[July 8, 1966] South Pohl (August 1966 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

The Big Bang

The Americans and Soviets have signed onto a Partial Test Ban Treaty, restricting nuclear tests to deep underground. The Chinese and French are under no such obligation, however.  Not only have the Chinese detonated two (or was it three?) atomic devices in the open air, but now the French have begun their own series of above-grown tests.

These big bombs are being burst on the French Polynesian atoll of Moruroa.  I don't know what the indigenous South Seas population thinks of the blasts, but I imagine their opinions will sour as quickly as their strontium-90 laced milk.

The Big Fizzle


by Gray Morrow

The French may be making a big noise in the Southern Hemisphere, but Fred Pohl, editor of IF, Worlds of Tomorrow, and the formerly august Galaxy, has barely been squeaking by.  Indeed, the August 1966 issue of Galaxy is the most feeble outing I've read in a long time.

The Body Builders, by Keith Laumer


by Nodel

Opening things up, Keith Laumer extrapolates a future that is a straight-line evolution of our current boob tube culture.  Since so many of us are content to live vicariously, eyes plastered to the small screen, why not take things a few steps further?  And so a large portion of humanity lives flat on their backs, plugged into life support machines.  Their senses are hooked into humanoid surrogates of plastic and metal, optimized for task, emphasized for beauty. 

Our protagonist is a prize fighter, or at least, he remote controls a synthetic boxer.  Another artificial being provokes our hero into a duel while he's inhabiting his sport model body rather than his brawler suit.  So he goes on the lam.  Troubles, high jinks, and happy endings ensue.

Elements remind me of Robert F. Young's Romance in a Twenty-First Century Used-Car Lot (shuttling around in personally molded chassis) and Steel (human boxer steps into the ring against a robotic opponent), but this is a nice new spin.

Three stars.

Heresies of the Huge God by Brian W. Aldiss

A giant creature, thousands of miles long, crashes into the Earth.  Its bulk causes tremendous damage, alters our seasons, and thoroughly discombobulates our society.  This after-the-fact chronicle of the millennium following the alien's arrival is both unsettling and rather funny.

Four stars.

For Your Information: Scheherazade's Island by Willy Ley

This month's science column details the unusual creatures that inhabited Madagascar until quite recently: Big birds, giant lemurs, and other exotics.  They may, indeed, yet live there in remote areas of the enormous island.

Interesting topic but bland presentation.  Three stars.

The Piper of Dis by James Blish and Norman L. Knight


by Gray Morrow

Authors Blish and Knight return us to the overcrowded world of 2794 on which ten trillion humans live.  In this installment, the asteroid Flavia is headed toward Earth, where it will cause tremendous damage.  Millions of North Americans must be evacuated to the spare town of Gitler.  There are two wrinkles: 1) a convention of the Jones family is currently occupying the city, and they must be evacuated out before refugees can be evacuated in; 2) an insane criminal member of the Jones family, Fongavaro, doesn't want anyone in the city lest he be extradited back to his home in Madagascar.

Actually, there's another wrinkle: it's a dreary potboiler of a story in an implausible world.  I hope this is the last piece in the series.

Two stars.

Among the Hairy Earthmen by R. A. Lafferty

What if the Renaissance was really the work of bored aliens?  In this typically whimsical piece, a band of seven humanoid cousins arrive at medieval Europe and make history their plaything. 

This one of those tales that's all in the telling, and the telling is pretty charming.  Three stars.

The Look, by George Henry Smith

Women, hare-brained slaves to fashion that they all are, succumb to trends so horrendous that no man can bear to look at them.  It's the plot of a pair of homosexual fashion designers to ensure they have all of mankind to themselves.  Or so we're meant to think.  The "twist" is that it's actually a ploy of Alpha Centaurians to depopulate the Earth.

If we had a negative counterpart to the Galactic Stars, this would win the prize. One star.

Heisenberg's Eyes (Part 2 of 2) by Frank Herbert


by Dan Atkins

Last issue, we were treated to the first half of Frank Hebert's latest short novel.  It takes place in a far (like tens of thousands of years from now far) future in which the human race has completely stagnated in technology, society, and biology.  The "Optimen", sterile ubermenschen who are essentially immortal, rule over the mostly sterile humans whose offspring are all produced out of womb and with scrupulous surgical control.

Last installment, the Durant couple had stolen their embryo from under the noses of the Optimen with the help of the Cyborgs, a competing sub-race of humanity that has traded their emotions for computerized sturdiness.  The Durant embryo, due to some unexplained quirk, is the first bog-standard human to be spawned in millennia.  Able to reproduce, it may hold the key to toppling the static society of humanity.

This installment begins with the Durants stealthily escaping the megalopolis of Seatac. This takes up most of the part, and is ultimately pointless as the triumvirate of rulers is aware of their attempt the entire way.  The Durants, their assisting Cyborgs, as well as Svengaard, the surgeon they had taken hostage, are summoned before a full council of the Optimen for punishment.  Violence breaks out.  Two of the triumvirate are killed.  Calapine, the impulsive, simpering woman of the ruling trio, is both outraged and excited by the new feeling of mortality.  Nevertheless, she is committed to destroying her captives before they destroy the current order.

Until it is pointed out that the order is just its own kind of death, a sentence of eternal boredom.  In any event, it's doomed to failure since even the immortals need increasing doses of enzymes to stay alive, a situation that is quickly becoming untenable.

There is a solution!  It turns out that being implanted with an embryo produces all the enzymes one needs to stay alive indefinitely.  So women (and men) can be installed with pre-tykes that are made to gestate for thousands of years, and that will keep them alive forever.  Thus, humanity can return to some sort of natural (if prolonged) rhythm.

Never minding the utter implausibility of, well, everything about this book, all of the above could probably have been written in about 20 pages.  But when you're paid by the word, and you're one of the hottest authors in the genre (I can imagine a half century from now that Dune will replace The Bible as the most-read book in the world; there ain't no justice), I suppose sentences must flow.

Two stars for this part, two and half for the whole book.

Who Is Human? by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Starting in medias res, we have the latest story of the Esks: people who look like Eskimos, but are actually born in a month and raised to adulthood in five years.  In this installment, which really does not stand alone as a separate story, we learn that the Esks have been artificially created by alien visitors.  We are meant to believe that 1) the Esks pose an intolerable risk to the human race as we will soon be outbred and replaced by them, and 2) no one will actually believe our protagonist, Dr. West, when he explains the true nature of the Esks.  Everyone maintains they're just plain ol' Eskimos.

This is the silliest, most contrived set of premises.  The Esks are already starving due to overpopulation, and thus applying for relief.  Once free food starts being doled out, the unnatural increase in population will be known.  This may spell adversity for the real Inuit (and the Canadian budget) but it hardly threatens world domination.  And it's not like we have a Puppet Masters situation here; the Esks don't possess other humans.  They just live alongside them. 

Maybe there will be a better explanation down the road.  Two stars.

Summer Slump

It's a pretty sad affair when Galaxy clocks in at a bare 2.5 stars.  On the other hand, as Michael Moorcock informed us last month, it is not uncommon for magazines to save their weakest material for the summer, when readership is at its lowest.  Let us hope that's what is going on here!

Ah well.  At least the summer music is good:

Tune in to KGJ, our radio station!




[July 6, 1966] Baillie's Bailiwick–the Other Castro Street


by Victoria Lucas

Experimental movies on the rise

Mel and I like this little tiny independent theater off Broadway in San Francisco where we're now living. We've seen some great experimental films there, funny and not so funny. From where we live it's only a few blocks to walk, they only show films on weekends, and they don't charge a lot because it's not a tourist attraction, so it's not a big expense or far to go. Many of the movies we see are shorts, as is the one I discuss here.

I just have to tell you about a film we saw there. They show films from Canyon Cinema and other experimental shorts and foreign films. We haven't been to a mass-production movie theater I think since we met. It's been live theater, foreign films, experimental films, or nothing. Neither of us is fond of Doris Day.


The other Castro Street

Anyway, the film is called "Castro Street." Like the music of John Cage, it changed my life. Whereas Cage taught me to listen, Bruce Baillie, the filmmaker of this wonder and founder of Canyon Cinema, taught me how to look *and* listen together, immersing myself in my environment and watching it cinematically, listening to the music life makes (or whatever is in my head). There is music in "Castro Street," bits of Erik Satie, one of my favorite composers, often in my head.

Just in case you're wondering, "Castro Street" has nothing to do with the Castro Street neighborhood in San Francisco, famous home to differently sexed people whose lifestyle is still not legal and still excoriated. This Castro Street is one in Richmond, home to oil refineries and railroads.


Another still from "Castro Street"

Musique Concrete means "Found Sound"

That is what we see and hear in "Castro Street," trains and industrial facilities, but not as in a documentary. There is no narrative, no story, no voices at all, not even anything to hang a story on. Even Canyon Cinema member Stan Brakhage's 1959 film "Window, Water, Baby, Moving," at least has a birth as a bit of a narrative. This particular thing is happening. Whereas, with Baillie, nothing is happening, or, as Cage said in his "Lecture on Nothing," "I have nothing to say (pause) and I am saying it." I like nothing.

It's only 10 minutes. See if you can find "Castro Street" and watch, listen to it. How many stars for this movie? All there are. There's a new one of Baillie's out, "All My Life," and the Ella Fitzgerald soundtrack is fine, but the visuals stand alone without it.


Bruce Baillie

"24 realities per second"

About another one of his films made this year, the 2-minute "Still, Life," Baillie is reported to have written to Brakhage, "The film manages, I think, to suggest how light itself is movement, how color is movement, and how the combined play of light and color reveal that this tableau represents not only a single reality but 24 realities per second. Being is seen as transitory; everything is in the infinite process of becoming." Yes. Oh, yes.

Live long, Bruce Baillie. I'm sure you have a lot more films in you.






[July 4, 1966] The Daughters of Jane Eyre (Gothic Romances and a New Soap Opera)


by Victoria Silverwolf

From the Castle of Otranto to Northanger Abbey

Most literary historians state that the first Gothic novel was The Castle of Otranto (1764) by Horace Walpole. It set the pattern for later spooky stories. You know the type; mysteries, curses, hidden passages, innocent heroines prone to fainting, etc.


All that stuff about being translated from Italian by the nonexistent William Marshal is fictional. Note that the book was very popular, going through multiple editions.

Walpole's bestseller inspired many imitations. The genre was so popular that it was parodied in Jane Austen's posthumously published novel Northanger Abbey (1817), in which a naïve young woman who reads too much Gothic fiction imagines all sorts of dark secrets behind perfectly innocent situations.


It first appeared with Persuasion, another posthumous novel.

Frankenstein Meets Dracula

One of the most famous works of Gothic fiction appeared soon after, with the publication of Mary Shelley's 1818 novel Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus. This groundbreaking work, which one might think of as the first real science fiction novel, spawned countless adaptations and imitations, in the form of movies, comic books, and so forth.


It seems odd that authors didn't want their names on their books back in the old days.

I'm sure you're familiar with the scary stories that appeared during the Victorian era, from Edgar Allan Poe's chilling tales of madness and murder, to Bram Stoker's seminal vampire novel Dracula (1897).


The cover of the first edition. Looks very modern, doesn't it?

Isn't It Romantic?

Let me back up a little bit and mention the Brontë sisters, particularly Emily Brontë's novel Wuthering Heights and Charlotte Brontë's novel Jane Eyre, both published in 1847. Both books added a touch of romance to Gothic fiction, particularly the latter.


At least she used a pseudonym instead of being completely anonymous.

I hesitate to call Wuthering Heights a love story, although you might think it one if you've only seen the movie. The relationship between Catherine and Heathcliff in the book is more complex than simply a romance. (It's a very strange novel in many ways.)


Note that the book pretends to be a true account, and the similarity in pseudonyms. Their sister Anne Brontë used the pseudonym Acton Bell for her novels, which lie outside the topic of this article.

Jane Eyre is more obviously a romance, although it certainly contains elements of Gothic fiction as well. This blending of love and terror had an important influence on romantic novels of the current century, eventually leading to the marketing category of Gothic Romances.

(Just to make things completely clear, allow me to emphasize the fact that I am using the term Romances — note the capital letter — to refer to books sold as love stories. It should not be confused with the rather old-fashioned use of the word romance — note the small letter — to mean an imaginative tale, as in the archaic term scientific romance for what we now call science fiction.)

The most important modern Gothic Romance, I think, is Daphne du Maurier's 1938 bestseller Rebecca. The success of this novel, and the award-winning 1940 Alfred Hitchcock film adaptation, led to many similar books, which you can still find on the paperback racks of your local drug store.


The similarity to the cover of Dracula is interesting.

There are lots of these things floating around, usually with a cover depicting a beautiful young woman and a sinister building in the background. Often there's a single light in the window.


Science fiction writers sometimes produce Gothic Romances as well.

Welcome to Collinsport

I offer you this rather haphazard look at a particular category of popular fiction because the subject came to mind when a new daytime drama (that's a euphemism for soap opera) premiered on American television one week ago. Dark Shadows — even the title suggests Gothic elements — offers the kind of shuddery thrills found in the books I've been discussing. Heck, even the music played during the opening title sequence is spooky!

The first few minutes of the initial episode introduce us to the protagonist and her employers. In the tradition of Jane Eyre, our innocent heroine, Victoria Winters, is an orphan hired to work as a governess.


Victoria Winters, played by newcomer Alexandra Moltke, ponders her past and future.

She travels by train from a foundling home in New York to the fictional village of Collinsport, Maine, where she is to watch over David Collins, the ten-year-old son of Roger Collins.


Young actor David Henesy as the troubled boy David Collins. It must make it easier to have the same first name as your character.

Roger is separated from his wife, David's mother, and is living on the huge estate, including a spooky mansion, known as Collinwood with his fabulously wealthy sister, Elizabeth Collins Stoddard. Elizabeth's husband disappeared eighteen years ago, and she hasn't left Collinwood since.


Louis Edmonds as Roger Collins and movie star Joan Bennett as Elizabeth Collins Stoddard. You may have seen her share top billing with Edward G. Robinson in The Woman in the Window (1944) and Scarlet Street (1945), or with Gregory Peck in The Macomber Affair (1947).

Arriving on the same train as Victoria is Burke Devlin. Like many male characters in Gothic Romances, he's darkly attractive, but obviously has some kind of secret in his past. Adding to the intrigue is the fact that Roger is upset when he learns Burke is back in Collinsport.


Mitchell Ryan as Burke Devlin, ruggedly handsome antihero.

Mention should be made of Carolyn Stoddard, Elizabeth's daughter, and her boyfriend, Joe Haskell. Joe wants to marry her, but Carolyn is reluctant. She also seems to be interested in Burke.


Nancy Barrett as Carolyn Stoddard. Women in nightgowns are a staple of Gothic Romances.


Joel Crothers as Joe Haskell, in a happy mood.

Rounding out the list of major characters are Sam Evans, an artist who appears to know something about the trouble between Roger and Burke, and his daughter Maggie, waitress at the local diner.


Kathryn Leigh Scott, in an obvious blonde wig, greets Victoria at the diner, and provides exposition for the audience.


Mark Allen as Sam Evans, who drinks a lot at the Blue Whale, which seems to be the only place to get booze in Collinsport.

After only six episodes, counting today's, we've already got a lot of mysteries.  Who were Victoria's parents?  Why does Elizabeth want her to work at Collinwood?  Where has Burke been for several years?  Why did he return to Collinsport?  Why is Roger unhappy to know he's around?  What does Sam know about the situation?  What happened to Elizabeth's husband? Why hasn't she left the estate since he vanished?  What's in the locked room in the basement?

Besides all this stuff, we've got subtle hints of the supernatural.  Victoria hears unexplained sobbing sounds in the middle of the night.  David claims that ghosts told him to send Victoria away.  Sam tells her that Collinwood is haunted by Josette, a French woman who leapt to her death from a cliff called Widow's Hill nearly two centuries ago.  Whether the ghosts will turn out to be real or not remains to be seen.

It's also unknown whether this offbeat soap opera will stick around for any length of time.  It's a production of ABC (American Broadcasting Company), which is something of an upstart network, much newer than CBS (Columbia Broadcasting System) and NBC (National Broadcasting Company.) In my neck of the woods, Dark Shadows shows up at four o'clock in the afternoon, and faces competition from well-established programs on the other networks.


This CBS soap opera has been on the air since 1954.


On NBC, we have The Match Game, which has been running since 1962, and is now being broadcast in color.

If none of this appeals to you, you could always read a book.


Let's see; beautiful woman with a spooky house in the background, one light in the window; must be a Gothic Romance.  And guess what?  My sources in the publishing world tell me that Cassandra Knye is actually the team of New Wave SF writers Thomas M. Disch and John Sladek cashing in on the trend.



If you don't feel like watching TV or reading, tune in to KGJ, our radio station! Nothing but the hits!




[July 2, 1966] The Big Thud (August 1966 IF)


by David Levinson

This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper

– T. S. Eliot, The Hollow Men

Starting with a Bang

This month, we note with regret the passing of Monsignor Georges Lemaître on June 20th, at the age of 71. You are likely wondering who that was and what a Catholic priest has to do with the sort of things we usually discuss here at the Journey. Though not well known in America, Msgr. Lemaître was one of the most important theoretical astronomers of this century. After earning his PhD. in mathematics in his native Belgium, he spent a year at Cambridge under Arthur Eddington, who introduced him to modern cosmology, followed by a year at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology under Harlow Shapley. In 1927, he published a paper in a minor Belgian journal in which he proposed that the red shift of other galaxies could be explained by an expanding universe. That was two years before Edwin Hubble published his theory of a relationship between velocity and distance for extragalactic bodies. Lemaître also made a first estimation of the constant now called the Hubble constant.

Then in 1931, he suggested that the vectors of all the objects could be tracked backwards to a single point. He dubbed this the “primeval atom”. This is the beginning of the theory which Fred Hoyle called the “big bang” in contrast to his favored steady-state theory. The evidence in favor of Lemaître’s theory has mounted over the years, and it now looks to be the best explanation for the beginning of the universe. The Monsignor was also a mathematician and one of the first people to use computers for cosmological calculations. He was elected to the Pontifical Academy of Sciences in 1946 and served as its president since 1960. Although a devout Catholic, he firmly believed that science and religion were not in conflict, but nevertheless should not be mixed.


Lemaître with Robert Millikan and Albert Einstein following a lecture at the California Institute of Technology in 1933.

Ending with a Whimper

They say an author should try to come up with a good opening line, or hook, to grab the reader’s attention. Things like “It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen,” “It was a pleasure to burn,” or (one of my favorites) “If I had cared to live, I would have died.” It’s important to start with a bang, but all too often writers forget about a satisfying ending. Stories taper off into nothing, plot threads are never tied up, or ridiculous bits of action are introduced out of nowhere to get the author out of a corner they painted themselves into. Quite a few of the stories in this month’s IF start off promisingly, if not with a bang, and end not with a whimper, but a resounding thud.


No matter what the Table of Contents says, this outer space construction site has nothing to do with The Foundling Stars. Art by McKenna

The Foundling Stars, by Hal Clement

Astronomer Elvin Toner doesn’t accept the standard theory of star formation which says that random fluctuations in the density of nebulae initiate a snowball effect that allows the gas to become dense enough to trigger stellar ignition. So he has come to the Orion Spur along with his assistant Dick Ledermann and pilots Hoey and Luisi to perform an experiment. He intends to run an interferometer with a baseline of several light-hours on the gas and dust of the nebula. That means the pilots will have to hold their ships completely motionless with respect to each other. Because a change in the center of gravity of either ship by as much as a micron will ruin the experiment, the two men will have to remain as motionless as possible for several hours. The first run hiccups for some unknown reason, and on the second Hoey sneezes.


Toner and Ledermann await the results. Art by McClane

This starts off like a typical Hal Clement story. Unfortunately, once Hoey sneezes, the story becomes more like something from the ‘40s written by one of those lesser authors who are forgotten today. The secret to stellar formation is the most un-Clement-like answer I can think of. Well-written, and I might have liked it better under a different name.

A disappointing three stars.

Slot Machine, by H. B. Michel

Two aliens (or maybe demons) are playing the slots in a casino, using humans as currency. They act just like a married human couple.

Michel is this month’s first time author. The story is awful. I have a vague sense of what the writer was aiming for, but it’s a complete miss. Maybe if I knew what slot machine symbols mean, I’d have understood it a little better.

One star.

Peace Corps, by Robert Moore Williams

Jim Jiro is a member of the Peace Corps. Not the youth volunteer organization called into being by President Kennedy, but an intelligence organization of the world government, much like the CIA or MI-6. He’s on his way back from the Moon, where miners have been disappearing. Pursued by invisible aliens, he falls into the hands of their human criminal allies. How high a price will he have to pay in order to save humanity?


Jim checks the mirror for invisible enemies. Art by Virgil Finlay

The story is as bad as that precis makes it sound, but it actually gets off to a promising start. Unfortunately, it soon stumbles and eventually comes to a crashing thud. Williams has been around since the late ‘30s and the plot is entirely out of those days, although the writing itself is more modern. I’ve never understood why criminal organizations always aid invading aliens in these sorts of stories. It’s as if they have no sense of self-preservation. Anyway, the descent into the worst of the pulp era is all the more disappointing after a good start.

Two stars.

Conventions Galore, by Lin Carter

After looking at Worldcon last month, this time around Our Man in Fandom takes a look at other conventions around the United States. From relaxed conventionettes to fully programmed conventions, there are lots of get-togethers all over. Alas, due to the demands of publishing many of them have already happened, but it’s worth a look to see if something might be happening in your area.

Three stars.

The Hour Before Earthrise (Part 2 of 3), by James Blish

In the first installment, teenager Dolph Haertl invented anti-gravity and flew to Mars in a packing crate, followed soon after by his almost girlfriend Nanette. We open this month with the kids’ parents gradually coming to believe the truth and the story getting picked up by the press, first as a silly season piece and then a “baby in the well” story. Eventually, everyone but the parents decide there’s no way the kids could still be alive. However, one or two mathematicians have started working on Dolph’s theory.

Meanwhile on Mars, Dolph and Nanette manage to survive. They’re able to expand their shelter somewhat and resort to eating the residue of the lichen they process for oxygen and water. Amazingly, after eating the stuff, they are able to survive for a time outside without oxygen or warm clothing. They discover a sort of lobster-scorpion they can use to supplement their diet, and then Dolph finds a weak radio signal, apparently a beacon. Hoping to attract the attention of whoever is behind the beacon, he comes up with a way to interrupt the signal. As the installment ends, they encounter a large cat-like predator. To be concluded.


Dolph contemplates lunch. Art by Morrow.

I was pretty hard on this novel last month. Things have improved somewhat. Blish has dropped the alternation of story and science lecture that made me compare this to Danny Dunn. This is closer to a Heinlein juvenile, with a focus on survival through technology and engineering. I’m tempted to give Blish points for acknowledging the basic facts of human female biology, but he loses them for literally connecting menstruation to the Moon. Toss in the still silly premise and a Mars that is somewhere between that of the old planetary romances and what we know of Mars today and the improvements don’t add up to much.

Just barely three stars.

He Looked Back, by Carl Jacobi

After running out of money on her Caribbean vacation, narrator Jennie has wound up in the country of San Carlo. She landed a job running a hotel switchboard and taking shorthand occasionally on the side. Captain Juan La Cola of the Confidential Police is staying at the hotel and seems to have foreknowledge of accidents befalling high-ranking members of the government and has expressed unhappiness with the dictator running his country. With a bit of snooping, Jennie discovers that he also has some odd allies.

Now, that’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time. Jacobi was a pretty big deal in the Pulp Era. He was best known for his weird fiction and adventure tales, almost single-handedly turning adventures set in Borneo and Baluchistan into genres of their own. His science fiction was less successful, mostly space opera of the lesser sort. Although the pulpy bones of this story are clear, it still manages to be relatively modern. The prose isn’t purple, the plot doesn’t rely overmuch on coincidence, and Jennie’s voice is very authentic. It could have been shorter, and the ending is very much from thirty years ago, but it’s not a bad read.

Three stars.

The Junk Man Cometh, by Robin Scott

Perce Sansoni, now an ex-congressman from West Virginia thanks to bucking the party machine and contemplating an independent run for Senator, has returned to the family junk business. They pick up some Army surplus generators for a song, but the crew bringing them to junkyard is hijacked, killing two employees and sending brother Buzz to the hospital. Eventually, the hijackers are proven to be aliens and Perce is captured for a time. Everything heads to a final confrontation in the family junkyard.


One of the hijackers. Art by Gaughan

Not a great story, but probably the best in a fairly weak issue. It’s certainly the only one that doesn’t trip over its own feet and has a reasonably satisfying ending. Perce is an engaging narrator and his family is well drawn. At the very least, it’s the one story this month where I could say, “I enjoyed that.”

A solid, but not quite high, three stars.

Summing Up

What have we learned this month? Endings are hard. Sometimes even old pros can’t quite figure out how to wrap things up. No matter how good your hook is, if you leave the reader unhappy at the end, it’s going to be harder to set the hook next time. If you can’t go out with a bang, at least hope for a whimper, because a thud is the least satisfying thing of all. As Walter Cronkite says, “That’s the way it is.”


Chandler playing with alternate universes again. Hope this one’s better than the last.





[June 30, 1966] Not Reading You (July 1966 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Common meaning

Every so often, a science fiction magazine editor has enough of a backlog to run a "themed" issue.  For instance, there was the time Fred Pohl bunged together an issue of IF with stories all by someone named Smith.  This time around, Analog editor John Campbell has accumulated a supply of tales on the subject of communication.

The problem with themed issues, of course, is that quality is often secondary to topic.  But not always.  Let's see how the July 1966 Analog fares before we make a hasty conclusion!

Five by Five (plus two)


by John Schoenherr

The Message, by Piers Anthony and Frances Hall


by John Schoenherr

Mysterious Thargans have settled amidst the tiny human colony on Tau Ceti.  Though not overly aggressive, they aren't terribly congenial either.  But they are very inquisitive, about our technology, our physical capabilities, and our mental talents.  And their spaceship has a lot of cargo space — enough to fit a thousand slaves, for instance…

Rivera, a linguist who speaks the alien tongue, is tapped to assess the danger posed by the Thargans.  And when disaster inevitably strikes, he must recapitulate an era early in his life, when he managed to foil four would-be muggers not by force, but by the right verbal approach.

An interesting tale by a pair of newish writers, though a bit choppy and with flattish characters. 

Three stars.

The Signals, by Francis Cartier


by Kelly Freas

For the last half-decade, astronomers have been training their radio telescopes upon the stars, hoping to eavesdrop on transmissions from an intelligent alien race.  So-called Project Ozma hasn't found anything yet, and Cartier's tale explains why.  It's not that aliens aren't trying, it's just that we don't know how to listen.  Or more accurately, the fundamental theory of communication is too different between the species for intelligible contact.

Something of a throwaway piece, it is nevertheless cute and probably not far from the truth.  Three stars.

An Ounce of Dissension, by Martin Loran


by Kelly Freas

Quist of the interstellar Library corps is visiting the planet Rayer after a long trip through space.  Upon landing, the brutalist police troops burn his entire stock of books.  The planet is ripe for a revolution, but it needs a catalyst to do so.  Luckily, in Quist's cargo is a crate-sized book printer with a very large memory core…

Essentially a smug Fahrenheit 451, I can see why this piece appealed to Campbell.  But it takes too long to get where it's going, and it utilizes enough straw men to staff all the fields of Iowa.

Two stars.

Meaning Theory, by Dwight Wayne Batteau

This nonfiction piece is all about how the communication of information destroys meaning, and the imparting of meaning destroys information…or something like that.  Frankly, I couldn't make heads or tales of it.  The pictures are cute, the graphs seem useful, the text is in English.  Perhaps someone smarter than me will glean something from it.

Or maybe not.  One star for this failure to communicate.

The Ancient Gods (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

Last issue, the crew of the starship Meteor had space-jumped 200 million light years from Earth to a feeble red dwarf out in intergalactic space.  They had hoped to establish trade relations with the advanced "yonderfolk" of the system.  Instead, they transitioned into real space too close to the next planet closer to the sun and crash landed.  Only six were left alive.

Hugh Valland, oldest of the more-or-less immortal group of spacers, hatched a plan to salvage a lifeboat so as to make the interplanetary trek to the yonderfolk planet.  But such a massive undertaking would require more than the half dozen remaining crew.  Luckily, intelligent (if primitive) beings exist on the swampy world.  Contact was made with the Azkashi, and it looked as if the plan might work.  As the first half came to a close, it seemed we might be getting a Flight of the Phoenix story. 

Instead, the second half begins with Hugh taken prisoner by the Askashi while the related but more advanced Gianyi abscond with the captain and the mentally unstable Yo Rorn.  It is quickly determined that the Gianyi are in the telepathic thrall of the Ai Chun, a race perhaps a billion years old.  They have stagnated to almost fossilization, and no amount of parley can dissaude them from their goal to strip the downed spaceship for its valuable metal and to work the humans as slaves until they die.  The captain escapes, and with Valland (who is freed by the Azkashi), plans a battle for their liberty.

Much of this installment is given to the war between the human-led Azkashi and the Ai Chun-controlled Gianyi.  It is effectively told, but the outcome is never in doubt, and I found myself less enamored with this wide swath of the text.  Long story short, there are happy endings and Hugh is ultimately reunited with his long lost love (of whom much is sung but little is known).

What I liked: Poul Anderson is a bard, and his stories are lyric performances.  His wistful, archaic prose is sometimes ill suited to its subject, but it works here.  The characters are nicely drawn and compelling.  The unique setting and the nifty aliens are all cutting edge science.  I appreciated the frank polygamy practiced by the captain and his genuine puzzlement with Valland's monogamy.  There's also the suggestion that strict heterosexuality is not observed in the far future.

What I was less delighted with: I felt like Anderson marked a lot of time with the war sequences, which did not bring much new to the table.  The acute lack of women, both on the crew of the Meteor and among the aliens (they exist in the background to do domestic chores, just like Earth females) marked another missed opportunity.  I also suspect that the Ai Chun and Gianyi are supposed to be metaphors for China — grand but hidebound.  Certainly Anderson draws a stated parallel between the Azkashi and the American Indians (for whom the author has an obvious fondness; viz. his tale in Orbit).  The racial comparisons made me slightly uncomfortable, though it's a minor thing and I could be wrong.

Finally, the revelation of Mary O' Meary's current condition in the story's epilogue is a bit trite, and quite unbelievable.  Here's the thing (and don't read on until you've either read the end or in the event you don't mind me giving away the gimmick): Mary has been dead for thousands of years, having passed away just before the advent of immortality.  She died at the age of nineteen.  This means that the immortal romance between she and Hugh could have lasted a few years at the most.

Now look, I love my wife more than anything.  If she passes before me, I may well stay single for the rest of my life.  But she and I have been together almost 30 years.  I balk at the idea that a teenage fling could possibly compel me to asceticism for thousands of years.  At that point, it's less about love and more a case of emotional masturbation.

Anyway, it's a solid three and a half stars.  I can imagine some ticking it up to a full four stars and others finding it all a bit tedious and giving it just three.

Survivor, by Mack Reynolds


by Kelly Freas

The threat of nuclear war looms, raising tensions to the breaking point.  When the klaxons go off, signalling the end of the world, millions flee the cities to find refuge, fighting over the quickly dwindling resources. 

But have the bombs actually fallen, or is it all a miscommunication? 

The premise to Survivor is pretty darned silly — that everyone will lose their collective minds out of fear.  I do believe that, in the case of a false alarm, there'd be panic and rioting and looting and mass disruption.  But not to the point that society completely breaks down such that both sides aren't even able to wage the war that frightened everyone in the first place!

Two stars.

The Missile Smasher, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Lastly, Anvil offers up a predictably slight tale of a series of rocket launch mishaps, the discovery of the focused light projector that is causing it, and the removal of said projector by a government troubleshooter.

I think it's meant to be funny or something.  It's not very good.

Two stars.

Wrong number

I'm afraid a common theme did little to elevate the current issue.  Indeed, in many cases, background noise might have been preferable to signal.  All told, the July Analog clocks in at a dismal 2.3 stars, placing it at the bottom of the heap.  The top is dominated by paperback-format periodicals: New Writings #8 (3.9), Fantastic (3.4), and Orbit #1 (3.4)

The middle of the pack is composed of the usual suspects: Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1), Impulse (3.1), New Worlds (2.8) and If (2.7).

Women were responsible for a whopping 14% of this month's output of new fiction (mostly thanks to Orbit, which featured five female authors).  If you took all the really good stuff published this month, you could comfortably fill two magazines.  Or just buy New Writings and Orbit!

So, whither Analog?  Will there be another theme next month, one that will drag the magazine ever closer to the dreaded 2-star rating?  Will it plunge even without a common thread?  Or will we get a sudden reversal, the kind we've seen several times over the past few years?

Stay tuned!



Speaking of tuning, tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Our theme is quality and diversity!




[June 28, 1966] Scapegoats, Revolution and Summer Impulse and New Worlds, July 1966


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

This month I am trying to be more optimistic about the British magazines. Now that the sun is out, why wouldn’t I be? But to be honest, the last couple of issues have rather underwhelmed on the whole. That’s not to say that there haven’t been great moments but much of the material has seemed – well, predictable.

To Impulse first.

An interesting cover this month, with polymath and Associate Editor Mr. Keith Roberts illustrating the last part of his Pavane series. Where does he find the time?

After a month off, Kyril’s Editorial this month continues his recent ruminating that he doesn’t know what to write about as an Editor. It’s a sadly oft-repeated theme, and makes me think that Kyril really has lost interest in the job. The only thing of note here is that Harry Harrison’s latest novel, Make Room! Make Room! (recently reviewed by my colleague Jason HERE for Galactic Journey) will appear here from next month, which I am looking forward to.

Of more interest, the Editorial is followed by an essay by the “Guest Editorial” writer from last month, Harry Harrison. With that in mind, it shouldn’t be too surprising that the “Critique” (as it is called) rather reads as if it should be the Editorial rather than an essay. It is the first of a regular monthly essay, in which (as Kyril puts it) “…untrammelled by fear or favour, he will praise the best, trounce the worst, review current science / fantasy / fiction and cope with any reader’s letter which strikes a spark in his great soul.”

In other words, Harry is doing what an editor should do. As to be expected, the article, once again, makes good points about the state of British sf and the need to grow up, but it is nothing new. I like the fact that Harry has asked for definitions of sf, with the winner being offered a year’s free subscription. (This, of course, assumes that Impulse will last for at least a year!)

Let’s move on. To this month’s actual stories.

Pavane: Corfe Gate, by Keith Roberts

The fifth story from Roberts’ alternate History takes us back to a place we visited last month – Corfe Castle, which last time was the home of Robert, Lord of Purbeck and where Robert took Anne Strange. This time the hints of change made before, suggesting that we may be on the way to revolution, seem to have come true.

Several decades in the future, Corfe Gate continues this story of rebellion and change by telling the story of Lady Eleanor, who refuses to pay the tithe demanded by the Roman Catholic Church because the people of Corfe Castle would starve in order to do so. As King Charles is away in the New World, this leads to Lord Henry of Rye and Deal turning up on her doorstop ready to fight on behalf of Pope John of Rome. Eleanor refuses to yield, believing that King Charles would never allow his people to suffer. The revolution spreads, until King Charles arrives at Corfe Castle and the matter is resolved.

Around this story, much of the narrative tells us about Eleanor’s life and how she got to this point.

As the final part of this series, this is where the different elements seen so far come together. Corfe Gate is really the story of Eleanor, the daughter of Robert and Anne Strange, who were in the last story. In Corfe Gate we see the power wielded by Parliament and the Roman Catholic Church, of whom we found out about in the second story, with the semaphore system of the Royal Signallers who we found out about in the first story also playing a part. We even have the brief return of the Lady Anne, the steam tractor of the second part.

But most of all we read of a young woman in a patriarchal world determined to do their best for her people, against the forces of conservatism and inertia equally determined to crush her rebellion before it becomes something bigger.

It is a story where we are undoubtedly meant to feel for Eleanor, and it is to the writer’s credit that I did. Corfe Gate is a powerful story that caps the series wonderfully. 4 out of 5.

The OH in Jose by Brian W Aldiss

Once again, where Harry Harrison goes, Brian Aldiss follows – not the first time the two have appeared in the same issue of New Worlds or Impulse/Science Fantasy. Can we be sure they are not the same person? Nevertheless, the story is a typical piece of Aldiss whimsy – that is to say, on the mildly humorous side but with a point to make.

A number of travellers make up wildly different stories about the origin of the word “Jose” carved into a rock, before the truth is revealed. A much-needed lighter story after the darkness of Roberts’s Pavane. Another that has already been published, however. 3 out of 5.

The White Monument by Peter Redgrove

A new author. This one is subtitled “A Monologue” and is the tale of a man who, annoyed by the sound coming from his house’s chimney, creates a monument for his wife who is entombed by his efforts to fill the noisy chimney with concrete. Lyrical and experimental yet as silly as it sounds. Another story that has appeared elsewhere before – this time as a radio play on the BBC’s Light Programme. 2 out of 5.

The Beautiful Man, by Robert Clough

Another new author. Three goatherders discover skeletons in a cave, and a crucifix. A twist in the tale story that suggests that this is a post-apocalyptic world. Pretty predictable. 3 out of 5.

Pattern As Set by John Rankine

The return of an author last seen in the May 1966 issue, with the rather underwhelming story of The Seventh Moon. This time I was slightly more impressed – perhaps the shorter length plays more to John’s strengths. Mark Bowden is a pilot on the Cyborax, a spaceship on a hundred-years-long journey, where one at a time members of the crew are unfrozen to do their duty. Borden spends most of the beginning of the story lusting after teammate Dena. The story becomes more interesting when Bowden tries to defrost the next crew member to find that they have died. The end is a disappointment, in the manner of “so…it was all a dream!” 3 out of 5.

A Hot Summer’s Day by John Bell

What's this? A story about Summer, published in Summer? We’ll be getting Christmas stories in December next!

A new author, but this is a satisfactory enough tale of a day in a future London, where getting to work via private or public transport is a significant challenge. It begins with descriptions where traffic is at a standstill, riots on the London Underground are common, people are invariably late for work and the resulting stress levels make London a miserable place to be. As if this wasn’t enough, the story then piles on descriptions of overcrowded sweatiness and grumpy employers, to the point where the story ends with parts of London being razed to the ground by rioters. Seems a little extreme, but rather inevitable as the story ramps things up to its ending. It was fun to read of Tube stations being places of chaos and disorder. One for the commuters, I guess. 3 out of 5.

The Report by Russell Parker

Another new author, but a story of little consequence. Written in the form of a report, it tells of a post war world where thirteen months ago nations released nuclear weapons on each other and wiped out most cities. So far, so predictable.

The point of the story seems to be that the war seems to have started by accident – not with an attack on cities like London (if there’s any of London left after the previous story, of course!) but with a meteor strike on Norfolk! (For non-British readers, Norfolk is an area of flat, mainly rural countryside which I’m tempted to describe as a British equivalent of the Florida Everglades, if cooler.) 3 out of 5.

Hurry Down Sunshine by Roger Jones

By contrast to the chaos of A Hot Summer’s Day, Hurry Down Sunshine is a story of a supremely organised future, from another new author. In this future, the clinically clean world feels deliberately Kafka-esque, and is not helped by the point that the efficient government is run from the sidelines by the rather Dr. Strangelove-like Dr. Holzhacker, who sacrifices everything in the name of efficiency.

Towards these ends, in order to reduce mental instability in a country free of crime, Smith is promoted from anonymous office drone to be the nation’s scapegoat (an Official National Criminal), upon whom all grievances can be laid. Said scapegoat is placed on the much-maligned and mostly unused national railways, the last in existence in the world. In this manner, Smith not only fulfills his duty in comparative safety (for no one rides the train to vent their frustrations on the scapegoat) and the railways get an extra lease on life — after all, they can't be shut down while they have such an important customer on board. Our randomly selected stooge rides the rails for eighteen months, during which a Report is produced which includes Smith’s unpublished letters to The Times newspaper. This becomes a bestseller. As Smith pulls into a station, a mob of angry citizens arrived determined to make Smith pay for his ‘crimes’. But they assail the wrong train, and Smith, rather hurt at not being able to fulfill his scapegoat duty, is whisked to Bletchley.

Subdivided into sections like a J. G. Ballard story, this is another satire, like Ernest Hill’s story Sub-liminal in last month’s New Worlds – but better. It is good fun, although still rather silly. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

Well, I’m pleased to type that I generally enjoyed this one – more than last month’s anyway. Admittedly, it’s not perfect. Whilst I’m pleased to see new writers given their moment in the sun alongside the big-hitters, some of the material (again) shows inexperience and banality or even extreme and bizarre mood changes. They lack the subtlety of quality writing, although they are good efforts overall. With the exception of Corfe Gate, there’s nothing really memorable here, although they’re all entertaining enough.

And with that, onto issue 164 of New Worlds, hoping that it is better.

The Second Issue At Hand

Like last month’s Impulse, the Editorial in New Worlds is a Guest Editorial. Instead of Moorcock this month, we get his friend J. G. Ballard making another appearance. (Is it Editor’s Holiday time, I wonder? What is going on?)

Ballard being Ballard, this is not an Editorial as such but a review of a film – La Jetee, directed by Chris Marker. (Why this couldn’t be later in the issue as a review, rather than as the Editorial is a mystery.) Anyway, Ballard loved it – unsurprisingly, as it appears to be a film tailored to Ballard’s own interests. It is entirely made up of black-and-white photographs but put on film. The film is bold and experimental – and even has an sf theme.

Might be worth a look, but not for everyone – rather like Ballard's own writing!

To the stories!


Illustration by James Cawthorn

In Passage of the Sun, by George Collyn

George is a regular contributor to the magazines, both as a writer and as a critic/reviewer. This has an intriguing first line – “You can have no idea of what it was like in those last days of Earth.” – before settling into post-apocalyptic Space Opera shenanigans. Our ‘hero’ is taken from the overcrowded domes of Earth in the ongoing war between humans and the lizard-like Throngians, and is then put into a war not only between the humans and the Throngians but also a political battle between the King and other factions.

In some ways In Passage Of The Sun was old-school, old style Space Opera, in that it is really old ideas rehashed into something not terribly new.

The main difference I guess is where an old story of this type would try to show Humanity succeeding against all the odds, this one suggests little but backstabbing, meaningless slaughter and misery. The first part of the story seems to revel in grime, sweat and dead bodies – a typically British dystopian story! It did get a little better after that, but as the lead story of an issue, it is wildly uneven. I felt that it really wasn’t cover story material.

Which rather makes me worry about the quality of the rest of the issue. Are we scraping the barrel a bit, here?

A low 3 out of 5.

The Other, by Katherine Maclean

The return of an author who has had stories steadily published from the 1950’s. The Other is the story of Joey, who we discover is an artificially constructed being, and “The Other”, a voice inside Joey’s head. After a psychiatric meeting with Doctor Armstrong and Joey we find that The Other may be more than we at first expected. As expected from a veteran writer, the story is short but memorable, even if it feels like only part of a bigger story. It’s not Maclean’s best but it stands out in this issue. 4 out of 5.

Sanitarium, by Jon DeCles

A newcomer to me, though I understand he has been published in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction before. A strange story about a strange future, where even sexual satisfaction is provided by the State. It is mainly about people in the Sanitarium, who are generally unpleasant. Nearly three-hundred-year-old Romf Brigham is invited by his strange neighbours to a party to celebrate Mrs. Christopher Carson’s absence for six months and becomes involved in the investigation. The story loses momentum though as we are told from the start where she is. An attempt at satire in a decadent future, which seems to celebrate decadent excess and languor. I found it pretty unpleasant. 3 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Way to London Town, by David Redd

Nancy arrives in Sacaradown, observes the people there and meets Walther, who collects “strange people”, who Nancy seems to be. He becomes obsessed with finding out more about eleven-year-old Nancy, and Nancy says that she wants to collect enough money to visit places earlier in time, like London before the war that destroyed it. It’s a clumsy plot device to allow the writer to fill in background. We discover that Nancy is a mutant who can travel through time at will.

I suspect that this will be the first of a series, rather like Keith Roberts’ Anita was. This shares some similarities to those stories – an unusual outsider, seemingly innocent, for example. But whereas Anita was often charming, in places this unsubtle story comes across as creepy and odd. It gets better towards the end, but by then the damage is done. 2 out of 5.

The Outcasts, by Kris Neville

One of those lyrical, allegorical stories that Moorcock loves. This one is about a Los Angeles, full of pushers and strange women. No real story to it, the writer seems to be more interested in writing interesting prose and create vivid imagery rather than have the narrative go somewhere. Not for me, I’m afraid. 2 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The God Killers (Part 2 of 2) by John Baxter
I said last month that I thought that John Baxter’s story was too provocatively titled, but that I enjoyed it. I was even more interested to read further when last month’s New Worlds heralded this part of John Baxter’s story as “bizarre”.

A quick reminder – we were told last issue of the planet of Merryland, where the people actively worship Satanism. Young David Bonython finds in his farm’s attic forbidden technology – a matter transmitter from a heretic age whose storage threatens death or torture for David, his friends and family.

Through this arrived Hemskir, a rogue Proctor wanted for offences against Federal law.

The story finished last time with David spending the night with his stepsister Samantha Padgett at some kind of Christian ritualistic orgy. When David returned to the Padgett farm the next day, he found Hemskir dead and the farm on fire.

The farm has been set ablaze by the Examiners, the local justice force who have been tipped off by Elton Penn, the leader of the Christian group. David rescues Samantha at the farm, who goes with him, albeit reluctantly, to the city of New Harbour. There they are captured by Penn, but escape. David realises that Penn is searching for the place of origin of the green crystal that is so rare, but by looking at a map he and Samantha, now lovers, sail to a research station where they find a lake of the stuff. The green crystal is malleable to their will – basically if they can think it, the crystal will turn into it – solid, liquid or gas. Penn has followed them there in a spaceship and there is the inevitable showdown.

There’s some nice descriptions of the world in decay here and some nice ideas of ancient forbidden technology that I liked, but to counterbalance this there’s also some honking howlers in prose – try “She began to cry, savagely, as if forcing grief out of her like vomit”, or even “Love and the water turned them into beautiful animals…” All in all, despite the attempts to make it worth my reading, The Godkillers is not very surprising if you’ve read Ballard’s Crystal World, nor actually very good. Disappointing. A low 3 out of 5.

The Failure of Andrew Messiter, by Robert Cheetham

Cheetham’s first story here since A Mind of My Own in December 1965. It’s another fairly predictable story of scientific experiments in inner space. Dr. Messiter and his team of Wendy Lardner and Bill Maine conduct an experiment where, in order to prove that paranormal powers such as telekinesis exist, Messiter agrees to become what is basically a brain in a body, not connected to any of the traditional five senses. This is so that the latent powers without the usual senses working can then be goaded into action and show themselves.

Over the next year, whilst love blooms between Lardner and Maine, there are no signs of life in Messiter. Maine decides to do what he and Messiter agreed they would do if there was no activity and injects a poison into the body, leaving the couple to go and pursue their affair further. The twist in the story is that Messiter is alive and aware and only just beginning to show the means of contact they wanted before he dies. It’s readable, but not without flaws, such as the awfully awkward romance. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews

A lot of reviews again this month. As ever, the reviews are colourful and entertainin,. prompted by the proliferation of new material, anthologies and reprints. As well as his Editorial/review earlier in the issue, J.G. Ballard contributes reviews of two books, Surrealism by Patrick Waldberg and The History of Surrealist Painting by Marcel Jean. As they clearly echo some of Ballard’s own ideas in his version of sf, they are, unsurprisingly, both liked.

Equally predictably, James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) then positively reviews in some detail J. G. Ballard’s The Crystal World, which I’ve already mentioned this month but was also serialised here a while back.

Hilary Bailey (Mrs. Moorcock to you and me) tackles the briefer reviews, covering Harry Harrison’s Plague From Space, also recently serialised in New Worlds (she likes it more than I did), Rick Raphael’s Code Three, William Tenn’s collection Time in Advance and The Eighth Galaxy Reader, all of which get generally positively reviews. However, she finds Poul Anderson’s Three Worlds to Conquer impossible to finish and dislikes his Virgin Planet enormously.

R. M. Bennett writes an essay on satirical sf, which seems to echo my own view that it is hard to write and rarely successful. Nevertheless, there are suggestions there for the reader to try.

Bill Barclay writes of new titles by a publisher admittedly unknown to me, Ronald Whiting and Wheaton. Whilst the article can come across as little more than an advertisement, there are books mentioned there that whet my appetite, including work by James White and a A Science Fiction Anthology written to commemorate the sadly-departed Cyril Kornbluth.

We still have no Letters pages this month.

Summing up New Worlds

I’m not sure why, but this month’s issue feels slightly different than usual, in its choice of content and its general tone. Is this an attempt to be different, or is it because it feels like New Worlds has had a different hand on the helm? Whilst James Colvin has made an appearance, the magazine itself seems filled with unmemorable material or stories that are just not worth shouting about. The Collyn is rather uneven, the Maclean good but not one of her best and even the John Baxter novel ends disappointingly. Has Moorcock taken his hand off the wheel? It does feel a little bit like it.

Summing up overall

So: despite my hopes, more disappointing issues this month. Not just one but both issues rather feel like there is no one at the rudder, and that the willing but exhausted subordinates have taken much of the strain. Again, they’re not bad, but there’s little that is memorable in either issue.

A tough choice then in choosing “the best”. In the end I’ve opted for Impulse again as my favourite, simply for Roberts’s Corfe Gate which is by far the best thing I’ve read this month. However neither magazine should be showered with glory this month.

But next month's New Worlds sounds better:

As I type this, we are about to begin a World Cup soccer tournament, with England being the host nation. Although football is not something I have much of an interest in, I feel that it would be wrong of me not to exhibit some sort of nationalistic pride on this global event. So – come on, England, etc etc.

(Moment over.)

Until the next…





[June 26, 1966] Justice League of Britain (New British Superhero Comics)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

World Cup Stadium
Wembley, one of the main venues for the world cup matches.

World Cup excitement seems to have hit fever pitch in the UK. For the first time the international tournament is to be held in England and even non-sports fans, like me, are finding themselves caught up in the drama.

Pickles The Dog
Pickles the Dog being rewarded for the return of the World Cup trophy

It has certainly been an eventful run up. Whether it be the trophy being lost and then found by a dog, or the CAF refusing to play over the number of pre-agreed qualifiers, it seems like there is always a new twist in the story.

Whilst, obviously, I am hopeful that England will do well, I personally expect it will be West Germany that will retake the title. However, the Soviet Union are not ones to count out, with a lot of expectation for them to do very well this time around.

World Cup Willie
World Cup Willie plays a football match against The Martians

There are the even adventures of the mascot World Cup Willie appearing in TV Comic. This is not the only change happening right now in the world of British comics.

The Next Shift

Sometimes it seems the only constancy in British comics is change. Whilst there are some long running strips like Garth, Dan Dare and Roy of the Rovers, the contents of most magazines are largely revised every few years, whilst new comic books spring up and others merge.

Vic Gunn Final Strip

Recent excellent new publications Ranger and Champion are both coming to an end, being incorporated into Look and Learn and Lion respectively. Whilst in Lion itself, the excellent long-running dystopian series, Vic Gunn, has been wrapped up, with Emperor Rudolph imprisoned in exile and democracy restored to Britain.

But rather than talk about what is disappearing I want to talk about a new trend that seems to be appearing. The return of British superheroes.

Super Absences

Captain Universe Electroman Ace Hart Comic Covers
Just a few of the many short-lived British superhero comics, with plenty of WHAM! for your sixpence

Following the arrival of American superhero comics on British shores (and their subsequent disappearance) there was short lived explosion British superhero comics. However, most did not last more than a few issues.

Marvelman Family Marvelman Family Young Marvelman Covers
Some of the Marvelman titles

One of the few that stuck around was Mick Anglo’s Marvelman. Starting in 1954 , it was an intentional copy of Captain Marvel, designed to continue after the collapse of Fawcett comics in the US. However, even this ceased publication in 1963.

So, what remained of these kinds of marvels? Whilst British adventure comics moved to a mix of War, Crime, Sport, Science Fiction and Spy Stories, there are some which border on the superheroic.

The Steel Claw
The Steel Claw’s power, becoming invisible via electrocution!

The biggest are more anti-heroes than heroes. Louis Crandell is The Steel Claw, who after he had a series of accidents, became able to turn invisible if electrocuted. After originally becoming a criminal for a time, he has now begun to work for The Shadow Squad of the British secret service. Another is The Spider, a technologically advanced supervillain, who often battles other violent supervillains but more for control than out of a sense of altruism. Neither strip feels much like a typical American style superhero tale.

The Iron Man
Robert – The Iron Man surviving ray gun attacks

There are also some incredibly powerful robot titles such as Robot Archie and The Iron Man. In these the robot hereos will sometimes battle supervillains and display unusual powers.

Brassneck
Brassneck – “The funny adventures of a metal schoolboy”

However, these feel as much science fiction and colonial adventure tales as superhero stories. Also, robots are generally a pretty common feature of British comics, even starring in schoolboy humour series, like The Tin Teacher or Brassneck.

Kelly's Eye
Kelly demonstrating his invincibility by smoking a stick of dynamite like a cigar.

The closest hang-overs are probably Kelly’s Eye and Garth. In the former, Kelly has an amulet that makes him invulnerable while wearing it, allowing him to do outrageous deeds such as sitting on a lightning rod for charity. The stories are fairly repetitive and dull though, as they have to keep finding excuses to lose the eye temporarily, as a way of maintaining the tension.

Garth
Garth uses his sword to fight a sea monster on an alien world

In the latter, Garth is sometimes referred to as a superhero due to him being extremely strong, but his adventures tend to be more cosmic, much closer to a Flash Gordon or Buck Rogers character than Superman or Green Lantern.

Whilst there a few that could count, this set would make a very paltry Justice League of Britain. But we have just recently started to see the arrival of a new wave of British superheroes, who I am going to attempt to match with their American counterparts.

New Heroes

Smash Ads for Batman and Hulk
Ads for Batman and The Hulk comic strips in Smash!

Smash! comic was designed to be primarily another humour comic building off the success of superstar artist Leo Baxendale’s Wham!, combining cheap parodies like The Man from B.U.N.G.L.E. and Danger Mouse, with rip-offs of D. C. Thompson characters such as Bad Penny and The Swots and the Blots. But recently there has been more of a shift. First off, they have started reprinting US superhero comics which are hard to come by on this side of the Atlantic. Secondly, they have also produced their own superhero strip, Rubber Man:

Britain’s Elongated Man – The Rubber Man

The Rubber Man

Cursed by an Indian Fakir, Jim Hollis finds himself able to stretch himself like rubber. The series has only just started but seems to be following the standard superhero formula, as we follow Jim becoming Rubberman and facing off against Jonas Sleech, a super strong villain.

The Elongated Man

Apparently, these kinds of stretchy superheroes have been common in the US since Plastic Man appeared in the 1940s. However, I am reminded of the character I am most familiar with, National Comics Elongated Man, who appears in the pages of The Flash, with similar powers and even a similar look.

Britain’s Hourman – Thunderbolt The Avenger

Thunderbolt The Avenger

Mick Riley is a police constable considered too wimpy by his colleagues and consigned to desk duty. When escorting a Professor Markham he is given a wristwatch will give him a wide range of superhuman abilities but only for a period of 2 hours. With it he adopts the secret identity of Thunderbolt, a masked superhero.

Hourman

Thunderbolt seems most analogous to Hourman, recently revived in Showcase. He has his own source of power which gives him superhuman abilities for an hour. I would not be surprised if he was an inspiration on the Thunderbolt strip.

Britain’s Mera – Marina Girl of the Sea

Marina

Marina Girl of the Sea is a prequel to the Stingray TV series run in the Lady Penelope comic. Ostensibly we are told this will be the story of how the titular Marina became non-verbal, but it is more of a fantasy undersea epic about the Princess of Pacifica dealing with an invasion of her kingdom.

Mera

It could be argued whether this counts as a superhero tale, but I am definitely reminded of Mera in the Aquaman comics. These both share a sense of adventure and the mix of fantasy and undersea politics.

Britain’s Atom – The Mini-Men

The Mini-Men

The two Mini-Men are secret agents Pete Stevens and Tim Bailey, shrunk by shrinking gas to only two inches. They are sent into Scarvia to rescue Professor Hannah from the dictator general Borgos, who is forcing him to work on deadly mechanical rodents.

Atom

These two bring to mind National Comics' own shrinking hero The Atom. Although he tends to be more focused on crimes than spy missions, these kinds of scientifically focused tales are very much part of his repertoire.

Britain’s Kid Flash – Billy Whizz

Billy Whizz

More of a humour strip than a straight superhero adventure, Billy Whizz follows the comical antics of an incredibly fast boy dealing with ordinary life and its travails.

Kid Flash

Whilst he is slightly older, I am definitely reminded of the Wally West as Kid Flash, appearing in back up strips in some issues of The Flash. These have often emphasized his youth and sometimes show him dealing with real-life problems in the midst of heroics.

Britain’s Beast Boy – The Amazing Jack Wonder

Jack Wonder

Jack Wonder is the result of another scientific experiment. The evil scientist Varan uses him as a guinea pig and the result allows Jack to transform into any object, whilst still retaining his sentience. As a “freedom loving adventurer”, he uses his power to fight the evil dictator Quantro.

Beast Boy

Jack Wonder most reminds of The Doom Patrol’s Beast Boy. Rather than being able to transform into any object, Beast Boy can transform into any animal. Both also have rather a great sense of fun and make their adventures a joy to read.

Britain’s Thor – The Phantom Viking

Phantom Viking

New magazine Champion has produced some really innovative strips such as Return of the Stormtroopers and Hunters Without Guns. One less inventive creation is The Phantom Viking. Here mild-mannered school-teacher Olaf Larsen discovers an ancient Viking helmet. When he puts it on, he transforms into a superhero with superhuman strength and the ability to fly. He decides to use this power to confront evil.

Mighty Thor

Anyone vaguely familiar with North American comics will probably be aware of how similar this is to the Marvel character of Thor. In fact, the Marvel readers I have shown the strip to have commented how much it looks like they resemble Jack Kirby’s illustrations. But then, I guess if you are going to copy, why not copy from the best?

Britain’s ???? – Sugarman

Sugarman

Finally, from the unoriginal to the decidedly unique, this one coming from The Long-Hair Times, the recently launched alternative magazine filled with discussions of drugs and sex. In the centre of it we have the comic strip adventures of Sugarman. Here journalist Brad Calworthy goes into a fashionable boutique to try to find some hip new clothes. After ingesting a sugar cube left over from the night before he finds himself as Sugarman travelling through the cosmic consciousness. At the same time, we learn of an evil plan being brewed by Harry The Nit (who appears to be modelled on Harold Wilson) and his secretary (who seems to be Charlie Brown from the Peanuts strip).

I am not sure what to compare this to as it is probably the most bizarre use of the comic book format I have ever seen. Also, it is hard to get a handle on where it is going when I have only been able to acquire one issue of The Long-Hair Times so far. Perhaps more will be revealed as future publications come out? Alternatively, it could just be a single piece of bizarre satire, but still an engagingly made one.

Super Staying Power?

Justice League of America

With these new heroes, I am sure Britain is much safer against alien super menaces, not just having to rely on Dan Dare, Jeff Hawke and other space pilots. The question remains whether these heroes will stick around in these pages or disappear as we get more of the American originals arriving?

For now, I will keep reading both the import and homegrown caped crusaders.



Tune in to KGJ, our radio station! Nothing but super hits!




[June 24, 1966] Increments: World's Best Science Fiction: 1966, edited by Donald A. Wollheim and Terry Carr


by John Boston

Donald A. Wollheim’s and Terry Carr’s World’s Best Science Fiction: 1966—second in this series—is here, so it’s time for the usual pontificating, hand-wringing, viewing with alarm, etc., as one prefers.  This one comes with not one but two blurbs from Judith Merril, their competitor, though the editors say nothing about her anthology series, the next volume of which is due at the end of the year.

The editors have regrettably pulled in their horns a little on the “World” front.  There are no translated stories in this volume, unlike the first; the editors claim that they read plenty of them, but them furriners just don’t cut the mustard.  More precisely, if not more plausibly, “what they have lacked is the advanced sophistication now to be found in the American and British s-f magazines.” Suffice it to say that there are virtues other than “advanced sophistication” and they may often be found outside one’s own culture. 


by Cosimo Scianna

Nor is there anything here from any of the non-specialist markets that have been publishing progressively more SF in recent years.  The only item here that did not originate in the US or UK SF magazines is Arthur C. Clarke’s Sunjammer, originally in Boys’ Life but quickly reprinted last year by New Worlds, and then by Amazing early this year.

So it’s a rather insular party.  But my main complaint last year was that too much of the material was too pedestrian, and the book excluded writers who are pushing the envelope of the genre, like Lafferty, Zelazny, Ellison, and Cordwainer Smith.  The editors seem to have been listening.  This year they’ve got Ellison and Lafferty, though they seem to have missed their chance at Smith, and Zelazny is still among the missing.  More importantly, the book as a whole is livelier than its predecessor.

This is not to say the pedestrian has been entirely banished.  Witness Christopher Anvil’s The Captive Djinn, the only selection from that rotten borough Analog, yet another story about the clever Earthman outwitting cartoonishly stupid aliens.  Anvil has written this story so often he could do it in his sleep, and most likely that is exactly what happened. 

There is a lot more of the standard used furniture of the genre here, but at least it’s mostly done more cleverly and skillfully than dreamed of by Anvil.  In Joseph Green’s The Decision Makers (from Galaxy), Terrestrials covet the watery world Capella G Eight, but it’s already occupied by seal-like amphibians with group intelligence though not much material culture.  Is this the sort of intelligence that should ordinarily bar colonization outright? The “Conscience”—a bureaucrat in charge of making these decisions—thinks so, but proposes to split the baby, allowing colonization but providing that the humans will alter the climate to provide more dry land for the amphibians.  Of course, behind the bien-pensant speechifying, a still small voice says, “We’re just now starting to get rid of colonialism here, and you want to start it up again?” And another: “Ask the American Indians about the promises of colonists.”

Less weighty thoughts are on offer in James H. Schmitz’s Planet of Forgetting (from Galaxy), involving a fairly standard space war scenario with chase on unknown planet, with the wrinkle that some of the local fauna seem to be able to make people briefly forget where they are and what they are doing.  At the end of this smoothly rendered entertainment, suddenly the wrinkle becomes a mountain range. 

Similar cleverness-as-usual is displayed in Fred Saberhagen’s Masque of the Red Shift (from If), one of his popular Berserker series, in which a disguised Berserker robot appears and wreaks havoc on a spaceship occupied by the Emperor of the galaxy and his celebrating sycophants.  But it is promptly outsmarted and done in by the Emperor’s brother, who is resurrected from suspended animation and lures the Berserker into the clutches of a “hypermass,” which seems to be what scientists are starting to call a “black hole.” (Though on second thought, I’m not sure that “cleverness” is quite le mot juste for a story that falls back on the dreary cliche that a galaxy-spanning human civilization will find no better way to govern itself than an Emperor.) Jonathan Brand’s Vanishing Point (If) is an alien semi-contact story, in which the functionaries of the Galactic Federation have created an artificial habitat, a sort of Earth-like theme park complete with human curator, for the human emissaries to wait in and wonder what is really going on.

Engineering fiction is represented by Clarke’s slightly pedantic Sunjammer (as noted, Boys’ Life by way of New Worlds), concerning a yacht race in space, and by Larry Niven’s livelier Becalmed in Hell (F&SF), whose characters—one of them a brain and spinal column in a box, with vehicle controlled by his nervous system—get stuck on the surface of Venus (updated with current science) and have to improvise a primitive solution to get home.

There are a couple of near-future satires representing very different styles and targets of the sardonic.  Ron Goulart’s Calling Dr. Clockwork (Amazing) is a lampoon of the medical system; protagonist visits someone in the hospital, faints at something he sees there, wakes up in a hospital bed himself attended by the eponymous robot doctor, and can’t get out as his diagnosis shifts and things seem to be falling apart in the institution.  Fritz Leiber’s The Good New Days (Galaxy) is a more densely populated slice-of-slapstick extrapolating the welfare state, with a family living in futuristic but cheaply made housing (“They don’t build slums like they used to,” complains one character), with the TV on every minute, and Ma trying to avoid the demands of the medical statistician who wants her vitals, and everyone struggling to get and keep multiple make-work jobs (the protagonist just lost his job as a street-smiler), and things are all falling apart here, too, and a lot of the sentences are almost as long as this one.  The two stories are about equally amusing, which means above standard for Goulart and a little below standard for Leiber.

So that’s the ordinary, and a higher quality of ordinary than last year. 

A few items are unusual if not extraordinary.  R.A. Lafferty’s In Our Block (If) is an amusing tall tale about various odd characters with unusual talents residing in the shacks on a neglected dead-end block, like the woman who will type your letters but doesn’t need a typewriter (she makes the sound effects orally), and the man who ships tons of merchandise out of a seven-foot shack without benefit of warehouse.  It has lots of slapstick but not much edge, unlike the best by this idiosyncratic writer.  Newish writer Lin Carter (two prior appearances in the SF magazines, a lot in the higher reaches of amateur publications), in Uncollected Works (F&SF), extrapolates the old saw about monkeys on typewriters reproducing the works of Shakespeare, in the direction of Clarke’s The Nine Billion Names of God, leading to an unexpected and subtle conclusion.

In Vernor Vinge’s Apartness, from the UK’s New Worlds, the Northern War has destroyed the Northern Hemisphere, and generations later, an expedition from Argentina discovers people encamped in Antarctica, living in primitive conditions, who prove to be the descendants of white South Africans who fled from the uprising that followed the war and eliminated whites from the continent.  (Interesting that this American writer didn’t find a market for it at home.) They are not pleased to be discovered by darker-skinned explorers and try to drive them off.  The well-sketched background makes this more than an exercise in irony or just revenge.

On to the extraordinary—three of them, not a bad showing.  Traveler’s Rest, by David I. Masson, also from New Worlds, depicts a world where time varies with latitude, passing slowly at the North Pole (though subjectively very fast), where a furious—and possibly futile—high-tech war is in progress with an unknown and unseeable enemy.  Life proceeds more mundanely in the southern latitudes.  Protagonist H is relieved from duty, travels south, reorients himself to current society, establishes a career, marries and procreates over the years. He's known now as Hadolarisondamo, since names are longer in the slower latitudes.  Then, middle-aged, he is called back to duty, and arrives 22 minutes after he left.  This world’s nightmarish quality is highlighted by the dense mundane detail of the normal life of the lower latitudes; the result is a tour de force of strangeness.

Harlan Ellison’s “Repent, Harlequin!” said the Ticktockman (from Galaxy) is a sort of dystopian unreduced fraction.  In outline, it’s a simple story of a future world where punctuality is all; if you’re late, your life can be docked.  One man can’t take it any more and dresses up in a clown suit and goes around disrupting things until he gets caught by the Master Timekeeper (the Ticktockman), brainwashed, and forced to recant publicly—though the end hints that his legacy lives on.  In substance, it’s business as usual; in style, it’s a sort of garrulous stand-up routine, and quite a good one.  It’s best read as a purposeful affront to the usual plain functional (or worse) prose of the genre (a reading consistent with the story’s theme) and a persuasive argument for opening up the field a bit stylistically.

The other outstanding item here—best in the book to my taste—is Clifford D. Simak’s Over the River and Through the Woods (Amazing), in which a couple of strange kids appear at a farmhouse in 1896 and address the older woman working in the kitchen as their grandma.  The gist: Ordinary decent person confronted with the extraordinary responds with ordinary decency.  It’s plainly written without a wasted word, deftly developed, asserting its homely credo with quiet restraint—a small masterpiece amounting to a summary of Simak’s career.  Simak is one writer who should ignore Ellison’s advice—and vice versa, no doubt.

The upshot: Not bad.  Better than not bad.  The field is taking small steps away from business as usual, and the usual seems to be getting a little better.  The kid may amount to something some day.



[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




[June 23, 1966] Interlude, with panthers


by Gideon Marcus

The phone rang insistently on my desk, waking me from my nap.  I dropped my comic book and spilled coffee all over the galleys for the next article.  On the other end of the line was a voice, a woman's voice, heavily accented in German.

"Is something wrong?  We didn't receive our shipment of Galactic Journey!"

That woke me up faster than a cup of pure zavarka.  Stealing a glance at the calendar, I saw that it wasn't the 22nd but the 23rd.  For the first time in two years, we'd missed a deadline.

"Uh, no!  Everything's fine!  We're just doing a special edition.  Building suspense-like.  Don't worry.  I'll call the vans and make sure they bring you your inventory."


The L.A. Times' Lester Rodney, not me…but close enough

Hanging up before my stunned caller could reply, I took stock of the situation.  Our beautiful next article was a sopping mess, completely useless.  I couldn't even see what the subject had been — a new book?  Skinny on Star Trek, debuting in September?  Candid photos of Tony Randall in swim trunks?

Whatever it had been, it was melted shreds now.  I had to put up something, and fast.  But what?  How could I possibly fill the slot, 24 hours late, no less!

My eyes lit upon the comic book at my feet, Fantastic Four #53.

God bless Stan Lee (and Jack Kirby)!

Of course, I didn't have time to write a full article.  That takes hours, research, several fingers of rum.  I didn't even have coffee in me!

Then I remembered that a picture is worth a thousand words.  And we have a limit on article length at the Journey: always try to keep things shorter than 2000 words, I say.

Two comic book panels would be enough.  Heck, eight would be sheer luxury!

So, with very little introduction (far less than he deserves), meet the newest Marvel Superhero: Black Panther!

This is the King of Wakanda, a highly advanced country somewhere in Sub-Saharan Africa.  He's invited the Fantastic Four to his nation for… some reason.

Turns out, it was to beat all four of them pretty handily. 

But why?  He's no villain.  He's a noble hero!  Turns out, the "Great Hunt" was really just the equivalent of a Wakandan handshake.  I mean, fighting is superhero foreplay, right?

So why did he really invite the FF to his swingin' super-sciencey jungle pad?

Sadly, when I got FF #52 last month, that ish left me on a cliffhanger, and it wasn't until this month I got the answer.

Seems the evil organization, Klaw, had attacked Wakanda.  In the process, the King was killed, leaving his son to grieve… and avenge.

Needless to say, FF #53 details the defeat of Klaw's minions at the hands of the grown-up prince.  But though his pledged duty be done, there's always more injustice to be fought. 

And so, the Marvel universe not only gets a new hero (and one of the most powerful in the pantheon) but our first black hero to boot!  Black Panther is not quite the first foreign hero to grace a Marvel Mag, now that Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch have joined the Avengers, but it's still nice to see villain-busting become an international affair.

All I gotta say is, Make Mine Marvel!

(and thanks for bearing with the delay and this makeshift slot-fill. I promise it won't happen again…for at least another 24 hours!  Next time, I'll lay off the sauce…)


Sammy Davis Jr. doing his Dean Martin impression






[June 20, 1966] First Impressions Can Be Misleading (Doctor Who: The Savages)


By Jessica Holmes

Hello again, my friends, and welcome to another summary and review of the latest serial of Doctor Who. After a disappointing last several stories, I’m pleased to say that for the last few weeks Doctor Who has once again been a highlight of Saturday tea-time in my house. Whom do we have to thank for this turnaround? A new face in the writers’ room, Ian Stuart Black. Black’s story is everything Doctor Who should be: smart, exciting, and most importantly it has something to say. Let’s take a look at The Savages.

Oh, and I haven’t forgotten to fill in the episode names. Apparently we aren’t bothering with them any more.

Tor and Chal peer through the bushes.

EPISODE ONE

Arriving in an age of 'peace and prosperity', the Doctor promptly wanders off and attracts the attention of some rather grouchy-looking blokes with clubs.

Men in animal skins wielding clubs doesn’t scream ‘peace and prosperity’ to me. Either the Doctor’s wrong about where they are (as happens…often) or things aren’t quite as they seem. Luckily for the Doctor, a couple of soldiers in silly hats find him before he can have his head bashed in. These are Edal and Exorse, and they’ve come to invite the Doctor to their city. The Elders are expecting him.

The Doctor, centre, with Exorse and Edal. Exorse and Edal are wearing strange helmets.

Off he trots, leaving behind Steven and Dodo, who also run afoul of the 'savages' (their words, not mine). Luckily, Exorse finds them before Steven gets skewered.

In a contrast to the wilderness, the city of the Elders turns out to be an enlightened utopian paradise, all gleaming architecture and fancy clothes. The Elders have been observing the Doctor’s exploits for some time. They are so honoured to meet him they give him some less-than-groovy new threads.

They’re a bit surprised to see Steven and Dodo, but present them with fancy gifts all the same. Steven gets a knife, and Dodo gets… a hand mirror. Enlightened? Pah! They’re sexist!

Girls like to stab people too, you know.

The Doctor meets the Elders of the city. At the front is Jano, with three unnamed Elders visible behind him.

The leader of the Elders (Jano) offers to have Steven and Dodo shown around while he has a chat with the Doctor. The rest of the city is fabulous and luxurious. The Elders control everything here, even the wind and rain. Steven asks what the secret of their success is. One of their guides tells him that their scientists made one simple discovery, but what is that discovery? Everything seems a little too good to be true, doesn’t it?

While they’re off doing that, the soldiers from earlier go on the hunt, much to the horror of the 'savages'. After a tense game of cat-and-mouse, Exorse captures a young woman, Nanina. He uses a gun that fires a beam of light that freezes the victim in place and allows the user to control them. Remember this, it'll be important later.

A woman, Nanina, hides behind a rock.

Jano explains to the Doctor that they’ve found a more efficient way to gain energy to survive. They have found a way to transfer energy directly from one living being to another.

Right after that little revelation, Dodo spots Exorse bringing Nanina into the city. I think you can guess where this is going.

Exorse takes Nanina into a laboratory where another 'savage' is already lying on a table, very weak. Having no further use for him, the scientists in the lab turn him loose, tossing him out into the tunnels leading out of the city.

While Steven begins to ask questions about the city, and getting no straight answers, Dodo sneaks off to explore. She soon gets lost, coming face to face with the zombified 'savage'…

A lone man at the end of a hallway.

EPISODE TWO

Dodo has nothing to fear from the stranger, as it turns out. He can’t even stand on his own two feet. She helps him up and to the door, where the other 'savages' are waiting for him, but she doesn't get the chance to talk to them. Hearing Nanina's cries a moment later, Dodo sneaks over to the laboratory to investigate.

Though Steven is beside himself with worry, the Doctor assures him that Dodo is more than capable of taking care of herself.

Dodo gets herself captured in the very next scene.

A laboratory with two scientists working the equipment. Dodo observes in the background, hands on her hips.

Edal finds her before the scientists can put her under some sort of procedure, and as he leads her away, the scientists release Nanina in a similar state to the man from earlier. It’s becoming increasingly clear that something is very wrong in this city.

Reunited with his companions, the Doctor bids the Elders a polite farewell, seemingly in a sudden hurry to leave the city. Outside the city they come upon the man Dodo encountered earlier, and the Doctor’s suspicions are confirmed. The Elders are kidnapping the 'savages', draining them of their life force, and transferring it into themselves.

The Doctor sends his companions to get medical supplies from the TARDIS. As he begins tending to the poor man, Edal shows up and callously says that this ‘savage’ should be back on his reserve.

The real-world applicability is hard to miss.

The Doctor, angered at the interference, blasts Edal for his lack of humanity. These ‘savages’ are no different from the Elders, designated as subhuman purely for being born into the 'wrong' group.

Jano in the foreground stands with his back to the Doctor in the background. The Doctor has a stern look on his face.

Steven and Dodo come back to find the poor sick bloke all alone, and start treating him themselves, learning from him that Edal took the Doctor back to the city. They also meet two more of the man's people, wise old Chal and young hot-headed Tor.

In the city, the Doctor clashes with the Elders, demanding that they put an end to their barbaric practice of draining the 'savages'.

It very strongly feels like a metaphor for… well, a myriad of real-world things: wealth disparity, racism, segregation and colonialism. Basically, any scenario where the ruling class are dehumanising and exploiting a whole group of people.

Faced with the Doctor's condemnation, it seems Jano has no choice… but to have the Doctor taken away and drained.

With considerable trepidation at performing the procedure on a 'higher' being, the lead scientist initiates the procedure, remarking in amazement at the amount of vitality they manage to steal from the Doctor within the first few seconds.

And it seems he’s got plenty left to give…

The Doctor lies strapped to a table within a glass case. A machine is positioned above his chest.

EPISODE THREE

Jano observes as the scientists finish draining the Doctor, and he insists that he be the first to be infused with the Doctor’s vitality. This is the first experiment of its kind, and so he takes it upon himself to take the risk.

Meanwhile, Chal and Tor, the two men Steven and Dodo met earlier, lead them to the caves where the 'savages' live. To Steven and Dodo's surprise, there is a beautiful temple inside the cave. These people's ancestors were great artists before their traditions and way of life were stolen from them. All that remains to them now is their faith. Again, there is clear real-world applicability, particularly with regard to the suffering of colonised peoples around the world, though many don't even get to keep that much.

A woman in fur rags stands atop stairs at the entrance to a cave.

Outside, Exorse finds Tor.  Under threat of being drained, Tor gives away the location of the time travellers. Gee, that was a smart move, especially given that just a scene ago Tor was vehemently against taking the fugitives in for fear of the Elders invading his home.

With Exorse coming for them Steven asks if there’s another way out. Chal leads Steven and Dodo into the passages at the back of the cave as Exorse barges in and starts threatening the inhabitants.

I must say that although I’m not given any other name for these people, I feel strange calling them ‘savages’. ‘Savage’ is a word long used to dehumanise people considered ‘lesser’. To me it feels uncomfortable to still refer to these people with a slur when it’s evident there is nothing ‘lesser’ about them. It would have been a good touch at this point in the narrative to reveal to the audience what these cave people call themselves.

Exorse pursues Steven, Dodo and Chal into the tunnels, and faced with a dead end Steven gets an idea. Using Dodo’s hand-mirror (I suppose it came in handy after all), he reflects the beam from Exorse’s light-gun back at the soldier, freezing him in place. Steven manages to disarm Exorse and leads him back to the cave, where the others are amazed to see that their oppressors can be defeated.

In a very dark room, a hand holds a mirror, which reflects a bright light.

Leaving the others to guard the prisoner, Steven heads back to the city with Chal and Dodo to find the Doctor. They’ve barely even left before Tor tries to kill Exorse, but Nanina stops him and tends to Exorse’s wound, reasoning that vengeance will do them no good.

Jano emerges from the intransference procedure with a dazed look on his face, but assures the scientist that he’s quite all right… in a voice that isn’t his. The scientist doesn’t seem to notice, but Jano appears to have acquired the Doctor’s voice and a bit of his personality. He slips back and forth between his own voice and the Doctor’s, and something clicks into place for me. Doesn’t Jano sound rather similar to Janus, the two-faced Roman god?

Closeup on Jano's face. He looks afraid.

Now that’s what I call an aptronym.

I say it’s the Doctor’s voice but I’m fairly sure that Jano’s actor is just doing an impression. It’s a good impression, but it’s a little too nasal to be Hartnell. Still, he’s got the accent and cadence down pat.

Having snuck into the city, Steven and Dodo find the Doctor wandering the access tunnels, though Dodo frets that it seemed too easy to get in. She’s right. It’s a trap.

The door starts closing behind them, but they can’t get the catatonic Doctor out before it shuts and the corridor begins to fill with gas.

In the lab, Jano watches on a scanner as they begin to choke. The Doctor can’t help them now… or can he?

A smoky corridor. The Doctor is slumped against the wall in the foreground, and Steven and Dodo are in the background. Steven has a gun, and Dodo is bent double.

EPISODE FOUR

Episode Four starts off with a stroke of luck as the door unexpectedly opens behind the travellers, allowing Dodo to usher the Doctor out while Steven fires on Edal and the advancing guards.

Edal accuses Jano of opening the door for them, but of course Jano denies it, speaking with the Doctor's voice again.

He leads a contingent of guards out of the city to hunt the fugitives down. On the run, Steven sends the Doctor, Chal and Dodo ahead to the safety of the caves while he stays behind to hold off the pursuers.

The Doctor and Dodo make it to the cave, and just in time, too. Finding herself as Exorse’s only ally, Nanina defends him from Tor with a spear. It’s only with the arrival of Chal that things don’t end up coming to a point.

Nanina wields a spear, standing between Exorse and Tor. She is pointing the spear at Tor, who is wearing Exorse's helmet.

With the guards advancing, Steven falls back to the cave, where he intends to lie in wait and snipe Jano as he approaches. However, hearing this the Doctor suddenly becomes lucid and warns him not to, and it's not just his sense of pacifism talking. He thinks that Jano might be the ally they need to destroy the lab.

Jano insists on going into the cave alone, ordering the others back to the city. Edal smells something funny about the situation, so he immediately warns the disbelieving Elders that he believes Jano is about to betray them.

As night falls, Jano enters the cave, and the Doctor turns out to be right once again. In absorbing the Doctor’s life essence, Jano got what he wanted: the Doctor’s intellect. However, in the process he got more than he bargained for. He got the Doctor’s conscience. Even better, he has a plan.

A short time later, Jano swans into the lab with his ‘prisoners’ in tow. Miffed at Edal’s attempts to turn the others against him, he has Edal arrested for treason.

Jano talks to an Elder, with the Doctor, Chal, Nanina and a number of other people behind him.

The Elders are relieved to see that Jano is apparently still loyal, until Jano orders the lab sealed and exhorts them to destroy it. They’re not keen.

Well, if you want something done properly, you have to do it yourself. Jano and the ‘prisoners’ start smashing equipment with gleeful abandon. As the Doctor says, there is something very satisfying about destroying something evil.

A group of people are in a laboratory. They are attacking the equipment.

But what now? The old system is no more, but what will replace it? How will these people learn to live together as equals in peace?

The Doctor would be an obvious choice to mediate between the two peoples, but it’s not in his nature to stick around. What a pickle. Where else are they going to find a good, trustworthy person with leadership skills, who can inspire loyalty, and make judgements based on their conscience?

I’ll be honest, my first thought was Nanina, given her willingness to show compassion even to her enemies.

But apparently Peter Purves wants out, so Steven’s the man for the job. Though initially reluctant, after some encouragement from the Doctor, Chal, Jano and even Tor, he agrees to stay.

Dodo bids Steven a tearful farewell, and Jano thanks the Doctor for his help before departing with the others to await Steven in the council chamber. Once alone, the Doctor admits that he’s very proud of Steven, though he does seem in a rush to get him to go. Has he been leaving smelly socks all over the TARDIS or something?

Steven looks back with an upset look on his face.

Steven heads off to start his new life, and the Doctor and Dodo depart through the smouldering remains of the laboratory. They don't look back, but Steven does. I'm not sure he really wants to leave.

The Doctor doesn’t seem as bothered about this as any of the other departures. I suppose he’s fine as long as he has a surrogate grandchild.

It’s quite an abrupt exit all the same, and one that wasn’t really set up in the preceding episodes. In Susan’s final serial, she gradually fell in love, so it made sense for her to decide to stay behind in future London. In the case of Ian and Barbara, going back home was their goal all along. Vicki, too, formed a personal connection to Troilus. It wasn't what you'd call a deep or believable connection, but there was an attempt. However, Steven hasn’t made any ties here that would give him a personal reason to want to stay. I suspect that this wasn’t the original ending of the serial, but instead a fairly last-minute change.

The Doctor and Dodo leave the ruins of the lab with their arms around each other.

Final Thoughts

I’d love a followup to this story some time in the future. Our Steven’s definitely got his work cut out for him. Jano might have come around, but there’s a whole city of people who need convincing, and they’ve become accustomed to a certain level of luxury. Will they accept the liberation of the 'savages' if it comes at the cost of their lifestyle? How are they going to unlearn untold centuries of prejudice, especially when it tangibly benefited them?

To add onto this, though the Elders no longer have their energy-sucking machine, they still have all the weapons, all the advanced technology, and all the wealth. Are they going to share without being forced ? If it comes to that, how would Steven make them do it? Ask nicely?

I’m not saying it’s doomed to failure, but I don’t fancy his odds.

Still, say that Jano manages to convince his people that they need to change their ways and let the ‘savages’ in. What of the other side of the equation? The ‘savages’ have little trust for the Elders, and plenty of anger, and with good reason. I don’t think tensions between the groups would simply vanish overnight.

I’m going to miss having Steven around, and I wish he could have had a few more stories with Dodo, as the two developed a big brother/little sister dynamic which I found quite sweet. With his charm, often sarcastic wit and sometimes flaring temper, he formed the passionate core of the TARDIS team. It’ll be hard to replace him. Plus, it was nice to have a fellow Northerner in the TARDIS.

Wherever Peter Purves ends up, I’m sure it’ll turn out great.

So, there we have it. That was The Savages, and I hope you’ll agree it turned out to be a cracking story. The build-up to the revelation of what the Elders are doing is well-paced and effective, holding my attention. Hot off the heels of that, the twist of Jano unwittingly absorbing the Doctor's conscience put an interesting wrinkle in things, and it was fun to watch to boot. Deep characterisation is not really Doctor Who's strong suit, but there was enough for me to get invested and create interesting clashes of personality.

And of course, I enjoy it when the Doctor gets on his high horse.

I think it would be genuinely fascinating to get a sequel to this story set a few years down the line and see how Steven got on. After all, it’s not enough to just take the boot off your victim’s throat. You have to help them up off the ground.

Title card. Text reads: Next Week: THE WAR MACHINES

4.5 out of 5 stars




55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction