Magazine, Serial

[May 12, 1965] Da Capo (June 1965 Amazing)

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by John Boston

Changing of the Guard

So here we are at the end of the Ziff-Davis Amazing and the editorship of Cele Lalli.  What’s next?  The magazine doesn’t say.  “Coming Next Month” is conspicuous by its absence, as are interior illustrations.  But the story is being told elsewhere.  The banner headline on Science Fiction Times for last month—if “banner” is the word for large crude mimeographed lettering—says “ ‘AMAZING’ AND ‘FANTASTIC’ GO BI-MONTHLY & ADD 32 PAGES,” just above “DON FORD IS DEAD!”

The first post-Z-D issue will be the August Amazing, and thereafter the magazines will be published in alternate months as the new owner and editor try to build circulation, by leaving each issue on sale for a longer time, in preparation for a return to monthly publication.  The new publisher, as previously disclosed, will be Sol Cohen, and now it is announced that the managing editor—presumably, the guy who picks the stories—will be Joseph Ross, actual name Joseph Wrzos, but he is showing mercy to native English spellers.

Part of the plan for the new Amazing (and the new Fantastic too) is to use reprints as part of the contents, along with the original illustrations, a policy the SF Times describes as a “well-liked” recent feature of the Ziff-Davis Amazing.  Well-liked by some, no doubt, but most of the stories seemed to me to have only historical interest. 

Worse, even partial reliance on reprints from Amazing is a bad bet at least for any long term, since Amazing has been pretty mediocre through most of its history.  During the 1930s it fell progressively further behind the limited competition of the day, both in circulation and in interest, and then was purchased by Ziff-Davis and put in the charge of the notorious Ray Palmer, whose instruction to writers is said to have been “Gimme bang-bang.” From 1938 to 1949 Palmer filled the magazine with formulaic and juvenile adventure fiction, much of it produced by a coterie of local Chicago writers who mostly published little or nothing elsewhere, with much of their output in Amazing appearing under “house names” (pseudonyms maintained by the publisher for work by multiple writers).

The magazine enjoyed a brief renaissance (well, maybe a nascence) starting in 1953 when it switched from pulp to digest size and, more importantly, raised its pay rates, attracting bigger names and better material.  But it didn’t last; the rates were cut, and the magazine reverted by late 1954 to calculated mediocrity: mostly formulaic contents written by a new stable of regulars, though they kept some of the old house names, such as the durable Alexander Blade, a byline that flourished from 1940 to 1958.  Little improvement was visible until about 1959, when new editor Cele Goldsmith began her salvage operation.

So the past of Amazing is a barrel whose bottom will be scraped quickly, full of fish mostly not worth shooting.  One hopes for something more forward-looking as well from the new regime.

The Issue at Hand


by Gray Morrow

This final Ziff-Davis issue exemplifies the decidedly mixed bag of the Cele Goldsmith/Lalli regime: a potboiler of a serial from a prominent writer, an exercise in the higher self-parody by one of her best-known discoveries, a brief inconsequential story by a completely unknown new writer . . . the inescapable nemesis Robert F. Young . . . and David R. Bunch, the writer the readers loved to hate.  Not only is his story flagged and illustrated on the cover, but Bunch is also profiled and quoted extensively in the final editorial.  (Usually they’re by Lobsenz, but this one isn’t signed.  Lalli, maybe, at last?) This celebration of Bunch might be viewed as a final gesture of defiance from the editorial team, especially given the cover illustration of a robot waving two sledge hammers in fury.  But . . . probably not.  After all, Lalli is sticking around Ziff-Davis to edit Modern Bride.

The Corridors of Time (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson

The largest fiction item is the conclusion of Poul Anderson’s perfectly adequate but neither inspired nor inspiring serial The Corridors of Time, the title of which is unfortunately literal.  Our hero Lockridge has been hired by the beautiful, enigmatic, and imperious Storm Dalloway to help her find some buried treasure in Jutland, but what she’s really about is a time war.  Turns out there are two contending factions, the Wardens and the Rangers, the former (Storm’s side) supporting a relaxed social philosophy consonant with matriarchal religion and traditional knowledge, the latter supporting a more regimented view consonant with science and patriarchal religion (to oversimplify grossly—and it is a bit of a set-up on Anderson’s part). 

So how does this time war work?  Well, there’s the rub, or lack of one.  Unlike its predecessors—Leiber’s Change War series, Jack Williamson’s The Legion of Time, Anderson’s own Time Patrol stories—in this one, you can’t change history.  So . . . what’s the point?  Well, as the synopsis (presumably written by Anderson) puts it, an agent can “become part of it, setting the mark of his own civilization on a culture and thus building up reserves for a final showdown.” That’s not changing history?  Maybe just a little?

This makes no sense at all, and undermines the story.  The time travel mechanism doesn’t help either.  The Corridors of Time are just that, long corridors buried in the earth at various places, with access to various times over spans of a few thousand years; just walk or ride down the corridor, and you go 35 days per foot, and you take the exit you want for the time you want, and also you can have chases and shootouts up and down the corridor, as happens within the first few pages.  As icons of the imagination go, this is pretty unimaginative.

On the plus side, Anderson gets to chase his characters around various historical eras, which Anderson seems to know well and in most cases to prefer to the present, and Lockridge reluctantly finds himself with an appealing Neolithic girlfriend (setting up an . . . unusual . . . triangle with Miss Dalloway), and ultimately Lockridge decides not to go back to the Twentieth Century, in a final affirmation of the barbarian virtues.  Overall, perfectly readable product, but below standard for a writer who has done much better.  Three stars, barely.  There’s a note indicating an expanded version is to come from Doubleday later.

The Furies, by Roger Zelazny

Roger Zelazny’s novelet The Furies is ridiculous—purposefully so, it seems.  The author spends the first six pages in exposition, introducing us to Sandor Sandor, catastrophically disabled, but also a non-idiot savant with encyclopedic knowledge and memory of places all around the galaxy; Benedick Benedict, who upon shaking hands with another person, becomes privy to all that person’s most shameful secrets, which he proceeds to gossip about—and his talents extend to inanimate objects and animals; Lynx Links, who “looked like a beachball with a beard” but by calling is the galaxy’s most accomplished assassin; and (former) Captain Victor Corgo, “the man without a heart” (literally, replaced by a machine), formerly “a terror to brigands and ugly aliens, a threat to Code-breakers, and a thorn in the sides of evil-doers everywhere,” but now gone wrong.

The first three of these are the Furies, so-called by the author after the ancient Greeks’ “chthonic goddesses of vengeance” (says the Britannica), here retained by the authorities to chase down Corgo, a sort of Captain Nemo figure who has turned against humanity based on outrages we need not recount.  The story is rendered throughout in extravagant language and stylized dialogue.  A mid-range sample of the former:

“One time the Wallaby [Corgo’s spaceship] was a proud Guardship, an ebony toadstool studded with the jewel-like warts of fast-phase projectors.  One time the Wallaby skipped proud about the frontier worlds of Interstel, meting out the unique justice of the Uniform Galactic Code—in those places where there was no other law.  One time the proud Wallaby, under the command of Captain Victor Corgo of the Guard, had ranged deep space and time and become a legend under legendary skies.”

So what we have here is midway between a technical exercise and a barroom bet.  Zelazny has taken about the most hackneyed materials available and tried to render them publishable by pure force of his considerable writing skill, no doubt enhanced by his theatrical background, and he has succeeded.  That is, he has dazzled enough rubes to get this into print, and has considerably amused me.  If the young Shakespeare had started out in comic books (the names and talents of the Furies certainly suggest comic-book superheroes), the result might have been similar.  Four stars, but watch it, guy: you can’t get away with this more than once.  Or can you?

The Walking Talking I-Don't-Care Man, by David R. Bunch

As for Bunch (and speaking of extravagant language) the latest Moderan tale The Walking Talking I-Don’t-Care Man is made of that, though it’s more straightforward and lucid than some of its predecessors.  The titular Man has had himself entirely replaced with metal, unlike Bunch’s protagonist in his Stronghold who still hangs on to his flesh-strips.  The Man purports to have resolved the great philosophical dilemma of human existence by giving up humanity . . . but he still wouldn’t mind finding God and going after it with his sledge hammers. 

One could conclude that this meditation, or harangue, on last things might be the end of the Moderan series . . . except the point seems to be that last things really aren’t last.  But hey, four stars, at least in the spirit of “best of breed,” which I’d say this is for Bunch.  Note to future bibliographers: the commas in the title on the cover do not appear inside the magazine.

Rumpelstiltskinski, by Robert F. Young

And now comes the inexorable reckoning: Robert F. Young, square athwart the road, and no shoulder to slip by on.  First the bad news: Rumplestiltskinski is another of Young’s affected fairy tale rehashes, beginning “Once there was a miller who was car-poor but who had a luscious dish of a daughter named Ada.” The good news: it’s quite short and ostentatiously pointless, a sort of shaggy fairy story, perhaps signifying that Young is getting tired of himself.  Let me encourage him in that.  One star.

Satyr, by Judith E. Schrier

Finally, and almost imperceptibly, we have Satyr, a (very) short story by Judith E. Schrier.  Who?  Precisely—no one else has heard of her either, at least according to the available indexes.  An unmarried older woman works the night shift as a computer operator and the computer professes its love, she realizes how masculine it is, etc. etc. to the obvious end. Slickly written, at least.  Two stars, barely.

Lo! The Poor Forteans, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz plays out his season (rumor having it that he won’t be part of the new Amazing) with Lo! The Poor Forteans, a moderately interesting biographical sketch of Charles Fort and history of the Fortean movement, such as it is or was.  There is also some rambling and mostly perfunctory discussion of the Fortean influence in science fiction, much of which we know about because the authors (like Edmond Hamiliton and Eric Frank Russell) have commented on it, but much of which is questionable (The Children’s Hour by Lawrence O’Donnell a/k/a C.L. Moore?  I doubt it).  Moskowitz has also omitted some other fairly obvious candidates like Heinlein’s The Puppet Masters.  Moskowitz also tediously belabors his own disdain for Forteanism.  But still, three stars, chiefly for the history and not the commentary.

Summing Up

The Ziff-Davis Amazing under Lalli was always full of promise but never managed to deliver on it for more than a month or two at a time.  It winds down on a respectable note, with above-average stories from two of its most characteristic authors, plus a competent middle-of-the-road serial.  Quo nunc vadis Amazing?

Speaking of changed circumstances at publishing houses, please read this — it's important!




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Science / Space Race

[May 10, 1965] A Language for the Masses (Talking to a Machine, Part Three)

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This is part three of our series on programming in the modern computer age.  Last time, we discussed the rise of user-oriented languages.  We now report on the latest of them and why it's so exciting.


by Gideon Marcus

Revolution in Mathematics

The year was 1793, and the new Republic of France was keen to carry its revolution to the standardization of weights and measures.  The Bureau du cadastre (surveying) had been tasked to construct the most accurate tables of logarithms ever produced, based on the recently developed, more convenient decimal division of the angles.  Baron Gaspard Clair François Marie Riche de Prony was given the job of computing the natural logarithm of all integers from 1 to 200,000 — to more than 14 places of accuracy!

Recognizing that there were not enough mathematicians in all of France to complete this project in a reasonable amount of time, he turned to another revolutionary concept: the assembly line.  Borrowing inspiration from the innovation as described in Adam Smith's Wealth of Nations, he divided the task into three tiers.  At the top level were the 5-6 of the most brilliant math wizards, including Adrien-Marie Legendre.  They selected the best formulas for computation of logarithms.  These formulas were then passed on to eight numerical analysts expert in calculus, who developed procedures for computation as well as error-check computations.  In today's parlance, those top mathematicians would be called "systems analysts" and the second tier folks would be "programmers."

Of course, back then, there were no digital machines to program.  Instead, de Prony assembled nearly a hundred (and perhaps more) human "computers." These men were not mathematicians; indeed, the only operations they had to conduct were addition and subtraction!  Thanks to this distributed labor system, the work was completed in just two years.

The Coming Revolution

These days, thanks to companies like IBM, Rand, and CDC, digital computers have become commonplace — more than 10,000 are currently in use!  While these machines have replaced de Prony's human calculators, they have created their own manpower shortage.  With computation so cheap and quick, and application of these computations so legion, the bottleneck is now in programmers.  What good does it do to have a hundred thousand computers in the world (a number being casually bandied about for near future years like 1972) if they sit idle with no one to feed them code?

As I showed in the first article of this series, communication between human and the first computers required rarefied skills and training.  For this reason, the first English-like programming languages were invented; they make coding more accessible and easier to learn. 

But developing programs in FORTRAN or COBOL or ALGOL is still challenging.  Each of these languages is specialized for their particular function: FORTRAN, ALGOL, and LISP are for mathematical formulas, COBOL for business and record keeping.  Moreover, all of these "higher-level" programming languages require an assembly program, a program that turns the relatively readable stuff produced by the programmer into the 1s and 0s a computer can understand.  It's an extra bit of work every time, and every code error that stalls the compiler is a wasted chunk of precious computer time.

By the early 1960s, there were folks working on both of these problems — the solution combined answers to both.

BASICally

In 1963 Dartmouth Professor John Kemeny got a grant from the National Science Foundation to implement a time-sharing system on a GE-225 computer.  Time-sharing, if you recall from Ida Moya's article last year, allows multiple users to access a computer at the same time, the machine running multiple processes simultaneously.


Photo Credit: Dartmouth College

Kemeny and his team, including Professor Thomas Kurtz and several undergrads, succeeded in completing the time-share project.  Moreover, in the interest of making computing available to everyone, they also developed a brand-new programming language. 

Beginner's All-purpose Symbolic Instruction Code, or BASIC, was the first language written specifically for novices.  In many ways, it feels similar to FORTRAN.  Here's an example of the "add two numbers" program I showed you last time:

5 PRINT "ADD TWO NUMBERS"
6 PRINT
10 READ A, B
20 LET C=A+B
30 PRINT "THE ANSWER IS", C
50 PRINT "ANOTHER? (1 FOR YES, 2 FOR NO)"
60 READ D
70 IF D = 1 THEN 6
80 IF D = 2 THEN 90
90 PRINT
100 PRINT "THANKS FOR ADDING!"
9999 END

Pretty easy to read, isn't it?

You might notice is that there's no initial declaration of variables.  You can code blithely along, and if you discover you need another variable (as I did at line 60), just go ahead and use one!  This can lead to sloppy structure, but again, the priority is ease of use without too many formal constraints. 

Indeed, there's really not much to the language — the documentation for BASIC comprises 23 pages, including sample programs.

So let me tell you the real earth-shaking thing about BASIC: the compiler is built in. 

On the Fly

Let's imagine that you are a student at Stuffy University.  Before time-sharing, if you wanted to run a program on the computer, you'd have to write the thing on paper, then punch it into cards using an off-line cardpunch, then humbly submit the cards to one of the gnomes tending the Big Machine.  He would load the FORTRAN (or whatever language) compiler into the Machine's memory.  Then he'd run your cards through the Machine's reader.  Assuming the compiler didn't choke, you might get a print-out of the program's results later that day or the next.

Now imagine that, through time-sharing, you have a terminal (a typewriter with a TV screen or printer) directly attached to the Machine.  That's a revolution in and of itself because it means you can type your code directly into a computer file.  Then you can type the commands to run the compiler program on your code, turning it into something the Machine can understand (provided the compiler doesn't choke on your bad code).

But what if, instead of that two-step process, you could enter code into a real-time compiler, one that can interpret as you code?  Then you could test individual statements, blocks of code, whole programs, without ever leaving the coding environment.  That's the revolution of BASIC.  The computer is always poised and ready to RUN the program without your having to save the code into a separate file and run a compiler on it. 


Kemeny watches his daughter, Jennifer, program — not having to bother with a compiler is particularly nice when you haven't got a screen!  Photo Credit: Dartmouth College

Moreover, you don't need to worry about arcane commands telling the program where to display output or where to find input (those numbers after every READ and WRITE command in FORTRAN.  It's all been preconfigured into the program language environment.

To be sure, making the computer keep all of these details in mind results in slower performance, but given the increased speed of machines these days and the relatively undemanding nature of BASIC programs, this is not too important. 

For the People

The goal of BASIC is to change the paradigm of computing.  If Kemeny has his way, programming will no longer be the exclusive province of the lab-coated corporate elites nor the young kooks at MIT who put together SPACEWARS!, the first computer game.  The folks at Dartmouth are trying to socialize computing, to introduce programming to people in all walks of life in anticipation of the day that there are 100,000 (or a million or a billion) computers available for use.

Vive la révolution!


Photo Credit: Dartmouth College

If you've read it this far, do me a favor and GOTO here — it's important!




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Book, Magazine

[May 8, 1965] Skip to the end (June 1965 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Impatience

Normally, I'd open up with a discussion at length of the news of the day.  Like how the United States is still knee-deep in the Dominican Republic, losing soldiers to snipers every day despite the ceasefire between the current military-civilian junta government and the supporters of ousted President Bosch.

Or that Collie Wilkins Jr. was acquitted by a 10-2 hung jury in a trial for the murder of civil rights activist Viola Liuzzo, shot in her car after the Selma rallies.  Wilkins' defense attorney's statements included language so profane and racist that I cannot transcribe them here.

Or that the comedy/news show, That was the Week that Was, had its final show on May 4th.

And then, having given my report, I'd tie it pithily to the subject at hand, namely the June 1965 Galaxy science fiction digest.  But the fact is, there's lots to cover and I'm anxious to get it all down while it's still fresh in my mind.  So, you'll just have to pretend that I was clever and comprehensive in my introduction.  On to the important stuff:

Bob Sheckley and friends


by George Schelling

As is happening more and more often, the king-sized bi-monthly, Galaxy, is dominated by a short novel this month.  This time, it's by a fellow who probably was the best SF short story writer of the 1950s.  Bob Sheckley has turned to novels of late with something less than (to my mind) great success. The Journey of Joenes, The Status Civilization, Time Killer — none of them were triumphs, though some disagree.  Will this time be different?

Mindswap, by Robert Sheckley

Young Marvin Flynn is bored to death of living in the bucolic New York town of Stanhope, desperate enough to risk "mindswap."  And so, Marvin exchanges minds with the Martian, Aigeler Thrus.  Unfortunately, Thrus' body was currently occupied by the unscrupulous Ze Kraggash, who had taken residency to elude the police after a crime.  Thrus is entitled to his body; Kraggash has Flynn's.  This leaves Flynn six hours to find a body, any body, or be extinguished forever.


by George Schelling

An increasingly frantic Flynn ends up bopping across the galaxy, first as a collector of sentient ganzer-eggs on Melde, somewhere near Aldeberan; then on to Celsus for a stint as a professional victim wearing a ticking time bomb gift; and ultimately to a reality-bending place called The Twisted World.

It's complete fluff, vaguely satirical and fun-pointing, but for the most part, pointless.  I went along with it, mildly amused for about 60 pages, before my tolerance ran out and I skimmed the rest.  Unlike Harrison's brilliant and cutting Starsloggers, Mindswap is just self-indulgent…and far too long. 

Two stars.

Servant Problem, by Otis Kidwell Burger

On the dreary, sandstorm-plagued planet of Dexter, there's little for the married couples to do but drink and kvetch about their house-servants, a race of off-putting aliens that only look like middle-aged spinsters.  After an endless seven pages of this stuff, we learn that the servants are actually the masters, and the humans are being evaluated for their level of social development.  Turns out they're in the emotional equivalent of kindergarten.

Yeah, I didn't get it either.  Two stars.

Blue Fire, by Robert Silverberg

Nat Weiner, visitor from newly terraformed Mars, the "Sparta of space," arrives on Earth to sample the luxuries of an overcrowded, decadent world.  Assigned to escort him is Reynolds Kirby, a "major bureacrat who gets paid like a minor one."  Together, they attend a spiritual gathering of the devotees of Vorster, a pseudo-scientific cult that preaches the unity of humanity and worships at the altar of the cobalt reactor. 

Vorsterism is just one of many avenues of relief against the physical and mental crush of living amongst 10 billions; hallucinogens are also popular, and the upperclassmen, like Kirby, favor the sensory deprivation "Nothing Chambers".  Cosmetic replacement of external features with metal and plastic substitutes is popular. 


by Jack Gaughan

As the tour of the once-proud homeworld progresses, Weiner becomes increasingly belligerent, resolved to steal a Vorster nuke and put it to "worthwhile use" as an energy-generating reactor on Mars.  Through Kirby's interactions with Weiner, and with the Vanna, a Vorsterian with a face modifed to inhuman grotesqueness, Kirby comes to see his own life as a hollow shell of an existence and reconsiders all of his carefully created precepts.

Blue Fire is a day-in-the-life of a fellow on the edge of a midlife crisis in a tired world.  With deft writing and vivid imagery, Silverberg accomplishes in 25 pages what usually takes Philip K. Dick a full novel.

Five stars.

Think of a Man, by Karen Anderson

Poetess Anderson offers up a latter-day space shanty.  It might make a decent filk, but it will likely leave no great impression on you.

Three stars.

For Your Information: The Observatory on the Moon, by Willy Ley

Observatory on the Moon, by Donald H. Menzel

An Eye For Selene, by R. S. Richardson

The idea that astronomy is better conducted on the Moon than Earth is an old one.  Not only is Earth's celestial neighbor airless, but its slow rotation makes it much easier to do long film exposures.

This should be a fascinating topic; instead, this is probably the least interesting article Ley's ever written.  A truly disappointing development for a column that was a major selling point when I first began my subscription to Galaxy 15 years ago. 

The short counterpoint following the main article is equally undistinguished.  Richardson's comments, on the other hand, are interesting. 

Barely three stars for the lot.

Devil Car, by Roger Zelazny

Sam Murdock speeds across the Great Central Plain of a post-apocalyptic United States in his sentient car, name of Jenny.  His monomaniacal mission: to destroy the black Devil Car and his minions, who have been savaging the continent.  Though Murdock's conviction never wavers, Jenny is torn between her programmed loyalty to her driver, and to the Devil Car's sirensong call to join his pack.

Plausible?  Not for a second.  Slick and enjoyable?  Absolutely.  Four stars, and I'll bet this gets optioned for a movie or episode of a Twilight Zone revival.

One Face, by Larry Niven


by Nodel

Last up is the third short story from this promising new writer, which may or may not take place in the same universe as his recent short novel, World of Ptavvs.  The passenger liner, Hogan's Goat, has an accident in hyperspace on the way to Earth.  It ends up at the right place but billions of years in the future.  The Sun is a burned out husk, and humanity's home is an airless world with one face permanently locked toward its star.  With no way home and nowhere to go, Verd Spacercaptain, his crew and passengers, and their increasingly debilitated computer Brain must find a way to survive.

I'm not entirely sold on the science of this piece, but Niven has a way of creating a very rich world in just a few pages.  It's also obvious that Niven is a new writer: his cohort has no problem with presenting women as equal partners and in roughly equal numbers to men; moreover, he displays no preference in terms of skin tone or ethnicity.

Four stars.

Satisfaction

How to judge the latest Galaxy?  It contains a full issue's worth of slag, but then again, it contains almost a full issue's worth of gold.  Perhaps it needs to be a regular length bi-monthly?

Especially since editor Pohl is crowing about how next month's novel will be even longer, and by Frank Herbert.

God help us all…

Our last three Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here).  You don't want to miss the next episode, May 9 at 1PM PDT, a special Arts and Entertainment edition featuring Arel Lucas, Cora Buhlert, Erica Frank…and Dr. Who producer, Verity Lambert! Register today and we'll make sure you don't forget.




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[May 6, 1965] Back To Our Roots (New Writings in SF4 & Over Sea, Under Stone)

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by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

A Musical Introduction

Bob Dylan is in the middle of his sellout tour of England and folk revival is hitting the mainstream as a result. Dylan himself has 2 singles and 4 albums in the charts.

Bob Dylan 1965 UK Tour

Also accompanying him on tour is Joan Baez who has reached mainstream attention with We Shall Overcome. Then we have home grown efforts such as the Iain Campbell Folk Group and Donovan, already proclaimed by some as The British Dylan.

Catch the wind

At the same time Country is doing pretty well with King of the Road sitting at number 2 and Jim Reeves continuing his presence with Not Until Next Time.

King of the Road

Whether this foreshadows a more permanent move away from the kind of pop music we have seen in the last few years remains to be seen. However, this is also true in today’s reviews, where the two books of May's first Galactoscopes represent a norm and a departure from it: Carnell presents us with a selection of tales representing many of the traditional themes of science fiction and we get a fantasy novel that is very much part of an older tradition.

New Writings in SF4 ed. by John Carnell

New Writings in SF 4

John Carnell continues his quarterly anthology series, with another solid but unremarkable edition. Whilst he talks in his editorial about each edition having a particular flavour, it seems to me that they are pretty much of a piece. In fact the main difference here from last time is the presence of a slightly higher number of reprints.

High Eight by David Stringer

This is not a new author but rather a new pseudonym for Keith Roberts, the ridiculously prolific writer for every British SF publication. In this piece Rick Cameron, a line maintenance boss at Saskeega Power, is investigating a series of deaths by electrocution, where people are apparently going too close to the lines. But is something else happening?

Unlike many I am not highly enamoured with Mr. Roberts' writing and the seeming combination of hard-boiled speech and use of offensive terms such as “halfbreed Indian” put me off this tale particularly.

Even putting that aside the main aim of this story seems to be to make electricity scary but doesn’t really succeed in doing it any more than it naturally is. It is certainly not the thought-provoking tale Carnell promises in his introduction.

One Star

Star Light by Isaac Asimov

The first of our reprints is this short vignette from the good doctor, originally appearing in Scientific American. Trent and Berenmeyer have stolen a fortune in Krillium, used to make robot brains, but now need to make a hyperspace jump to escape the police pursuing them.
I get the sense of Asimov writing on auto-pilot. It is not actually bad but if I was to get someone to write an imitation of his work it would end up something like this.

A high two Stars

Hunger Over Sweet Waters by Colin Kapp

On Hebron V, Blick and Martha are both stranded at floating processing stations after the power goes down and they set about working out how to survive.

The introduction says that Colin Kapp is “fast becoming one of our most popular sci-fi writers”, which is certainly news to me. Like The Dark Mind I thought this was fine, just a little old fashioned. This is the kind of problem story which would have looked at home in Astounding a decade ago. Well written, enjoyable but forgettable.

Three Stars

The Country of the Strong by Dennis Etchison

Our second reprint, this one from Seventeen magazine. This is a short evocative piece exploring a landscape after some kind of an apocalypse (probably a nuclear war from the description). Doesn’t have much meat to it but some good bones.

A high three stars

Parking Problem by Dan Morgan

A more silly satirical piece from another of the old New Worlds regulars. In the late twentieth century a solution to parking problems in inner cities is resolved by the development of extra-dimensional parking garages. Crunch and Pulver, two small-time criminals, attempt to break into one of these to steal high-priced vehicles.
Things end up taking a more surreal turn as it goes along and I found it quite sharp in the end.

Three and a half stars.

Sub-Lim by Keith Roberts

It seems you can never just have one Keith Roberts story in any issue, though this one appears without any pseudonym. Here he takes on subliminal messaging where drawings seem to be able to control people’s minds.

Whilst the subject matter is a rather well-trodden theme Roberts brings a great style to it and has an excellent twist ending.

Four Stars

Bernie the Faust by William Tenn

As noted in the introduction this piece, originally from Playboy, has already been reprinted in one of Judith Merrill’s excellent 'best of the year collections' (which I highly recommend), and it is easy to see why. Bernie is a salesman who has an unusual man, Mr Ogo Eskar, come into his store asking to buy increasingly more ridiculous things and thinks he is on to a great deal. But ends up regretting his choices.

As the name suggests, this is a modern take on the Faust story but with a nice twist and a real understanding of human psychology.

Four Stars

On the whole, a solid issue which got better as it went along. The only real disappointment was High-Eight and that could well be due to my aversion to some of Roberts’ work.

One other note. Paperback editions have started coming out for these from Corgi which, at 3/6 much more reasonable than the hardcover editions, at 16 shillings. Whilst I wouldn’t recommend picking these up over a copy of Science Fantasy and New Worlds, these are still very much worth the price.

Over Sea, Under Stone by Susan Cooper

Over Sea Under Stone

Whilst I had more books as a child than many people I knew, with a school teacher for a mother, juvenile fantasy was not as big as it is today. We had Edith Nesbit’s, TH White’s and Mary Norton’s stories, along with The Hobbit, but primarily I read more adventure stories in the style of The Famous Five or Swallows and Amazons.

It seems since the release of The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe there has been an explosion in excellent British fantasy stories from the pre-teen market. These include Roger Lancelyn’s Green take on King Arthur, Tom’s Midnight Garden, the Green Knowe and Alderley Edge stories, as well as more unusual works like Stig of the Dump or the Paddington books.

I now have a twelve-year-old sister and a nine-year-old brother who live in rural Ireland. As such they do not tend to see many of these books, so I like to try to find the best ones and send them over. This one certainly does not seem to be doing anything particularly new but looks like it could be another enjoyable series for the pre-teens.

We start off in the same mode as is traditional for British fantasy at least as far back as Nesbit, with a group of children (Simon, Jane and Barney) going to visit relatives in the countryside, this time their great uncle Merry in Cornwall.

The children decide to pretend to have a treasure hunt in the house they are staying in. In doing so they find first a secret attic filled with strange artifacts, then hidden within that, an ancient map. Taking it to their great uncle Merry they are told this relates to King Arthur, the battle between Good and Evil, and the Holy Grail.

In spite of the ominous tones that suggests for the story, it is actually rather an old fashioned jolly jape. Whilst there is a threat from another interested party, much of the time is spent with the three children (and a dog named Rufus) wandering around the countryside searching for clues. As such there is little doom and gloom but instead a real sense of fun.

One disappointment is the children feel rather thinly sketched here. In each of the Narnia books whoever is in the adventures has a distinct personality. Here it often feels Barney, Jane and Simon are interchangeable, merely serving the story function.

I am also trying to work out the time period this is meant to be set in. The children refer to the old fashioned way of speaking of some of the people in Cornwall but the main family still sound like they are from my childhood. Cooper was apparently inspired to write this story in response to a competition to write in the style of Nesbit so maybe this is an intentional artistic choice?

But in spite of my quibbles this is still an enjoyable story. What Cooper manages to do just as well as Blyton or Ransome have ever done is capture the joie de vivre of being a child having adventures in the English countryside and cast me back to my own young trips to Cornwall and Devon, clambering around Glastonbury or Tintagel hoping I might find the Sword in the Stone or a knight’s tomb. Certainly one I will be posting to my siblings when it comes into paperback and an author I will be keeping my eye on.

Rating: Three and a half stars

Coda

Is this a good direction for science fiction and fantasy? Honestly I think it can depend more on what the writer does with it. Both of these are enjoyable but not revolutionary publications. What I would like to see more of is works doing new things with these themes, as Tenn does with the Faust myth, rather than wholesale revivals as Doc Smith seems to be doing currently in If.

Whilst I wait to see which side it comes down on, I will join with the rest of the listeners of Big L in trying to guess what the actual the lyrics to Subterranean Homesick Blues are. Did he really sing "clients are in the bed book"?

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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[May 4, 1965] The Op and the Pop: New Movements in Modern Art

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by Cora Buhlert

News from West Germany

May 1 is not just a public holiday in all of Germany, but also the traditional holiday of the labour movement. The day was celebrated with marches and rallies in both East and West Germany. In East Germany, the marches were the usual propaganda affairs. In West Germany, Turkish, Portuguese, Spanish and Italian flags were spotted at the Mayday marches, as immigrant workers from Southern Europe joined their West German colleagues to demand higher wages and better working conditions. Concerns about the political situation and lack of freedom in the home countries of some of the immigrant workers were raised as well.

May Day parade in Magdeburg
May Day parade in Magdeburg, East Germany
May Day rally Cologne
May Day rally in Cologne, West Germany
Turkish flag May Day
A Turkish flag at a May Day march in Cologne, West Germany.

In other news, 32-year-old war correspondent Horst Faas became the first West German ever to win a Pulitzer Prize for his haunting photos of the war in Vietnam. Happy as I am for Mr. Faas, I still hope that he will soon have to find more pleasant subjects to photograph.

Horst Faas
AP photographer Horst Faas, the first West German to win a Pulitzer Prize
Horst Faas photograph
One of Horst Faas' haunting photographs of the war in Vietnam that won him a Pulitzer Prize.

Maybe one day in the future, press photos like Horst Faas' will hang alongside fine art in museums and galleries around the world. Because there are certainly exciting movements afoot in the art world.

Art News

That's that for current events. Now for the meat of the article — a review of current art movements in this most modern year of 1965 (apropos given our show coming up in a few days):

The Reign of Abstract Expressionism

In the art world, Abstract Expressionism has been ruling supreme since the end of World War II, at least in the West. An outgrowth of prewar movements such as Futurism, Cubism, Constructivism, Expressionism, Surrealism, Dadaism and the Bauhaus, Abstract Expressionism is the art world's equivalent of the International Style in architecture and interior design. It is ubiquitous, wins awards, has the highest prestige and commands the highest prices. Abstract Expressionism also has widespread political support in the West, most likely because the Communists really, really don't like abstract art and prefer what they call Socialist Realism. There are even rumours that the CIA has been promoting abstract expressionism via the so-called Congress for Cultural Freedom, which certainly makes for strange bedfellows.

As a result, what was avantgarde and daring only twenty years ago had now become the very establishment that newer artists are rebelling against. And this rebellion is taking some very exciting forms.

Less is More: Minimalism

One reaction to the dominance of Abstract Expressionism was to take abstraction to its utmost extreme and simultaneously return to roots of modernism and the graphic simplicity of Russian Constructivism, the Dutch "De Stijl" movement or the German Bauhaus. This school, dubbed Minimalism, objects to the expressionist part of Abstract Expressionism and believes that art should not reflect its creator and his or her moods. Instead, art should be neutral, objective and refer only to itself. 29-year-old Frank Stella, one of the most notable figures of the Minimalist movement, sums up the aims of Minimalist art as "What you see is what you see."

Marriage of Reason and Squalor by Frank Stella
"Marriage of Reason and Squalor" by Frank Stella, one of his "Black Paintings"

So what do you see, when you look at a work of Minimalist art? You'll see simple patterns, geometric shapes, hard edges, primary colours and monochromatic palettes. The so-called "Black Paintings" by the above mentioned Frank Stella consist of concentric stripes painted on raw canvas in the black wall paint that Stella uses in his day job as a house painter. Canadian artist Agnes Martin paints grids and stripes in pastel watercolours. Meanwhile, Dan Flavin eschews paint altogether and instead creates artworks from tubes of neon lights arranged in various geometric patterns.

Summer by Agnes Martin
"Summer" by Agnes Martin
A Primary Picture by Dan Flavin
"A Primary Picture" by Dan Flavin

Minimalism is also a new trend for sculptures, as artists such as Donald Judd, Sol LeWitt or Tony Smith create sculptures that consist of geometric shapes such as cubes, prisms or triangles. So far, many of those sculptures only exist as sketches or cardboard models, but some such as "Cigarette", a 1961 Minimalist sculpture by Tony Smith made from twisted flat planes of steel, or "Free Ride", another Tony Smith sculpture inspired by the Aurora 7 mission, can be already seen in parks and on museum grounds.

"Cigarette" by Tony Smith
"Cigarette" by Tony Smith
"Free Ride" by Tony Smith
The minimalist sculpture "Free Ride" by Tony Smith was inspired by the "Aurora 7" space mission

So where can you see Minimalist art in the flesh? So far, New York City is ground zero for Minimalism and that's where you can find the respective artworks in galleries and exhibitions like Sixteen Americans at the Museum of Modern Art. So far, there hasn't been a dedicated exhibition of Minimalist art, though there are rumours that there is one planned for next year.

More is More: Pop Art

While the Minimalists responded to what they considered the excesses of Abstract Expressionism by reducing art to pure geometric forms, the Pop Art movement took a different path.

Pop Art arose in the UK in the 1950s, when a group of young artists calling themselves the Independent Group realised that both the prevailing Abstract Expressionism as well as the academic fine art of previous eras had very little to say about them and their lives. So these young artists began to incorporate the imagery they saw in their everyday lives into their works, imagery drawn from advertising, movies, pop music and comic books.

British artist Richard Hamilton describes pop art as follows:

Pop Art is: Popular (designed for a mass audience), Transient (short-term solution), Expendable (easily forgotten), Low cost, Mass produced, Young (aimed at youth), Witty, Sexy, Gimmicky, Glamorous, Big business

The Independent Group incorporated pop culture imagery into their works by reviving the collage, a form associated with early Modernism and Surrealism. Scottish artist Eduardo Paolozzi inadvertently gave the new movement its name, when his collage "I was a rich man's plaything", named after the headline of a True Confessions magazine, that was part of the collage, also included the word "Pop", fired out of a gun.

I Was a Rich Man's Plaything by Eduardo Paolozzi
The collage "I was a Rich Man's Plaything" by Eduardo Paolozzi inadvertedly gave Pop Art its name

Meanwhile, British artist Richard Hamilton responded to the theme of an exhibition called This Is Tomorrow by cutting up some American magazines a friend had brought back from the US. The result was a collage called "Just what is it that makes today’s homes so different, so appealing?" which uses aspirational pop culture imagery to create a futuristic interior to brighten up the dreary postwar Britain. Across the pond in the US, Tom Wesselmann created a series of "Still Life" collages assembled from advertising images. Another American artist, Robert Indiana uses the typography and imagery of road signs and company logos to create his brightly coloured paintings.

"What is it that makes today's homes so different, so appealing?" by Richard Hamilton
The collage "What is it that makes today's home so different, so appealing?" by Richard Hamilton. Could it be the bodybuilder with the strategically placed sign?
Still Life No. 30 by Tom Wesselmann
"Still Life No. 30" by Tom Wesselmann
Four Star Love by Robert Indiana
"Four Star Love" by Robert Indiana
"The Fair Rebecca" by Robert Indiana
"The Fair Rebecca" by Robert Indiana

On the wall of the apartment Hamilton pictured in "Just what is it that makes today’s homes so different, so appealing?", the framed cover of an American romance comic hangs next to works of fine art. And indeed comic book imagery plays a big role in the nascent pop art movement.

Finding Beauty in Everyday Imagery

Whaam! by Roy Lichtenstein
"Whaam!" by Roy Lichtenstein after Irv Novick

When his young son showed him a Mickey Mouse comic and said, "I bet you can't paint as good as that, eh, Dad?", American artist Roy Lichtenstein rose to the challenge and began copying and enlarging panels from comic books and even included the characteristic Ben Day dots of the printing process. Lichtenstein is clearly a fan of National/DC Comics and frequently copies panels from DC books such as Secret Hearts, Girls' Romance or All-American Men of War. And so Secret Hearts inspired the Lichtenstein paintings "Drowning Girl" and "Crying Girl", while All-American Men of War inspired "Whaam!", "As I Opened Fire" and "Okay, Hot-Shot". The comic book fan in me rejoices in seeing comic books elevated to fine art, though I wish that Lichtenstein would give credit to the artists whose work he copied, artists like Jack Kirby, Russ Heath, Tony Abruzzo, Irv Novick and Jerry Grandinetti.

Drowning Girl by Roy Lichtenstein
"Drowning Girl" by Roy Lichtenstein after Tony Abruzzo
Crying Girl by Roy Lichtenstein
"Crying Girl" by Roy Lichtenstein
Okay, Hot-Shot by Roy Lichtenstein
"Okay, Hot-Shot" by Roy Lichtenstein after Russ Heath

While Roy Lichtenstein finds inspiration in comic books, his fellow American pop artist Andy Warhol looks to his local supermarket, magazine photos and advertising imagery for inspiration, which is not surprising, since he began his career as a commercial artist, specialising in shoe ads. Shoes do not feature prominently in Warhol's art. Instead, he creates large silkscreen prints featuring product packaging such as cans of Campbell's soup, bottles of Coca Cola or packages of Brillo scouring pads.

"32 Campbell's Soup Cans" by Andy Warhol
"32 Campbell Soup Cans" by Andy Warhol
Green Coca Cola Bottles by Andy Warhol
"Green Coca Cola Bottles" by Andy Warhol

Reproductions and Originals

Magazine photographs are another source of inspiration for Warhol and so he transformed a publicity shot of Marilyn Monroe for Niagara into his so-called "Marilyn Diptych" and a publicity still of Elvis Presley for the western Flaming Star into prints with titles like "Eight Elvises" or "Double Elvis".

"Marilyn Diptych" by Andy Warhol
"Marilyn Diptych" by Andy Warhol, created shortly after Marilyn Monroe's untimely death.
"Double Elvis" by Andy Warhol
"Double Elvis" by Andy Warhol

But Warhol also tackles more serious subjects in his art. His print series "Death and Disaster" uses magazine photographs of car crashes, race riots and suicides as well as the Sing Sing electric chair and a mushroom cloud and reproduces them over and over again, because – as Warhol said in a recent interview – "when you see a gruesome picture over and over again, it doesn’t really have an effect."

Electric Chair by Andy Warhol
"Electric Chair" by Andy Warhol, part of his "Death and Disaster" series. The bright colours don't make the subject any more cheerful.

West German artist Gerhard Richter eschews the Pop Art moniker, but he also makes paintings based on photographs, slightly blurred to create an estrangement effect. Unlike Warhol and other American artists, Richter's paintings are based on snapshots and family photos such as "Tante Marianne", the haunting portrait of the artist as a baby posing with his then fourteen-year-old aunt Marianne Schönfelder. The portrait becomes even more haunting, if you know that Marianne Schönfelder was mentally ill and was murdered by the Nazis as part of their euthanasia program.

"Tante Marianne" by Gerhard Richter
"Tante Marianne" by Gerhard Richter is based on a family photo showing the artist as a baby with his then 14-year-old aunt Marianne Schönfelder

The Democratisation of Art

In the beginning, many art critics were outraged by Pop Art's seemingly uncritical use of "low" subject matter such as comics, movies and advertising imagery. Furthermore, critics accused the Pop Artists of being mere copyists, incapable of creating something original. It seems those art critics have forgotten their art history, because using found objects in art is not exactly a new idea. Marcel Duchamp already did the same thing fifty years ago with his so-called "Readymades" such as his famous 1917 work "Fountain", a commercially produced urinal that Duchamp simply signed. Marcel Duchamp is still alive, though retired, and I like to think that he gets a smile out of the young Pop Artists taking up his methods.

Thirty years ago, philosopher Walter Benjamin wrote a notable essay entitled "The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction", wherein he postulates that a work of art loses its aura of uniqueness, when it can be infinitely reproduced via new filmic, photographic and printing technologies, and how this influences our perception of art. Benjamin also discusses the political dimensions of the then new mass media both as propaganda for Fascist (and Communist) regimes as well as its potential to democratise art.

Elizabeth Taylor by Andy Warhol
"Liz" by Andy Warhol is a portrait of actress Elizabeth Taylor

The Pop Artists follow the latter path, because their art is both a reproduction of an existing work (comic books, magazine photographs, film stills, product packaging) as well as infinitely reproduceable in itself. Andy Warhol does not create individual paintings, but silk screen prints that he produces in his own workshop in New York City, the so-called "Factory". This makes his works much more affordable than traditional fine art to the point that a Warhol print is not out of reach of the middle classes who want to brighten their homes with some modern art. Though personally, I would go with Marilyn, Elvis, Liz or even the Campbell's soup can rather than the electric chair or a car crash. And if you cannot afford a Warhol print, Pop Artist Robert Indiana is creating a line of greeting cards for the Museum of Modern Art, so you can own a piece of Pop Art for less than a dollar.

Black and White: Op Art

The latest movement to shake up the art world is Op Art, short for Optical Art. The movement got its name last year when the Martha Jackson Gallery in New York City exhibited the works of Polish-born artist Julian Stanczak in the show Julian Stanczak: Optical Paintings.

Julian Stanczak has a tragic history – he was incarcerated in a Soviet labour camp as a teenager and lost the use of his right arm. Now forced to paint with his non-dominant left hand, Stanczak turned to abstract art as a way to escape his painful past. At the show in New York City, he exhibited striking black and white paintings whose patterns seem to flash, blur and vibrate in front of the observer's eyes due to his use of optical illusions. Look too long at a Stanczak painting and you might well get dizzy.

"The Duel" by Julian Stanczak
"The Duel" by Julian Stanczak

Meanwhile in the UK, a young artist named Bridget Riley chanced to see the painting "The Bridge at Courbevoie" by pointillist French painter Georges Seurat. The painting and its use of dots to create optical effects impressed Bridget Riley greatly, so much that she copied it and placed the copy in her studio.

 

"Movement in Squares" by Birdget Riley
"Movement in Squares" by Bridget Riley

Inspired by Seurat, Bridget Riley began to create pointillist paintings of her own. She started out with landscapes, but her paintings quickly turned abstract and also made use of black and white contrasts and optical effects.

Bridget Riley
Artist Bridget Riley with one of her striking Op Art paintings

Another Op Art pioneer, Hungarian-French artist Victor Vasarely was inspired both by the Bauhaus and Russian Constructivism and began to create abstract geometric artworks, which also exploit optical illusions much like the works of Julian Stanczak and Bridget Riley.

Supernovae by Victor Vasarely
"Supernovae" by Victor Vasarely

It is not known whether Stanczak, Riley and Vasarely were aware of each other's work, but curator William C. Seitz brought their work and those of other optical artists together in an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City entitled The Responsive Eye. The exhibition concluded two weeks ago and should help to bring Op Art into the mainstream.

Beyond Modernism: The Future of Art

Whether you prefer Pop Art, Op Art or Minimalism, contemporary art has not been so exciting since the heady avantgarde days of the interwar period.

But unlike the avantgarde of the first few decades of the 20th century, today's contemporary art is a lot more accessible and democratic. You don't need to be wealthy to purchase a print by Andy Warhol, a greeting card by Robert Indiana or the work one of the other exciting new artists. And who knows, if those artists take off, you may find yourself in possession of a very valuable piece someday.

Furthermore, you might even be inspired to create some art of your own. At any rate, the pop art collages by Richard Hamilton, Eduardo Paolozzi and Tom Wesselmann inspired me to grab a stack of magazines as well as some scissors and glue and make some collages of my own. Maybe I'll share them here someday!

Hyeana Stomp by Frank Stella
Hyena Stomp by Frank Stella

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Magazine, Serial

[May 2, 1965] FORWARD INTO THE PAST (June 1965 IF)

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by David Levinson

Science fiction is generally considered to be literature that looks ahead. Much of Western culture also seems to be fairly obsessed with the miracles of progress and moving into a brighter future. Even communism, though less materially oriented, talks a good game about a better tomorrow. But there are also those who look to the past for better times, longing for the “good old days.” We can see the clash of these two world views in one form or another nearly every day in the newspapers. Perhaps the most obvious example can be seen in the Old South, where progress is resisted with fire hoses and police dogs. There, at least, we can hope that the moral arc of the universe is rather shorter than is its wont.

Looking Backwards

Details are still sketchy, but it appears that a coup was prevented last month in Bulgaria. Emboldened by the fall of Nikita Khrushchev and possibly influenced by the rhetoric of Mao Tse Tung, hardliners in the Bulgarian military and Communist Party denounced General-Secretary Todor Zhivkov for revisionism and opportunism due to his de-Stalinization of Bulgarian communism. Arrests between April 8th and 12th, as well as at least one suicide by a high-ranking general, seem to have prevented a major step back into the bad old days of Stalinism in Bulgaria. State-controlled media, of course, are denying the whole thing, but rumors abound.

Inside Baseball

On April 9th, the Houston Astros inaugurated their new stadium in an exhibition game against the Yankees. “Who?” you ask. For the last three seasons, they’ve been known as the Colt .45s. Now the sole owner, Judge Roy Hofheinz changed the name to the Astros to reflect Houston’s important role in America’s space program, and the new stadium will be called the Astrodome. What’s so noteworthy about all this? As you might have gathered from the name, the Astrodome has a roof. Over 700 feet in diameter, the dome consists a grid of semi-transparent panes of Lucite, and the field is covered with grass specially bred to be able to grow under the lower light conditions.


The Eighth Wonder of the World may be Texan hyperbole, but it is impressive

As any science fiction fan will tell you, innovations often produce unexpected consequences. That’s what half the stories in the field are about. As Victoria Silverwolf reported a couple of weeks ago, the problem in this case is that on bright, sunny days – and Houston has a lot of those – the glare from the roof panels and the grid of shadows caused by the support structure are causing players to lose routine fly balls. The decision has been made to paint the Lucite panes white, and a couple of sections have already been covered. The question now is if the grass will still get enough light to grow.

There was another experiment at the Astrodome that seems unlikely to be repeated. A catwalk structure hangs from the top of the dome. I don’t know how far above the field it is, but the peak of the dome is 208 feet above the playing surface. On April 28th, Mets radio broadcaster Lindsey Nelson was persuaded to call the game from the gondola. He was too scared to stand up until the seventh inning, getting the play-by-play via walkie-talkie from his producer. When he finally did get to his feet, he realized he couldn’t tell one player from another or a pop fly from a line drive. He refused to go up again, and it seems unlikely that anybody will follow in his footsteps. It might offer an interesting angle for a television camera, though.

Space Opera and Superscience

Lately, it has felt like science fiction has been doing a fair bit of looking back, too, what with the Edgar Rice Burroughs revival, Sprague de Camp putting Conan back in print, John Jakes’ Conan pastiche Brak, et cetera, et cetera, and so forth. The three magazines under Fred Pohl’s leadership, in particular, seem to have been on a real space opera kick for a while. This month’s IF is no exception.


This supposedly illustrates Skylark DuQuesne. If so, it’s not a scene in this month’s installment. Art by Pederson

Skylark DuQuesne (Part 1 of 5), by E. E. Smith, Ph. D.

Dick Seaton, hero of the previous three Skylark books, is enjoying an evening at home with his family, when they are interrupted by the thought-projected simulacra of the ablest thinkers of the galaxy. It seems that the clever ploy which he used to imprison the evil thought entities and the disembodied mind of the villainous Dr. Marc C. “Blackie” DuQuesne at the end of Skylark of Valeron is doomed to imminent failure. Seaton’s partner Mart Crane is brought in, and a plan is hatched in which a thought message is sent out, which can only be received by beings who are of good will can help in the situation.

The scene shifts to the home world of the “monstrous” Llurdi on the edge of the universe. The leaders are discussing Project University, in which the best minds of their human slaves the Jelmi are given everything they could need or want in the hopes that they will produce new technologies for the Llurdi. The proceedings are interrupted by a suicide attack by 30 Jelmi attempting to give their fellows the opportunity to escape. They fail. No one is even killed on either side. Supremely logical, the Llurdi pack the revolting Jelmi into a spaceship and allow them to “escape”.


The Jelmi (background) confront their oppressors, the Llurdi. Art by Gray Morrow

Aboard the ship, the Jelmi deduce that they are being tracked, and that the Llurdi will give them free rein for a couple of generations, then swoop in, re-enslave their descendants and gather up anything new that’s been invented. They decide to seek out a world with sufficient sixth-order (I believe that means thought energy) forces to screen them from Llurdi scanning. The planet they choose: Earth.

Next, the scene jumps to a previously unknown Fenachrone fleet. The Fenachrone were the bad guys of Skylark Three, and Dick Seaton vaporized their home world at the end of that book. In Skylark of Valeron, Seaton learns of a secret colony ship, which he then hunts down and destroys. Now we find out that there’s yet another secret fleet composed of the evilest evil-doers of an evil people. In any case, the Fenachrone stumble upon a system containing two inhabited planets, one Llurdi and one Jelmi, whereupon the Fenachrone leader orders the vaporization of those two worlds. This draws the attention of the Llurdi, who proceed to destroy 16 of the 17 Fenachrone ships and capture the flagship.

Cut lastly to the ship containing the disembodied minds mentioned earlier. They have decided that Blackie DuQuesne doesn’t have what it takes to be one of them. They set him up with a ship capable of getting him to Earth and stick him back into his body. After a brief interlude in which the Seatons and the Cranes (both with infant children) as well as Crane’s former manservant Shiro and his new wife Lotus Blossom board the Skylark of Valeron, we cut back to DuQuesne. He is somehow detected by the Llurdi, but manages to evade them with his powerful mind blocks. Realizing how formidable the Llurdi are, DuQuesne sends out a call to Dick Seaton. To be continued.

Disclaimer: I do not care for the works of Doc Smith. I tried rereading the original Skylark five or six years ago, and flung it across the room in disgust about a quarter of the way through. On the other hand, I did rather enjoy The Imperial Stars last year, so I tried to approach this with an open mind.

When an English teacher, a critic, or even an author who has written what is very obviously science fiction condemns the genre with a wave of the hand, this is the kind of stuff they’re talking about. At best, it’s the genre’s juvenilia and is utterly unrepresentative of what science fiction is today. Line by line, there is some decent writing here. The opening paragraph is lovely. Too bad nothing that follows is worthy of it.

But my biggest problem is with the main protagonist. Firstly, Dick Seaton is racist. He would no doubt be shocked by this statement and point out that some of his best friends are green. I don’t mean he’d be likely to burn a cross on anyone’s lawn or join the Friends of Bull Connor, but the casual ease with which he tosses out phrases like “a Chinaman’s chance” or “If that’s true, then I’m a Digger Indian” (and what do you want to bet that phrase was cleaned up for publication) say a lot about how he views fellow humans who aren’t quite like him. Secondly and more importantly, Dick Seaton is a war criminal. He turned the Fenachrone world into a ball of expanding incandescent gas, and when he found out there were survivors, he hunted them down and killed them, too. When the Fenachrone leader destroyed those two worlds, we’re told he did it without remorse. If Seaton felt a twinge of remorse, that doesn’t make what he did any better.

Anyway, it’s hard to judge this as a whole, since the whole thing is really Smith just setting up the pieces, but it’s pretty bad. A low two stars, just because of that opening paragraph and the fact that I was able to get through the whole thing without too much effort. Even if you’re overcome with nostalgia, I doubt it could get all the way to three.

Simon Says, by Lawrence S. Todd

Lieutenant Nestil Lagotilom, an eight-foot tall reptilian (it’s not clear if he’s a mutant or an alien), is a member of the Terran armed forces, serving in a war against the Birds. Thanks to his brilliant tactical mind, he’s been ordered to take part in an experimental operation involving a new device called SIMO (Subelectronic Integrator for the Manipulation of Objects). Contrary to what it sounds like, it’s not a robot arm, but rather a device that will allow Nestil’s mind to be imprinted on some 2,000 Terran soldiers, and, once the action is over, all their experiences will be pumped back into his head so he can write a detailed after-action report. Thanks to a series of mishaps, Nestil’s consciousness winds up imprinted not only on the Terran troops, but the Birds and the local natives who aren’t happy about either group being there. Chaos ensues.


Lt. Nestil about to have his consciousness expanded. Art by Giunta

We go from the man who’s been at the science fiction game the longest to the newest. Larry Todd is this month’s IF first, though he’s not a complete newcomer. He’s had a few cartoons published, mostly in the late Imagination, but this is his first story. It shows. It rambles a bit, and the tone is a little too light for some of the things that happen. Even so, it was decent up to the final paragraph, where the author wrecked the whole thing by explicitly comparing events to the game Simon Says, and Nestil saying that he used to rig the game as a child (how does that work when you aren’t Simon?). He’s telling, not showing. Fix that and drop the “N” from the title and it’s a good story. As it is, a high two stars.

High G, by Christopher Anvil

James Heyden, head of the Advanced Research Projects Division at the Continental Multitechnikon Corporation, has just received a memo from his boss telling him to cut back on projects that might interest the government and focus on science kits for kids. Congress isn’t willing to pay for anything revolutionary at the moment. This is part of a fairly regular pendulum swing on his boss’s part between gung-ho government research and piddling commercial stuff. Makes it hard to keep good research engineers working for the company. Just then, one of his engineers comes in with a working anti-gravity device. Throwing caution to the winds, Heyden decides that the only way to convince his boss and a stingy Congress that this thing needs to be built is for him and his engineers to fly to the Moon. Through massive misappropriation of company funds and tons of overtime, the race is on to get to the Moon before the boss gets back from a company trip.


Engineers call something cobbled together like this spaceship a “kluge.” Art by Gaughan

Christopher Anvil tends to be a very uneven writer, sometimes up, sometimes down. This one is right in the middle of his range. Sadly, he tends to be down a little more often than he’s up. For the second month in a row, I find myself wondering why a story is here rather than in Analog. Anvil often writes for Campbell, and this one is right up the editor’s alley: stupid bureaucrats stupidly getting in the way of progress. It might have fared better there, but here it’s too long and filled with pointless minutiae. Do we really need to follow lengthy discussions about the pricing of those kiddie science kits? A high two stars.

The Followers, by Basil Wells

Balt Donner is part of the three-man crew of the exploration ship Avalon. Small, plain and timid in real life, his job calls for him to take mental control of a seven-foot tall robot covered in bronzed pseudoflesh. The ship is currently on the planet Hald, which is inhabited by a people who, though noseless and with elongated ears, are otherwise quite human. Each Halden has a twin, an oddly doglike, eight-limbed creature known as a Follower. The crew of the Avalon is trying to figure out the odd lifecycle of the planet which allows such disparate beings to be born from the same mother.

Their time in space is getting to the crew. Senior crewman Ernest Lytte fights off space madness with ever increasing doses of drugs, while Jeff Carney gets by with alcohol and forbidden carousing on planets with humanoid races. Up to now, Balt has managed to stay sane, but he has begun to fall for a native woman named Alno. She is an outcast, because her Follower died, and has fallen for Balt (in the form of the robot Cass), who appears to her to be an outcast as well. As the other crewmen squabble over procedure, Balt learns that Alno is going to be given a new Follower. Eventually, the biology of Hald is explained, and the ship lifts for the next stop on their long journey back to Earth.

This one is pretty good, though rather dark. Basil Wells has been cranking out stories in a variety of genres for a quarter century, and his prose style reflects that. It’s a little pedestrian, without being pulpy, but the story he tells here is neither. It’s much more in a modern mode, and an author more attuned to that mode – a Brunner or a Zelazny, say – could have turned this into a four, maybe a five star story. As it is, it’s a solid three stars and the best in the issue.

No Friend of Gree, by C. C. MacApp

Steve Duke is trying to figure out why a Gree ship-of-the-line and a small exploration ship are in a backwater binary system. There is a single planet, Terrestrial in nature, but too close to the blue-white companion of the red giant. It is also tidally locked to the star it orbits, always showing one face to its star. There are no signs of technology, so when the Gree ships fire a salvo of missiles to sterilize the planet, Steve wants to know what’s going on. He diverts the missiles and produces enough fake evidence to convince the Gree ships that their mission is accomplished.

Once the Gree slaves leave, Steve lands with two B’lant crewmen to investigate. Searching the Gree camp, they find the hastily dug grave of a Gree slave and are interrupted by the arrival of a vaguely humanoid creature covered in mud and debris. The three of them go wandering across the world, struggling through dense grass that grows higher than their heads and encountering a variety of enormous insectoids. First, one B’lant goes missing and then the other. Eventually, the answers to the puzzles he’s found are revealed to Steve (through no doing of his own). Will he follow the Gree’s lead and sterilize the planet, or has he found a potential weapon for the war against the Gree?


Steve and one of the B’lant see something strange and disgusting. Art by Nodel

When I saw there was a Gree story in this issue, I made a bet with myself that Steve would go behind enemy lines and infiltrate a Gree base by pretending to be walking wounded. Rarely have I been so glad to lose a bet. This is a darn sight better than the previous two stories in this series, though not as good as the first. However, it could probably have been cut by a third. A lot of the difficult slog through the dense vegetation is, well, a difficult slog for the reader. Also, Steve continues to be little more than a cardboard cut-out of a character. A high two stars.

Summing Up

Returning to the beginning, science fiction is, ostensibly, the literature of tomorrow. (Of course, it’s really about today or, at most, later this afternoon, but I digress.) But as I noted above, we’re seeing a lot of revivals, rehashes and regressive pastiches. Fred Pohl, in particular, seems to be on something of a space opera kick of late. Don’t get me wrong. It’s certainly possible to tell a good, modern sort of story within the framework of space opera. Fred Saberhagen certainly pulls it off with his Berserker stories; John Brunner does it quite often (though not always); Roger Zelazny has turned out some beautiful work in the old planetary romance settings.

Most of the time, though, that’s not what Pohl is serving us. We’re getting stuff that could easily have appeared back before the War. Sometimes it seems like a problem story in the good, old Campbellian style is the most modern thing we can hope for. And now we’re going to be saddled with the great-granddaddy of them all for months (and don’t be fooled by that “Part 1 of 3” in the table of contents; a contact at Galaxy Publishing says to expect more like 5). Judging from the comments in the letter col, lots of readers have been eagerly awaiting this Doc Smith novel ever since Fred announced it a year or so ago. Maybe it’s a fit of nostalgia. After all, they say the Golden Age of science fiction is 12. But it’s a sad day when a professional baseball team is more forward-thinking that one of the leading science fiction magazines.


Van Vogt and Schmitz seems like an… odd pairing

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Magazine

[April 30, 1965] Back-door uprising(May 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Pirates of the Caribbean

The Dominican Republic, half of the island of Hispaniola in the Caribbean, has never been a beacon of democracy.  The Trujillo dictatorship lasted three long decades, ending only in 1961 after his assassination.  The nation's first democratic elections, in 1963, brought Juan Emilio Bosch Gaviño to the Presidency.  In the same year, a military junta removed him from power, elevating Donald Reid Cabral to the position.

Reid was never popular, and on April 24, military constitutionalists and Dominican Revolutionary Party supporters launched a coup, José Rafael Molina Ureña taking the top post.  He lasted all of two days.  A counter coup restored the Reid government to power, although Reid, himself, had fled the country.

Meanwhile, the American military worked to evacuate some 3,500 U.S. citizens living in the country.  Just this morning, elements of the 82nd Airborne Division landed at San Isidro Air Base, on the outskirts of Santo Domingo.  Their mission is to enforce a ceasefire and guide the country back to democracy.

Thus, our nation is now involved in stabilizing missions on both sides of the globe.  Will this action mark a long term involvement?  Or, in the absence of a Communist menace (Haiti is not North Vietnam!) and with the aid of other O.A.S. nations, will this be a quick exercise to hasten Caribbean democracy?

Only time will tell.

Insurgency in the Old Country

At the very least, we can be certain that the Dominican involvement has no chance of developing into a nuclear confrontation (unlike Vietnam, where Sec. Def. MacNamara did not rule out that possibility).  So it's a conventional affair for now.

Appropriately, we now turn to the most conventional of science fiction magazines, the oft-hidebound Analog.  Like the Dominican Republic, it has been under a single strongman for several decades.  And yet, like that island nation, we occasionally see signs of progress.  Indeed, this latest issue has some refreshing entries, indeed.


by John Schoenherr

Trouble Tide, by James H. Schmitz

On the world of Nandy-Cline, herds of sea cows are abruptly and mysteriously disappearing from the costs of the Girard colonies.  Danrich Parrol, head of the Nandy-Cline branch of Girard Pharmaceuticals, teams up with Dr. Nile Etland, head of Girard's station laboratory, to find the cause of the vanishing food animals.  They suspect foul play from a rival company, Agenes.  The poisoning of a herd of mammalian but native fraya seems somehow connected, too.  The two embark on a forensic adventure that takes them across a thousand miles of coast and under miles of ocean.


by John Schoenherr

There are many features that make Tide stand out.  What a delightful story this is, with an interesting pair of protagonists and a cute scientific solution.  I appreciated the depiction of a planet as a big place, big enough to support many economies, colonies, and criminal activities.  I also particularly liked the appearance of female characters.  Indeed, Dr. Nile Etland is an equal partner in the investigation and is not a romantic foil — simply a competent scientist.

Why is this remarkable?  I had become so inured to the lack of female characters in my science fiction that I'd almost started to challenge my convictions.  Was it really fair of me to judge fiction (at least in part) by whether or not it included female characters?  Isn't modern SF just a reflection of the male-dominant society we live in?  Can we blame authors for writing "what they know?"

Yes, yes, and yes.  The erasure of women in any kind of fiction, particularly one that projects present trends into the future, is inexcusable.  Any portrayal of a world where women play minor roles or none at all isn't just unrealistic, it propagates a kind of ugly wish fulfillment.  That's why, when I get a story like Tide with realistic and positive representation of women (and, indeed, Schmitz has always been good in this regard) it's such a breath of fresh air.  Ditto the British import show, Danger Man, which regularly features competent professional women who are integral to the episodes.

It's what I want to see.  It's what I should be seeing.  That I'm seeing it in Analog of all places gives me hope.

Four stars.

Planetfall, by John Brunner


by Alan Moyler

A young Earth woman eagerly greets a young astronaut man, an ecologist on the crew of a starfaring colony with 2,500 residents that is making a brief stop.  She's set on falling in love with and departing with this exotic fellow, who represents freedom, the exotic, and most of all, purpose in life. 

He, on the other hand, wants nothing more than to jump ship, to escape the stultifying space-kibbutz life, to experience the beauty of humanity's Home.

Each of them poison each other's greener grass, and the encounter is an unhappy one.

If there's such a thing as a "meet cute," then this is a "meet ugly," but it's quite poignant.  Brunner does good work.  Four stars.

Magnetohydrodynamics, by Ben Bova

I really wanted to like this nonfiction article.  After all, it's about a genuinely scientific topic, a revolutionary one.  MHD allows the generation of power without moving physical parts, instead using magnetic fields and plasma.  It's the kind of technology required if we ever want to build fusion power plants.  Plus, Asimov likes the guy.

But boy is this piece dull.  It's not quite as dry as reading a patent, but it's in the same ballpark.  I've heard similar reviews of Bova's work in other magazines, so I can't be the only one who feels this way.

Anyway, two stars.

The Captive Djinn, by Christopher Anvil


by John Schoenherr

Captured human on a planet of cats at a 19th Century technology level outwits his jailers through the use of basic chemistry and the exploitation of the felines' stupidity.

If there were an award for "Story that best exemplifies Chris Anvil's work for John Campbell," this would win.  Two stars.

Beautiful art by Schoenherr, though.  He's definitely going to get a Galactic Star again this year!

The Prophet of Dune (Part 5 of 5), by Frank Herbert

And now we come to the greatest coup of all, the finale of the longest serial I've ever read in a magazine.

Technically, Dune is two serials, and there have been other five-part novels.  But Prophet of Dune is not a sequel to Dune World but the latter "novel's" conclusion.

It's been a long trek. It started with Duke Leto Atreides acquiring the fiefdom that included Arrakis, a desert planet and the only source of the spice melange. This cinnamon-smelling spice is an anti-agathic and also conveys a limited form of precognition.

For the Empire's rich, it livens food and lengthens lives.

For the Navigators' Guild, the spice allows its specialists to navigate the hazardous byways of hyperspace.

For the Bene Gesserit, a religious order of women, it facilitates their plans to manipulate history through the deliberate mixing of blood-lines; their hope is to eventually produce the "Kwisatz Haderach," a sort of messiah, a man with the powers of the Bene Gesserit.

Duke Leto was not long for his reign.  The Harkonnen family from whom Arrakis was transferred immediately schemed to regain it, attacking the planet, killing Leto, and forcing Leto's concubine, the Bene Gesserit Jessica, and their son, Paul, to go into hiding among the native "Fremen."  So ended the first serial.


by John Schoenherr

Baron Harkonnen installed a ruthless nephew on Arrakis with the goal of fomenting a rebellion. His plan would then be to take personal control, relax the tyranny, and turn the Fremen into the greatest army the Empire had ever seen, even more fearsome than the Saudukar, the Imperial guard.

Out in the desert, Paul spends a harsh two years learning the ways of the desert. Moisture is priceless, and all sand-dwellers wear water-recycling "still-suits."  The voracious sandworms are both a constant threat and a valuable commodity, for it is their waste that is refined into spice. 

While among the Fremen, Jessica becomes a Reverend Mother, transforming poisonous sandworm effluence into a substance that allows her to commune with all of her brethren, living and dead.  Because she does so while pregnant, her unborn daughter, Alia, gains the wisdom of a thousand women and is born an adult in a child's body.

Paul is initiated into Fremen culture, eventually assuming the mantle of Muad'Dib, savior of the desert people.  Under his leadership, the Fremen are united.  They will revolt, as Harkonnen expected, but the event will not unfold as the Baron desires.

In this final installment of Dune, Paul launches his attack even while the Padishah Emperor, himself, has visited the planet with five legions of Saudukar, and all of the great families have surrounded Arrakis with warships.  But the hopeless position of Muad'Dib turns out to be unbeatable: for Paul controls the production of spice.  Without it, the nobility is crippled, space is unnavigable.  Thus young Atreides emerges utterly triumphant with virtual control of the Empire, a bethrothal to the Emperor's daughter, and freedom for the people of Arrakis.

I have to give credit to Frank Herbert for creating a universe of ambitious scope.  There's a lot to Dune, and the author clearly has a penchant for world-building.  He takes from a wide variety of sources, particularly Arabic and Persian, creating a setting quite different from what we usually see in science fiction.  The result is not unlike the landscapes generated by Cordwainer Smith, whose upbringing included time in China, or Mack Reynolds, whose writing is informed by extensive travel behind the Iron Curtain and in the Mahgreb.

But.

There's plenty not to like, too.  Herbert is an author of no great technical skill, and his writing ranges from passable to laughably bad.  There wasn't so much of his third-person omniscient and everywhere-at-once in this installment, but it wasn't completely absent, either.  The writing is humorless, grandiose (even pompous), and generally not a pleasure to read. 

Beyond that, the work is highly reactionary.  I was originally pleased to see several female characters in the story.  Lady Jessica often is the viewpoint, though given Herbert's love of switching perspective every third line, that's not quite so noteworthy.  But in the end, even the most prominent women are limited to their medieval roles, that of wife and bearer of greatness.  Dune is a man's world. 

Then there are the fedayken, the people of the desert clearly modeled on the Arabs.  And who should lead them to freedom?  Not a local son, no; only T. E. Lawrence Jesus Atreides can save them. 

It's an unsettling subtext in our post-colonial times: a galactic empire, decadent and crumbling, requires an infusion of European boldness to restore it to vigor.  Is it any surprise that this novel came out in Analog?

So, on the one hand, I give this installment four stars.  It kept me interested, and I appreciated the intricacy of the conclusion.  Looking over my tally for the other seven parts of this sprawling opus, that ends us at exactly three stars. 

I think that's fair.  Some will praise the book for its vision and be undaunted by the quality of the prose or the offensiveness of its underpinnings.  Those folks will probably nominate it for another Hugo next year.  Others will give up in boredom around page 35.  I read the whole thing because I had to.  I didn't hate it; I even respect it to a degree.  But I see its many many flaws.

Let the adulatory/damning letters begin!

Running the Numbers

Once again, Analog finishes at the top of the heap; at 3.3 stars, it ties with Science-Fantasy.  It's been a good month for fiction overall, with New Worlds and Amazing scoring 3.2. 

Fantastic gets a solid 3 stars, and IF just misses the mark at 2.8. 
Fantasy and Science Fiction disappoints with 2.7, though its Zenna Henderson story may be the best of the month.

While women may be making a comeback as fictional characters, as writers, they're still conspicuously absent.  Only 2 of the 38 fiction pieces were written by women.

Perhaps it's time for a coup.  Summon the 101st Airborne!

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 28, 1965] Mermaids, Persian Gods and Time Travel New Worlds and Science Fantasy, April/May 1965

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by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again!

We seem to be heading into warmer weather here in England. Say it quietly, but Spring might actually be here.

[Flowers in Stratford upon Avon]

First up: Science Fantasy.


[Art by Keith Roberts – who else?]

This month’s ‘arty’ cover is by the prolific Keith Roberts, who seems to be everywhere at the moment. His colour artwork was last seen on the cover of the January issue, this one to my mind is just as odd. Are British magazine covers meant to look like they are painted by a child? I despair, especially when I see the covers for the US magazines, which by comparison are so much more than what we get here. The best that can be said here though is that they reflect the changes in the magazines at the moment. They are determined to be different.

The Editorial this month mentions the up-coming British Worldcon later this year – now less than four months away! – and how to apply to attend. It also enquires about letters on the idea of genre and also mentions that there will be a letters page – soon! However, before readers get their hopes up that Science Fantasy will take on other New Worlds staples like the Ratings list – it’s not going to happen.

To the stories themselves.

The Impossible Smile (part 1), by Jael Cracken

Last month our first story was one by the up-coming Worldcon Guest of Honour, Brian Aldiss. This month – its actually the same, though Brian is writing under a pseudonym. (Why do authors do that?)

The Impossible Smile begins with an assassination. Jim Bull, leader of the British Republics is killed in his bathroom. The assassin escapes to a hall near Norwich, the nation’s capital, where Conrad Wyvern lives. It appears that the dictatorship are hunting for telepaths. Although Wyvern is working for the Republics in training new recruits, he is also a man with a secret, and a determination to revenge the apparent death of his sister.

The Impossible Smile is another dystopian future. It reminded me of the future depicted by Hilary Bailey in Moorcock’s New Worlds in the July/August 1964 issue. This covers similar ground but being Aldiss-by-another-name, is in my opinion, better written.

It is quite understated in the way it describes some of the horrors this future holds. Troops shoot citizens with little provocation and this seems to be accepted.

Suspects are taken for interrogation at the base on the Moon and, in a nod I rather suspect is to Orwell, all there work to try and support the supercomputer rather amusingly named ‘Big Bert’. (The American computer by comparison is amusingly named ‘Fall Guy’.)

Weirdly, The Impossible Smile comes across as a mixture of George Orwell’s 1984 and Ian Fleming’s James Bond, with a touch of A E van Vogt’s Slan, a combination I am sure is deliberate.  The general tone is a little uneven however, lurching from torture to comedy sometimes in the same paragraph.

Nevertheless, there’s a lot I liked about this one and a great cliff-hanger ending. Another strong start to an issue, and I look forward to the last part next month. 4 out of 5.

The Middle Ground, by Keith Roberts

Another issue, another Anita story by Keith Roberts.  This time, our teen-witch meets a lonely ghost, recently killed in a road accident. She discovers why the ghost is still haunting around The Dog and Duck and after a bizarre matchmaking ritual with the local witch Controller, manages to get the spirit to leave to a better place. A relatively minor tale, which has the blessed relief of there being a lack of Granny Thompson in this story, although she does appear briefly. Little to add here other than what has been said before. Fans will like it, others will remain unmoved. 3 out of 5.

Housel, by Alan Burns

A weird one. A housel appears to be a mental magnifier that transforms where you live into where you’d want to live, creating a virtual reality environment. This one sets things up nicely but when it attempts to add aliens and interplanetary warfare it becomes too silly and far-fetched for me. There’s an interesting idea here but when it is pushed to its extremes just wouldn’t work. 2 out of 5.

Vashti, by Thomas Burnett-Swann

Perhaps this month’s most anticipated story (at least, by me). Having taken on Greek mythology in the Blue Monkeys serial, which has been one of the highlights of recent Science Fantasy issues for me, this time around Thomas takes on Persian mythology in this novelette.

It is the story of the dwarf Ianiskos, who has moved from Greece to Persia with King Xerxes. Vashti is the King’s wife, who up to now has been barren, despite the King wanting children. Under the threat of death, Vashti leaves the King and returns to her land of Petra, followed by Ianiskos.

The land of Persia is an area rich in mythology to choose from and this is a great story, written in Burnett-Swann’s lyrical fashion. The way that Thomas rewrites these stories for contemporary audiences is still magical. 4 out of 5.

Timmy and the Angel, by Philip Wordley

Another story from Philip, last seen in the March 1965 issue. It is a minor tale to finish the issue on. A story of how an alien ambassador, who has taken the form of an angel, manages to get seven-year-old Timmy to use his latent telekinetic powers to make the Human Race take pause before launching themselves into Space. It’s a nice enough first contact story which trades on the innocence of children to do something for the greater good. Well-meaning and generally positive, it’s about as anti-war as you can get. Think of it as an alternative to Clarke’s Childhoods End, with aliens guiding humans towards mutual benefits for all. But in the end, perhaps not one that’ll be remembered for too long. 3 out of 5.

Summing up Science Fantasy

Another issue that I liked a lot. The Cracken/Aldiss serial is good, the Anita story acceptable, but the novelette by Thomas Burnett Swann is the best story of the issue by far. My only quibble with it is that it is very similar in style to the serial of a few months ago.

The Second Issue At Hand

This month’s New Worlds was heralded as being special and I was hoping for a bit of a treat.


[Art by Robert J. Tilley ]

The Robert J. Tilley cover though is a bit of a disappointment and looks rather cheap, although unusually the inside front cover shows us more than normal:

And what handsome chaps they all look! This might be promising, after all.

Oh, but hang on – the editorial is a guest one by none other than E J (John) Carnell, the recently deposed editor of New Worlds.

Now, I must admit that Mike Moorcock and the new staff of the magazines have always been respectful to the efforts made by John and valued his contribution to the genre, even when minor mortals such as myself have been less positive. As expected, this is a self-satisfying, rallying call acclaiming the importance of British SF, not just to us regular readers but also to the world.  It is a bold statement, which is uncharacteristic of us normally self-restrained Brits. Perhaps that’s why I’m uncomfortable about it.

Time Trap, by Charles L. Harness


[Art by James Cawthorn]

The novella begins in a court. Jon Troy and his telepath wife Ann are accused of murdering leader Provinarch Blogshak. The wife has been convicted already and put under some sort of drugged suspended animation, but Jon seems strangely unperturbed by his death sentence.  He manages to avoid incarceration on a legal technicality, expertly manoeuvred by his advocate Mr. Poole. On leaving court, Poole shows Jon that he as a special power that makes him extremely useful. Using his wife as a hostage, Jon is forced to help the not-really-dead Blogshak save the life of an alien renegade known as the Outcast. Jon is persuaded not to save it but to kill it. The reason for it is revealed by the end of the story.

This is one of those stories that seems to fit with many of the old clichés of science fiction. We have alien monsters, telepathic superpowers and big cosmic ideas that wouldn’t be out of place in a Golden Age space opera story. This is to such an extent that I thought it was meant to be an homage to those stories at first. However, what the editor Mike Moorcock doesn’t tell us is that this is a reprint of a story first published in 1948. As it makes some of the current writers look shabby, Harness deserves credit for writing an energetic tale – a debut story, as well – with big, ambitious aims, if a little lacking on the execution of the ideas. In fact, the story seems unbalanced. The court scenes at the beginning are good, but too long, with the result that the end is rushed and rather too convenient. There are some interesting and unusual ideas here, but in the end I was disappointed.  3 out of 5.

The Small Betraying Detail, by Brian Aldiss

And after the story in Science Fantasy, another story by Brian this month. However, this one is quite different. It tells of Arthur who is being taken to a TB sanitorium on the Norfolk coast. Whilst on the way he seems to see things around him, including his carers, change and then return back to ‘normal’. Is it that Arthur is now seeing reality or is it evidence of a psychotic break? Aldiss doesn’t make it clear, but the increasing discord between what is ‘real’ and what Arthur sees as an alternative relentlessly increases the disquieting nature of the story. Arthur’s perspective at the end brings things to an almost Lovecraft-ian conclusion. It is an unsettling piece and shows us that Aldiss can write dark stories as well as his usual humorous ones.  3 out of 5.

Nobody Axed You, by John Brunner

John Brunner, another stalwart of these pages over the last decade or so, gives us a novelette with a frankly awful pun-ish title. This one begins with what seems to be a decapitation with an axe, although in reality it is an actor watching his ‘performance’. Gene Gardner appears to kill people for entertainment on television in his weekly programme The Gene Gardner Show-to-Kill-Time. In his efforts to maintain his viewer ratings, measured by the number of deaths occurring by that method the week after the transmission, the actor is driven to gaining better and better DOA ratings.

The world setting is interesting in that the show's purpose seems to be to reduce the population by inspiring viewers to copy the programme. There is an overpopulation issue. A lack of reproduction is seen as a virtue, echoed in both nursery rhymes sung to children and the F-girls, who wear makeup that highlights this letter. (The F stands for 'Frigidity', which is seen as a social aspiration rather than an insult.)

I get the impression that Nobody Axed You is one of those stories that is intended to either amuse or shock – or possibly both! – but did neither for me. Instead it takes a good idea – how far will people go for future entertainment? – and ramps it up to such an absurd degree that it just becomes rather silly in the end. Some may see this as some form of future satire, but it lost that ever-so-important sense of believability fairly early on for me. It is a story with something to say, but seems to do it crudely, in my opinion.

Nevertheless, Nobody Axed You is about 3 out of 5 in the end.

Prisoner of the Coral Deep, by J G Ballard

Last time we had something new from J G it was slightly disappointing – an extract from a clearly bigger story that was to be published later as a novel. This one is different. It starts rather matter-of-fact-ly, with the lead character finding a seashell in a coastal cave where he is sheltering from a storm. He meets a mysterious and alluring woman (possibly a mermaid?) there, who encourages him to listen to the shell, when he appears to find himself somewhere else at another time. The siren has lured him into a strange future – or is it the past? This story is Ballard playing with time again. The reasons for this happening are unclear, yet it is quite vivid in its descriptions of what the man hears. It’s OK, but is it outstanding Ballard? Not really. It is a one-point idea in a short story. Remember to never talk to strange women at the seaside! 3 out of 5.

Alfred's Ark, by Jack Vance

The latest American import to this British magazine.  Is this an attempt to mollify the old guard? Possibly – after all, the recent reprint by Arthur C Clarke did very well in the readers ratings, as I will show later.

Alfred’s Ark is a short story of a small-town American farmer who decides to build an ark against an impending flood, and the effects on his town and his neighbours. As to be expected, it is well-written, very easily read, and pleasantly amusing, but somewhat out of step with the style of the new incarnation of New Worlds. And rather short. 3 out of 5.

The Life Buyer (part 2 of 3), by E.C. Tubb

So, here’s the second part of this three-part serial from a long-time SF writer.

At the end of last issue we were left with a cliff-hanger ending and a number of unresolved issues. Billionaire Marcus King seems to be the target of someone who is trying to kill him. Our hero-detectives Markham and Delmonte are still trying to find out why, but as we discovered last issue, it may be something to do with King’s major product, the krown, which is due to be rolled out into a new version. The krown, when fitted to your head can adapt mental and physical reactions and can allow others to experience your thoughts. It may even be a power-play on the part of King himself.

Tubb is still building this up to an ending and the pages turned easily. I still like this story, although as this is the second of three parts, there’s a lot of running about and checking up of suspects without much really happening. Still interested to see how it ends next month though. 4 out of 5.

Articles and Books

There are no Articles or Letters Pages this month, as the Editor admits that they’ve been left out to give more room to the fiction this month. Nevertheless, there is one small paperback review by James Colvin (aka Mike Moorcock), which is for a non-fiction collection of articles named Fads and Fallacies (in the Name of Science) by Martin Gardner. It seems well liked and thoroughly recommended.

Also welcome, although split across two pages, is a potted summary of the contributors in this issue.

Ratings this month for issue 148 (that’s the March 1965 issue). As I mentioned earlier, the reprint of Arthur C Clarke’s Sunjammer story took the top spot. As I said back then, it’s a good story, but it’s a reprint.  Whilst I’m pleased it did well – I love me a good Clarke story – it is very out of place in this new magazine.

Summing up New Worlds

Perhaps not unexpectedly, the 150th issue is good, but not entirely the treat I was hoping for. Some of the story choices are a little unusual – a 1940’s reprint, a lesser offering from one of our brightest stars at the moment, an unusual one from one of our other bright stars, a minor story from a Hugo Award winner –  but it’s a readable issue on the whole.

It is a little ironic that we have John Carnell writing a self-congratulatory Editorial for a magazine that has moved on so far from what he was selling about a year ago. This issue is not the absolute best New Worlds can do, but it does give a reader an idea of the scope and range of what is out there are the moment. It is still streets ahead of those last Carnell issues.

Summing up overall

Both magazines continue their runs of success for me. The Burnett- Swann novella is perhaps my favourite story of all, but what else could be the winning issue this month but the 150th issue of New Worlds? Even with an eclectic mix and the return of John Carnell…

And that’s it for this time. Until the next…

mall>

 

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Science Fiction/Fantasy, TV

[April 26, 1965] A Stranger in a Strange Land (The Stranger, Australian TV SF)

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by Kaye Dee

I wasn’t contributing to the Journey last year, when Australia’s first home-grown science fiction television show, the children's series The Stranger, premiered in April 1964. So before the second series screens later this year, I thought I would take the opportunity to talk about this milestone in Australian television.


The screen title for The Stranger, with its unique, otherworldly script

Introducing G.K. Saunders

The Australian Broadcasting Commission (ABC) is the first local producer to show an interest in making science fiction for television, adapting The Stranger from a radio serial by prolific radio and television script writer Mr. G. K. "Ken" Saunders. A British-born New Zealander who moved to Australia in 1939, Mr. Saunders began writing scripts for ABC radio children’s programmes as well as radio dramas for one of the commercial networks.

During the War, Mr. Saunders also worked for the Council for Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR). His exposure to scientific research seems to have sparked an interest in science fiction, because when he returned to writing scripts for ABC radio children’s programming, he produced about a dozen serials with science fiction themes. Mr. Saunders has said that he bases his science fiction on real science, and he consulted scientists from the Commonwealth Scientific and Industrial Research Organisation (CSIRO, the successor to the CSIR) to ensure this. But his stories also have a bit of a twist to them, and both these traits can be seen in The Stranger.


Recording an episode of the Argonauts Club, a popular children's radio programme that has been on air since 1941. Ken Saunders is best known as one of its main script writers since it began

Some of the science fiction serials Mr. Saunders wrote still stick in my mind. His first, The Moon Flower, was broadcast in 1953. It tells the story of the first expedition to the Moon, which discovers a tiny flower in a deep cave. This might seem a bit silly today, with what we now know about the Moon from Ranger 9 and other lunar probes, but back then some scientists still thought there might be simple life on the Moon. There was another one I really liked, in which the first expedition to Alpha Centauri discovers a planet inhabited by a human-like species who are pretty much like us – except they never invented music! I found this a fascinating idea.

The Genesis of The Stranger

Ken Saunders moved to England in 1957, working as a television and radio script writer for the BBC. This is where the story of The Stranger really begins: it was originally written as a six-part radio play for the BBC, which was broadcast in 1963, so perhaps some British readers of this article might even have heard it. From what my friend at the ABC has told me, it seems that the first series of the Australian television version is very similar to the original radio play storyline, with the six 30 minute television episodes drawn from the six parts of the radio serial.


Playing possum. A publicity still showing a scene from the opening teaser, where the stranger pretends to be unconscious at the door of Headmaster Walsh's house

Episode 1

Broadcast on 5 April 1964, the first episode of The Stranger begins with a short teaser: on a classic dark and stormy night, a figure makes its way along a dark street to the gate of a house. A signboard on the fence tells us this is the home of the Headmaster of St Michael’s School for Boys. This stranger walks to the door and lies down, carefully arranging himself to look like he has collapsed. He then taps weakly on the door and closes his eyes pretending he is unconscious. This is followed by the opening credits that are used for the rest of the series: the CSIRO’s Parkes Radio Telescope scans the skies in a timelapse sequence that then dissolves into a cosmic view of stars and nebulae against which the title The Stranger appears, written in an unusual, fantastical script. The author’s credit and episode number then appear over a slow pan of what seems to be a desolate, crater-pocked landscape. These images and the eerie, slightly foreboding theme music, set the scene for the mystery that follows and unfolds over the six episodes.

Headmaster Walsh and his family help the apparently sick stranger on their doorstep, who claims to have lost his memory but speaks with a European accent. When they discover that he speaks French and German there is speculation that perhaps he is Swiss. The rapidly recovering stranger declares that because he cannot recall his own name, he will give himself another: Adam, since he is a ‘new man’, and Suisse, since he is possibly Swiss.


What's in a name? The amnesiac stranger, who has christened himself Adam Suisse, with his hidden radio that sparks the suspicions of our three teenage heroes

Events then move quickly: Adam becomes a language teacher at St. Michael’s and takes up residence in a disused building on the school grounds. There, at the end of Episode 1, the teenage Walsh children, Bernie and Jean, and their friend Peter, accidentally discover a strange radio-like device, hidden under a loose floorboard. Turning it on, they hear speech in a foreign language.

Episode 2

The teenagers suspect that Adam is a spy. Although he attempts to allay their suspicions, Peter is not convinced, and they follow Adam on one of his weekend bushwalks in the Blue Mountains. Adam has spoken passionately about his love for walking in the bushland and being close to nature but disparages reports about flying saucers seen in the area where he likes to hike. Bernie, Jean and Peter try to track Adam through the bush and at the end of the episode come face to face with a hidden flying saucer!


Not what you expect to find on a bushwalk! The "flying saucer" piloted by Adam's friend Varossa, hidden away in the Blue Mountains

Episode 3

Adam takes the three teenagers onboard the flying saucer, revealing that he represents about 300 survivors living inside a colony ship created from a small planetary moon. Known as Soshuniss, the moon-ship has been travelling for generations since the planet from which its people originally came was poisoned and made unlivable by some kind of “accident”. The Soshunites seek a new home and have been reconnoitring the Earth. They would like to live here, but have no intention of invading, as they are a peaceful people. Back on Earth, the teenagers’ disappearance is treated by the police as an elaborate hoax, abetted by the missing Adam. When Adam and the teenagers arrive on Soshuniss, they are taken to an audience with the Soshun, the leader of the Soshunites.


Fly me to the moon! Adam reveals the truth about himself to Jean, Peter and Bernie, on board the spaceship travelling to the moon-ship Soshuniss

Episode 4

The surprised teenagers discover that the Soshun is a pleasant elderly woman. She asks them to deliver a letter to the Australian Prime Minister requesting permission for the Soshunites to settle in part of Australia. In return the Soshunites will share their scientific knowledge with the world. On returning to Earth with Adam and his friend Varossa, the young people’s story is disbelieved by their parents and the police. The Soshunites are arrested as kidnappers and spies, while visiting American scientist Prof. Mayer persuades the teenagers to prove their story by taking him secretly to the hidden spaceship they returned on. Although he is convinced of the truth of the story when he sees the spaceship, the police have been following them and Bernie attempts to take off with the others in the flying saucer to return it to the Soshunites.


Take me to your leader! Peter, Bernie, Prof. Mayer and Jean meet the Soshun, who can be seen in the background of this shot

Episode 5

Bernie is unable to properly control the spacecraft and the friends are rescued by another ship and taken to Soshuniss. The police who saw the flying saucer lift off contact the authorities and the spacecraft is tracked by radar and then the Parkes Radio Telescope to the moon-ship 50,000 miles into space. There is now no question that the aliens are real and the case becomes a Security matter. Although the Soshun sends Bernie, Jean and Peter back to Earth, Prof. Mayer stays on Soshuniss to learn more about it. Meanwhile, at the end of the episode, Adam and Varossa have escaped from prison and await rescue from Soshuniss.

Episode 6

In the final episode, matters come to a head. Bernie, Jean and Peter are pressured by the authorities to reveal where the Soshunites are hiding, as they are now considered alien spies. However, the Soshun has returned Prof. Mayer to the United Nations in New York, repeating her request to be allowed to settle in Australia in exchange for Soshunian scientific knowledge. He convinces a UN Special Committee and just as Adam and Varossa are about to be re-arrested by the police, word comes through that the UN has accepted the Soshunites' offer and they will be allowed to settle on Earth. The episode concludes on what is both a happy ending and a cliffhanger suggesting there is still more of the story to come….


TV Times preview article from April 1964 promoting the premiere of The Stranger

Australia's Answer to Doctor Who?

Although The Stranger is classed as a children’s programme, it has much to hold the attention of an adult viewer, just like Doctor Who, to which it is now being compared. However, producer Storry Walton dislikes the comparison and believes that the Australian show is more creative and has better production values, with more sequences filmed on location. Locations for the series included St Paul's University College in Sydney (in the role of St Michael’s school), the Blue Mountains, exteriors at the ABC headquarters campus (masquerading as various locations, including Idlewild Airport!) and Canberra.


On the set during the production of The Stranger while filming a scene on Soshuniss. Adam tells the trio from Earth that the Soshunites originally wore their hair long, but have cut it to fit in more comfortably on Earth.

Both Mr. Saunders and the Production Designer, Mr. Geoffrey Wedlock paid particular attention to portraying the Soshunians as a plausible, but alien, extraterrestrial society. Mr. Saunders created a language for the inhabitants of Soshuniss to speak among themselves, and it is believably and naturalistically spoken by the actors. When they speak English, all the Soshunians have a European-sounding accent, signifying that they are not speaking their native language. One of Saunders’ characteristic twists is that the Soshun is a woman, rather than a man as might be expected, and that her title is also the word for “mother”: Soshuniss therefore means “the motherland”. The CSIRO was also engaged to advise on the design of the Soshunian “flying saucer”, to make it as plausible a spacecraft as possible.

Underneath its well-crafted juvenile surface story, The Stranger also touches on some important issues including the treatment of refugees and European migrants to Australia and the concerns that many people are starting to have about industrial pollution damaging the environment. Although the “accident” that poisoned the Soshunian’s home planet is not specified, there are hints that its environment may have been destroyed by some kind terrible industrial accident that released toxic chemicals.


Veteran actor Ron Haddrick, well known to Australian viewers, gives adult nuance to his performance as Adam Suisse, the titular Stranger

The cast of The Stranger, while mostly actors well known in Australia, would not be familiar to those of you overseas, but I must mention the distinguished theatrical performer Ron Haddrick, who played the part of Adam Suisse without the least condescension to the younger viewers at whom the show is aimed, much like William Hartnell approaches his role on Doctor Who.

Coming Soon

The second series of The Stranger is due to start in July this year and hints of the new storyline are beginning to emerge. Storry Walton mentioned in a recent interview that the second series would complicate the political situation surrounding the Soshunians request to live in Australia, with a suggestion that doubts would begin to grow about the good intentions of the aliens. I’m quite looking forward to this new series and perhaps those of you in Britain and the US may get to see it too, as the BBC has already bought the first series for screening next year and there are rumours that it may be bought by a US network as well.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 24, 1965] Every Silver Lining Has A Cloud (May 1965 Fantastic)

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Our last two Journey shows were a gas!  You can watch the kinescope reruns here). 


You don't want to miss the next episode of The Journey Show, April 25 (tomorrow) at 1PM PDT featuring professional flautist Acacia Weber as the special musical guest serving up some groovy period tunes.

Register now!


by Victoria Silverwolf

Can't Anybody Here Play This Game?

Sports history was made this month, with the first major league baseball game played indoors. It took place inside the newly completed Harris County Domed Stadium, located in Houston, Texas. The exhibition game between the Houston Astros and the New York Yankees took place before nearly fifty thousand fans, including the President of the United States. Fortunately for LBJ and other native sons of the Lone Star State, the home team won, two to one, after an exciting game lasting twelve innings.

There's something futuristic about a baseball diamond under a dome, isn't there?

So what's the fly in this athletic ointment? Well, the game was played at night, which disguised a serious flaw in the design of the stadium. During daylight hours, if the sun isn't blocked by clouds, the transparent panels covering the dome cause a lot of glare. Fielders can't see fly balls, leading to a whole bunch of errors. Oops.

Is This Music Or Comedy?

In yet another invasion of the American music charts by a British band, a bunch of fellows calling themselves Freddie and the Dreamers reached Number One with a cheerful, if undistinguished, pop song called I'm Telling You Now.


If you think they look a little silly here, wait until you see their act.

This superficial ditty would quickly fade from the memory of anybody listening to it on AM radio, or on a 45, I think. However, if you happen to catch the Dreamers performing live or on TV, I doubt if you'll forget the antics of Freddie, doing a bizarre dance that looks like something they made you do in PE class. The combination of the sound of the Beatles and the look of Jerry Lewis is disconcerting, to say the least.

Situation Normal; All Fouled Up

Given these missteps in the worlds of sports and music, it seems appropriate that many of the stories in the latest issue of Fantastic features situations that go from bad to worse. One of the paradoxes of literature is that misfortune can often make for enjoyable fiction. That's not always true, of course, so let's take a look and judge each effort on its merits.


Cover art by Gray Morrow. I hope you like it, because there are no interior illustrations at all.

The Crib of Hell, by Arthur Pendragan

Speaking of foul-ups, the magazine starts off right away with a mistake. It's obvious that the last name of the creator of this gruesome horror story should be Pendragon, not Pendragan. How do I know? Well, for one thing, that version of the name appeared with a very similar tale in the April 1964 issue. For another, anyone familiar with the myths of Camelot knows that Pendragon is the correct spelling of King Arthur's surname. I don't know who's hiding behind this royal pseudonym, but he or she has more in common with H. P Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe than the Once and Future King.

New England, 1924. In the suggestively named town of Sabbathday, a doctor visits the mentally tortured inhabitant of an isolated mansion. (His role should be played by Vincent Price.) Since the death of his spinster sister, he's been charged with (dramatic pause) the Guardianship. It seems that his late father's second wife, named Ligea (an apparent allusion to Poe's short story Ligeia — another change in spelling!) was a witch. Just before her death, she gave birth to a deformed creature, kept locked up in the mansion. Ghastly events follow.

There aren't many surprises in this chiller. The reader is ready for the monster to appear long before it steps onto the stage. After a slow start, the action builds to a frenzied climax. The resemblance to a horror movie that I've hinted at above grows stronger at the ambiguous last scene, when there should be one of those The End (?) final credits that you get at the conclusion of some scare flicks.

Three stars.

Playmate, by David R. Bunch

We return to the dystopian world of Moderan, where things have gone badly many times before. In this disturbing future of endless automated warfare and people who have replaced most of their bodies with metal, a little girl receives a robot playmate. Her barely human father has other uses for it.

There's not really much plot to this grim little tale, other than the basic premise. The author's unique style, and what seems to be a sardonic look at the thin line between humans and machines, make up for this lack, to some extent.

Three stars.

The Other Side of Time (Part Two of Three), by Keith Laumer

It would be tedious for me to try to provide an accurate summary of the dizzying array of events that occurred in the first third of this novel. (Besides, I'm lazy.) Suffice to say that the narrator, after a ton of wild adventures in multiple alternate realities, is now in exile in yet another world, with much of his memory erased.

This is a place where Napoleon was triumphant, so the planet is dominated by the French Empire. Technology is at the level of steam engines and the early use of electricity, without the gizmo that allows folks to journey between different realities. Even though the narrator manages to regain his memory, with the help of a hypnotist who disguises herself as an old crone, it seems impossible for him to return to his home.

Or is it? In a desperate attempt to recreate the device he needs, the narrator and the hypnotist, now a loyal companion, travel to Rome, in search of this world's version of the scientist who invented it. After much effort, some of it on the comic side, he succeeds.

Or does he? It's out of the frying pan and into the fire, because now he's in a prehistoric world, full of dangerous beasts. Only the very end of this installment offers a hint as to how the narrator is going to get out of this mess.

After the breakneck pace of the first segment, this portion comes as something of a relief. A touch of comedy, when the narrator uses his wits rather his fists to get what he wants, is most welcome. The hypnotist is a very appealing character. She's intelligent, capable, and brave. There's a hint of romance between the two, but since the narrator is happily married in his own world, I assume this isn't going to continue. In any case, I liked this third a little better than the first one.

Four stars.

Terminal, by Ron Goulart

A writer better known for slapstick farce offers a much darker vision of the future than usual. A man finds himself in a home for the elderly run by robots. He's not old, so he knows he doesn't belong there, but parts of his memory are gone (just like in the Laumer.) The inefficient robots aren't any help at all, and things go very badly indeed.

Much of the story deals with the fellow's interactions with the other inhabitants of this hellish institution. These characters are sketched quickly, in effective and poignant ways. I was particularly taken with the man who just quotes poetry at random. The whole thing is a powerful, bitter satire of society's treatment of the elderly.

Four stars.

Miranda, by John Jakes

The time is the American Civil War. The place is Georgia, during Sherman's March to the Sea. A Union officer loses the rest of his outfit. Knocked unconscious when he falls from his horse, he wakes up in the plantation home of a woman whose husband was killed by the Yankees. She holds him prisoner, taunting him with the point of a saber and offering him poisoned wine. The officer sees strange, frightening apparitions, and learns the terrifying truth about the woman.

This is a fairly effective ghost story, with a convincing portrayal of the time and place. The author shows a gift for historical fiction, and he may not need supernatural elements to succeed in that genre.

Three stars.

Red Carpet Treatment, by Robert Lipsyte

There's not a lot to say about this two-page oddity. Passengers on an airplane hear an announcement that they're on their way to Heaven. The folks aboard the plane — a priest, a child and his mother, a young married couple, a rich man and his girlfriend, and so on — react in various ways. There's a slight, predictable twist at the end.

I suppose it's about the way we deal with the awareness of death. I'm not sure if it's supposed to be a joke or not.

Two stars.

Junkman, by Harold Stevens

Things are also going very wrong in this story, but this time the intent is strictly humorous. A series of brief vignettes throughout time show stuff getting all mixed up. There's a bowling ball in prehistoric times, a typewriter in the Dark Ages, etc. Eventually we figure out that a super-genius invented a time machine, and caused all the chaos. Since this is a time travel story, we've got a paradox at the end. I found it overlong and not very amusing.

One star.

I Think They Love Me, by Walter F. Moudy

At first, this seems to be a war story, as we witness a scarred veteran, too old for active service at the advanced age of twenty-four, lecture young recruits on the dangers they face. Pretty soon we figure out that these guys are the members of a rock 'n' roll band, and that the enemy consists of hordes of screaming teenage girls. As in just about every other story in this issue, things don't work out well.

I like this mordant satire of Beatlemania more than it deserves, maybe. Sure, the premise is silly, and mocking teen idols isn't the most original thing in the world. Yet somehow I found its mad logic compelling enough to go along with it.

Three stars.

Light At The End Of The Tunnel?

After reading about all these fictional mishaps and disasters, it may be tempting to be a little fatalistic about the state of fantastic fiction these days. On the other hand, although this issue has a couple of losers, there's also some decent reading to be had. I suppose it all depends on how you look at it.


A recent ad for what may be one of the late JFK's most important legacies.




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55 years ago: Science Fact and Fiction