwest and set up hedgehog defenses in the home country.  While it was scary to lose several cities, the fact was, we had plenty of formerly neutral nations to supply our units.  We were never in any danger of losing troops to supply restrictions.

Great Blue, on the other hand, could not withstand the loss of dozens of combat factors in the south.  With their main offensive strength crushed on Turn 5, it was clear that their days as a fighting force were ended.  And so we adjourned to watch Star Trek.

After Action Report

I took three things away from this session of Blitzkrieg.  The first is what every good general has learned: to crush the enemy, you must destroy their armies in the field.  Taking cities is all very nice, but so long as one side is losing more troops each turn than the other, and the number of troops lost exceeds the four replacement units per turn, an inexorable imbalance grows until defeat is inevitable.

Secondly, we determined that Big Red has an inherent advantage over Great Blue.  Having a contiguous nation with greater access to more minor countries is an incontrovertible advantage.  Not insurmountable for Blue, but worth noting.

Thirdly, yes, this game is a lot of fun.  Highly recommended.  Just know that it'll take longer than most games!  Each team's turn took about half an hour to plan followed by half an hour to play out.  Thus, our five turn game (plus setup and learning), took about 12 hours played over several sessions.

But it was worth it!

Join the Fun!

If all this talk of playing general stirs something your bones (and hey, it's a lot more fun and less harmful than actual fighting), you are warmly invited to join our Galactic Journey Wargaming Society.  We have been facilitating several play-by-mail games so that even players remote from each other can enjoy a contest: over the summer, we had a smashing good time killing each other in a friendly game of Diplomacy.

And you get a spiffy newsletter!  What are you waiting for?





[May 22, 1967] Parable in SF's clothing (The Space Trilogy, by C.S. Lewis)


by Joe Reid

I'm a man who enjoys science fiction, having read his share of it.  I am also a student of religious thought, having again also read a good amount.  I did not start off reading the books of C.S. Lewis with the intent of seeking spiritual insights.  After all, I received none on reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe (1950) as a child.  Nor did I come to a better understanding of forgiveness in the pages of Prince Caspian (1951).  I learned nothing of redemption from The Voyage of the Dawn Treader (1952).  The Silver Chair (1953) did not strengthen my grasp on the doctrine of sanctification.  Although the concepts were present on the page, my young heart only cared about the adventures in the wonderful land of Narnia.  I loved all of the Chronicles of Narnia.  It wasn’t until I read them again as a man, through mature eyes, that I bore witness to what lay beneath.  On that second reading I was also no stranger to many of Lewis’ other works. 

Lewis was an absolutely brilliant Christian philosopher.  Some of his seminal works of religious thought include Mere Christianity (1952), The Problem of Pain (1940), and The Four Loves (1960).  He is better known for his other works of fiction, which include The Screwtape Letters (1942), The Great Divorce (1945), and Till We Have Faces (1956).  All of these beautifully penned volumes are rich treasures of wisdom, and I found them edifying to no end.

Clive Staples Lewis passed away a few short years ago in 1963.  His death spurred me to revisit his works.  It was then that I came across books of his that I was not at all familiar with: Three books of what appear to be science fiction from the hand of a writer that I grew to love and admire.  The first of these works was released back in 1938. Suffice it to say, I was very enthusiastic to read the stories that have come to be known as the Space Trilogy.

As a man who enjoys science fiction, and who wrote such a glowing preface regarding my love for the works of C.S. Lewis, one would imagine that I also loved The Space Trilogy.  The short answer is yes, I enjoyed reading these books.  That said, I do not consider these books to be works of science fiction.  Some discussion is required to figure out what they actually are, if not science fiction. 

The first of the three novels, Out of the Silent Planet (1938), is the nearest that any of these books come to being SF.  It follows Elwin Ransom, a philologist, who is abducted by two men, taken from Earth in their spacecraft to the planet Mars for an unknown purpose. (Philology is the study of the structure of language and literature.) What follows is a story rich in the descriptions of the world of Mars, or Malacandra as it is known to the native species, deep connections with the peoples of the world, and revelations as to the histories of Mars, Earth, mankind and Martian kind are laid out before us.  For me, it was a pleasurable read.

Although there are elements of science in the story, the world and the inhabitants of the world might as well have been Narnian.  Their stated motivations of familial love for some and ambition for others appeared to be the foundation for his later, more popular works.  Also, no one in the book felt alien; fantastic, yes, but not alien.  The Martians or Malacandrans, in the end, showed more humanity than any of the humans in the story. 

If I were to place this book into a genre, I would call it fantasy/science fiction or science-fantasy for short.

In the second novel, Perelandra (1943), we visit Elwin Ransom again.  He is a changed man living in a world changed by the events of the first novel.  This time, Ransom is called to the adventure he embarks upon by a being he met in the last book, an adventure to Perelandra, the planet Venus, to help a woman on this young world from being corrupted.

The tone of this book starts off the same as the tone in the middle of the first book.  The world is beautiful, yet different than Malacandra.  Everything is fresh and exciting, until the introduction of one character that changes everything.  It’s a story that felt enriching at first, but suddenly became disturbing.  An object of relaxation which became a source of anxiety.  An anxiety that one is not released from until near the end of Perelandra.

Perhaps Perelandra might qualify as science fiction?  The answer again is no.  This book forced me to stop reading for a time recover from the dread and terror that were a part of this story.  I found myself frightened not only of the characters, but for them at the same time.  Reaching the end of Perelandra and escaping with my life was the reward for completing the volume.  It's an excellent book, but none of it is science fiction: there are no elements of the world or the characters that are forward looking or advanced.  Even the method employed to travel to Venus was more ancient and magical than science.

The final book of the Space Trilogy is called, That Hideous Strength (1945).  The entirety of this story is set on Earth (Thulcandra).  We are introduced to new characters: a newly married couple named Mark and Jane Studdock, both well educated and ambitious young people.  This story overall is cold and gray.  Gone are the colors and wonders of the other worlds. 

Earth is the way that it is because of events that were revealed in the other books.  The tone of this story is very heavy and very dark, becoming heavier and darker with each turned page.  The reader that perseveres is rewarded with a turn of fate so utterly unexpected and satisfying that one is left feeling well served by the story, even though some of what happened made absolutely no sense at all.

Again, this is not science fiction.  The scientific elements in this story are so devoid of hope that the solution to the main dilemma of the book has to find its redemption from the fantastic.  Neither is this story fantasy, nor terror. 

This volume successfully avoids a genre and it is not until one takes all 3 novels together as a unified work that a genre can be laid to bear on the triptych. 

In the same way that a mature reading of the Chronicles of Narnia as an adult reveals them to be at the core works of Christian philosophy to educate children, the Space Trilogy is a work of Christian philosophy to educate adults.  The type of adult that enjoys science fiction.

These volumes are philosophy lectures cleverly wrapped in the garb of science fiction.  This is not a criticism: I find them to be beautiful, terrible, revolting and inspiring.  I love them for what they are regardless of what they pretend to be. 

Another reader, who does not hold the same religious baggage that I carry, might find The Space Trilogy of C.S. Lewis boring at times and heavy handed at others.  Unless one develops a desire to finish the stories, as I did, each book provides the user with many opportunities to exit and I assume that many do.

Again, I love the stories in the Space Trilogy, not necessarily because of what happened in them, but more because of how it made me feel and where it left me in relation to my faith when all was said and done.  I would recommend this series to those who already love the works of C.S. Lewis and readers of science fiction who hold religious convictions.  I would not recommend it to readers of science fiction that do not.

5 stars





[May 20, 1967] Field trips (June 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)


by Gideon Marcus

A peach of a visit

Here we are again in Atlanta, Gateway to the South.  Our last visit to the Dogwood City was at the invitation of Georgia Tech, who asked me, as a science fiction writer, to discuss predictions of the future.  Particularly, they wanted my opinion on the dangers of overpopulation, pollution, and nuclear annihilation–and what might be done to avoid catastrophe.

The talk went off rather well, and so now I'm at a conference addressing a bevy of biologists on the nascent science of exobiology, or more accurately, how aliens have figured in science fiction, both in our solar system and without. 

I must confess, there is a great feeling of accomplishment in being paid good money to talk about the things I love.  And the pastries are free, too!

A peach of an issue

Accompanying me on this trip is the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  It has made a most pleasant companion (for the most part).  Let's take a tour, shall we?


by Bert Tanner

Death and the Executioner, by Roger Zelazny

First up, we have the sequel to Dawn in what is clearly a serial by another name (like Poul Anderson's The Star Fox).  As such, I will try to judge each piece as part of a great whole.

And what an excellent part!  Zelazny returns us to an unnamed world that is nevertheless explicitly not Earth (betrayed by its two moons).  Millennia ago, its colonists split into two castes: The Firsts, blessed with psychic powers, have effective immortality by swapping consciousnesses into other bodies.  Everyone else lives in enforced medieval squalor patterned after Hindu tradition.  The Firsts are, of course, associated with the Indian pantheon.

One rebel First, name of Sam, has styled himself the Buddha and is reintroducing Gautama's creed.  In this installment, the First who has made himself Yama, God of Death, arrives at Sam's purple grove to deliver a fatal message from Kali, head of the Firsts.

Just last article, Jessica Dickinson Goodman lamented that there were precious few f&sf stories that didn't derive their settings from a strongly European tradition.  Zelazny has shown that the subcontinent is as fertile a source for inspiration as any other.  And where Herbert's Persia-as-SF (Dune) fell flat for me, mostly due to Herbert's inexpertise as an author, in the hands of Zelazny, ancient India-turned-scientifiction sparkles.  Plus, there's lots of mighty thews-type combat for those who are into that sort of thing (paging Ms. Buhlert.)

Five stars for this segment.

The Royal Road to There, by Robert M. Green, Jr.

The Jackson family is on a seemingly endless freeway, headed for the unveiling of their uncle's will.  Said uncle was an eccentric who kept a horse-and-buggy factory going long after the automobile had become ascendant.

In a Twilight Zone-ish bit, the freeway ensnares the family, depositing them in the town his uncle built, where they are presented with a most unique offer, which may just require them to give up their gas-guzzling beast. 

Is the story anti-progress?  Or does it simply advocate smarter progress?  My brother, Lou, still laments the removal of the little red trains that used to knit Los Angeles together.  Now, the San Gabriel Valley is a basin of smog and a snarl of endless traffic.  If there had been more sensible city planning and incorporation of public transit and rail, perhaps it wouldn't be this way.

Three stars.

Gentlemen, Be Seated, by Charles Beaumont

In the future, comedy is dead.  It seems the progressive types who were offended by racial humor and violent slapstick inadvertently caused the extinction of laughter.  It's up to a secret society, armed with bad puns and blackface, to restore hope to mankind.

I hate to speak ill of the dead (Beaumont died on my 48th birthday this year), but this story is as bad as it sounds.

One star.

"…But for the Grace of God", by Gilbert Thomas

A predator of the masculine variety comes across a much more capable predator of the feminine variety.  A bit too long-winded and predictable to be truly effective, but I appreciate what the author is doing, nevertheless.

Three stars.

Non-Time Travel, by Isaac Asimov

Every so often, the Good Doctor finds himself so at a loss for ideas, that he picks a pointless subject to expound upon.  His piece on the International Date Line is pleasant enough, but it could just as easily have been a paragraph long.

Three stars.

The First Postulate, by Gerald Jonas

On a remote Mexican island, where the Mayan tradition still runs strong, the first two deaths due to natural causes in over forty years of worldwide immortality have been reported.  The scientific team dispatched there encounters increasing resistance from the locals, who ultimately fire their base to retrieve the corpses.  Is it a kind of insanity that drives the indios?  Or is it a natural reaction to an unnatural situation?

Readable, vivid, if not particularly memorable.  Three stars.

A Discovery in the Woods, by Graham Greene

Lastly, another after-the-bomb tale, told from the perspective of a band of bandy youths who encounter a house of the giants.  This one is all in the telling, a lovely tale that reminds me of Edgar Pangborn's Davy.

Four stars.

Miles to go before I sleep

So ends a perfectly suitable (with one small exception) issue.  My only real complaint is that I finished it on the flight out!  Luckily, I've got another book reserved for the flight back, which you'll hear about next month.

In the meantime, please wish me luck for tonight's speech!


by Gahan Wilson





[May 18, 1967] After Dune (the fantastic setting of Yemen)


by Jessica Dickinson Goodman

Giant worms and spacefaring spice addicts in Frank Herbert's Dune introduced many genre readers to the fantastical potential of vaguely Islamic-themed fictional settings. But there's so much more to the real-life worlds and cultures he lightly touched on, so many more exciting, complex, beautiful places writers could be taking us.

Take Yemen.

The mouth of the harbor sits at the bottom a giant volcanic rock face, the black stone caldera soaring up around it on 3 sides. For centuries, the 53 Cisterns of Tawila held nearly a million gallons of water for the port city of Aden. Generations used these deep, carefully engineered pools to not only manage monsoon seasons that would break and slide over the volcanic cliffs surrounding the city, but provide a bustling community with fresh, clean water even in the hottest months.

Photo of Aden in 1960, uploaded by Wikipedia user Mac9: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Aden01_flickr.jpg
Aden: the only major city in the world sitting in the mouth of an extinct volcano. Can't get much more sci fi than that. (Image via Mac9)

Travel north, past Queen Asma (?-1087 CE) and Queen Arwa (1048–1138 CE)'s great palaces and you can find the Marib Dam, from which people used successfully to irrigate 25,000 acres of farmable land 2000 years ago. Keep going east to the city of Shibam and you'll find skyscrapers over 10 stories tall, made from what this Californian could call adobe bricks, one and two room floors connected by sudden staircases and adorned by sweet little balconies. During your travels, you'll hear a local language influenced by a dozen indigenous languages, with a healthy smattering of the best bits of various invaders' tongues. The food is hot and plentiful, the oases well-loved, the stars unending, the many mountains steep, and the local politics as complex as any you've followed. Just off the coast is an island where most of the plants and animals exist nowhere else in the world and hold names like "Worm Snakes" and "Dragon's Blood Trees."

To me, this setting begs for a novel or a TV series. Frank Herbert or Stanley Kubrick, are you listening?

Write Beyond What You Know

The problem is, outside Frank Herbert and the sadly departed Cordwainer Smith, our fantasy and fantastic SF all tend to be written by people who know nothing but the European historical tradition. Any overly optimistic writer who tells a stranger she enjoys writing fiction will probably hear the advice to "write what you know." And this can be true for internal beats, for emotions, for arcs and compelling endings. But when writer after writer sets novel after novel, episode after episode, in the same gloomy castles, writes knights riding the same bridled horses over the same musty moats to fight the same stale dragons, I think this old advice has turned into a trap. And what's worse, it's a trap that reinforces a European-centric view of the world, of history, of culture, and when used in science fiction, of the future.

It's been close to a century since anyone in my direct family called Europe home, but still, when I was growing up and I imagined writing a fantasy, the setting was staffed by maidens fair and knights gallant. That frustrating limitation on my own imagination is why I started to travel in college and after, why I learned Arabic and bits of Hebrew, Spanish, French, and enough Japanese to sound-out street signs in Japantown in San Francisco or San José. I particularly enjoy traveling to the Middle East, to Doha and Ramallah and Gaza, to Muscat and Cairo and Istanbul.

I'm not the first western woman writer to be curious about the Middle East, or to travel alone through large parts of it. From 1937-1938, 44-year-old British-Italian travel writer Freya Stark spent a winter in Yemen and wrote a detailed, sympathetic, hilarious diary about it titled, as one might expect, A Winter in Arabia. She went to the port city of Aden, to Queen Arwa's palace, to the mud-built skyscrapers of Shibam. She went out into the world to know more about it, and then she wrote what she knew. Like any good writer, she didn't try and own or warp the cultures she saw, but tried to tell the truth, as she saw and understood it. She had little patience for people who did less.

Photo from Atlas Obscura article on Freya Stark: https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/elise-wortley-traveler-freya-stark
“I began to wonder again why I, and so many others like me, should find ourselves in these recondite places. We like our life intensified, perhaps. Travel does what good novelists also do to the life of every day, placing it like a picture in a frame or a gem in its setting, so that the intrinsic qualities are made more clear. Travel does this with the very stuff that everyday life is made of, giving to it the sharp contour and meaning of art: and unless it succeeds in doing this, its effect on the human being is not, I believe, very great .. . . Most people anyway try to avoid having their feelings intensified: for indeed one must be strong to place oneself alone against the impact of the unknown world. ” — Freya Stark, Riding to the Tigris, 1959. (Image via Atlas Obscura)
"No one in their senses would say, 'I have spent ten years in Holland and therefore I know all about Bulgaria'; but it is a fact that seven people out of ten will assume that a visit to Morocco opens out the secrets of Samarkand. The East is just East in their minds, a homogeneous lump." -- Freya Stark, A Winter in Arabia
The Middle East: Not a Homogenous Lump.

The same ignorances she highlighted 30 years ago still infect most people's understandings of the region. A friend might read about one country's struggles in the newspaper, and assume they know about every other country. Even worse, they might hear about a conflict between two countries and assume that conflict encompasses the whole of what there is to be known about both countries. It would be a bit like someone being taught United States history and having their first fact about us be that we're a country in conflict with Cuba. And that is part of who we are, but it is certainly not all of it; and there are many perspectives on that topic, particularly within Cuban American communities. As writers, we have the opportunity to see more, to learn more, not just passively, but actively – to learn more about the world so we can write more about it.

The few Americans who know anything about Yemen today tend to know about Operation Magic Carpet, where from 1949-1950 American and British airlines worked tirelessly to help about 49,000 Yemenite Jews from Yemen and nearby countries get to Israel after they faced credible threats of violence and some actual violence from their neighbors and states. The discrimination those Yemenite Jews have faced in Israel has been less well-publicized, but is worth understanding, as well as the the way that Mizrahi Jewish people (those who moved or fled to Israel from Middle Eastern and North African countries) view and understand their own histories of diaspora differently than Sephardic, Ashkenazic, or Ethiopian Jews.

Yemen is a Kosher Topic

I'll pause here. Most Americans have a big ball of complicated emotions in their chests about Israel, the U.S. relationship to Israel, the relationships between Israel and her neighbors, and the future of the region. Some have very simple emotions, for good or ill; some don't care at all. Many Christians I grew up with don't know any more than they were taught in Sunday school. But the gravitational force that Israel exerts on most conversations about the region is something anyone curious about the Middle East must come to contend with.

Wikipedia user Kendite's image of Dhamar Ali Yahbur II, an ancestor of Dhū Nuwās: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Dhamar_Ali_Yahbur_II.jpg Image shows Greek influences. Via user Kendite.
Ancestor of Dhū Nuwās: Dhamar Ali Yahbar ruled in the late third or early fourth century CE.  One of the 13  Jewish Kings of Yemen. Exhibited in the Sana'a National Museum. (Image via Kendite).

That's why I like learning about Dhū Nuwās, 13th ruler of the Jewish Kingdom of Ḥimyar in Yemen in the 500s. The Himyarite Kingdom had had Judaism as its de facto state religion for over a century at that point. The Byzantine Emperor, Justin I asked Ma'dīkarib Yafur, the ruler of the Christian Kingdom of Axum in Ethiopia to invade Yemen and overthrow Dhū Nuwās.

Talk about a setting for a fantasy novel. No musty moats or drippy castles, this story has armies crossing the stormy Bab al-Mandab Strait; it has intrigue as we don't know who started the war or why. It has oasis cities razed to the ground; transnational alliances from Constantinople to Ethiopia; countries in the throes of mass conversion; and tragedy, as Dhū Nuwās is overthrown and the ruler of Axum takes over in Yemen. It has real people, widows and soldiers, farmers and fishermen, people who carved the stone steles which tell us this story and people who had to find a new way to preserve their faith in spite of the rulers who took over.

From David Rumsey's Map Collection: https://www.davidrumsey.com/luna/servlet/detail/RUMSEY~8~1~311612~90081050:Jazirat-al-Arab?sort=Pub_List_No_InitialSort%2CPub_Date%2CPub_List_No%2CSeries_No&qvq=w4s:/when%2F1909;q:yemen;sort:Pub_List_No_InitialSort%2CPub_Date%2CPub_List_No%2CSeries_No;lc:RUMSEY~8~1&mi=4&trs=40#
1959 Map of Yemen and Arabian Peninsula. Publisher: John Bartholomew & Son LTD. Lots of those pink lines Freya Stark complained about (Image via David Rumsey's Map Collection).

Fantastic Yemen

Whether your tone as a writer is epic or epistolary, intensely personal or wide-sweeping, there are just as many stories to tell in this tiny slice of Yemeni history as there are in any given year of the War of the Roses or the Battle for Agincourt. And as readers, we can demand to see these kinds of stories. We can write to our magazines and ask for a view beyond what the BBC World Service is willing to provide. And when we find stories that satisfy our freshly whetted palates, we can share and recommend them.

Reading and writing fantasy and science fiction that respectfully includes the people and places in the Middle East isn't going to end the North Yemen Civil War, nor address the Soviet Union, Saudi Arabia, the United Kingdom, or Jordan's encouragement of it, nor Egypt's heavy commitment of ground troops to it. But I believe that learning and writing and reading teaches us empathy, teaches us to question, so when the nightly news asks us to accept violence or hatred as a region's due, we know that's just not true. We know there are histories and complexities beyond "centuries of conflict." We have a right to learn, to help ourselves and our communities better understand the world and our place in it. And perhaps, help to build a more peaceful world. Not to mention, enrich our fantasy and science fictional worlds!

Uploaded by Flicker User Yvonne Thompson, CC licensed: https://www.flickr.com/photos/yvonnert/5443721933
Vacation photos from Aden, 1966. Yes, Yemen. (Image via Yvonne Thompson).

Bibliography

If you're curious about this region, below are a few recommendations – and I would love to hear more from readers if you have them!

  • A Winter in Arabia, by Freya Stark.
  • Enjoy some Yemenite folk music (your local record store should have Mohamed Al-Harithy and Geula Gill discs or be able to order them from the label)

     

    and

  • Consider subscribing to some magazines that will bring in-depth, alternate views on current affairs. I like Foreign Affairs for a sense of what government leaders want me to think, Jewish Currents for what leftists want me to think, and The Economist for what capitalists want me to think.
  • Reach out to your local mosque, or if you don't live near one, find one in a nearby city. Ramadan starts on August 25th this year, and many masjids may open their doors for community dinners. Get to know your neighbors and ask them what newspapers they think you should subscribe to to learn more about the region.
  • Then share that knowledge with your friends and write to learn!




[May 16, 1967] From the Sea to the Stars (May 1967 Galactoscope)


by Victoria Silverwolf

A trio of new works, two of them inside the same book, take readers from the far reaches of the galaxy to the depths of the ocean. (Sounds like last month's Galactoscope, doesn't it?) Let's start with the latest Ace Double, containing two short novels (or long novellas) set in interstellar space.

Gedankenexperiment


Cover art by Peter Michael.

The Rival Rigelians, by Mack Reynolds

This is an expansion of the novella Adaptation, which appeared in the August 1960 issue of Astounding/Analog. (That's during the brief period when both titles appeared on the cover of the magazine. Confusing, isn't it?)


Cover art by John Schoenherr.

The Noble Editor thought it was so-so at the time. Let's see if it's any better, like fine wine, after seven years.

Cold War Two

Long before the story begins, Earth colonized a large number of planets with about one hundred people per world. Over several generations, the colonies degenerated from scientifically advanced to primitive, due to the lack of support from the home world. Then each slowly made their way back up to a particular level of technological sophistication.

(If this sounds like a really lousy way to populate the galaxy, I agree. The author is clearly more interested in setting up a thought experiment than in ensuring plausibility.)

It seems that two inhabited worlds orbit the star Rigel. One is similar to Italy during the time of feudalism. The people on the other are similar to the Aztecs.


Rigel is part of the constellation Orion; one of his feet, to be exact.

Earth sends a team of folks to Rigel to bring the colonies up to a modern level of technology. They argue a bit about what to do, then finally agree to split up. One group will bring the free market to the feudalists, and the other will impose a state-controlled economy on the Aztecs. It's capitalism versus communism all over again! Long story short, things don't work out very well for either bunch.

The main difference between the original novella and this expanded version is the addition of two female members to the visiting Earthlings. Both are physicians. Unfortunately, they are pure stereotypes.

One is the Good Girl, doing the best she can to help the colonists while remaining loyal to the man she loves. (To add a little romantic tension to the plot, the author has him choose to go to the Aztec planet while she opts to work on the Italian planet.)

The other is the Bad Girl, teasing the men by exchanging the standard uniform for a sexy gown before they even reach Rigel. On the Aztec planet, she sets herself up as the mistress of whichever fellow happens to be in power at the time, and rules over the locals like a wicked queen.

The author's point seems to be that both pure capitalism and pure communism are seriously flawed. I've seen this theme come up in his work before, most recently in his spy yarn The Throwaway Age in the final issue of Worlds of Tomorrow.

This story isn't quite as blatant a fictionalized essay as that one was, but it comes close. Besides the two-dimensional female characters, we have male characters that are mostly either fools or scoundrels. It's readable, certainly, and you may appreciate its satiric look at humanity's attempts to create workable socioeconomic systems.

Three stars.

Naval Maneuvers

Born in England but living in Australia since 1956, A. Bertram Chandler has been working on merchant ships since 1928. It's no wonder, then, that the space-going vessels in his stories often seem like sailing ships. One can almost smell the salt air and hear the wind rippling in the sails.

Many of his semi-nautical tales feature the character of John Grimes, sort of a Horatio Hornblower of the galaxy. My esteemed colleague David Levinson recently reviewed a pair of these yarns that appeared in If. Why do I bring this up? You'll see.


Cover art by Kelly Freas.

Nebula Alert, by A. Bertram Chandler

This latest work once again makes space seem like the ocean, and those who journey through it like seadogs. (It also serves as a nice bridge between Reynold's interstellar allegory and the sea story I'll discuss later.)

All Hands On Deck!

The starship Wanderer is under the command of a husband-and-wife team. She's the owner and he's the captain. Among the crew are another married couple and a couple of bachelors. They accept the challenge of transporting several Iralians back to their home world.

Iralians are very human-like aliens. So similar to people, in fact, that romance blooms between one of the bachelors and one of the passengers. (They're both telepaths, which must help.) There are some important differences, however.

The Iralians have a very short gestation period, and multiply rapidly. Their offspring inherit the learned skills of their parents, in a kind of mental Lamarckism. Unfortunately, the combination of these traits makes them valuable slaves; the owners have a steady supply of fully trained workers.

During the voyage, a trio of pirate ships threatens the Wanderer. (The identity of the would-be slavers on these vessels is an interesting plot twist, which I won't reveal here.) In order to evade the attackers, our heroes take the very dangerous gamble of entering the Horsehead Nebula.


The real Horsehead Nebula, which is aptly named.

It seems that no starship has ever returned from the nebula, and there are indications that it does something weird to time and space. In fact, the Wanderer enters a parallel universe, where they encounter a ship under the command of none other than John Grimes! Suffice to say that the meeting leads to a way to exit the nebula safely and defeat the pirates.

Unlike Reynolds, Chandler doesn't seem to have any particular axe to grind. This is strictly an adventure story, meant to entertain the reader for a couple of hours. It succeeds at that modest goal reasonably well. It's not the most plausible story ever written, and you won't find anything profound in it, but it's not a waste of time.

Three stars.

The Patron Saint of Science Fiction

Margaret St. Clair (no relation to actress Jill St. John, who recently appeared in the big budget flop The Oscar, co-written by none other than Harlan Ellison) has been publishing fiction since the late 1940's. Much of her short fiction is strikingly original, with a haunting, dream-like mood. (I particularly like her stories for The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, which appear under the pseudonym Idris Seabright.)

She's offered readers a few short novels as halves of Ace Doubles, as well as the full-length novel Sign of the Labrys. Both the Noble Editor and I agreed that this was a unique, very interesting mixture of apocalyptic science fiction and mysticism, if not fully satisfying. The book featured quite a lot of lore from the neo-pagan religion Wicca, and I understand that St. Clair was initiated into that faith last year.


Cover art by Paul Lehr.

The Dolphins of Altair, by Margaret St. Clair

Dolphins have appeared in science fiction for a while now, from Clarke's 1963 work mentioned below to this year's French novel Un animal doué raison by Robert Merle. Some of this seems to be inspired by recent attempts to communicate with dolphins by the controversial researcher John C. Lilly. Or maybe they've just been watching reruns of Flipper, which was cancelled last month. In any case, let's see how this new book handles the theme.

People of the Sea

(Apologies to Arthur C. Clarke for stealing the title of his Worlds of Tomorrow serial, now available in book form as Dolphin Island. I hope he's too busy scuba diving off the coast of Ceylon to notice.)

Appropriately, the novel is narrated by a dolphin. He relates how three human beings came to the aid of his kind.

The first is Madelaine. She is particularly sensitive to telepathic messages sent by the dolphins. So much so, in fact, that she suffers from amnesia when they call her. Nonetheless, she answers their distress signal by journeying to a small, rocky, uninhabited island off the coast of Northern California.

Next is Swen. The dolphins don't directly contact him, the way they do Madelaine, but he overhears the message and shows up at the same place.

Last is Doctor Lawrence. He becomes involved with Madelaine when he treats her amnesia. Although he has no ability at all to receive psychic messages from the dolphins, he follows her to the island.

The dolphins, some of whom have learned to speak English, are fed up with the way that human beings pollute their sea and keep their kind captive. They seek help from the unlikely trio.

At first, this involves rescuing several dolphins from a military facility. The plan is to use a powerful explosive device (which Swen has to steal) to trigger an earthquake that will break open the seawall that keeps them in captivity. Although the three agree to take this action, which will inevitably cause great destruction and is likely to cost human lives, they try to minimize the harm done to their own kind by timing the quake when the fewest number of people will be around.

If this all seems to strain your willingness to suspend your belief, wait until you see what we find out next.

It seems that both dolphins and humans are the descendants of beings who came from a planet orbiting the star Altair (hence the title.) They showed up on Earth about one million years ago. Some chose to remain on land, others went to the ocean. Over many thousands of years, they diverged into the two species.


Altair, located near a very appropriate constellation.

The dolphins remember the covenant made so long ago, that the two groups would remain on friendly terms. Betrayed by the forgetful humans, they are ready to use any means possible to end the abuse of their kind. The next step is to use ancient technology from Altair to melt the ice caps.  As you might imagine, this leads to an apocalyptic conclusion.

Unsurprisingly, given the author, this is an unusual book. It combines a science fiction thriller with a great deal of mysticism. The author is obviously incensed by the way people enslave dolphins and dump poison into the ocean. The reader is definitely supposed to root for the dolphins in their war against humanity.

The three human characters are quite different from each other. Swen is probably the most normal, and serves as the novel's action/adventure hero, at least to some extent. Madelaine is an ethereal creature, almost like some kind of mythic being. Doctor Lawrence is an enigma. He informs the military about the dolphins, leading to an attack on the island, but he is also a misanthrope, the most eager to wreak destruction on humanity.

Like Sign of the Labrys, The Dolphins of Altair is a fascinating novel with disparate elements that don't always quite mesh, and an odd combination of science fiction themes with the purely mystical. I can definitely say that I'm glad I read it, and that it is likely to stay in my memory for some time to come.

Four stars.


To Outrun Doomsday, by Kenneth Bulmer


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

4 Kenneth Bulmer Works

Bulmer is very much a mixed author for me. He has produced great works, like The Contraption or City Under the Sea. But also, less interesting pieces, such as Behold the Stars or his Terran Space Navy series.

Which Bulmer do we get in To Outrun Doomsday? Luckily for me, it is definitely the former, as I think this is his best work to date.

Balance of Imagination

To Outrun Doomsday by Kenneth Bulmer

I think it is worth quickly addressing the issue some readers have with Bulmer’s work. Much of his writing hew very close to real world scenarios, such as war novels. For some people this presents the same issue I have seen discussed in the recent Star Trek episode Balance of Terror.

They ask, “if you have the limitless possibilities of science fiction, why would you do submarine warfare in space?” I say, “if you have the limitless possibilities of science fiction, why wouldn’t you do submarine warfare in space!”

As such, it is with the scenario To Outrun Doomsday. Jack Waley is a gadabout on a starship which seems to be acting as a cruise liner. He sees himself as a kind of old-fashioned rake, seducing women and generally pleasure seeking across the galaxy.

This life falls apart when an accident befalls the ship he is on and his lifeboat crashes on a planet that has, apparently, never encountered people from Earth. There he lives with the tribe of “The Homeless Ones” learning their ways whilst also facing the hostile “The Whispering Wizards”.

This all seems like it could be an old-fashioned castaway story in a boy’s adventure magazine from the 30s, and I am sure his critics will say as such. But there are a number of elements that raise it up.

To Outrun Cliches

Firstly, when Bulmer’s writing is good, it is so good it fully takes me away into his world in a way I am in awe of. For example:

The ship blew.
How then describe the opening to nothingness of the warmth and light and air of human habitation?
From the fetus of womblike comfort to space-savaged death-the ship blew. Metal shivered and sundered. Air frothed and vanished. Heat dissipated and was cold. Light struggled weakly and was lost in the multiplicity of the stellar spectra. The ship blew.
Here and there in the mightily-puny bulk, pockets of air and light and warmth yet remained for a heartbeat, for the torturing time to scream in the face of death. Some, a pitiful few persisted for a longer time.

But then is also at other times willing to bring in silliness when the scene requires it:

“I’m sorry that-“ Waley began.
A hand shook. “Quiet!”
Waley stopped being sorry that.

These are merely a couple of examples. Bulmer uses a full literary toolbox to make an exciting and engaging adventure.

Then you have Waley’s character. He is the kind of fellow you expect to hang around in bars until the wee small hours and take Playboy articles as his guide to life. But as we are not meant to see this as something to admire, he is at different times referred to as “a walking lecherous horrid heap of contagion” and ends getting chained up as a galley slave for following his licentious urges. Throughout we follow the journey of him learning there are more valuable things in life than carnal pleasures and forging real friendships with people.

At the same time this is balanced by the abundance of different women throughout the story. Their journeys are independent of Waley’s adventures and often are quite dismissive of him. They are simply well-rounded inhabitants of the world.

Further, this surface story is slowly revealed to be covering up something deeper. There are intriguing breadcrumbs laid out for you. For example, Waley never sees any children, buildings collapse and no one takes any notice, and, strangest of all, praying for any item (assuming it is not or has not been living) results in it appearing instantly. I will not reveal the mystery, but it adds strangeness to what could be a middling space fantasy tale like Norton’s Witch World saga.

The story is not without flaws. Whilst the emotional conclusion is very strong, tying up the main plot mystery made me put my head into my hands at how silly it is (if also reminding me how important it is I get it to the weeding).

It also occasionally goes into racist language when describing enemies. For example:

Small wiry yellow men with spindly legs and bulbous bodies, with Aztec lips and grinning idiot faces

These are very rare occurrences and not a core part of the story, but still wish they had been excised.

I also wished that the book was longer. Whilst I noted there were a number of interesting characters, particularly among the women, we do not have as much time with them as I would have liked. If it could have been allowed another 40 or so pages, it would just have allowed the extra space needed to flesh them out.

But I am happy to give it a very high four stars.



by Gideon Marcus

The Time Hoppers

The jacket for Silverbob's latest novel notes that he "and his wife live in Riverdale, New York, in a large house also occupied by a family of cats (currently four permanent ones), a fluctuating number of kittens, and thousands of books, some of which he has not written."  This only slightly overstates the prodigiousness with which Mr. Silverberg cranks out the prose.  Sometimes, Bob gives it his all and turns out something rather profound like his recent Blue Fire series, which was serialized in Galaxy and came out in book form this month as To Open the Sky.

Other times, we get books like The Time Hoppers, clearly produced in a pressured week, perhaps between passion projects.  The short novel takes place in the 25th Century, but this is no Buck Rogers future.  Rather, we have an overpopulated dystopia where almost everyone is on the dole, society is calcified into numbered levels of privilege, and most live in enormous buildings that soar into the sky as well as plunge deep in the ground.  Within this crowded world, we follow the viewpoint of Quellen, a Level Seven local police boss, hot on the trail of the time hoppers.  These are folks who are leaving the future for the spaciousness of the past.  They know these temporal refugees exist because they are already recorded in the history books.  Can Quellen stop them before the trickle becomes a flood?  Should he?

There are a lot of problems with this book.  Quellen is a fairly unlikeable person, a sort of Winston Smith-type at the outer levels of the party, enjoying a few illicit pleasures like a second home in Africa (conveniently depopulated by a century-old plague).  Society in the future makes no sense–it seems an extrapolation of a 1950s view of American society, where the men work and the women are shrieking housewives or grasping adventuresses.  Never mind that, in a world where everyone is unemployed, why there should be a sharp dichotomy between male and female roles goes unexplained.  Just "Chicks, am I right, folks?"

There a sort of shallowness to the book, and the time travel bit is almost incidental.  Particularly since, as the hoppers have already been recorded in the past, any efforts to stop them in the future must inevitably be thwarted.  Also, the idea that these hoppers wouldn't be of prime concern to the powers-that-be (or in the case of this book, actually just one power-that-is) far earlier than four years into the hopping seems ludicrous.

But, I have a perverse penchant for books with the word "Time" in the title, however misleading, as well as stories that have explicit social ranks for people.  And Silverberg, even on a bad day, has a minimum threshold of competence.

So, three stars.


And that's that!  While you're waiting for the next Galactoscope, come join us in Portal 55 to chat about these and other great titles:





[May 14, 1967] Ben And Polly To The Departure Gate (Doctor Who: The Faceless Ones [Part 2])


By Jessica Holmes

May rolls around, and the sun has finally started to make an appearance in merry old England. It’s time to start thinking about our summer holidays, but if one thing’s for certain, it’s that I won’t be booking with Chameleon Tours any time soon.

Let’s take a look at the second half of The Faceless Ones.

EPISODE FOUR

We left things off with the Doctor having a sudden attack of a bad back, and things only get worse, with Spencer disabling Jamie and Samantha within moments of the episode’s opening.

Now would be a good time to finish them off, you’d think, but instead he sets up some sort of death ray to kill them… eventually. The thing moves so slowly the trio would probably have time for a round of golf before the ray fries them. Though mostly paralysed, Samantha conveniently has enough control of her faculties to get her mirror from her bag and hand it to Jamie, who uses it to reflect the beam and blow up the death ray machine.

With the machine destroyed, their partial paralysis wears off, which doesn’t make an awful lot of sense to me. I thought it was the freezing pen that paralysed them? And I’m still not sure what that device on the Doctor’s back did to him.

Unable to get past the Nurse in the medical bay, the Doctor speaks to the Commandant, who is still being unhelpful. His secretary, on the other hand, has learned from other airports that Chameleon Tours never delivers passengers anywhere, it only takes them. Finally, there’s the proof that the passengers aren’t reaching their destinations.

Seeing as the Commandant is no use, he enlists her help in distracting the Nurse with a feigned medical condition so that he can sneak into the medical bay.

Meanwhile, Samantha has a bright idea to get on a Chameleon Tours flight to Rome, to find out what happened to her brother. Given that this is absolutely bonkers, Jamie wants to go with her to keep her safe. Somehow. However, he can't scrounge up the twenty-seven quid for a ticket. Being from the seventeenth-century, that's more money than he's seen in his life! If he can't go with her then, he'll go instead of her.

Using his manly wiles, Jamie steals Samantha’s ticket from her while she’s too busy snogging him to notice.  Girls can't resist a Scots brogue. Jamie, you scoundrel! Samantha doesn’t realise she’s been robbed until she attempts to board the plane, at which point she’s captured by Spencer.

The Doctor sneaks into the medical bay where he finds the transference equipment and some high-tech armbands which he then brings to the Commandant, but it’s still not enough. How?! There's healthy scepticism and then there's just being deliberately obtuse. If I were the Doctor, I'd be starting to wonder if the Commandant is himself a Chameleon.

The Commandant has an RAF fighter tail the departing Chameleon Tours flight, but alas this jumbo jet has more tricks up its sleeve than just vanishing passengers. It's got weapons!

Thinking they've collided, the Commandant watches in horror as both planes appear to freeze in place, then vanish from the radar. It looks like they've both nose-dived. Well, the RAF plane has, but as for the other…it’s going up. Straight up. All the way into outer space, and into a space station!

Suffice to say, Jamie is not enjoying his first taste of air travel.


Barbie had better watch out, she's got some competition!

EPISODE FIVE

Having not vanished due to a conveniently timed upset stomach, Jamie emerges from the aeroplane loo to find the other passengers gone, and the flight attendant gathering something from their seats. She puts the mysterious objects into storage on the Chameleon space station, but what could they be?

They’re the passengers! They’ve not vanished at all, but shrunk down to the size of a doll.

Unfortunately for Jamie, he gets caught soon after disembarking the plane. The makeup department might have gone slightly overboard with some of these Chameleons. They’re quite scary.

Maybe keep the smaller kids away from this one, eh?

Back on Earth, the Commandant finally starts to wonder if the Doctor might be onto something after all when the RAF plane’s wreckage turns up, and it's discovered that the pilot died by electrocution. I'm not sure how they can tell, given I didn't think there's usually much left of someone after their plane crashes.

The Doctor gets to question Meadows, and discovers that he has one of the mysterious high-tech armbands– and he’s very anxious that the Doctor mustn’t touch it.

With no other options, he comes clean. There was a catastrophe on the Chameleon home planet, and to survive they need to take on the physical characteristics of another being. That’s why they’ve been abducting all these people–they’re up to fifty thousand by now!
The original people the Chameleons have copied are hidden somewhere in the airport. Meadows doesn’t know where his original is, but the nurse does, and she keeps her own original close at hand.

The group hurry down to the medical bay, and not a moment too soon, because Samantha’s in there! The Doctor frees her, but the nurse kills an accompanying policeman and tries to attack the Doctor. Before she can, however, Meadows finds her original and deactivates the armband, causing the Chameleon-Nurse to disintegrate. They’re safe, but they’re no closer to finding the others.

On the Chameleons’ satellite, Jamie is very surprised to run into the Inspector. However, his surprise turns to horror when it turns out that this isn’t the Inspector at all, but the Director, the leader of the Chameleons. The actor does an excellent job pivoting from amiable to menacing.

Learning that the Chameleons have captured Jamie, the Doctor comes up with a plan to get him back–he’s going to pretend to be a Chameleon. He gets the Nurse to help him dupe Blade into believing that the Doctor is really Meadows (or, well, the alien pretending to be Meadows, unless they just so happened to have the same name), having been re-processed and given a new face.

It gets them onto the next plane…but they’re flying into a trap. Blade's not stupid after all. They Doctor and the Nurse (ha) arrive onto the satellite only for the Chameleons to immediately surround them. On the plus side, the Doctor soon finds Jamie. On the downside…it’s not really him.

And worst of all, he’s not got a Scottish accent.


I wanted to illustrate Chameleon-Jamie but it turns out you can't hear an English accent in a photograph.

EPISODE SIX

Unable to find the originals of all the Chameleons, the Commandant halts all flights and enlists the entire airport staff in the search. Meanwhile, the Doctor tries to negotiate for the lives of all the people the Chameleons have captured, but it's not as if he has a leg to stand on. Or does he?

The Doctor learns that some of the Chameleons have their originals safely stored on the satellite, but only the most important personnel. The others are at a lot more risk of being discovered, and he realises he can use that to his advantage. See? Class stratification ruins everything. I don't think this serial is really trying to make a broader societal point, but I found one anyway!

He claims that the airport staff have already found the originals, and they’re about to start waking them up–so the Director had better start listening to what the Doctor has to say.

Skeptical, the Director radios down to Earth to confirm. The Commandant is quick to catch on, and backs up the Doctor’s fib. However, he can’t tell the Director where he found them. Growing impatient, the Director gives the order to hook the Doctor up to the transference machine. Of course, the Doctor breaks it, because he can't go anywhere without breaking something.

Samantha has the bright idea to search the airport car park, where she and the Commandant’s secretary find the missing people inside the parked cars. Gee, so thoroughly hidden! They might as well have stuck them in the departure lounge.

The Chameleons aboard the satellite get a nasty surprise when one of them suddenly disintegrates. Now they realise they’re completely at the humans’ mercy. The Director still tries to refuse to give the stolen humans back, claiming that the process can't be reversed, but in a bit of a surprise Blade turns against him and calls him out on his lie. The planes can easily reverse the process. Though the Director is unwilling to give in to the Doctor’s demands that the Chameleons give back all the people they stole and leave, Blade has a healthier sense of self preservation. After all, his original is down in the car park.

Being rather nicer than he has any obligation to be given that the Chameleons keep trying to kill him, the Doctor offers to help the Chameleon scientists find another way to save their species that doesn’t require body snatching. The Director isn’t keen, but he’s not in charge any more, and Blade kills him when he attempts to flee.

The Chameleons start returning all their captives, and the Doctor recovers his friends. They return to Earth, and it’s time to say goodbye.

It turns out that I was wrong in my speculation, and Samantha will not be staying on as a companion. After all, her brother will probably wonder where she’s gone. Still, I thought she’d have made an excellent addition to the crew, so this was rather disappointing.

But there are a few more goodbyes than expected. As they head back towards the TARDIS, Ben and Polly (hello again!) realise that today is the 20th ofJuly, 1966–the very same day they left Earth. I think we can gather where this is going.

The Doctor is very understanding about their desire to go back home, admitting that he was never able to get back to his own planet, so he can sympathise with the desire. That’s interesting. Did something happen to his own world, or is he banished? Is he a space fugitive? That’s a fun idea. Sad for him, I mean, but fun.

The Doctor sends Ben off to resume his naval post and become an Admiral one day, and assigns to Polly the lofty goal of… looking after Ben. Well, Doc, I think Ben can look after himself, and Polly's a bright enough young woman to have her own ambitions. She deserves more than to be an assistant. In any case, what they do with themselves is up to them.

With that, Ben and Polly depart, and the Doctor and Jamie head back to the TARDIS.

Just one small problem.

They have absolutely no idea where it is.

Final Thoughts

So, that was The Faceless Ones. Aside from some moments where characters acted needlessly stupidly in order to move the plot along, I really liked it. The mystery built up and unfolded at a good pace, and for once it didn’t feel like the conclusion was a tacked-on afterthought. Perhaps it was a little brisk at the end, but not as abrupt as some serials have been, so that’s progress.

Though of course their methods were very dodgy, I appreciate that the Chameleons had a sympathetic motive for their villainy. ‘Because they’re just evil’ is a dreadfully dull basis for a villain, but a species fighting for survival? That’s a lot more compelling. Who is to say that humanity wouldn’t do terrible things if our very existence was threatened?

I do think it’s a real shame that Samantha won’t be joining the regular cast, especially now that Ben and Polly are gone. It’ll feel pretty empty aboard the TARDIS without them, though on the upside Jamie will have more room to breathe and grow as a character.

With Ben and Polly leaving, however, something occurs to me. There are now no remnants of the Hartnell Era, save the TARDIS– and even that’s gone missing. Their presence provided a vital sense of continuity, and though of course they had to leave at some point, it does feel a bit strange now. We’ve lost half the crew, the ship, and we’re heading into uncharted waters. Let’s hope for calm seas.




[May 12, 1967] There and Back Again (June 1967 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

Living in the Past


Dancing on the main stage

The Renaissance Pleasure Faire has really taken off since it first opened in 1963.  Sort of a reaction to modern society, it is several acres of the 16th Century surrounded by semi-arid modern Southern California.  And as a refuge from the horrors of today (and sanitized to be free of the horrors of yesterday), it has become a prime sanctuary for hippies and other counter-culture freaks to enjoy some solace.


A typical scene–we pretend the "mundanes" aren't there…

And the Journey is no exception!


Iacobus of Constantinople (left) confers with Lord Sir Basil, Count of Argent (me!)


Lorelei has found her chosen weapon.


Captain Clara Hawkins (time traveling from the 17th Century) and Lorelei ride unicorns.


Good writers don't grow on trees, but some, like Elijah, play in them.


The whole gang.  Note associates Elijah (purple, third from left), Joe (center, back), Abby (gold, center front), Lorelei (to her right), and Tam (second from right).

Living in the Future

The pages of this month's Galaxy also offer an escape, and for the most part, a pleasant one!


by Gray Morrow

To Outlive Eternity (pt 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

Things open with a literal bang.  The Leonora Christine, zooming through space at relativistic velocities on a mission of colonization, rams into a small nebula at near light speed.  Though the 50 or so crew and scientists are unhurt, the ship has lost its ability to decelerate.  It is now doomed to travel through the galaxy and beyond, its tau (or time) compression factor ever increasing, such that the entire life of the universe might pass in a lifetime.

Earth is now long in the past; can the Leonora Christine's complement effect repairs such that they can at least someday cease being a cosmic Flying Dutchman?


by Jack Gaughan

Poul Anderson, when he's got his blood high, fuses science and character better than most (when he's in it for the paycheck, he gets the science right, but the rest is dull as dishwater).  The near-light Bussard ramjet concept was explored recently in Niven's The Ethics of Madness, but this gripping tale promises to reward the reader more fully.

Four stars.

Mirror of Ice, by Gary Wright

Gary must have recently watched Grand Prix, for his tale of high-speed bobsledding of the future, with its 10% fatality rate per race, strongly evokes that vivid movie.  Or the author is just a big racing fanatic.  After all, such was the topic of his last story.

Anyway, perfectly acceptable, if not too memorable; I wonder if he'd originally intended this for Playboy…or Sports Illustrated!

Three stars.

Polity and Custom of the Camiroi, by R. A. Lafferty

A three-person anthropological team investigates the highly libertarian planet of Camiroi.  Society there is highly advanced, seemingly utopian, and utterly decentralized.  Sounds like a Heinleinesque paradise.  However, there are indications that the Terrans are being put on, mostly in an attempt to just get them to leave.

The result is something like what might have happened if Cordwainer Smith and Robert Sheckley had a baby.  That'd be one weird tot…but an interesting one.

Four stars.

The Man Who Loved the Faioli, by Roger Zelazny

The Faioli are ethereal beauties who appear in a man's (or a woman's?) last month of life.  Or perhaps they are the cause of impending demise.  In any event, they pay for the quick mortality with the most pleasant company imaginable, perhaps feeding on the emotional feedback.

Here is the tale of a man living-in-death (or dead in living?) who romances a Faioli and remains to tell about it.

Zelazny is capable of beautiful, effective prose, but sometimes, it seems he just waxes purple and hopes his readers can't tell the difference.  This one feels like the latter.

Three stars.

For Your Information: Another Look at Atlantis, by Willy Ley

Mr. Ley, Galaxy's science columnist, is back to form with this quite interesting article on all we know for certain (and it's not much!) about the mythical continent of Atlantis.  Worth a read.

Four stars.

Spare That Tree, by C. C. MacApp


by Dennis M. Smith

Inspector Kruger of the Interstellar Division is back (we first saw him in the January issue of IF).  This time, he's on the trail of a kidnapped tree, prized possession of an Emperor whom the galactic federation wishes to keep on the good side.

David observed that Laumer or Goulart could do a better job with these tales, and they are, indeed, the authors I was reminded of while reading this piece.  It starts out genuinely interesting and funny, but the last half meanders into a whimper.

A high two (or a low three, depending on your mood).

Howling Day, by Jim Harmon

In this epistolary, an agent keeps sending a spec script to the wrong kinds of publishing houses.  They all appreciate the quality of the work, but it's not quite right for what they put out.  Which makes sense–turns out it's not a spec script at all…

I found this one a bit tedious and old-fashioned.  Two stars.

The Adults, by Larry Niven


by Virgil Finlay

From the center of the galaxy comes Phthsspok, a super-intelligent, highly determined alien looking for a long lost colony.  He has reason to believe it is Earth…or was, hundreds of thousands of years ago.  Phthsspok is a Protector, with armored hide and hyper-reflexes.  Utterly beyond human capabilities.

Except, when Phthsspok runs across and kidnaps Jack Brennan, a Belter in his middle-40s, the connection between Protectors and humanity turns out to be closer than anyone expected.

Set in the same time and setting as World of Ptavvs, and featuring Lucas Garner and Lit Schaeffer from that book, The Adults is a fascinating read.  And it offers the compelling question: would you trade your sex and your outward humanity at age 45 for the privilege of immortality and extreme intellect?

Forty-four year olds in the audience, are you reading?

Four stars.

Alien's Bequest, by Charles V. De Vet

Wrapping things up, we have a new twist on The Puppet Masters.  It's mildly intriguing, and I am always happy to see De Vet's name, but ultimately, the story doesn't quite go anywhere.

Three stars.

Return to Reality

What a nice weekend that was!  First centuries past, then centuries to come.  I'm not sure I'm ready to face Vietnam, another summer of protests, or a second season of The Invaders.

Oh look!  The June issuse of Fantasy and Science Fiction has arrived.  Just in time…





[May 10, 1967] Float Like A Butterfly, Sting Like A Bee (The Green Hornet)


by Janice L. Newman

In January of 1966, a new TV show hit the airwaves. An adaptation of the comic book, “Batman”, with its catchy theme, over-the-top villains, and deadpan delivery by the titular character, was an instant camp hit. The colorful costumes probably didn’t hurt either, especially as networks started to make the switch to a color line up and those who could afford it began purchasing color TVs to see it.


The dynamic duo.

Batman landed with a boom, perhaps because adults found it amusing while young children were riveted by the serial-style storytelling. But in the end, there are only so many times one can hear variations of “Holy _______ Batman!” or see the dynamic duo tied up in yet another utterly ridiculous death trap, at least if one is over the age of six.

Thus, when The Green Hornet, produced by the same team, began to be broadcast in September 1966 on the same network and the same night as Batman, I didn’t pay much attention at first. It wasn’t until my husband and daughter, more dedicated fans of the boob tube than I, told me, “No, the show is actually worth watching!” that I decided to give it a chance. And you know what? They were right!

The Green Hornet follows the adventures of millionaire newspaper owner Britt Reid (played by Van Williams), who by night fights crime under the pseudonym ‘The Green Hornet’ along with his loyal sidekick, ‘Kato’.

So far the setup seems pretty similar to Batman, no?

No!

The Green Hornet has a clever twist: everyone (both the public and the denizens of the criminal world) believe that the Hornet is a bad guy. Only Britt’s secretary and the district attorney know his secret identity and the fact that he’s not a criminal.


Kato and Hornet.

This leads to lots of smart setups and interactions. When the Hornet bursts into a criminal hideout, the miscreants don’t immediately try to shoot him or tie him up (or whatever they do with Batman) because he’s one of them. He’s not particularly popular, usually demanding ‘a cut of the take’ or some similar price, but the criminals also generally do him the courtesy of letting him in on their plans and then waiting until he’s gone to double-cross him or try to shoot him in the back.

Unlike Batman, where Commissioner Gordon seems to call Batman for every minor emergency (“I forgot my lunch! Call the Caped Crusader!”) the Hornet’s relationship with the police is far more complicated for obvious reasons. This leads to situations where the Hornet has to balance his relationship with the criminals he’s trying to bring down while at the same time escaping from the police. It makes him feel more like a ‘lone-wolf’ or a true anti-hero than Batman.


District Attorney Scanlon pays the Hornet team a visit.

Britt’s relationship with his sidekick, played by young martial arts expert Bruce Lee, is also a joy. Unlike Batman’s stilted attempts to mentor Robin and Robin’s wide-eyed ‘golly gee’ attitude, the Hornet and Kato feel like true partners. Kato may be his servant in the daytime and his driver at night, but when they track down the bad guys and jump out and fight, the two of them work together side by side. Lee is poetry in motion, so much fun to watch and easily outclassing the criminals, (Five thugs versus Kato? The poor guys are hopelessly outnumbered!) It’s also refreshing to have an Asian man in a positive superhero role, especially with the ‘Yellow Peril’ stories that have been popular since the pulps so often casting Asian people as villains.


Kato–poetry in motion.

The biggest difference between The Green Hornet and Batman, though, is that The Green Hornet is smart. I don’t just mean that Britt Reid is smart, I mean that the show is smartly-written, with plots that have more complexity than anything on Batman despite the fact that The Green Hornet doesn’t sprawl across multiple episodes (with one rare exception), instead wrapping each episode up neatly, packing a surprising amount of plot into its half-hour-minus-commercials runtime.

It’s still a comic book show, and as such, has stories that skate close to being over-the-top. But unlike Batman, which gaily flings itself over that edge with abandon and seems to live by the motto, “the campier the better”, Hornet does its darndest to stay on just this side of plausibility. In the sole 2-parter, for example, aliens invade…but from the start it’s clear that Britt doesn’t buy that the aliens are real, and indeed he not only quickly discovers that they are actually humans, but identifies the ringleader Dr. Mabuse (whom you may recognize from Cora Buhlert's articles)!


Britt's not buying what Mabuse is selling.

Yet as a comic book show, The Green Hornet doesn’t hesitate to adopt some of the ‘cooler’ aspects of comic books, especially the Hornet’s secret lair, with fun hidden entrances and exits, and a couple of nifty gadgets he carries with him. Then there’s the vehicle that gets the two of them around. Unlike the gaudy Batmobile, “The Black Beauty” is a sleek custom Imperial decked out with all sorts of fun weapons.


The Black Beauty can take on the Batmobile any day–and it doesn't litter the streets with parachutes!

In short, The Green Hornet is a comic book show for grown ups. The themes are more sophisticated, the plots are more intricate, the stories are more realistic, but it doesn’t lose the ‘fun’ aspects of what make comic books enjoyable for adults as well as children. If you have ever enjoyed a superhero comic, or if you’re just tired of seeing Batman and Robin getting tied up and menaced by giant tarantulas, why not give The Green Hornet a try? You’ll be glad you did!





[May 8, 1967] The Old and the New: Did Success Spoil Tony Randall?


by Lorelei Marcus

It’s happened. They said it never would, but it’s finally happened. I’ve fallen out of love with Tony Randall.

Now before, dear reader, you careen away in horror and begin searching frantically for what blasphemous thing he could have done to cause this, I’ll simply tell you. Nothing. Tony Randall is the most considerate, chivalrous, and kind man alive, and virtuous…and married. While he is perfect, he is also perfectly happy with his wife, and may perhaps never even know my name. An unrequited love can only burn for so long before it must sleep in somber acceptance.

And so, the day has come for that to pass. But do not weep, dear reader, for I am not here to tell a sad tale of love lost, but rather to send off these two good years with a short trip through his movies and my memories of why I fell in love. Welcome to my farewell letter to Tony Randall.

The Beginning:

My first exposure to Tony Randall was in The Seven Faces of Doctor Lao. Ironically enough, thanks to his immense acting ability and an impressive makeup department, I only saw his seven characters, but never his actual face. I had respect for his name, but that was about all. Until, of course, I saw him on the game show ‘Password’ the next week. That was the real him, and oh boy was he incredible. He won four games in a row, (unheard of!) and he used words I’d never known existed. And so, the seeds of love were sown.

From then on I vowed to watch everything Randall has ever been in and will be in, a blessing and a curse. While Dr. Lao was an unusual set of roles, I particularly admired Randall as Lao himself, and the wise, leading persona he put on. I began searching for movies with him in that handsome leading role, and was sorely disappointed. Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter?, Brass Bottle, and Fluffy may have all had his name in the title cards, but that didn’t save them from being fairly awful movies. Worse yet, in all of them plays a type: an ineffectual, weak, neurotic man. They could not have been further from the man underneath the act, the one I was searching for.

Until now. Perhaps I was able to move on partially from the closure Bang! Bang! You’re Dead, Randall’s most recent film, gave me. Since Dr. Lao, this movie is everything I’ve been looking for and more.

Bang! Bang! You’re Dead, or Our Man in Marrakesh, as it’s known in England (and what I will refer to the film as from here on out because I like the title better), is a spy farce directed by Don Sharp and written by Peter Yeldham. It stars an ensemble cast with some big names, including Senta Berger, Herbert Lom, and Terry-Thomas. The advertising for the film is horribly misleading; don’t be fooled by the posters of Tony Randall crawling awkwardly through a bikini-clad woman’s legs. The plot and its handling of both Randall’s and its female characters is very nuanced and sophisticated.

Speaking of plot, here’s what the movie is about. A powerful syndicate leader is trying to make a deal to fix votes in the United Nations. The last step to his plan is to make contact with a courier carrying two million dollars, one of six people on the bus from Casablanca. The only problem is at least three of them fit the bill for his contact, and he doesn’t know which one it is.

Randall plays unassuming Andrew Jessel, who gets accidentally roped into this mess when he finds a dead man in his closet. With the aid of a mysterious, beautiful woman who can’t tell the truth to save her life, and the natives of Marrakesh, he must unravel the truth and stop the syndicate before the contact is made—or die trying.

The film is a wonderful balance of poking fun at the absurdities of the spy genre and utilizing them in serious and satisfying ways. It is complex, with characters and problems that are not strictly black and white. It has action and romance, but in believable forms that make the movie feel grounded in reality despite its farcical nature. But most of all, it gives an opportunity for Randall to play the leading man I always knew he was capable of. He’s not suave and cocky like James Bond, nor cool-headed and calculating like John Drake. He’s no spy, at least at the start, but he is clever, confident, and competent, and that’s the kind of main character I like to see. Perhaps even the kind I can fall in love with.

The End:

Tony Randall, the perfect man, in the perfect role. How can one not love him? Well, sadly, Our Man in Marrakesh is the exception, not the rule. He’s played quite a few nebbish side characters in all of the Doris Day/Rock Hudson movies, and that bizarre romp Island of Love.

That trend began in his first film role, Oh Men, Oh Women!, which, ironically, has been the final movie of Randall’s I’ve seen. In it he plays Grant Cobbler, a neurotic nutcase dogmatically chasing a man’s fiancee. While he plays the role excellently (I would expect nothing less), the experience of watching him applies neatly to the rest of the movie as well: tedious bouts of discomfort with the occasional flash of hilarity. The plot is fairly convoluted, but generally it follows the strife in two marriages and how it’s resolved. As I mentioned before, not particularly pleasant to watch.

I think this film was the nail in the coffin for my dwindling feelings. It cemented that the roles Randall plays are so far from his true self, and yet are the only format I will ever be allowed to see him in. I don’t want to live from movie to movie, game show to game show, hoping and longing for the hint of a glance at the man underneath the mask. I fell in love with the man, not the character, and that is possibly the hardest truth of all. For among his many, many talents, Tony Randall, at his core, is an actor.

The Beginning (Again):

I once heard that to love someone is to want what is best for them, even when it hurts you. I wish only success for Tony Randall, and I will continue to support and respect him as an actor. I think it is only fitting to begin this new relationship with objective ratings of the two movies I’ve reviewed here, just as I would do in any other article.

Our Man in Marrakesh gets five stars; it brilliantly executes everything it tries to do. Truly the “Russians are Coming” of spy films. I would love this movie regardless of who was in the leading role. Go watch it while it’s out in theaters.

Oh Men, Oh Women! gets two stars. This movie did not translate from a stage setting to a film one very well. I’m still trying to figure out what the point of it was. Go see Our Man in Marrakesh twice before you consider watching this movie.

And so, it ends as it begins, without him.

Farewell, dear Tony. Thank you for everything.





[May 6, 1967] Stirred?  Shaken? (June 1967 Amazing)


by John Boston

Is something stirring at Amazing?  After several issues devoid of non-fiction features, this one starts a book review column by Harry Harrison, whose brief stint as nominal editor of the British magazine SF Impulse ended a few months ago.  Is a remake in order?  A change of guard in the wind?  There’s no hint.


by Johnny Bruck

The cover itself is also a change, not having been looted from the back files of Amazing or Fantastic Adventures.  The pleasantly lurid image of space-suited men watching or fleeing a battle of spacecraft is not credited, but other sources attribute it to a 1964 issue of Perry Rhodan, Germany’s long-running weekly paperback novella series, artist’s name Johnny Bruck.  I wonder if the publisher is paying him, or anyone.

Also perplexing is the shift in presentation on the cover.  Last issue, the display of big names was ostentatious.  Here, the only thing prominently displayed is “Winston K. Marks Outstanding New Story Cold Comfort,” sic without apostrophe.  Marks is one of the legion who filled the mid-1950s’ proliferation of SF magazines with competent and forgettable copy.  After a couple of stories in the early ‘40s, he reappeared with a few in 1953, contributed a staggering 25 stories in 1954 and 20 in 1955, and trailed off thereafter; he hasn’t been seen in these parts since mid-1959.  But here he is, name in lights, while Robert Heinlein, Frank Herbert, and Philip K. Dick are relegated to small type over the title.  Odd, and probably counter-productive, to say the least.

The Heaven Makers (Part 2 of 2), by Frank Herbert

Frank Herbert’s serial The Heaven Makers concludes in this issue.  Imagine an SF novel oriented to the reference points of Charles Fort, Richard Shaver, and soap opera.  And then imagine—this is the hard part—that it’s nonetheless pretty readable.

First, we are property!  Just like Charles Fort said.  You may think you understand human history, but everything you know is wrong!  Earth is secretly dominated by the Chem, a species of very short, bandy-legged, silver-skinned alien humanoids who have been made immortal, and also connected tele-empathically, by a discovery of one of their ancient savants—Tiggywaugh’s web (definitely sic).  Only problem is . . . they’re bored.  Eternity weighs heavily on them.  They must be entertained and distracted!

So, the Chem send Storyships around the galaxy, though Earth’s is the only one we see.  This ship rests on the bottom of the ocean, from which vantage the Chem shape history in large and small ways both by direct intervention and by remote manipulation and heightening of human emotional states.  The result: wars that might be settled quickly at the conference table can be prolonged and intensified, and susceptible individuals can be driven as far as murder.  These events are recorded, processed, spiced up with their own emotional track, and broadcast to pique the jaded souls of the Chem. 

One of the stars of this industry is Fraffin, proprietor of Earth’s Storyship, but he’s suspected of letting hints drop to Earthfolk about what’s going on, a major crime among the Chem.  Kelexel, posing as a visitor, has been sent by the authorities to get to the bottom of things, after four previous investigators have found nothing and, suspiciously, resigned.  But Kelexel is quickly corrupted himself.  Fraffin shows him a “pantovive” of a man manipulated by the Chem into murdering his wife, which Kelexel finds quite gripping.  He also becomes obsessed with the woman’s daughter, Ruth (the Chem are quite captivated by the physiques of humans, and can interbreed with them).  Fraffin, having found Kelexel’s vulnerability, sets out to procure her for him.  So three dwarfish figures show up at her back door, immobilize her with some sort of ray, and carry her away to be mind-controlled and ravished by Kelexel.

At this point, the nagging sense of familiarity I was feeling came into focus.  Herbert has reinvented Richard Shaver’s Deros!  Shaver, a former psychiatric patient, wrote up his delusions of sadistic cave-dwelling degenerates tormenting normal people, which (with much reworking by editor Ray Palmer) boosted Amazing’s mid-1940s circulation to unheard-of levels, until the publisher put an end to the disreputable spectacle a few years later.  Now Herbert has gussied up the “Shaver Mystery” for prime time!  The distorted physical appearance . . . check.  The mind control rays . . . check.  The underground caverns . . . not exactly, these characters are underwater instead.  But that’s a minor detail.


by Gray Morrow

Oh, yes, the soap opera part.  Up on dry land, Andy Thurlow, a court psychologist, is Ruth’s old boyfriend; she threw him over for someone else, who turned out to be a low-life.  Andy’s never gotten over it.  Her father, holed up after his Chem-driven murder of her mother, won’t surrender to anybody but Andy.  Meanwhile, Andy, who is wearing polarized glasses as a result of an eye injury, has started to see what prove to be manifestations of Chem activity, invisible to anyone else.  Andy also gets back with Ruth, who has moved out on her husband; he takes her back to the marital house and waits so she can pick up some possessions.  But the Chem snatch her as described, and her husband falls through a glass door and dies. 

Back at the Chems’ submarine hideout, Kelexel is having his way with the pacified Ruth, who, when he’s not using her, studies the Chem via the pantovive machine, learning more and more, while Kelexel harbors growing misgivings about the whole Chem enterprise.  Andy, up on land, is trying to persuade Ruth’s father the murderer to cooperate with an insanity defense while wondering if the strange manifestations he has seen account for Ruth’s disappearance.  The plot lines are eventually resolved in confrontations among Kelexel, Fraffin, Ruth, and Andy with dialogue that is more reminiscent of daytime TV than Herbert’s turgid usual.  In the end, Herbert actually makes a readable story out of this sensational and largely ridiculous material.  Three stars.

Cold Comfort, by Winston K. Marks


by Gray Morrow

Winston Marks’s "Outstanding New Story" Cold Comfort is an amusing first-person rant by the first man to be cryogenically frozen for medical reasons and revived when his problem can be cured.  He’s pleased enough with his new kidneys, but isn’t impressed by this brave new world in which corporations now overtly dominate the world, there’s a nine-million-soldier garrison in East Asia, etc. etc. E.g. , “I am only now recovering from my first exposure to your local art gallery.  Who the hell invented quivering pigments?” It’s at best a black-humorous comedy routine, but well enough done.  Three stars.

The Mad Scientist, by Robert Bloch


by Virgil Finlay

After Marks it is downhill, or over a cliff.  The Mad Scientist by Robert Bloch, from Fantastic Adventures, September 1947, is a deeply unfunny farce about an over-the-hill scientist who works with fungi, who has a young and beautiful wife with whom the protagonist is having an affair. They want to get rid of the scientist with an extract of poisonous mushrooms, but he outsmarts them, and what a silly bore.  The fact that the protagonist is a science fiction writer and the story begins with some blather about how dangerous such people are does not enhance its interest at all.  One star.

Atomic Fire, by Raymond Z. Gallun


by Leo Morey

Raymond Z. Gallun’s Atomic Fire (Amazing, April 1931) is a period piece, Gallun’s third published story, in which far-future scientists Aggar Ho and Sark Ahar (with huge chests to breathe the thin atmosphere, spindly and attenuated limbs, large ears, a coat of polar fur—evolution!) have discovered that the Black Nebula is about to swallow up the sun and kill all life on Earth. The solution?  Atomic power, obviously, to be tested off Earth for safety (the spaceship has just been delivered).  Unfortunately, their experiments first fail, then succeed all too well; but Sark Ahar’s quick thinking turns disaster into salvation!  As the blurb might have read.  Gallun had an imagination from the beginning, but the stilted writing makes this one hard to appreciate in these modern days of the 1960s.  Two stars.

Project Nightmare, by Robert Heinlein


by William Ashman

In Robert Heinlein’s Project Nightmare, from the April/May 1953 Amazing, the Russians deliver an ultimatum demanding surrender, since they’ve mined American cities with nuclear bombs.  The only hope is a colorful and miscellaneous bunch of clairvoyants to locate the bombs before they go off.  It’s a fast-moving but superficial, wisecracking story, a considerable regression for the author.  Some years ago he published an essay titled On the Writing of Speculative Fiction, and presented five rules for the aspiring writer.  I think this story must illustrate the last two: “4.  You must put it on the market.  5.  You must keep it on the market until sold.” I suspect Heinlein intended this one for the slicks, and when none of them would have it, started down the ranks of the SF mags until it finally came to rest in Amazing, which, compounding the indignity, managed to lose his customary middle initial.  Two stars.

The Builder, by Philip K. Dick


by Ed Emshwiller

Philip K. Dick’s The Builder (Amazing, December 1953/January 1954) is from his early Prolific Period—he published 31 stories in the SF magazines in 1953 and 28 in 1954, handily beating Winston K. Marks’s peak.  How?  With a certain number of tossed-off ephemerae like this one, in which an ordinary guy is obsessed for no reason he can articulate with building a giant boat in his backyard.  A rather peculiar boat too, with no sails or motor or oars.  And then: “It was not until the first great black drops of rain began to splash about him that he understood.” That’s it.  Two stars for this shaggy-God story which is unfortunately not shaggy enough.

Summing Up

Well, that was pretty dreary.  The issue’s only distinction is the unexpected readability of Herbert’s novel, which is the best, or least bad, of the serials this publisher has run.  The most one can say about the reprint policy is that it has its ups and downs, and this issue is definitely the latter.



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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction