Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 16, 1966] All Shook Up (Catastrophe Planet by Keith Laumer)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

With apologies to Elvis Presley.

Retief and Company

Prolific author Keith Laumer was born in Syracuse, New York, in 1925. He served in the United States Army Air Forces during World War Two, then in the renamed US Air Force from 1953 to 1956, and again from 1960 to 1965, reaching the rank of captain. Between those latter two hitches in the military, he was with the US Foreign Service, stationed in Burma.


Appropriately, this recent photograph makes the writer look both serious and playful.

Laumer's time spent as a diplomat shows up in his many stories about James Retief, an agent for the Corps Diplomatique Terrestrienne, who tends to solve problems of interspecies relations with fists and trickery. These are comic tales, often venturing into slapstick. On a more serious note, his recent mainstream novel Embassy reflects his experiences in the Far East.


Cover art by Darrell Greene.

In addition to these works, he also writes fast-paced adventure stories, both serious and lighthearted. His new novel Catastrophe Planet is definitely one of the former.

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On


Cover art by Richard Powers.

Our hero and narrator is Malcome (Mal) Irish. He lives in a near future of flying cars and other such technological wonders. More importantly, a shift in the Earth's crust has led to worldwide disaster. There are frequent earthquakes, a enormous increase in volcanic activity, and vast changes in the world's geography. The northern part of Florida, for example, is underwater, and the southern half is an island. (At this point, I'm reminded of the pretty good science fiction movie Crack in the World, although Laumer's apocalypse doesn't actually threaten to destroy the whole planet.)

His adventure begins in a small, deserted town in Georgia. (The US state, not the Soviet republic.) A dying man tells him a bizarre tale. During a secret operation in Antarctica, designed to stop the shifting of the crust, he and other military men discovered a frozen mastodon deep under the ice. That's unusual enough, but what makes it really weird is the fact that the ancient beast was wearing a harness. Add to that the body of a Neanderthal carrying what seemed to be a ray gun, along with other seemingly impossible relics, and they had a real mystery on their hands.

Before they could explore any further, however, strange men attacked and wiped them all out, except for the dying man, who managed to escape and make his way back to the United States. Mal has to battle similar men himself. They seem to be oddly emotionless, yet relentless in their attempts to kill him. Fortunately, they are also very poor fighters, and Mal manages to eliminate them, although he's never killed anyone before. (I'll warn you right now that a lot of people get killed in this book.)

Coin of the Realm

With his last, dying breath, the man tells Mal to take something out of his pocket. It turns out to be a gold coin, inscribed with writing in an unknown language. Mal travels to Miami, where he stays at the luxury hotel run by an old friend. (Although the city has undergone some damage from the disaster, it is fairly intact, and life goes on almost as it did before.) There's a convention of numismatists going on at the place, so he shows them the mysterious coin. It's pretty clear that this is more than just a meeting of coin collectors. They are all middle-aged men (likely enough), seem to have no interest in the partying at the convention (improbable), and are oddly emotionless (sounds familiar).

Damsel in Distress

Mal tails some of the men, and winds up saving a woman they try to attack. (She's a tough cookie herself, and manages to save him, too.) She speaks an unknown language, wears a strange metallic jumpsuit, and seems unacquainted with certain aspects of everyday life. (She doesn't recognize bread as food, for example.) Mal manages to figure out that her name is Ricia. They hide out in a cheap hotel for a while, where he also learns that she doesn't mind being completely naked in front of him.

While Mal is out on an errand, the bad guys kidnap Ricia. Desperate to track down her abductors, he heads to Crete, based on the solitary clue that the coin looks like something from that island. By good luck, he has already managed to find a seaworthy boat equipped with lots of supplies, including the guns that will come in handy in the book's battle scenes. (Mal finds the owner's corpse on the vessel, so he figures the dead guy won't mind.)

The City in the Sea

After sailing across the Atlantic, and crossing the new land bridge that now cuts the Mediterranean Sea in half, Mal meets an old buddy in Crete. With the help of a rather shifty fisherman, he finds out that some of the emotionless men paid the fellow to take them to a spot in the ocean, where they jumped in without diving suits.

Mal dons the proper scuba equipment and goes to the place, where he finds the entrance to an underwater building. Inside is a grotesquely huge man lying in a luxurious bed, protected by his slavish minions. It seems that Ricia was kidnapped for nefarious purposes, although perhaps not in the way you might expect. Mal and Ricia escape, but our story is far from over.

Out of the Wet Frying Pan and Into the Frozen Fire

Besides suffering from the bends after rising to the surface quickly, Mal gets captured by the bad guys, who have taken over the ship from which he dove. (They don't know that Ricia is hidden inside the decompression chamber of the vessel.) They take Mal to Antarctica, where he is to be subjected to questioning that he cannot resist, so they can find the woman. It all leads up to our two star-crossed lovers being reunited, and the discovery of the shocking secret of the immense ruler of the emotionless men.

Shaken, Not Stirred

Well! Our protagonists certainly go through enough dangers to shake anybody up. This rollercoaster of a thriller moves at a lightning-fast pace, with enough action to satisfy any fan of, say, James Bond. You won't have time to ponder the fact that the plot may not always make perfect sense, or that the whole thing is wildly implausible. The writing is vivid, and the hero, although highly competent, doesn't come across as unbelievably superhuman. You won't have any profound emotions stirred by the outrageous plot, but it's an enjoyable way to spend a few hours, maybe while you're sipping something to drink.

Three stars.


Shake it up, Baby!

For more exciting science fiction adventure, pick up a copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, today!




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 14, 1966] So Bad It's Hilarious (The Star Magicians by Lin Carter/The Off-Worlders by John Baxter (Ace Double G-588))

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by Cora Buhlert

Science Fiction at the Newsstand

Perry Rhodan No. 258
Issue 258 of Perry Rhodan features the fan favourite character Gucky the mouse beaver on the cover, expertly drawn by Johnny Bruck.

Ever since its debut almost five years ago, West German science fiction has been synonymous with the dime novel series Perry Rhodan. Issue 258 of Perry Rhodan came out this week and so far, the series shows no sign of faltering.

Success breeds imitators and so there have been challengers for the crown of West Germany's premier science fiction series. The first challenger Mark Powers was hampered by old fashioned and inconsistent plots and so the series was discontinued in 1964, though Mark Powers still occasionally pops up in the pages of the anthology series Utopia Zukunftsroman.

This month, a new challenger appeared on West German newsstands. Ren Dhark is penned by former Perry Rhodan writer Kurt Brand and published by Kelter Verlag. Only one issue has come out so far, but what I've read looks promising.

Ren Dhark, No. 1
The first issue of Ren Dhark, the latest Perry Rhodan challenger

The story begins in the far off future of 2051 AD, when overpopulation – a popular theme in current science fiction, as Harry Harrison's Make Room, Make Room! and several of the stories collected in Orbit 1 show – forces humanity to look for a new home among the stars. So the starship Galaxis under the command of Captain Sam Dhark (no reason is given for the odd spelling of the name) departs for Deneb with fifty thousand colonists. However, the time effect drive malfunctions, stranding the Galaxis in the depths of space, turned into an involuntary generation ship.

Eventually, the Galaxis, now commanded by the titular Ren Dhark, son of the late captain, manages to find a habitable planet. But their problems have only just begun, because the planet in question is not only habitable, but also inhabited…

Ren Dhark started out promising enough, though not particularly innovative. Nonetheless, I will certainly haunt the newsstand on the lookout for issue 2.

Science Fiction at the Spinner Rack

The Off-Worlders by John Baxter

However, my main source of new science fiction is still the spinner rack at my local import bookstore. And during my last visit, I managed to snap up the latest Ace Double, number G-588 to be exact, which includes The Off-Worlders by John Baxter and The Star Magicians by Lin Carter.

The Off-Worlders has just been serialised in New Worlds under the title The God Killers, so I'll just point you to Mark Yon's review of the novel and delve right into the other half of this Ace Double.

Most readers of the Journey will probably know Lin Carter mainly from his "Our Man in Fandom" columns in If, but he is also an up and coming science fiction and fantasy writer. Erika Frank reviewed his sword and sorcery novel The Wizard of Lemuria last year. Now, Carter has set his sights on space opera, though barbarians still feature prominently.

A Familiar History

The Star Magicians by Lin Carter
Amazingly, Jack Gaughan's cover is an accurate illustration of a scene in the novel.

The Star Magicians begins with one of those dreaded information laden prologues which occasionally afflict science fiction novels. In fact, when I read the capsule history of the fall of the Great Carina Empire, I briefly wondered whether I had accidentally picked up a later book in an ongoing series.

But even if there is no previous novel in the series, the history of the Carina Empire, which is beset by barbarians at its borders and eventually breaks apart and descends into a new dark age, will seem familiar to anybody who knows even a lick of history, for here is the fall of the Roman Empire replayed once again in outer space.

However, one planet stands firm against the new dark age and the barbarian Star Rovers: the planet Parlion, which is inhabited by a group called the White Wizards, who preserve science and technology and are considered magicians by their less enlightened neighbours. If that story seems familiar, it's probably because you've read it before when it was still called Foundation and penned by Isaac Asimov.

Naked Bodies and Tortured Metaphors

Once the actual plot begins, the novel becomes more engaging, though not necessarily better or more original. The story proper opens in an arena, where a would-be Conan gladiator is fighting against an alien monster, while the barbarian warlord Drask looks on and fondles a naked girl.

The naked girl is a captive princess, though you wouldn't know it from the first chapter. Carter repeatedly starts and then fails to describe the young woman, getting sidetracked by reminiscing about the conquest of the planet in a pitched space battle, describing the chafing and sweat-soaked leather and iron garb of a barbarian warrior and lovingly detailing the manly vigour and magnificent body of the gladiator (who will be dead within two pages, his "nakedness clothed in dripping scarlet").

Here's a typical example of Lin Carter's tortured prose. If this is too much for you, best bail out now, because the entire book is like that:

Above, in the royal box, Drask reclined at his ease on the satin cushions, half his cynical attention on the tragic drama unfolding below, and half on the trembling young girl beside him, whose nude breasts he was idly fondling. A philosopher in his rough way, the Warlord of the Star Rovers mused on the changeful ways of Fate. In this moment of time the young Argionid swordsman was filled with robust life, bursting with manly vigor in the full hot morning of his youth… in the next moment, his splendid, virile body would be an awful bundle of bloody rags, crushed in the inexorable jaws of the slavering thard.

We are toys at the feet of the gods, he thought.

When Carter finally remembers to describe the young princess – or rather her breasts – he compares them to "warm, white fruit", at which point I wondered whether Carter has ever seen a naked woman, or eaten fruit, for that matter.

After the would-be Conan has met his demise, we are finally introduced to the actual protagonist, Perion of North Hollis (which sounds like a stop on the London Underground rather than a city on an alien planet), a minstrel sentenced to die in the arena for treason. However, Perion manages to outwit the monster and is pardoned and even invited to a feast of the Star Rovers, where he further ingratiates himself by stopping the captive princess from stabbing the warlord Drask. Her attempt at revenge foiled, the princess stabs herself and is forgotten within a page. We never even learn her name nor anything about her appearance except that she has breasts.

Lin Carter
Lin Carter

White Wizards and Green Goddesses

What follows is a clunky and exposition laden dialogue, which not only repeats information we already got in the equally clunky prologue, but also reveals that there is only one person who can stand against the mighty warlord Drask, namely Calastor, one of the White Wizards of Parlion. Not only does Calastor have superior quasi-magic technology, he also has dozens of minions willing to do his bidding. Worse, no one knows what he looks like. "For aught we know, he might be standing among us at the very moment," mutters one of the few named Star Rovers at the feast. Anybody who has read Isaac Asimov's Foundation series may develop certain suspicions at this point.

Since the princess committed suicide, Drask is in need of a new bed companion and picks a random dancing girl, who promptly tries to stab him again. Even Drask, who's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, thinks that two assassination attempts in one night are a little much to be a coincidence. So he examines the dagger with which the girl tried to stab him and finds a glowing green stone, a talisman dedicated to the Green Goddess of Malkh. The dancing girl is one of her priestesses. For it turns out that Drask has not one but two sworn enemies in the galaxy, the White Wizard and the Green Goddess. Of course, it might have been helpful if Carter had mentioned that tidbit of information before.

The interrogation of the dancing girl, whose name is revealed to be Lurn, reveals nothing, because Lurn downs a potion that – no, this time around, the potion doesn't kill her, it only makes her fall asleep. When the sleeping Lurn is taken to the dungeon for further interrogation, she vanishes into thin air.

Lurn reappears on the next day, hidden in Perion's baggage, which leads to both her and Perion being arrested. During their interrogation, Perion is unmasked as none other than Calastor, the White Wizard and sworn enemy of Drask. This turn of events might have been a genuine surprise, if Carter hadn't borrowed it wholesale from "The Mule" part of Isaac Asimov's Foundation trilogy. And just in case you failed to notice the parallels, Perion is even shown with a (pack)mule shortly before his arrest. In fact, the only surprise is that the reveal happens halfway through the novel rather than at the end, as I expected.

Calastor and Lurn escape Drask by teleporting to safety and engage in yet another exchange of long explanations aboard Calastor's spaceship. Calastor reveals that he must stop Drask and the Star Rovers soon, because they are threatening the planet that the White Wizards of Parlion have picked out as the nucleus of the new galactic empire they are trying to build.

Smoke and Mirrors

The story now heads to Xulthoom, the planet of mists and also the planet that drives men mad. Xulthoom is a fascinating setting with its ancient ruins and perpetual mists and I wonder what e.g. Leigh Brackett could do with it. Lin Carter does not nearly have Leigh Brackett's skills, but even he manages to convey the spooky atmosphere of Xulthoom.

Calastor uses his quasi-magical science to mentally destabilise the Star Rovers and turn them against each other, while gizmo-speaking to Lurn and spouting an amount of nonsense about psionics that would impress even John W. Campbell.

Due to Calastor's manipulations, the Star Rovers go mad one by one and begin to hear voices. Some literally die of fear. In the end, even Drask himself hears a voice, supposedly that of the Green Goddess, warning him to return to the Rim Stars whence he came or suffer the consequences. However, the message from the Green Goddess is not Calastor's doing. There is another power at work here.

Spooked by the message of the Green Goddess, Drask finally gives the order to abandon Xulthoom – no, not to go home, but to conquer the next planet, the one planet that the White Wizards want to keep the Star Rovers away from at all costs.

Calastor summons some help from Parlion and together the White Wizards attempt to dissuade the Star Rovers from travelling onwards by projecting an illusion of space dragons attacking the fleet. However, the Star Rover shaman Abdekiel, an offensive Asian stereotype who is frequently likened to a "butter yellow buddha", sees through the ruse.

So Calastor and his companions teleport aboard the Star Rover flagship to face Drask and his men directly. The White Wizards use their mental powers to disarm the barbarians, while Calastor gets involved in a prolonged and remarkably well described swordfight.

The standoff is interrupted by the Green Goddess herself, who thoroughly smites the Star Rover fleet, a scene strikingly illustrated by Jack Gaughan on the cover. Finally, the Goddess teleports the adversaries away, metes out punishment to Drask and gives her blessing to the marriage of Calastor and Lurn (who turns out to be a princess as well), who will rule together over the world that will become the nucleus of the new empire.

An Unholy Mess

Lin Carter was aiming for Isaac Asimov's Foundation as written by Robert E. Howard. However, Carter has the skill of neither Asimov nor Howard and so the result is just a mess.

One technique that Carter borrows from Robert E. Howard is Howard's tendency to begin a story with a supporting character before his barbarian adventurer Conan steps onto the scene. But while Howard never leaves any doubt that Conan is the hero of the story, Carter seems unsure which of his characters is the protagonist. By rights, Calastor and Lurn should be the stars, but Calastor vanishes for chapters at a time and Lurn never even acquires a personality, so Drask, the villain, is the closest thing to a protagonist this unholy mess of a novel has.

Make no mistake, this is a terrible book. It's certainly the worst book I have ever reviewed for Galactic Journey. The plot is hackneyed, the prose is tortured and so purple that it almost crosses over into ultraviolet. In fact, this book is so awful that I wonder how desperate Ace must have been to publish it. If there was a Hugo Award for the worst science fiction novel, The Star Magicians would be the uncontested winner.

However, this novel has one redeeming feature: it is at least entertainingly terrible. In fact, the book is utterly hilarious. I was giggling the whole time I read it and regaled friends and family members with reading Lin Carter's awful prose out loud. If The Star Magicians were a parody, it would be absolutely brilliant. But unfortunately, it's supposed to be a serious space opera adventure.

I'm sure there is something that Lin Carter excels at and I hope that he will eventually find it. However, writing science fiction is not it.

One and a half stars

AG Weser workers relaxing
Workers at the AG Weser shipyard in Bremen are enjoyaing a well deserved break in the summer sun.
Three young ladies bathing in Bremen
Meanwhile, these three young ladies are enjoying a swim in the Stadionbad public pool in Bremen.

Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, is much better than Lin Carter's book. You might want to get the taste out with it!




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Movies, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 12, 1966] Dr. Who And The Slightly Better Sequel (Daleks’ Invasion Earth: 2150 AD)

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By Jessica Holmes

We’re between series of Doctor Who on the television, but you aren’t escaping my rambles that easily. 'Dr. Who' is back on the big screen, so I ventured to the cinema to see if Daleks’ Invasion Earth: 2150 AD is any good. Directed by Gordon Flemyng and written by Milton Subotsky, this film is a follow-up to last year’s Dr. Who And The Daleks. Like the first film, this is also based on a Doctor Who serial, that being The Dalek Invasion of Earth.

Poster for Daleks Invasion Earth: 2150 AD

To spare us all a lot of waffling, I’ll skip the play-by-play rundown. In broad strokes, it’s the same story. Dr. Who (Peter Cushing) in his Tardis goes to future London, finding it overrun by Daleks. He joins up with the human resistance, everyone goes to Bedford, the Daleks try to turn Earth into a spaceship by blowing up the core. Dr. Who hatches a plan to stop them doing that by deflecting the bomb, then boom! A volcano blows up, Daleks all die, Earth is free, Bedford gets a new tourist attraction, yada yada yada.

The plot is almost identical to the original serial. I did think for a moment about just copying my previous article and changing a few names, but it does have a few differences.

The Black Dalek no longer makes an appearance in the story, and nor does its pet, the slightly rubbish Slyther, but I didn’t particularly miss them. Most of the rebels have been condensed into one single character, Wyler (Andrew Keir), and many smaller, less important scenes have been removed to streamline the plot.

Most significant among these differences is that with Susan in this continuity being much younger than her television counterpart (with Roberta Tovey reprising her role), there is no romantic subplot.

Tom (Bernard Cribbins) in a darkened street. He is rubbing the back of his head, his mouth open.

Instead of Ian and Barbara we have a bumbling policeman called Tom (Bernard Cribbins) and the Doctor’s niece Louise (Jill Curzon). They do not have personalities. You can look at the plot outline of the original serial, scribble out each instance of ‘Ian’ and replace it with ‘Tom’, then do the same for Barbara/Louise, and you’ll get an impression of the impact these character changes have on the plot.

Actually, now I come to think of it, you also have to replace all of the cool things Barbara does in the original (like running over a Dalek with a truck) with blank space, and give all those cool deeds to whichever male character happens to be nearby at the time.

Louise (Jill Curzon) looks over her shoulder.

I think it would have strengthened the emotional core of the story to give Louise the romance plot (though I would also have issues with her only being in the plot for the purposes of providing a love interest). At least it would have given her something to do instead of being shunted about from one location to another in a state of total passivity. In the original, the romance subplot was a major component of giving the story emotional depth.

This film, however, is empty.

The characters might as well be cardboard cutouts, and though the film follows the plot of the serial, it’s devoid of the sense of horror and despair that the original had. In the original, it felt very much that the resistance was fighting a losing battle, one grounded in reality. They were tired, they had very little hope left.

Here? It’s all just set dressing. With characters so flat they vanish if you look at them sideways, I just don’t care what happens to them. Nobody forms any real bonds, so there’s no sense that anyone has anything personally to lose. None of the deaths land with an impact. I don’t feel like the characters care all that much, so why should I? The Daleks might as well just kill them all.

5 metallic blue Daleks in a ruined street at night.

The Daleks don’t even feel particularly Nazi-like as they did before. In the original, the resemblance was strong enough that it made the Daleks feel grounded in reality, and that much more threatening. This film feels a lot more light-hearted, so I suppose there is the silver lining that the plot to turn the planet into a (groan) spaceship doesn’t feel quite as silly compared to the rest of the story.

It’s just really hard to find things all that grim when every fight scene is accompanied by jaunty jazz numbers. There are some attempts at comedy, mostly revolving around Tom, particularly when he’s hiding on the Dalek ship. It might make a child laugh, but I wouldn’t count on it.

8 men in black latex overalls and helmets with visors sit on two rows of benches with their arms folded. Tom (front row, second from left) is asleep, leaning on his neighbour's shoulder.

The acting is decent enough, nothing glaringly bad, but nothing great either. Cushing is entirely wasted, having been given no real chance to show Dr. Who’s character. He exists purely to poke the plot with a stick from time to time to keep it moving. It’s all quite mechanical. Everyone’s competent, but nobody feels like a real person. In streamlining the plot, the writer has jettisoned a lot of scenes that gave the characters room to breathe.

In the end, there’s a load of pointlessly complicated nonsense about deflecting the core-destroying bomb to make a big explosion of magnetic energy that will pull the Daleks into Earth’s core. Apparently the confluence between the north and south magnetic poles is under Bedford. I am not going to even bother picking that apart. It makes no material difference. Honestly, I think it just confuses things. Stick with the volcano!

Still, it’s quite funny when the Daleks go flying through walls like something off Looney Tunes. I’ll give it that.

The Dalek spaceship crashes into the mine as fire spews from the mountain in the background.

With all this being said, would you believe me if I told you it’s better than Dr. Who And The Daleks? It’s perfectly watchable, if you’re looking for something to do for a little over an hour and have a handful of shillings to spare. I think kids would probably enjoy the adventure. There are plenty of exciting bits such as the chase out of London, and the art team did a great job on the special effects. I particularly liked the Daleks’ flying saucer, which is a wonderful model with moving parts. The eruption at the end isn’t bad, either.

So, what’s the verdict? Well, I wouldn’t rush back to the cinema to watch it again, but I don’t consider my afternoon entirely wasted. It’s a relatively decent but unremarkable science fiction adventure that in my opinion could have been so much more.

2.5 out of 5 stars




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 10, 1966] Dollars and Cents (September 1966 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Render Unto Caesar

There's a new way to lose your money when visiting Las Vegas. A hotel, showroom, and casino called Caesars Palace (no apostrophe) opened a few days ago. As the name implies, it has an ancient Rome theme rather than the Western theme found in most gambling dens in Sin City.


A showgirl advertises the grand opening. I don't think that's an authentic costume of the time.

The inauguration ceremony is said to have cost one million dollars, including money spent on huge amounts of caviar, filet mignon, crabmeat, and champagne.


A page from a brochure advertising the place. Or possibly an illustration for a time travel story.

The Deuce Gets Loose

Speaking of losing money, today the United States Department of the Treasury announced that it would no longer print two-dollar bills. (The U.S. Mint hadn't actually printed any since June 30, but now they're going to stop completely.)


Thomas Jefferson looks glum about the situation. At least he'll still be on the nickel.

Two-dollar bills only make up a tiny percentage of the paper money in circulation. Some folks think they're unlucky. They're welcome to give any they don't want to me.

Wild Success

One thing you can do with a two-dollar bill is buy a couple of 45 rpm single records, and maybe even have a little change left over. A lot of people are shelling out a buck or so for the current Number One smash hit Wild Thing by the British band the Troggs. This raw, energetic tune was originally recorded last year by an American group called, appropriately enough, the Wild Ones, but failed to reach the charts.


It's the only rock 'n roll hit I can recall that features an extended ocarina solo.

You Pays Your Money And You Takes Your Choice

If you've only got fifty cents to your name, you can still purchase a copy of the current issue of Fantastic. That's less than one-third of a cent per page, so it sounds like a pretty good deal.

Of course, as my esteemed colleague John Boston recently pointed out, both Amazing and Fantastic are publishing lots of reprints without paying the authors. Whether you want to support these publications or boycott them is your choice. As for me, duty calls.


Cover art by Frank R. Paul.

Of course, the image on the front is also a reprint, and I doubt it was paid for either. In any case, it comes from the back cover of the April 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.


Here's the original painting, titled City of the Future. Looks a lot better this way, doesn't it?

For a Breath I Tarry, by Roger Zelazny

As the cover announces, here's the author's newest story.

Wait a minute! Haven't I read this before? Let me see, where could it have been?

Oh, yeah, it appeared in the March issue of New Worlds, and was reviewed by my esteemed colleague Mark Yon just a few months ago. I hope the author got paid twice.


Anonymous cover art.

I cannot hope to match the quality of this outstanding article. I will simply offer my own views, for whatever they might be worth.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

Long after humanity has disappeared, Earth is controlled by machines. Orbiting the planet is the supreme ruler, Solcom. Dwelling deep underground is a rival machine, named Divcom. (An allegory with God and the Devil seems intended, and some of the story reminds me of the Book of Job. However, the plot is completely original, and not merely a retelling of the Bible story.)

Solcom creates a machine to rule the northern hemisphere, calling it Frost. The ruler of the southern hemisphere is Beta. Frost makes a hobby of studying what little remains of humanity's relics. A machine named Mordel, in the service of Divcom, comes to Frost with a supply of ancient books. These excite Frost's curiosity, and it sets out on a quest to understand human emotions; in fact, to become a human being. Mordel offers Frost a deal. It will give Frost all the aid it requires to achieve this goal, but if Frost comes to realize that the task is impossible, it will have to serve Divcom forever.

(An allusion to the legend of Faust also seems intended. Note the similarity in names.)

Frost travels to the southern hemisphere, in order to witness one of the last places where people dwelled. This act is in defiance of Solcom's will, leading to a conflict between creator and created. (We are told that a temporary malfunction in Solcom's operation, at the time it made Frost, caused Frost to be unique among machines. Perhaps this is a form of original sin.)


What Frost wants to be.

I have barely touched the surface of a remarkable story. I haven't mentioned, for example, the giant ore-digging machine that carries the remains of the human being it accidentally killed within itself, causing all the machines it encounters to listen to its story. The fact that it bears parts of a dead human is enough to make other machines obey it, a subtle and important point. I also haven't talked about the role Beta plays in the plot. Go see for yourself.

Five stars.

"You Can't See Me!", by William F. Temple

If we allow the Zelazny tale to be considered new, our first reprint comes from the June 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Walter H. Hinton.

A fellow discovers that the people around him are happily conversing with folks he can't see. At first, a few others witness the same peculiarity, assuming the chatterers are crazy. Soon everybody succumbs to the delusion, and only the protagonist doesn't have an imaginary companion.


Illustration by Gerald Hohns. I assume all the reprinted drawings failed to earn the artists any new money, just like the writers.

Of course, there's an explanation for this strange happening. It's a pretty weak one, unfortunately, and the story just kind of fizzles out toward the end. Although it's not really a comedy, the fact that the main character has the unlikely name Zechariah Zebedee Zyzincwicz, and that this unusual moniker is relevant to the plot, tells you that you shouldn't take it too seriously.

Two stars.

Carousel, by August Derleth

This chiller comes from the April 1945 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by R. E. Epperley.

A little girl lives with her father and a wicked stepmother, straight out of a fairy tale. The evil woman is insanely jealous of the man's affection for his daughter, and would even be happy to see her dead.


Illustrations by Robert Fuqua.

A few years before the story begins, a mob lynched a carnival worker, leaving behind a wrecked merry-go-round. The child often goes to play in the ruins, claiming to be friends with a black man. The wicked stepmother takes advantage of the situation to make sure the girl is punished for her actions, whipping her severely. She follows her to the merry-go-round, hoping that the dangerous machinery will cause the child to suffer a fatal accident. (The implication that the woman intends to cause the accident is pretty clear.) Things don't work out the way she expects.


The haunted carousel.

As you can probably tell from this synopsis, there are no surprises at all in the plot. It's a pretty ordinary horror story, of the supernatural punishment variety. Although the murder of the carnival worker is obviously due to racial hatred, this isn't really relevant, which lessens the story's impact.

Three stars.

The Little People, by Eando Binder

This fantasy novella first appeared in the March 1940 issue of Fantastic Adventures.


Cover art by Robert Fuqua.

A scientist, his adult daughter, and her boyfriend are in a cabin somewhere in a remote area. The gruesome discovery of a cat with its throat cut is the first hint that something weird is going on. The next odd happening is the disappearance of a gold watch.

We find out right away that a community of fairies, or whatever you want to call them, is located nearby. One of them went into the cabin to steal the watch as a sign of bravery, in order to win the hand of the woman he loves, and had to kill the cat to escape.


Illustrations uncredited. They might be by Robert Fuqua again.

A rival for the fairy woman's affection tries to outdo the other by stealing a pair of binoculars. He gets caught by the scientist, who wants to exploit the little people as a scientific curiosity. The two young people are more sympathetic to their plight. The rival acts as a traitor to his kind, helping the scientist capture others.


Happier times, before the big people trap them.

The fairy man who stole the watch undertakes the dangerous task of rescuing his people from their captor, as well as defeating the treacherous rival.

I may as well mention here that Eando Binder is a pseudonym, used by brothers Earl (deceased) and Otto Binder. They're best known for a series of stories about the robot Adam Link. My sources tell me that this story is the work of Otto alone. In any case, it's not a bad fairy tale, if not outstanding in any way. Animal lovers should be warned that the cat is not the only creature to fall victim to the diminutive hero.

Three stars.

The Psionic Mousetrap, by Murray Leinster

The March 1955 issue of Amazing Stories is the source for this Cold War thriller.


Cover art by Edward Valigursky.

Our hero parachutes into the Soviet Union on a suicide mission. His grim task is to kill a kidnapped scientist before he can reveal the secrets of powerful psionic technology to the Reds.


Illustration by Paul Orban.

Things go badly right from the start. The hero winds up in the hands of the enemy. They force him to complete the work of the captured scientist, which turns out to be their undoing.

I didn't get much out of this spy yarn. The plot depends on the fact that the Commies are too materialistic to believe in psionics, which was a little hard to swallow. The story's conclusion strains credulity as well. You'd expect something like this in a mediocre issue of Astounding, given the fact that psionics is pretty much just another word for magic.

Two stars.

No More Tomorrows, by David H. Keller, M.D.

Here's a Kelleryarn (as they used to call the works of this author) from the December 1932 issue of Amazing Stories.


Cover art by Leo Morey.

The narrator develops a substance that destroys the part of the brain that allows one to imagine the future. He plans to sell the secret of this stuff to a trio of Soviet agents for a ton of money.


Illustration by Leo Morey also.

He rather stupidly whips up a vial of the substance, as well as a vial of plain water, in order to brag about his plot to the woman he wants to marry. (He figures that being a multimillionaire will win her hand.) Predictably, she winds up switching the two vials, so the narrator is hoist by his own petard.

This story has an intriguing premise, but it isn't developed very well. As I've indicated, the switching of the two vials requires that the narrator act like a complete fool. (There doesn't seem to be any reason at all to have a vial of water around.) The three Soviet agents are bizarrely deformed, as the illustration indicates. I guess the author really hates Communism, but this makes the whole thing seem ridiculous.

Two stars.

Rocket to Gehenna, by Doris Piserchia

At last! A story that hasn't appeared anywhere else. It's the author's first publication, too. It's a comic tale in the form of a series of letters. (A work of epistolary fiction, for those of you with highfalutin vocabularies.)

It seems that Earth sends the bodies of the deceased to the supposedly uninhabited planet Gehenna. It turns out that the place is occupied by a caterpillar-like alien and a very naïve human boy. Since they have the power to transport anything from one place to another, they start sending bodies back to Earth. The boy also captures a woman, because he thinks he needs a wife, although he doesn't even know the basic anatomical facts of life.

This is all very silly stuff. It's obviously trying to be a wacky farce, but I didn't find it very amusing. Let's hope the author does better work in the future.

One star.

Did You Get Your Money's Worth?

The Zelazny story, all by itself, is worth the four bits you'll pay for the magazine. The rest of it goes downhill at a rapid pace. If you have half a buck to spare, you might want to give it a try.


That isn't exactly what I had in mind.

A copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue, is worth every penny! Buy one today!




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 8, 1966] A Leaden Kind of Fluff (Watchers of the Dark, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.)

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by John Boston

Watchers of the Dark, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lloyd Biggle’s Watchers of the Dark is a sequel to All the Colors of Darkness (1963), which I am sure I read when it came out but can’t remember a thing about.  That’s easier to understand after reading the new book.

Jan Darzek is a private detective in New York City in a future where people get around by means of matter transmitters.  He occupies himself with such challenges as a poison pen letter writer, a bookkeeping saboteur, and vending machine pirates.  He has a sixtyish secretary, Miss Schlupe, a/k/a Schluppy, who is known for such exploits as breaking bones, reads confession magazines for relaxation, and brews her own rhubarb beer, which makes repeated appearances in the story.


by Emanuel Schongut

A Mr. Smith, who is repeatedly described as reminiscent of a dead fish, tries to hire Darzek for a dangerous and time-consuming assignment that he won’t describe in advance.  Darzek doesn’t want the job and demands a million dollars in small bills as an initial payment, and shortly his office is full of cardboard boxes of money.  So it’s a contract!

It seems there is a galactic federation that keeps loose order in a galaxy heavily populated with sentient species, with unruly worlds like Earth excluded, i.e., “uncertified.” Someone or something called Supreme is in charge, and asked for Darzek by name.  For what?  To investigate the Dark—an unknown something that is taking over worlds in some unknown fashion and cutting them off from the usual galactic commerce.  All that is known is that the “natives”—Biggle’s word, throughout—become hostile to interstellar traders and riot and pillage, driving them off their planets.

Why hire a private eye from a world with no knowledge of the galactic civilization to investigate this threat to its existence?  It’s not explained, but before he can do anything, he and Schluppy have to go to school to learn multiple languages—“And manners and customs and finance and business and practical technology.” It’s hard to believe the galaxy doesn’t have a few good detectives, pre-acculturated and ready to go.

Once their lengthy schooling is complete, Darzek and Schluppy head off towards the Council of Supreme, unaccompanied.  Their contact, a textile merchant, doesn’t show up and turns up dead in space, showing that the Dark is on to them even if it hasn’t found them yet.  Darzek immediately finds the room from which the merchant was defenestrated, and his sample case.  They figure out how to transmit themselves to a hotel. 

Three creatures transmit into their room and try to kill them, using weapons we later learn are called Eyes of Death, but Darzek kills them by moving quickly and shooting them with his automatic, assisted by Miss Schlupe with her knitting needle.  Next, a member of the Council of Supreme, called EIGHT, shows up, and when he sees the carnage, says, “Now I understand why you were chosen.  Praise Supreme!”

This all takes us through a little more than a quarter of this moderately long (228 pages) book, but the landscape is plain enough, and it doesn’t get better.  It’s a sort of collage of cliches from 1950s-and-later SF, like a ransom note made with words clipped out of magazines: the galactic civilization governed by what amounts to a rudimentary quasi-monarchy, the mysterious menace, and the hyper-competent savior from Earth to set it all right.  There is the menagerie of funny-looking aliens, distinguished from one another only by their looks, increasingly cartoonish as the book progresses, and no match for the superior intellect and talents of the Earthman.  Indeed, it comes to resemble the familiar repertoire of Eric Frank Russell and Christopher Anvil: smart humans and dumb aliens, played for laughs, except that Biggle is even less funny than Anvil.  He’s clearly trying, at least occasionally, but he just doesn’t know how.  The book is impossible to take seriously and fails as farce.

This is not a terrible book.  Being terrible requires at least some distinctive character, and this has none.  It’s a species of determined mediocrity, reshuffling stock elements with a certain facility but with no value added in style, concept, or anything else.  Apparently the publishing strategy is a sort of arbitrage of boredom—as long as it is marginally more interesting than what is going on around the potential reader, it will sell.  I feel for anyone who is that bored.  One star.

Need something to take the taste out of your mouth? Pick up a copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue!




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[August 6, 1966] I Won't Dance, Don't Ask Me (Anna Halprin and the Dancers Workshop)

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by Victoria Lucas

Actually, thanks, I'd love to dance

Good day, readers. It's been a long time since I wrote about music in San Francisco, but when I did you might remember that I wrote about the San Francisco Tape Music Center and its experimental music.

321 Divisadero, as their venue is known, is not just the TMC. It also houses Radio Stations KPFA/KPFB (the San Francisco part) and something (on the 3rd floor) called the Dancers Workshop Studio.

But I'm not a dancer

Even after becoming curious about the people "upstairs" – namely Anna Halprin, who runs said studio – I've mostly seen her group dances outside around San Francisco, too busy with other things to get to indoor workshops or to her famous deck in Kentfield (north of San Francisco), built for her by her architect husband Larry Halprin.


Larry and Anna Halprin, architect & dancer

And my boy friend Mel and I have a sort of budget of both time and money that is pretty loose but by which we hope to avoid both bankruptcy and fatigue. (As I've written here before, there is a LOT to do in San Francisco and surrounding area.)

Halprin left the dance of the theatre for the dance of life

Eventually I learned that Anna Halprin studied contemporary dance and started a performance company with dancers AA Leath and John Graham, her daughters Daria and Rana Halprin, and designers Joe Landor and Patrick Hickey. They toured nationally and internationally before starting the San Francisco studio in 1964. There they worked with a dizzying array of avant-garde composers, filmmakers, poets, and other dancers, including dancer Merce Cunningham, John Cage's partner.


Cage & Cunningham pose with artist Robert Rauschenberg

Like Cage, Halprin uses pictorial scores and chance operations, but always with her focus on self-awareness as her pupils perform movements. She's also tackled issues of race and sexuality head on.

Radical refers to "root" & I can dig it

In "Parades and Changes" she introduced full-on nudity to San Francisco audiences and, even more radical, the idea that anyone could dance with "more like 10 seconds" of training rather than the 10 years dance maven Martha Graham laid down.


Halprin during a workshop

Unfortunately, I missed the performances at the Playhouse where I volunteer my time, since they were before my move to The City. After the "Trunk Dance" in 1959, the name of Terry Riley appears on the 1961 program for "Four Legged Stool," and Morton Subotnick and David Tudor (who also acts as electronicist for Cage and Cunningham) created the music for her revision called "Five Legged Stool" the following year.

She eventually realized, according to what I've read, that she wanted to get beyond dance as a performance piece or something based on specific music or a programmed narrative. She worked with Gestalt-psychologist Fritz Perls and engaged with the audience after "Parades and Changes," with a vision of "spontaneity and freedom." That is a performance I wish I had seen – sometimes there are so many things going on that if you're not at the right place and time to see a notice about something you miss it entirely! This is why I buy the Sunday Chronicle with the pink section in it every week–their event lists are pretty thorough. (But they might not cover "workshops.")


Anna Halprin by herself

I hope to still be able to make at least one of her workshops or events in future. Ms Halprin, if you live to be 100 I suspect you will not be able to realize all the talent and compassion within you. Good luck! (And thank you, Ms Michaels, for the honorific "Ms"!)




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Comics, Fashion, music, politics, sports

[August 4, 1966] Up, up, and away! (the Superman musical)

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by Aaron Grunfeld

[Every so often, one of our readers submits a guest article.  We're always delighted to receive such unexpected bounty, and this one is particularly fun and relevant.

Aaron Grunfeld is a former journalist and dramaturg. In the past he has worked with playwrights and theaters on and Off-Broadway, and written for publications like Playbill. Aaron lives in New York City with his wife and daughter, and he’s preparing to teach high school English this fall.

As a science-fiction fan, Aaron is enjoying Adventure Comics, where Edmond Hamilton is currently writing a light-hearted space opera starring Superboy and a team of teen super-pals in the 30th century. Highly recommended!]

Batman may be the biggest superhero of 1966, but his pal Superman can still draw a crowd. This past spring, the Man of Steel was featured in a brand-new Broadway musical with a tongue-in-cheek title: It’s a Bird… It’s a Plane… It’s Superman! But a marriage between the Great White Way and the Funny Pages isn’t as strange as it sounds. Television, comic books, and American musicals are all forms of ‘pop art,’ the trendy term for work that’s meant to be popular, mass-produced, and ephemeral. That definition clearly applied to Superman’s show, which only ran for four months. It was a flop by most measures, but not the one that counts: the producers recouped their costs.

Onstage at the Alvin Theatre, Superman faces a mad scientist who’s teamed with a gossip columnist at the Daily Planet; together they hope to ruin the superhero’s reputation. The newsroom is also the setting for the comic’s legendary love triangle, with reporter Lois Lane at its apex and Superman as his own rival. This angle is played as romantic comedy, and as a result, Superman feels less like a comic-book adventure than a generic musical with a superheroic twist.

All the action takes place in Metropolis, which is identical to Broadway’s vision of New York—a cynical, seen-it-all borough that breaks into song & dance every so often. Superman floats gently into the chorus of hoofers like he’s gliding off the movie screen at a Saturday matinee. He’s just as earnest and good-natured as he ever was, and his fellow citizens can’t take him seriously in the red cape and blue tights.

Neither can the show’s creators, Charles Strouse and Lee Adams, who had a hit a few years ago with Bye Bye Birdie. Strouse and Adams have developed Superman with book writers David Newman and Robert Benton and director Harold Prince (Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster originated the concept in 1938). Their Superman is a galoot with a big heart, and their impulse is to mock him. His super-feats are played for knowing laughs; when Superman swoops in on wires, he strikes a pose like Mary Martin in Peter Pan. I’m not sure why Strouse and Adams wrote a musical about Superman, rather than, say, Li’l Orphan Annie. I’m not sure they know either.

The actors are uniformly better than their material, and many received acclaim for their efforts. Bob Holiday plays the dual role of Clark Kent and Superman as so essentially decent that the show’s mockery just bounces off him. In the second act, he laments, “Why can’t the strongest man in the world | Be the happiest man in the world?” and for a moment, it seems like he’ll reveal his secret identity to Lois. Wouldn’t that be a twist!

Those who remember Lois Lane from the radio, or those incredible cartoon shorts during the war, will be disappointed that the musical’s newshound is more focused on wedlock than journalism. It’s a retrograde portrayal that feels out-of-step with the current decade; I’d like to think Lois is still reporting on civic corruption and civil unrest, not that she’s writing the Daily Planet’s advice column. However, the audience enjoyed her romantic antics, as executed by Patricia Marand, and, if her Tony nomination is anything to go by, so did her peers.

I found the show’s two villains more lively. Michael O’Sullivan plays a generic mad scientist, a “ten-time Nobel loser” who blames Superman for his failures. A veteran of vaudeville, O’Sullivan mugs and hams his way through the show like a cut-rate Bert Lahr. He’s at his best opposite Jack Cassidy, who plays a Walter Winchell type and goes for every laugh he can find. They’re a pair of old-fashioned entertainers who give the audience what we paid for: Broadway schtick done slick. For that, both men also earned Tony nominations. None of the show’s performers won their categories, but all three are professionals enjoying their work, and in the theater, that feeling is infectious.

The spotlight, however, is stolen by an up-and-comer named Linda Lavin. She plays a secretary who flirts with Clark Kent in a number called “You’ve Got Possibilities.” The lyrics suggest she views the mild-mannered reporter as a fixer-upper, a groom to be groomed. But in performance, Lavin’s character finds Kent genuinely, carnally attractive, and she’s not afraid to say so. “Possibilities” is the show’s strongest number, and Lavin uses it to make a big impression. All the critics agreed, Lavin is Superman’s high point. I’ll go further: Lavin is the only modern, original part of the entire Superman musical.

In its cultural attitudes, Superman is a throwback to the era between the War and Kennedy’s assassination. This is clearest in its treatment of Lois Lane, but it permeates the show. Lavin’s character, by contrast, doesn’t want to marry Superman, or even Clark Kent. She enjoys her independence, and she’s too busy living her own life to bother with the heroic melodrama of Superman. Lavin’s creation is looking forward, not back, and her moments onstage elevate the Superman musical from light entertainment to pop art.

Two and a half stars.



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Magazine, Serial

[August 2, 1966] Mirages (September 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

The popular image of a mirage is a shining oasis in a desert replete with shady palm trees and sometimes dancing girls. That’s not how mirages work. We’re all familiar with heat shimmer, say on a hot, empty asphalt road, casting the image of the sky onto the ground and resembling water. Less common is the Fata Morgana, which makes it look as though cities or islands are floating in the sky. But the popular idea of the mirage remains: something beautiful and desirable, yet insubstantial.

Heat Wave

July was a real scorcher in the United States as a heat wave settled in over much of the Midwest. A heat wave might make a fun metaphor for passion if you’re Irving Berlin or Martha and the Vandellas, but as the latest hit from the Lovin’ Spoonful suggests, it can be a pretty unpleasant experience. As the mercury rises, people get pretty hot under the collar.

On July 12th, the Black neighborhoods on Chicago’s West Side exploded. The sight of children playing in the spray of a fire hydrant is a familiar one, but the city’s fire commissioner ordered the hydrants closed. The spark was lit when, while shutting off the hydrants, the police attempted to arrest a man, either because there was a warrant for his arrest (according to them) or because he reopened a hydrant right in front of them (according to the locals). As things escalated, stores were looted and burned, rocks were thrown at police and firemen and shots were fired. There were also peaceful protests led by Dr. Martin Luther King. Mayor Daley called in the National Guard with orders to shoot. Ultimately, the mayor relented. Police protection was granted to Blacks visiting public pools (all in white neighborhoods), portable pools were brought in and permission was given to open the hydrants.


Children in Chicago playing in water from a reopened hydrant

As things wound down in Chicago, they flared up in Cleveland. On the 18th in the predominantly Black neighborhood of Hough, the owners of the white-owned bar the Seventy-Niner’s Café refused ice water to Black patrons, possibly posting a sign using a word I won’t repeat here. Once again, there was looting and burning and the National Guard was called in. Things calmed after a couple of days, but heated up again when police fired on a car being driven by a Black woman with four children as passengers. It appears to be over now and the Guard has been gradually withdrawn over the last week. City officials are blaming “outside agitators” for the whole thing.

These riots are a stark reminder that the passage of the Civil Rights Act two years ago didn’t magically make everything better, and that problems also exist outside of the South. We have a long way to go before racial equality is more than just wishful thinking.


National Guardsmen outside the Seventy-Niner’s Café

Pretty, but insubstantial

Some of the stories in this month’s IF are gorgeously written, but lacking in plot. Sometimes that’s enough, sometimes it isn’t.


This fellow’s having a very bad day, but he’s not in The Edge of Night. Art by Morrow

The Edge of Night (Part 1 of 2), by A. Bertram Chandler

Commodore John Grimes has resigned both as Superintendent of Rim Runners and from the Rim Worlds Naval Reserve, effective as soon as his replacement arrives. The monotony of the situation breaks when a mysterious ship appears out of nowhere, refusing to answer any hails. Although there’s no hurry, he quickly assembles a crew, including his new wife, late of Terran Federation Naval Intelligence, and his usual psionics officer, whose living dog brain in a jar, which is used as an amplifier, is clearly nearing the end of its life.

The strange ship proves to be highly radioactive. It bears the name Freedom, painted over the older name Distriyir. Everyone aboard is dead, all humans dressed in rags. The only logical conclusion is that the ship is from an alternate universe (the walls between universes are thin at the rim of the galaxy) and the crew escaped slaves. Taking the ship back to its original universe, Grimes and his people learn that intelligent rats have enslaved humans out in the Rim Worlds in this universe. They resolve to correct the situation. To be continued.


The enemy fights like cornered rats. Art by Gaughan

Chandler has written several stories about John Grimes, though his only appearances so far at the Journey have been cameos in other stories set in the Rim. This story seems to be a direct sequel to Into the Alternate Universe, which was half of a 1964 Ace Double.

The story is wonderfully written, pulling the reader along in a way that can only be compared to Heinlein. The characters are strong and distinct, including a woman who is smart, tough, active and above all believable. There’s also a wealth of detail, such as the placement of instruments, clearly stemming from the author’s years serving in the merchant marine of the United Kingdom and Australia, which give verisimilitude to the ships and their crews.

While reading it, this absolutely felt like a four star story to me, but after letting it sit for a while, I’ve cooled slightly. A very, very high three stars.

The Face of the Deep, by Fred Saberhagen

In Masque of the Red Shift, Johann Karlson, the hero of the Battle of Stone Place, led a Berserker, an alien killing machine out to destroy all life, into an orbit around a collapsed star. In the story In the Temple of Mars, we learned of a plan to rescue Karlson. Here, we follow Karlson as he gazes in awe at the collapsed star and its effects on space. The Berserker pursuing him is unable to shoot his ship, but are the people who appear to rescue him the real thing or a ruse?

There isn’t much story here, but the prose is beautiful, pure sense of wonder. Saberhagen is clearly building up to something, probably a confrontation between Karlson and his half-brother, all no doubt to eventually wind up in a fix-up novel. This is only a brief scene in that larger tale, but the sheer poetry of the thing is enough.

Four stars.

The Empty Man, by Gardner Dozois

Jhon Charlton is a weapon created by the Terran Empire. Nearly invulnerable, incredibly strong and fast, he can even summon tremendous energies. Unfortunately for him, for the last three years, he has shared his mind with a sarcastic entity called Moros, which has appointed itself as his conscience. Now, Jhon has been sent to the planet Apollon to help the local rebels overthrow the dictatorial government.


Jhon Charlton deals with an ambush. Art by Burns

Gardner Dozois is this month’s new author, and this is quite a debut. It’s a long piece for a novice, but he seems up to it. There’s room for some cuts, but not much. The mix of science fiction and almost fantasy elements is interesting and works. The only place I’d say a lack of experience and polish shows it at the very end. The point is a bit facile and could have been delivered a touch more smoothly, but it’s a fine start to a new career. Mr. Dozois has entered the Army, though, so it may be a while before we see anything else from him.

A high three stars.

Arena, by Mack Reynolds

Ken Ackerman and his partner Billy are Space Scouts for a galactic confederation. They’ve been captured by the centauroid inhabitants of Xenopeven, who refuse to communicate with them. After several days of captivity, they’re separated, and Ken next sees Billy’s corpse being dragged from the sands of an arena. Vowing revenge, he finds himself the next participant in something like a Spanish bullfight, with Ken as the bull.


Ken after his encounter with the picadores. Art by Virgil Finlay

This is far from Reynolds’ best work. The action is decent, but the parallels with bullfighting are pointed out too explicitly (though maybe it’s necessary for readers who aren’t familiar with the so-called “sport”). However, there is a bit of a twist at the end – one that made me go back and double-check the text – that lifts the story out of complete mediocrity. So-so Reynolds is still pretty readable.

Three stars.

How to Live Like a Slan, by Lin Carter

This month, Our Man in Fandom takes a look at the fannish tendency to give names to inanimate objects. He starts off with the residences of fans sharing apartments and expenses, going back to the Slan Shack in Battle Creek, Michigan right after the War. Alas, the whole thing is largely just a list of in-jokes and things that were funny at the time. And I’ve known plenty of people with no interest in SF who have named their cars. It’s hardly restricted to fans.

Two stars.

The Ghost Galaxies, by Piers Anthony

In an effort to test the steady state theory and perhaps find out what happened to the first expedition, Captain Shetland leads the crew of the Meg II on a voyage to or beyond the theoretical boundary of the steady state universe. The ship’s logarithmic FTL drive increases speed by an order of magnitude every hour. As the ship passes one megaparsec per hour, the crew grows increasingly worried, and their mental state can affect the drive and the ship’s ability to return home.


Somnanda maintains the beacon which keeps the ship in contact with real space. Art by Adkins

This was a difficult story to summarize, or even understand. The writing is very pretty, with a dreamlike quality that mirrors the captain’s mental state and thought processes, but often left me unsure just what was going on. I came away with the feeling that there’s something here, but I have no idea what.

A low three stars.

Enemies of Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke is deep behind enemy lines, this time with the B’lant Fazool and Ralph Perry from earlier Gree stories. They’re spying on a Gree excavation not far from the place where Gree first entered the galaxy. Strangely, there are animals here not native to the planet. There may also be an intelligent species nearby, watching both Steve and the Gree slaves.


The ull-ull aren’t native to this planet. Art by Morrow

I’m tired of these Gree stories. Even those that aren’t terrible have a sameness to them. In each of the last few stories, MacApp has made us think that those fighting Gree finally have what they need for victory. It’s time to wrap this series up. This one isn’t helped by the fact that every time Fazool gets mentioned I think of Van and Schenck or Bugs Bunny.

A low three stars.

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

Dolph Haertel and Nanette Ford have been stranded on Mars, thanks to Dolph’s invention of anti-gravity. They’ve managed to survive, and last time Dolph discovered a radio beacon and set up an interruptor to attract attention. As the installment concluded, they encountered a feline-like predator. This proves to be an intelligent being. They manage to establish contact with Dohmn (the closest they can come to pronouncing its name) and make friends. Eventually, Dohmn leads them to the last surviving member of the original Martian race.


Dohmn introduces Dolph and Nanette to the last Martian. Art by Morrow

And so we reach the end, with everything wrapped up nice and neat. For humans anyway. I’m bothered by the last Martian bequeathing Mars to humanity rather than Dohmn’s people. It’s all a bit too facile, and I find myself returning to my original conception of this as a parody of SF juveniles, from Tom Swift to Heinlein to more recent examples as the story progresses. This certainly wouldn’t be my first pick to give a young reader.

A low three stars for this part and the novel as a whole.

Summing Up

There you have it. An issue that starts off hot and gradually grows tepid. Parts of it sure are pretty, though, even if they’re just hot air.


Dickson, Niven and the rest of the Chandler look promising. A new McIntosh novel less so.




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Magazine, Serial

[July 31, 1966] Dimmed lights (August 1966 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Blackout

This morning, Janice noted sparks coming from the socket by her typewriter desk.  With great swiftness, she unplugged the lamp and radio.  There was a respite, but only briefly, and soon the wall was spurting flame again. 

I heard her calm bellow, "Gideon, hit the circuit breaker.  Now."  You never saw someone descend a flight of stairs so fast (at least in control of their feet).  She called an electrician – fortunately the phone company have a separate power supply – and we went out for breakfast until the fellow could arrive.

That afternoon, we got a stern lecture on overloading our poor house's circuits.  We thanked and paid the fellow and were back to work by 1 pm.

Whereupon the entire neighborhood's power went out.

And that, dear readers, is why this article was typed by the light of the window rather than artificial incandescence!

Flicker, flicker

It was fitting that we should be failed by the men and women of our investor-owned, business-managed electric light and power company just as I turned to write about this month's Analog.  It's not that the stories were horrible, but I've definitely seen better in these pages.


by John Schoenherr

Too Many Magicians (Part 1 of 4), by Randall Garrett

To date, the Lord d'Arcy stories, set in an alternate 1960s with Victorian technology but replete with magic, have all been novellas or shorter.  This latest piece is the first full length novel.

A naval courier has been killed, perhaps while bearing crucial intelligence.  The Anglo-French Empire's most renowned magical detective is contracted to get to the bottom of the case.  Meanwhile, Sean O'Lochlainn, d'Arcy's sorcerer assistant, is thrown in the Tower after witnessing a second death at a wizards' conference; this locked-room murder has a similar murder weapon to the first.

And so, the setup for a magical who/howdunnit.  As with the rest of the series, Garrett's tale compels (though none engage so thoroughly as the excellent first d'Arcy adventure.) If I have a complaint, it's that Garrett is starting to rely a bit too much on pastiche: d'Arcy gets more like Holmes with every installment.  Indeed, his cousin, the Marquis, is Mycroft in all but name.  I half-expect our hero will take up the violin and acquire a cocaine habit.

Four stars so far, but we'll see.

Spirits of '76, by Joe Poyer


by Leo Summers

A representative from the UN pays a visit to a lunar squatter, who has illegally laid claim to a piece of the Moon's surface and established a distillery.  After a great many homebrewed drinks, the agent decides that free enterprise and private ownership are actually just fine.

I suspect maintaining an independent habitation on our airless neighbor will be a lot harder than this story would have us believe.  Still, the libertarian spirit of the piece surely tickled Campbell's capitalist heart.

It'll go in one eye and out the other, but it's harmless, at least.  Three stars?

One MOL Step Forward , by Lyle R. Hamilton

Hamilton opens up this non-fiction article with a promise to explain how the X-20 "Dynasoar" spaceplane was killed by paperwork.  Instead, he offers up a meandering piece, told largely in contractor interviews and press releases, which culminates in a description of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory.  This budget space station, serviced by an Air Force Gemini, is the current DoD space project of size.

I suppose there's useful information in the piece, but not much point.  I've gotten much better insight from my subscription to Aviation Week and Space Technology.

Two stars.

Psychoceramic, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

The fearless editor follows Hamilton with a shorter piece on a ceramic that can apparently extract pure oxygen and produce power at the same time.  Typical Campbellian kookery, or is he onto something?  I guess only time will tell.

Two stars for the unnecessary smugness and having cried wolf too many times.

By the Book, by Frank Herbert


by Kelly Freas

An aged troubleshooter is summoned from retirement to fix a big beam.  It's some kind of launching laser that propels seed packets (vegetable and human) toward colony worlds.  Problem is, it keeps killing technicians trying to service it.

I had many problems with this story, the biggest of which was the devotion of so many words to setting up a technical problem whose resolution I had no interest in.  A real snoozefest of gizmo-speak.

One star.

Technicality, by Norman Spinrad

The MPs have arrived, fearsome conquering aliens whose greatest strength is their ability to vanquish whole armies without firing a shot.  But does their nonviolent rapaciousness hide an Achilles Heel?

While the gimmick falls a little flat, Spinrad tells this no-blood-or-guts tale with fine detail and not a little subtle satire.

Three stars.

Light of Other Days, by Bob Shaw


by Kelly Freas

A quarreling married couple touring the Scottish Highlands come across a purveyor of "slow glass."  This remarkable substance passes light so slowly that, after ten years of absorption, will replay the scene that played across it for the next decade.  Thus, a city dweller might install one of these wonder panes and enjoy ten years of a view of the rugged north of Scotland rather than local squalor.

The technical bits felt a little overdone, but Shaw tells the story with a light, domestic touch that reminds me of Cliff Simak.

Three stars, and eagerness to see him tackle a longer subject.

Something to Say, by John Berryman


by Leo Summers

Last up, the fellow who gave us the Walter Bupp psychic stories gives us, instead, one of his more nuts-and-bolts tales.  The Earth Federation (apparently an evolution of the UN) has reason to believe that Soviet-aligned agents have infiltrated a primitive world to poison the natives against the West.  Said planet has a breathable atmosphere some six times as dense as Earth's.  This affords a far more airborne ecology, and even the indigenes have Bronze Age flying machines.

A troubleshooter is dispatched to thwart the Soviet plot, but is overpowered by a Communist.  The two crash land and are taken prisoner.  The Sovworld agent seems to have the leg up, as she is fluent in the indigenous tongue, but our plucky hero has an ace up his sleeve: an encylopedic knowledge of gliders.

There is a good story lurking in here, with a great setting and a decent setup.  It is hampered by its truly insufferable and two-dimensional characters.  As well, Berryman seems to have forgotten much that he's learned about pacing.

An uneven three stars.

After the lights go out…

2.7 stars is not a great score, though it's actually the median for this year's crop of Analogs.  And also for the month.  Coming in below it are IF (2.6), Galaxy (2.5), Worlds of Tomorrow (2.2), and Amazing (1.9).  Note that three of those four are Fred Pohl's triplets.

Ahead of Analog are Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1), New Worlds (3.2), and Impulse (3.4)

There was exactly one woman-penned new story this month, and four/five-star stories would have barely filled two slim magazines (and one of them is a reprint of Make Room, Make Room!).

Ah well.  At least there's only one more month of summer, after which, ironically, things should get brighter!

Have you gotten your copy of Rosel George Brown's new hit novel, Sibyl Sue Blue?  If not, get down to your local newsstand and pick it up!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[July 28, 1966] Cat People and Overpopulation (SF Impulse and New Worlds, August 1966)

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

After my brief mention at the end of last month about England and the soccer World Cup, I had better start by congratulating them on their tournament win since last time we spoke. The country does seem to have got behind them – indeed, there’s been little else talked about here since they won. Whilst I’m not a fan of football (soccer to you!) particularly, I must curmudgeonly admit that the mood of the country has been rather pleasant.

In this spirit of optimism and change, there’s also been some interesting changes with the British magazines. At the moment I’m not sure whether these changes have been made for good reasons or bad, but they might just stir life into the magazines that have rather been treading water on the whole over the last few months.


Cover by Keith Roberts – again!

To Impulse first.

Or rather SF Impulse. Notice the subtle change? The magazine seems to be trying to attract the interest of traditional readers by nailing its genre roots firmly to the mast. Interestingly, I understood that this was something the editor Kyril Bonfiglioli was keen not to do when the magazine changed its name to Impulse.

In fact, where is Kyril? The magazine has no Editorial at all this month, instead going with a “Critique” by Harry Harrison instead. This was mentioned in last month’s issue, although I was rather expecting Kyril to be about as well. Has he been deposed? Perhaps after his complaints about not knowing what an Editor does in the last few issues this leaves Kyril with more time to – you know – edit.

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

Make Room! Make Room! (Part 1 of 3), by Harry Harrison

When this was mentioned as coming up, I was very pleased. The magazine was going to have to do something big to cap Keith Roberts’ Pavane series for me, and this was clearly it.

Mind you, I have been less impressed with Harrison’s last two serialised novels, Plague From Space and Bill, the Galactic Hero (shudder.) But this one sounded great.

Whereas this is just the first part for us in Britain, being in the USA fellow Galactic Journey-er Jason Sacks has had the chance to read the whole novel, lucky thing. His wonderful review goes into much more depth and detail than I would here. So I will point out his review, with thanks, and say that so far I agree with everything he has said.

This is the best Harrison I’ve read in ages, if not one of the best stories in Impulse to date. Admittedly, its scenes of shabbiness and squalor are rather depressing, but its description of a world of overcrowded excess, crime and a lack of resources is done with imagination and flair. The situation is entirely possible and the characters appropriate for that setting. I hope the quality continues. I was so impressed, I’m awarding it 5 out of 5 – my first, I believe.

Wolves by Rob Sproat

After such a great start it would be difficult to maintain such a standard, and so we go from the great to the typical “Bonfiglioli filler”, had Kyril been here. This is the third story we’ve had in the magazines from Rob, none of which have particularly impressed me, sadly. And so it is again here. A story of creatures that have haunted Mankind for millennia and yet are rarely seen. When their presence is noted by a drunken man, he is killed. Lots of talk here about Ancient Ones that doesn’t seem to mean much. A weak horror story that is bleak and yet strangely predictable. 3 out of 5.

The First, Last Martyr by Peter Tate

Another relatively new author, who seems to be liked by many readers. His last story was The Gloom Pattern, in the June 1966 issue of New Worlds. This one is a tale of Hubert Flagg, a window dresser whose occupation makes him part of the pop-culture and yet inwardly he hates it. As an act of rebellion against current trends and to become a celebrity, Flagg attempts to kill people at a concert by the current pop favourite The Saddlebums, which I guess is not just a comment on society but also a bit of a dig at bands like The Beatles. On a good day this could have been a satire in the same vein as Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius, but instead it just seems odd, and not in a particularly good way. 3 out of 5.

Disengagement, by T. F. Thompson

Another surreal ramble through the viewpoints of various characters. Think of it like an inferior Frankenstein story from multiple perspectives, a similar re-tread of clichés that seems all too similar to Robert Cheetham’s The Failure of Andrew Messiter in last month’s New Worlds. (Are new ideas really that hard to come by?)

It seems more like a Hammer Horror film than the “really chilly horror” the banner attempts to persuade me it is. Although actually I like Hammer Horror movies… this less so. Some of the characterisation is awful. Any story that has a character named “Doctor Dog” and tries to make a joke out of it deserves not to be taken seriously. Marks for effort, not originality. 2 out of 5.

A Comment by E. C. Tubb

E C Tubb returns with an opinion piece on the state of science fiction, rather akin to Harrison’s Critique at the beginning of the issue. Here Tubb takes on the thorny issue of sex in science-fiction, pointing out that it has been around longer than sf and it is wrong for the New Wave to “dwell on it”. To quote, “The more sex you put in a story the less action, characterisation, futuristic background, scientific content and plain, old, entertainment value you leave out.”

Whilst I understand the author’s point of view, it does read a little like one of the oldsters complaining about the new kids on the block.

The Scarlet Lady by Alistair Bevan

Lastly, back to the stories. Here we have the return of Alistair, a regular author but who is also author/editor/artist Keith Roberts. Both names have appeared regularly in these magazines.

Here Alistair continues an ongoing theme of motor car stories. His last was a rather excitable story of future traffic congestion, road rage and restrictive laws in the story Pace That Kills back in the May 1966 issue of Impulse. By contrast, this is a tale that attempts to emulate Weird Tales in its story of a possessed car and its effect on two brothers and their respective families. No reason is given for the automobile’s actions, which show a constant drain on the owner’s monetary funds and a taste for blood. Whilst it is – please pardon the expression – as cliched as hell, I must admit that I quite enjoyed it for all of its silliness. Some of the passages reminded me in style and tone of Roberts’ version of contemporary lifestyle as read in The Furies in July – September 1965. It is too long, but was a fun read. Much better than the last story, for all of its limitations. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Impulse

And that’s it for SF Impulse this month. At over 80 pages most of the magazine is taken up with Harrison’s novel, which is its selling point. As a result, I liked the issue a lot, even when the rest of the material suffers by comparison. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the Bevan story, even if it is repeating old cliches.

And with this, onto issue 165 of New Worlds, hoping that it is also better this month.

The Second Issue At Hand


Cover by Keith Roberts – him again!

Like last month’s New Worlds the Editorial is not by editor Moorcock, but a film review by a guest reviewer. Last month, La Jetee was praised by J. G. Ballard as something extraordinary.

This month, Alphaville directed by Jean-Luc Godard has a rather different response. Guest reviewer John Brunner begins his review with “Let’s get one thing straight to begin with. Alphaville is a disgracefully bad film, reflecting no credit to anybody – especially not on those critics who have puffed it as a major artistic achievement.” Well, that should certainly grab the reader’s attention!

To be fair, Brunner makes some good points, although the review really reminds me that all reviews are little but opinions and in this world the New Wave will gain as much criticism as praise. Our own Kris Vyas-Myall reviewed Alphaville, for example, and had a very different response. Interestingly, Brunner does add that La Jetee, reviewed by Ballard last month and seen by Brunner as a double-bill, completely overshadows Alphaville.

Brunner’s writing is entertaining, though, and as a deliberately provocative read is a much more interesting read than any of the other Editorials of late.

To the stories!


Illustration by James Cawthorn

Amen and Out, by Brian Aldiss

Another appearance from Harry Harrison’s friend Brian Aldiss, who was also here last month. (Again: has anyone ever seen the two of them in one room together?) The cover describes this story as ”Irreverent, thought-provoking stuff that only Aldiss can do well”, which I agree with, although I would further qualify by pointing out that such irreverence can also lead to wildly uneven material from Mr. Aldiss.

(Where has “Dr. Peristyle” gone to, by the way? Just a thought.)

The good news is that this one is not quite as madcap as it could have been. Amen and Out is a story of a future where a number of characters with different backgrounds are at the Immortality Investigation Project – one is a supervisor of the immortals, one a young assistant, one an acid head itinerant and the other a doorman. They each communicate with their Gods, and are all consequently given instructions with various consequences for themselves and the Immortals held in the Project. The twist in the story is that the Gods are actually an AI. It’s good fun, and feels like Aldiss wrote it with a permanent grin on his face, though will no doubt offend anyone seriously beholden to a religion. A 4 out of 5.

The Rodent Laboratory, by Charles Platt

Charles Platt’s been a regular here for a while. This is a story of rats in a laboratory being observed as a group social experiment, and what can happen when the rats develop new behaviour and the scientific community watching them are put under stress. It gains points from me for being a ‘proper’ science-experiment-based story with a touch of the laboratory experiment pulp stories of the 1930s, although the ending is almost something out of Weird Tales. Overall, it reads well enough but feels like minor-league stuff, nothing we’ve not read before. 3 out of 5.


With a lack of artwork this month we have instead this quote, which seems to have inspired the story.

Stalemate in Time, by Charles L. Harness

I’ve mentioned in the past of Charles being a veteran author who seems to be trying to embrace the New Wave of writing. If sales of his novel The Rose are anything to go by, this has been popular, if met with varying degrees of success.

Here we have a reprint. The story was first published as Stalemate in Space back in 1949. Now renamed, it does feel like an old-style piece of pulp fiction. This is clearly intentional – the story begins with a purple-prosed quote from Planet Stories which seems to sum it up nicely. I’m not quite sure what Mike is trying to do here. Is this one of those examples to show that ‘the old stuff’ is still worth reading, as he did with Harness’s Time Trap back in the May 1965 issue? Or is it just filler? Whatever the reason, Stalemate in Space is an engaging if dated Space Opera story, which makes up with enthusiasm what it lacks in logic – but I wish the magazines would stop trying to sneak reprints to bulk out their issues. 3 out of 5.

Look On His Face, by John Kippax

William Kibbee is a Christian priest on a mission to the planet of Kristos V. Unsubtle, heavy-handed religious allegory. 2 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Transfinite Choice, by David Masson

The return of recent genre superstar David Masson whose sudden and dramatic appearance in these magazines has been stellar, although with slightly diminishing returns. Here is the story of Naverson Builth, who finds himself transported from 1972 to the year 2346. Lots of difficulties with language, which seems to be a Masson specialty, before we discover that Naverson finds himself working for a world government known as Direct Parameter Control. There are some interesting concepts put forward to Builth in this future, and some in turn suggested by Bulith, before the story crashes to a halt with a poor ending that we’ve come across before. Masson’s writing is still readable and still involves ambitiously big ideas, but I rather feel David has passed his peak. A slightly disappointing 3 out of 5.


Illustration by James Cawthorn

The Keys to December by Roger Zelazny

I have repeatedly said that I think that Roger is one of the best American writers of recent years to have taken on the New Wave of science fiction and run with it. He keeps producing quality stories which are thoughtful, readable and also genuinely original. His last story here, For A Breath I Tarry, has been rightly nominated in this year’s Hugo Awards. So any return to these Brit magazines is something to be pleased about, I think.

And this is another cracker. The key premise is that in this future people can be adapted pre-birth in order to cope with the environment they will live on. It is different to the usual Zelazny fare, beingless philosophical and surprisingly hard-science-based, something that I could see Poul Anderson or Hal Clement writing.

To this Roger sets up a situation that Jarry Dark, a homeless Coldworld catform, his betrothed Sanza and his friends in the December Club who have put up the money, move to a planet where they will terraform the planet into something they can use. Whilst reconnoitring the planet they observe a species that they call Redform that even though thousands of years will pass to allow for adaptation will be unable to adapt in the face of their impending catastrophic event.

Knowing that the intelligent species will die but at the same time being unable to do anything about it sets up the sort of dilemma that challenges both the reader and the characters, and at the end gave me an emotional reaction akin to Tom Godwin’s The Cold Equations.

Surprisingly different for Zelazny, both elegaic and emotional, I can see this one being nominated for future awards. A high 4 out of 5.

Letters and Book Reviews

We begin this month with Bill Barclay giving a potted biography of writer and anthologist Sam Moskowitz and then reviewing Moskowitz’s latest book of biographical essays. It does sound interesting.

James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock) then covers a broad range of material. A highlight this month is Colvin being rather unsurprisingly unimpressed with Asimov’s novelisation of the movie Fantastic Voyage. The subtitle for this review, Per Ardua Ad Arteries did make me laugh, as well as the clinical evisceration of the novel.

The shorter reviews, all written by initialled reviewers, include story collection The Saliva Tree by a certain Brian W Aldiss, many of which have appeared in these magazines, Judith Merril’s 10th edition of The Year’s Best SF and the 15th volume of The Best from Fantasy and Science Fiction. All are liked – Zelazny comes out particularly well – though these three books show me the divide in style and content opening up between the old style stories and the so-called New Wave. Things are still changing….

Lastly there is a great review for Edgar Pangborn’s A Mirror for Observers, which ”stands head and shoulders above most sf”.

Very pleased to see the return of Letters pages this month. Generally detailed and thought-provoking, though generally still raking over the same themes of "What is SF?" and "What is this new SF?"

Summing up New Worlds

A stellar line up, with many of Moorcock’s favourite writers here. Whilst I could quibble and say that some of these stories from writers with a proven track record are not the author’s best, there are many that are very good. Aldiss is good but, unsurprisingly, Zelazny’s story is better. It’s not quite perfect (Kippax, I’m thinking of your story), but there’s a great deal of range and a good deal of quality. One of the best issues of New Worlds for a long time.

Summing up overall

A tough choice this month. Harrison’s novel is the best thing I’ve read here and dominates Impulse, quite rightly, although most of the rest are unmemorable. By contrast, the stories in New Worlds are not quite as good, but the range of the quality is greater. Zelazny’s story in New Worlds is as good as Harrison’s and this is the best New Worlds I’ve read for a few issues.

So – very pleased to say that both magazines have (thank goodness!) improved enormously this month. Whilst Harrison’s serial novel seriously impresses in the new SF Impulse, the range and breath of quality makes New Worlds the best this month. Let’s hope this continues. Must admit, the next New Worlds sounds good…

Until the next…



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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction