Tag Archives: 1964

Science / Space Race

[February 5, 1964] That was the Month that Was (January's Space Roundup)

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by Gideon Marcus

Another Lunar Black Eye

NASA's Project Ranger, which is basically a projectile aimed at the moon, has logged failure after failure since it started back in 1961.  The first ones in the series, Rangers 1 and 2, were just Earth-orbiting satellites designed to test the engineering and return scientific data.  Both of their missions were busts due to fault Agena second stages on their Atlas-Agena boosters.

Rangers 3 to 5 were bona-fide moon missions with giant pimples on their noses to do a bit of lunar geology (or selenology).  None of them completed their missions: Ranger 3 missed its target and was pointed the wrong way to boot, Ranger 4 hit the moon but was brain-dead from orbit onward, and Ranger 5 both missed and stopped working long before it got near the moon.

With five cracked eggs' experience to draw from, NASA tried again in January 30, 1964, with the first of the TV-armed Rangers, #6.  Aside from an odd voltage spike early on, Ranger 6 seemed to be working fine.  The spacecraft made a textbook-perfect flight all the way to its target, Mare Tranquillitas, impacting on schedule. 

But its TV camera never turned on.

I've been told that the fellow who announced the flight in real-time to the press has resigned from this duty, unable to go through such a harrowing experience again.  Who can blame him?  This is the sixth Ranger and the tenth failed (counting Pioneer Atlas Able) moon mission in a row.  On the other hand, and this is probably weak comfort at best, Ranger 6 did perform perfectly all the way until the end.  I'm sure Our American Cousin was a fine play, too.

There are three more third edition Rangers left to launch.  Let's hope at least one of them will be successful.  Right now, this program is making Project Vanguard look like an unalloyed success.

Stillborn Quintuplets

Speaking of Vanguard, on January 24, 1964, the Air Force launched another of its multi-satellite missions, attempting to orbit an unprecedented five spacecraft at once.  "Composite 1" comprised LOFTI 2, which was to study the ionosphere, Secor and Surcal, which would have helped the Army and Navy (respectively) calibrate their tracking radars, and Injun 2, a radiation satellite made by the University of Iowa (the same folks who discovered the Van Allen Belts.

Composite 1 also included SOLRAD (Solar Radiation) 4, and this is the Vanguard tie-in.  You see, the spottily successful Vanguard, which was America's first space project, was originally designed to study the sun's output of X-rays and ultraviolet light.  Unfortunately, the last of the Vanguards, number 3, was swamped with radiation from the Van Allen Belts, and its sun-pointed experiments were made useless.  End of story, right?

Well, SOLRAD 1, launched in 1960, was essentially Vanguard 4.  It was made by the same folks (the Naval Research Laboratory), used the same design, and carried the same experiments as Vanguard 3.  The only difference was purpose: the Navy wanted to know if there was a relation between solar flares and radio fade-outs (turns out yes). 

SOLRAD 2 was a dud thanks to a bad rocket, but SOLRAD 3 and Injun 1 returned good data.  The failure of SOLRAD 4 gives the program a .500 average — still pretty good to my mind.  I understand the Air Force will be trying again in a few months.

Five for five

How about some good news for a change?  For the fifth time in three years, the world's largest rocket took to the skies above Florida, January 29, 1964.  The Saturn I rocket, a precursor to the Saturn V behemoth that will take humans to Moon before this decade is out, has completed its run of test flights with a 100% success rate. 

I want that to sink in.  As far as I know, no rocket program has ever been 100% successful.  One would think that a booster as big as the Saturn should be more accident-prone than any other.  And yet, the trim cylindrical stack lifted off from Cape Kennedy, with both stages fueled for the first time, and placed its entire top half into orbit.  This gave Americans another first: world's largest satellite, weighing nearly ten tons!

The timing could not be better.  Apollo's future has been threatened a bit lately, with many in Congress seeking to reduce NASA's funding.  Some question whether there is even value in winning the race to the moon.  The outstanding success of the Saturn I will hopefully be a shot in the program's arm — and maybe for the related Project Ranger.

Now that testing of the rocket is complete, the Saturn I will go on to operational missions, flying full-scale examples of the Apollo spacecraft.  This will be the closest this first Saturn ever gets to the moon, however.  Huge as it is, it is not strong enough to launch Apollo to Earth's nearest neighbor.  It's not even strong enough to loft a fully-fueled Apollo!  But it's bigger brother, the Saturn IB, will be.  Expect its first flights in 1966 or so.

Can you hear me?

Last year, COMSAT corporation started selling publicly traded shares.  COMSAT was President Kennedy's compromise between a public and private satellite communications entity.  COMSAT has not yet developed any comsats, but that hasn't other entities are continuing to build experimental satellites toward the day when COMSAT birds begin to fly.

Relay 2

On January 21, 1964, the RCA-built Relay 2 joined its sister Relay 1, Ma-Bell-made Telstar 2, and the fixed-in-the-sky Syncom 2 in orbit.  With four active comsats in orbit (the kind that can retransmit broadcasts), we'll likely soon see transmissions bounce all over the globe.  The most exciting programming on the schedule?  This summer's Olympic games, live from Tokyo, Japan!

Echo 2

Just four days after the launch of Relay 2, NASA shot up Echo 2, a balloon-type passive reflector satellite — essentially a big mirror in space for bouncing signals.  It's larger than Echo 1, which is still in orbit, and should be visible from the ground when it zooms overhead.  I'm not sure why NASA bothered with this satellite given the sophistication of the active-repeater comsats.  I suspect there won't be many more.

Gavarit pa Ruskii?

Meanwhile, our Communist friends have not been entirely idle.  In addition to their increasing constellation of little Kosmos satellites, which may or may not be civilian in nature (probably not), the Soviets have created the twin "Elektron" orbiting laboratories.  The first two were launched on January 30 into separate orbits, their mission to explore the Van Allen Belts from both below and above!

It's the first time the Soviets have launched multiple satellites on a single rocket (we've been doing it since SOLRAD 1) and the first time since Sputnik 3 that a Russian mission has been verifiably civilian in nature. 

It's about time!

Space for Two

I'll wrap things up with a couple of pieces of news on the Gemini two-seat spacecraft, sort of a bridge between Projects Mercury and Apollo.  Firstly, it looks like the first uncrewed flight will happen as early as March, testing both the capsule and the Titan II rocket.  If this goes well, the first crewed flights may blast off as early as the end of this year.

Fingers crossed!

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TV

[February 3rd, 1964] And Into The Fire (Doctor Who: The Daleks | Episodes 5-7)

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By Jessica Holmes

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, in whatever time and place you happen to be. Ready for some more Doctor Who? I certainly am.

So, a super speedy recap before we get into things: the Doctor went and got himself and his companions stuck on an alien planet, and then everyone got captured and almost died of radiation poisoning. They escaped, barely, but then realised they couldn't leave because they'd left part of the TARDIS behind. So now they're going to have to go back to their captors. Well done, Doctor.

Oh, and there are some very cross pepperpots who dabble in plumbing.

THE EXPEDITION

In this episode, the companions must convince the Thals to help them reclaim a vital part of the TARDIS.

However, the Thals are so deeply opposed to violence that they won't take any aggressive action against the Daleks. What's more, the companions themselves can't agree on whether it's right to enlist the Thals in a conflict that has nothing to do with them, even if it could buy them their lives. After some shenanigans and a cruel but effective trick from Ian, Alydon manages to rally a few Thals to assist Ian and Barbara in their expedition to recover the part.

There are two big moral questions in this serial, and this episode is where they’re thrust into the spotlight: when, if ever, is it right to fight? And is it right to enlist someone else to fight your battles?

Entering the episode, the Thals have a firm answer to the first question: never.

"We will not fight. There will be no more wars. Look at our planet. This was once a great world, full of ideas and art and invention. In one day it was destroyed. And you will never find one good reason why we should ever begin destroying everything again."
Alydon

The Doctor, however, isn't having any of it. The Thals are going to fight and he's going to lead them into battle. Won’t that be something, indeed.

This leads us right into the second question: is it right to enlist someone else to fight your battles? Even if your troubles have nothing to do with them?

The Doctor, for the record, couldn't care less if it's right or wrong. It's a matter of survival. If making the Thals fight will make them more likely to survive, then morality doesn’t come into the equation. Now, it shouldn’t surprise anyone that the Doctor would take this stance, but what about Barbara? Yes, of all people, Barbara takes his side. She never really struck me as a moral pragmatist before, but then again, it would surprise most people just how flexible morality can be when your life's on the line.

However, Ian thinks otherwise. Though eager earlier to get the Thals to fight, Ian has come to believe it would be wrong to force them to go against their nature, when this isn't even their battle. If the Thals are going to fight, it has to be for their own reasons.

How do you make a Thal fight? Threaten his loved ones, of course. When Ian threatens to take one of the Thals to the Daleks in exchange for the fluid link (one who is very special to Alydon, if you catch my meaning), it takes Alydon all of three seconds to send him flying.


For a man who’s never fought anyone in his life, Alydon can throw a heck of a punch.

Now, consider this: while all this debate has been raging, the Daleks have synthesised the Thals' anti-radiation drug with unexpected results: the drug is toxic to them. Why? Because it stops them absorbing radiation. This leads the Daleks to realise they need a radioactive environment to survive. If they're ever going to leave the city, they'll have to flood the planet with radiation. The Thals don't know it yet, but they're living on borrowed time.

Alydon comes to an important realisation while wrestling with his guilt over punching Ian. There may well be a just cause for fighting: in defence of another. If they don't help the companions, knowing that only their help can save them, they might as well just kill them themselves. It’s an interesting notion, and one that I find myself agreeing with. After all, all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

What's more, Alydon has himself come to the conclusion that the Daleks represent an ongoing threat to the Thals. They have all the food, and before long, the Thals are going to starve. The Thals are afraid, but that's okay. They're right to be afraid. But as Alydon puts it:

"There is no indignity in being afraid to die. But there is a terrible shame in being afraid to live."

In the end, a few Thals agree to go with Ian and Barbara, and they set out to infiltrate the city. However, it doesn't take long before they run into trouble.

This might be one of my favourite episodes of the serial. I really enjoyed the moral quandaries the characters found themselves in.


We have to have a bog monster in a bog, even if it doesn’t do anything. It’s the rules.

THE ORDEAL

This episode isn't as good as the ones sandwiching it. I'll say that before anything else. There's not really any of the moral philosophy, major character development (other than one rather nice Thal whose name I can't remember), or excitement of the other episodes, so I'll keep it brief.

In this episode, all of our players are getting into place for the final act. Ian and Barbara are leading an expedition of Thals to infiltrate the city from behind, and the Doctor and Susan are with the main group, plotting their own assault on the city. Meanwhile, the Daleks accelerate their plans to make the planet more suitable to their needs.

There are some rather nice, borderline flirty moments of banter between Barbara and one of the Thals travelling with her. It's a sweet little human thing that goes a long way towards endearing him to me. I just wonder how he ever learned of the Earth concept of 'ladies first'. Is that something that regularly comes up in conversation?

I also enjoyed the Doctor and Susan acting like a pair of gleeful schoolchildren as they sabotaged the Daleks' surveillance equipment—especially when the Doctor got so carried away with his own cleverness he forgot the most important part of any bit of mischief: run away afterwards.


You have to wonder how he’s survived as long as he has, really.

Towards the end of the episode, though, there's a scene which is a bit frustrating to watch, as once again, we run up against the budget limitations. It's rather hard to even see what's going on, harder still to believe that our heroes are clinging to the walls of a perilous ravine. Even an establishing shot of a matte painting would have gone a long way towards building my suspension of disbelief.

THE RESCUE

Here we are, at the grand finale. There's a lot going on in this episode, so let’s take a deep breath, and away we go!

Ian and Barbara make it to the city of the Daleks, as Susan and the Doctor find themselves once again at the mercy of the plunger-brandishing fiends. The Daleks kindly explain their whole evil plan, because that’s what baddies do. I’m sure there’s a Handy Guide To Being Evil out there somewhere that every villain ever written has read. Explaining your entire plan is rule number two. The first rule is to never just kill the hero when you have him at your mercy. That wouldn’t be any fun, now, would it?

By deliberately overloading their nuclear reactors, The Daleks will be able to release enough radioactive material to irradiate the atmosphere and terraform the planet to their needs. Or should that be skaroform?

As Alydon rallies his men to assault the city, the Doctor pleads with the Daleks to see reason. When he finds no sense of morality in them to appeal to, he even tries bargaining, but to no avail. Time is running out for the Doctor, and for the planet, when Ian and Barbara's party meets up with Alydon's group, and together, they make their assault on the Dalek command.

I can only really describe what happens as a… kerfuffle. Though the Daleks are deadly at a distance, in close quarters, they're no match for the strength and mobility of their attackers, who push them about as if they were shopping trolleys. It’s a bit funnier than I think was intended.

The Thals prevail, freeing the Doctor to put a stop to the Daleks' plan. However, the salvation of the Thals is achieved at the fatal expense of the Daleks. The reactors are fast draining of power entirely. When they're fully powered down, the Daleks will be starved for radiation. One Dalek, dying, begs for the Doctor to undo what he's done. But he can't. And even if he could, he wouldn't. The Dalek dies, and with it, it seems, the Dalek race itself.


Susan even got a snazzy new cloak.

So much for just being a wanderer throughout the universe, Doctor. You just single-handedly eradicated a sapient species. Neither he, nor any of the other characters for that matter, seem to appreciate that fact, and the episode breezes on to the dénouement, where lessons are learned, goodbyes are said, and cliffhangers for the next serial are set up. Oh, and Barbara and her Thal friend share a very special farewell.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Right, so when it comes down to it, what did I think of The Daleks?

We’re just two serials in, and The Doctor is already affecting events on a planetary scale! If he carries on the way he does, there'll be a Doctor-shaped trail of destruction across the universe before long.

The serial did start to meander a little bit in the middle with having to go back to the city. Particularly The Ordeal, which does set up the finale, but not much else. It's a tricky thing because I can't just point at a scene and say 'cut that'. It would require a surgeon’s finesse.

As for the Thals, I admit I did categorise them in my head as 'Alydon' and 'Not Alydon', which should give you an idea as to how invested I was in the Thals who weren't Alydon. I have forgotten all of their names. They're more of an ensemble cast than distinct individuals, so I didn't really blink when any of them died.

I'm a bit unsure about killing off all the Daleks. It seems a shame to get rid of an interesting villain, one so inhuman, for whom morals aren't a consideration when it comes to survival. An interesting foil for the Doctor, wouldn't you agree? Also, though the Daleks we saw were unquestionably evil and sowed the seeds of their own destruction, was that the case for all of them?

Then again, we never see anything to suggest a concept of individualism amongst the Daleks, so it could be argued that they all harboured the same genocidal ambitions, making peaceful coexistence with the Thals an impossibility. Still, there's no way of knowing either way, which is why I'd have liked to have seen some consideration of their fate.

I wonder if, as the Thals have basically bred into themselves the instinct for pacifism, the Daleks bred themselves to be the opposite. It would fit with all of their actions. When faced with a fight or flight situation, the Thals would always choose flight, and the Daleks would fight. I wonder how the Daleks kept on as long as they did without wiping themselves out. They think nothing of experimenting on or even killing their own kind, if it would further the ends of their leaders.

We do get one line from the Thals that could be interpreted as regretful, though that was probably more for the Thal losses than for the eradication of all Daleks. For that matter, for a bunch of people who had a complete taboo against violence, they did seem to take to it quite well in the end. You'd think the Thals might actually mourn the Daleks. That would have been quite curious to see from our perspective, but I think it would have made sense for a people who up to recently had been so dedicated to living in peace and harmony. Hopefully they won't end up regaining their ancient taste for war.

Still, a very exciting and enjoyable serial all the same. I know it's less educational, but then again, it did explore some moral philosophy on when it's right to fight, if ever, and I love that sort of thing. I also think it came to a responsible conclusion: avoid fighting, except in the defence of yourself or others. I can get behind that. The only time I ever got in a scrap as a child was when a boy was picking on my little brother. I didn't do much for fear of really hurting the bully, but he did back off. I would like to see a bit more that's less cut and dried, perhaps with factions that can’t be simply described as ‘good’ or ‘evil’. Because the real world is messy like that, and I do think that in itself is an important thing to teach.

I’ll be back very shortly for our next outing. Our companions made it safely back to the TARDIS, but it seems the TARDIS might not be the safest place to be after all…

4 out of 5 stars




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Book, Magazine, Movies

[February 1, 1964] The Vast Wasteland (February 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Every Silver Lining has a Cloud

What an exciting month January was!  From President Johnson's declaration of war on poverty to the launching of the Ranger 6 moon mission, not to mention this week's premiere of the amazing satire/horror, Dr. Strangelove, this year is shaping up to be a good one.

But while real life and the silver screen may offer superlative pleasures, this month's written sf , at least on this side of the Pond, has been rather lackluster.  This month's Analog is no exception.  In fact, it rests near the bottom of the pack.  That said, it's not a complete loss — so long as you know what you're getting into:

The Issue at Hand

Secondary Meterorites (Part 2 of 2), by Ralph A. Hall, M.D.

Dr. Hall returns to tell us more about the hypothesis that the majority of meteors that hit our planet are actually pieces of other planets knocked off when they were hit by meteorites.  It is, if anything, less comprehensible than the last article.  And that's coming from a fellow who studied astrophysics in college and reads journal articles for fun.

One star.

The Permanent Implosion, by Dean McLaughlin

When a bunch of Colorado eggheads blow a hole in the fabric of the universe, all of Earth's air starts whistling to nowhere like water draining from a bathtub.  Mick Candido, an oilman with a talent for capping blown and burning wells, is called in to plug the hole.

This is a smartly written tale whose obvious solution is obscured by deft authorial misdirection.  It's not a story for the ages, but it's solid Analog fare.  Three stars.

Crackpots, Inc., by Richard L. Davis

On the other hand, Crackpots is uniquely Analog fare.  A rural hayseed has purportedly invented perpetual motion, but his feat cannot be duplicated by scientists.  Turns out, it's because the machine is powered by the hick's psychic energies.  The only way this piece could have been more to Campbell's taste is if it included dowsing.

One star.

Dune World (Part 3 of 3), by Frank Herbert

I'm going to spare some inches for this one since I know this has been a popular serial.  In the far future, humanity has spread out among the stars.  Civilization is a strange mix of the advanced and the primitive. There are faster-than-light ships, electro-magnetic shields, and laser guns, On the other hand, computers are outlawed, with savant "Mentats" filling the role.  Society runs along feudal lines, its politics Machiavellian to the extreme.  To wit:

Baron Harkonnen, lord of the desert planet, Arrakis, is ordered by the Padishah Emperor to give his fief to Duke Leto Atreides.  On the face of things, this is a boon.  Arrakis is the only source of the anti-geriatic spice melange, control of which makes one very rich.  However, the transfer is a baited trap.  Not only is a legion of the Emperor's troops poised to seize the fief should Leto stumble, but one of Leto's lieutenants is a traitor in the pay of Harkonnen.

Added to the mix: Leto's mistress, Lady Jessica, member of the female-only Bene Gesserit order, who has keen perception and the ability to control others with her voice.  Her son, Paul, who may be the satisfaction of a prophecy that predicts a male possessor of Bene Gesserit powers.  The "Fremen" natives of Arrakis appear to be primitives yet there is evidence that suggests they possess a great technology.  Finally, we have Kynes, an Imperial surveyor who seems to know the secrets of Arrakis but refuses to play his hand openly.

Not much happens in Dune World.  There are lots of conversations where people reveal the history of Arrakis.  There is an attempt on Paul's life.  Leto saves some spice miners from a sandworm.  There is a feast in the Atreides stronghold with more exposition.  The traitor's plan comes to fruition, with the Duke put in mortal peril and his family forced into exile.  There is no real resolution; I suspect Herbert plans a sequel.

Author Herbert has an intricate grand plan, and he's certainly not stinted on world building.  The various cultures are richly detailed.  There is a refreshing abundance of foreign language and concepts, particularly from Arabic.  What keeps Dune World from being a masterpiece, or even especially enjoyable, is that Herbert's writing chops just aren't up to turning this byzantine mess of a plot into a story.  There are more swaths of italicized text than in the footnotes of a legal contract, and the viewpoint shifts constantly, often every other sentence.  A typical example from page 49:


"Now I know you remain loyal to my Duke," she said.  "Therefore I'm prepared to forgive your affront to me."

"Is there something to forgive? he asked.

Jessica scowled, wondering, Shall I play my trump?  Shall I tell him of the Duke's daughter I've carried within me these two weeks?  No, Leto himself doesn't know and this would only complicate his life, divert him when he must concentrate on our survival.  There is yet time to use this.

And Hawat thought: She's even beautiful when she's angry.  An extremely difficult adversary.

The traitor is revealed early on; the mystery is why he's betrayed Duke Leto.  That said, the identity of the betrayer could have been handled as a double mystery, which would have been more interesting. 

At serial's end, Paul has a soothsaying dream and learns several secrets of Arrakis and spice.  It's all very arbitrary and unsatisfying. 

Herbert has created something like a well researched but dry encyclopedia article on a fascinating topic.  I wanted to know more about Arrakis and Paul's prophecy, but getting through the (half) novel was often a slog. 

Maybe a good editor will help Herbert polish this up before its inevitable publication as a book.

Three stars for this installment and for the book as a whole.

Rx for Chaos, by Christopher Anvil

Another entry in the "Unintended Consequences of Science" department: Hangover-killing "De-tox" pills become bestsellers, but they also inhibit creativity and give rise to a fascist, anti-intellectual movement.  It's typical Analog Anvil, written with tongue firmly lodged in cheek.  It rates three stars, barely.

Names for Space Plants, by John Becker

Lots of words in these three short pages, but I've no idea what Becker is actually trying to say.  One star.

The Analytic Laboratory

Add it all up, and Analog scores a limp 2.1 stars, only beaten for badness by this month's Amazing (2 stars even).  F&SF is barely better at 2.2; Fantastic gets 2.6 but at least it's got a good Dick in it.  Galaxy's 3 stars is also, in part, thanks to its Dick story.  The only unalloyed triumph is the February New Worlds, which garnered 3.6 stars.

Women made up just two of the 38 authors who wrote fiction for magazines this month. 

As for books, again, it was the British stuff that stood out.  Brian Aldiss' new fix-up got four stars, per Jason Sacks, whereas neither this month's Ace Double nor Laurence Janifer's second effort stunned.

Next month is my birthday month, though, and I'm certain the writers in my favorite genre wouldn't let me down on my 39th birthday.

Right?

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Movies

[January 30, 1964] Satire or Documentary?  (Stanley Kubrik's Dr. Strangelove)

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by Rosemary Benton

The Thin Line between Comedy and Terror

The newest movie by maverick filmmaker Stanley Kubrick, known for Spartacus (1960) and Lolita (1962), has hit theaters to the delight of film critics and the apprehensive joy of moviegoers. Behold the masterpiece which is Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb and be amazed. Never before has a movie been so utterly terrifying, and yet so funny. It was a film that had the audience sitting on the edge of their seats, giddily laughing with nervous energy. For a film with so few action sequences, the story is absolutely riveting. I was completely captivated, and based on the reactions I witnessed from my fellow movie goers they too felt the simultaneous deep unease and dark humor just as intensely.

The plot of Dr. Strangelove is loosely based on the 1958 thriller novel by Peter George, Red Alert. Both the book and the film describe a situation that could be considered as far from comical as possible: the initiation of a nuclear attack on the Soviets by a rogue United States Air Force general. In Kubrick's film the logic of this loose cannon, named Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper (played by Sterling Hayden), is that Communists have made the “bodily fluids" of Americans impure by fluoridation. By his reasoning this has already counted as a preemptive strike: fluoridation has rendered politicians including President Merkin Muffley (played by Peter Sellers), impotent and incapable of proper leadership.

Meanwhile in the War Room of the Pentagon the situation continues to escalate as President Muffley consults with his military counsel General Buck Turgidson (played by George C. Scott), and the Soviet Ambassador Alexei de Sadeski (played by Peter Bull). Eventually it is concluded that the Soviet Premier, Dimitri Kissov, must be informed of the situation and given the deployed bomber squadron's flight path. The situation couldn't be more dire — until the Ambassador then imparts to the room that the Premier has just made him aware of a doomsday device that has been built in secret and was to be unveiled within the week. If the American bombs are not stopped in time, a network of interlinked Soviet bombs enhanced with “cobalt-thorium G" will trigger and the Earth will be shrouded in a “Doomsday shroud," killing all human and animal life. Worse yet, there is no way to deactivate the doomsday device without triggering it. A precaution that was taken to avoid human error.

After managing to secure the recall code from General Ripper all bombers but one are recalled. Due to damage to the plane's radio and fuel tanks sustained when the Soviets launched a surface-to-air missile to intercept the B-52 Stratofortress carrying the payload, the pilot and crew are unable to communicate with the American forces, nor are they able to fly back. At the order of the bomber's commander and pilot, Major T. J. "King" Kong (played by Slim Pickens), the crew decides to fly onward to a nearer target knowing that it will be a one way flight. In perhaps the most memorable scene on the film, Major Kong jumps on the back of the bomb and rides it down to a Soviet ICBM site whereupon it explodes.

Back in the War Room the attendants have begun to consider how they will survive the coming 93 years of darkness. Dr. Strangelove (also played by Peter Sellers), the wheelchair bound, ex-Nazi, nuclear war expert in the employ of President Muffley advises that a small population of several thousand should take up residence in deep mine shafts so as to repopulate the Earth. To that end there should be a 10:1 ratio of women to men. Comically, despite the reality of planning for the end of the world, General Turgidson is very concerned that the Soviets will think of the same thing and warns against a “mine shaft" gap. As the arguing and planning escalates in volume the Soviet Ambassador slips a discreet shot of the War Room with a hidden camera and slinks away. The movie ends to the dulcet serenade of “We'll Meet Again" as nuclear blasts go off one by one.

Too Close to Home

These last two decades, indeed the last three years, have brought the continued struggle between the USSR and America, between Capitalist and Communists, Democracy and Dictatorship, to the average American's door on a daily basis in the news, in magazine articles, and through social organizations such as the local Civil Defense officers conducting surveys of urban preparedness. The fear has been stoked that the international war of ideology, trade and survival could come to us civilians very literally in the form of a coordinated nuclear attack.

The Federal Civil Defense Act of 1950, initially designed to guide civilian preparedness in a series of committees from the federal level all the way down to the community level, found little traction with the general public in its day. Recently, however, given the Soviet military buildup in Cuba, the use of fallout shelters has come back into the public's eye. But science has far surpassed the weapons of over ten years ago, and one must wonder how useful the leftover pamphlets on nuclear survival from 1951 will be to the American citizen today.

In a general sense any nation's international policy making has consistently been about the division of land and wealth, with the extraction of natural resources and the mobilization of man power either resulting in economic success or failure. On top of the core responsibility of leaders to ensure their country's economic success are layers and layers of rhetoric to justify the means to this end. But only recently has that rhetoric reached a dangerous pinnacle on which both sides consider the virtual hostage taking of millions of civilian lives to be a worthy deterrent to foreign challenges that could come from halfway across the globe.

Being in a competition of military prowess has unfortunately resulted in inflammatory saber rattling in a long line of US presidents. From President Truman's 30 November, 1950 refusal to rule out the use of nuclear weapons to halt Communist advances after Chinese troops crossed the Yalu River to aid North Korea, to President Kennedy's repeated call to close the missile gap during his 1960 election campaign. Ultimately the natural escalation of “anything your bomb can do, mine can do better" has seemed to end in a standoff. Hence the development of unsettling strategic theories such as MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). 

The Satire Bites Deep

The writing, cinematography and special effects of Dr. Strangelove are ingenious, but more than anything I have to comment that this is a profoundly dark satirical film. Not only does the plot highlight the precarious position that current world leaders and their military advisors have found themselves in since the fracturing of the Allied forces after 1945, but it highlights the very real and very frightening attitudes that have come to encompass the policy making of modern superpowers at home and abroad.

Co-writers Stanley Kubrick, Peter George and Terry Southern really understood this last point, and put it front and center within Dr. Strangelove's satire. General Turgidson's excitement at the destructive capabilities of the B-52 Stratofortress borders on buffoonish megalomania. His enthusiasm and envy when he says that he wishes the US too had a doomsday device like the one the Soviets have concocted is astounding given the situation. It is horrific that General Turgidson considers the launching of an all out attack an acceptable plan of action considering the “modest and acceptable" civilian casualties of 10-20 million lives “depending on the breaks". Most importantly, the film masterfully picks apart the lunacy of having to have a post-apocalyptic plan in the first place.

Indeed, everything about Dr. Strangelove’s indignant rebuke to the Russian ambassador feels as if it were lifted from an exchange between Herman Kahn, the RAND corporation’s renowned military strategist, and a chastened government official. “The whole point of the doomsday machine is lost, if you keep it a secret. Why didn't you tell the world, eh?!" Ambassador Sadeski replies, “It was to be announced at the Party Congress on Monday. As you know, the Premier loves surprises."

In the skillful hands of such an intrepid writing team the catalyst of the whole nuclear attack comes into question: is such a scenario so far off? Yes, Brigadier General Ripper is clearly insane to believe that Communists would plan an attack on “bodily fluids" by putting fluoride in the drinking water, but if the military personnel who hold the power to initiate a nuclear attack were unstable but methodical, would such a cascade of fail safes work against us as they did in the film? And if worse came to worst, would our leaders be able to accept the figurative and literal fallout with the same calm equanimity as the assembly in the war room did? If mine shafts would make such excellent hibernation holdouts for humanity, as Dr. Strangelove hypothesized, would the public even be made aware for fear of a mine shaft shortage?

For the answer to such questions I would highly recommend that everyone see this film, watch the evening news for a week, and come to their own conclusions. Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb is an exceptionally cutting and cheeky movie, and I happily give it five stars.




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Book, Magazine

[January 28, 1964] Beatles, Prisons and Doctors ( New Worlds, February 1964)

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by Mark Yon

London Calling

Hello again!

The Winter rolls on here in Britain. I must admit that last month’s news about New Worlds has left me here in a bit of a blue mood. I’ve realised that with the loss of the two remaining British magazines there’s not a lot of opportunities for British s-f left. As much as I enjoy reading your American issues, even the ones fellow travellers don’t like (when I can get them), I do feel that we’re missing a trick here. The loss of such a laudable attempt to reinvent the genre means that we are lesser for it. Even when I don’t like all the attempts to push the envelope. 

In this month’s “Beatle-Watch”, the mop-tops have continued their reign of madness and world domination. They are now playing concerts outside Britain, most recently in Paris.  I understand that they may well be heading back to your fair shores by the end of February, so keep an eye out if you want an idea of what their fans here are going mad about.

Since we last spoke, I did get chance to go with the family to see The Sword in the Stone over the holiday season. It was fun, but there’s not too much of Mr. T. H. White’s original novel left beyond the basic outline. The youngsters in the cinema seemed to enjoy it, though, especially with the added musical numbers. 

I’m very pleased that Doctor Who has continued to go from strength to strength. As fellow traveller Jessica has said, the latest serial, The Daleks, is a real triumph. It is scary and exciting. I can’t wait to see what happens next. 

The Issue at Hand

To the magazine, then – the February 1964 New Worlds:

I’ll not say much about the cover this month, other than it is orange.

possible worlds of the mind, by Mr. L. H. Barnes

Intriguingly, but perhaps expectedly, this is heralded as “the last in our series”. Mr. Barnes examines the role of s-f in today’s society. After suggesting a number of possibilities – escapism, the continuity of myth, for an insight into the possible extensions of technology – Mr. Barnes concludes with the idea that the mainstreaming of s-f contributes to modern man coping with a world-in-flux. It is an effective summary of editor Mr. John Carnell’s aims as you could expect.

Onto the stories!

open prison, by Mr. James White

I guess that this could be the last serial to be published in New Worlds, but as is usually the case with Mr. White’s work, it’s an interesting tale, though very different to Mr. White’s Sector General stories. This one tells of a planet that is used as a prisoner-of-war camp and the prisoners upon it. What makes it interesting is that we have tension created between those prisoners who have given up and decided to make the best of their new lives and those who feel that it is their duty to escape. It seems to be really a comment on social class and the order and discipline of the military life. Well told, if hardly original. Even the tagline suggests that this is an old-fashioned war story transmuted into a future prison escape story.  4 out of 5.

counter-feat and one-way strait, by Mr. Brian W. Aldiss

Next, we have two short stories back-to-back from the redoubtable Mr. Aldiss. They are simply short logic puzzles in a science-fictional setting. Goofy fun, typical Aldiss, but relatively minor work from this well-loved author. 3 out of 5.

the unexpected martyr, by Mr. R. W. Mackelworth

This story looks at a revolution through the eyes of an anarchist recordkeeper in a future surveillance society. Could they be thinking of a future Russia, perhaps? I liked this one – a nice tone with a pleasing style in the manner of Orwell’s 1984 – in that it shows how important the minor characters are in moulding and changing society, though it seems to suggest that trusting your female descendants is not advisable. 4 out of 5.

the time dweller, by Mr. Michael Moorcock

Mr. Moorcock’s latest is, like his story Flux in the July 1963 issue, a story that deals with time. Set in a far future wilderness, the story tells of the journey made by a warrior, The Scar-faced Brooder. Whilst travelling this barren wasteland the Brooder discovers that he can travel through time, in the timestreams, based on his own will. It repeats an idea proposed by Mr. Moorcock before, that the notion of Time is a state of mind and will change depending upon context. Echoing both Mr. Jack Vance and Mr. Edgar Rice Burroughs, I found this tale to be vividly imaginative, very similar to Mr. Moorcock’s Elric tales. It is also a salutary lesson in the dangers of obsessing about keeping to time. 4 out of 5.

die and grow rich, by Mr. John Rackham

Like Mr. Mackelworth’s story, Mr. Rackham’s tale is another piece utilizing computerization this month. die and grow rich is a story for anyone fed up with filling out insurance applications, set in a future where insurance policies are computerized. When the computer seems to malfunction, one of Mr. Rackham’s ‘X-persons’ is brought in to help sort it out. It becomes, basically, an insurance scam in a very unusual manner. This seems to be an extreme method to obtain money for research, even when the research involves bringing dead people back to life. More worryingly, it is another story whose underlying message seems to be “Don’t trust women”. 3 out of 5.

Lastly, this month’s Book Reviews.  Mr. Leslie Flood looks at the books this time around. It is a very positive set of reviews this month. Mr Brian Aldiss’s The Dark Light Years shows an author reaching his “literary maturity” and is thoroughly recommended. The story collection Spectrum III edited by Messers. Amis and Conquest is ”a splendid collection” and Mr. Flood cannot praise too highly Mr. Damon Knight’s ambitious project A Century of Science Fiction, a useful summary for the aficionado and “a masterly and knowledgeable introduction to science fiction for the new convert.“

The Upshot

In summary, there’s a couple of strong stories here that I really liked and Mr. White’s serial has potential. New Worlds may be going, but it is clearly determined not to go without a fight. 

Until next month.




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Book

[January 26, 1964] Sophomoric (Laurence M. Janifer's The Wonder War)

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by Gideon Marcus

About the Author

Laurence M. Janifer (born Larry M. Harris) is a youngish author from New York City.  He's distinguished himself as a science fiction writer of at least the second rank, having produced a number of pretty good short stories (including Sword of Flowers, which I awarded the Galactic Star).  Janifer also co-wrote the Queen Elizabeth serials with Randall Garrett, and those were decent reading.  Thus, his is a name I generally note as an encouraging sign when I see it listed in a magazine's table of contents.

Last year, Larry made the jump to the big time with the recent publication of his first novel, Slave Planet.  Fellow Traveler Erica Frank reviewed it in November and thought it a decent, if not unflawed read. 

Janifer must have been chained to the typewriter last year because his second book, The Wonder War came out just this month.  Given Janifer's track record, I was certain this next effort would be an improvement; thus, I invoked editorial privilege and insisted on being the one to review it.

Well, the joke's on me.

The Wonder War

The setup for Janifer's sophomore effort isn't bad: hundreds of years in the future, the Terran Confederation decides that competition is bad, and the surest way an extraterrestrial planet can develop the technology to become a competitor is through war.  After all, the fastest advances seem to come with the impetus of killing one's fellow.  So the Confederation places teams of spies on planets with the potential to become adversaries.  Their sole mission: to spike the warrior spirit by any means necessary.

The target in The Wonder War is the world of Wh'Gralb.  Not only are its inhabitants utterly humanoid (if a trifle shorter than average), but they are currently in a period like the Earth's 1930s.  Wh'Gralb's two continents are home to antagonistic nations, one a fascist dictatorship, the other a People's Republic.  War has broken out over an island rich in uranium.

Against this backdrop, we are introduced to our team: The sanguine beanpole of a team leader, Glone; the laconic Dempster; and the much put-upon viewpoint character, Plant.  Oh, and let's not forget the flattest, most obnoxious caricature — that of Raissa Renny, the girl.

You see, Raissa is the new Coordinator for Propaganda, an insufferable stuck-up know-it-all who is utterly incompetent, and annoying to boot.  Chicks, right?  The only thing she's got going for her is her knockout good looks.  If only she would keep her mouth shut, ya know?

Raissa is imprisoned about a third of the way through the book while checking up on one of the team's embedded agents, and she is not heard from again until the last few pages (when she is rescued, of course, since she can't do anything for herself).  Raissa still manages to be present, even in her absence, for Plant moons over her the entire time she's gone.  Since Janifer has given us nothing to find likable about the character, one can only assume its Raissa's appearance that has hooked Plant. 

Anyway, the rest of the book is a satire with two main points.  The first involves how easy it is to snarl up a bureaucracy in red-tape and shenanigans.  In fact, so successful are the team's efforts that not a single soldier on either side is killed despite both armies doing their damnedest at it.  The other deals with the futility of the team's mission — after all, no matter how long technology on the planet is suppressed, the Confederation will eventually establish trading relations, and Wh'Gralb will get The Bomb, hyperdrive, and whatever else it needs to be a competitor.  Per the epilogue (perhaps the best single page of the book), that's exactly what happens.

Again, these are interesting topics in theory.  The problem is, Janifer is writing for laughs and utterly failing at it.  I don't think I encountered a single lip-quirking quip in all of the book's short 128 pages.

Summing up

The Wonder War is an intriguing premise rendered stillborn by lousy execution; it's essentially an overlong Chris Anvil Analog story.  Worse, the tacked on love story and the offensive portrayal of Raissa just kills the thing.  It's not awful, exactly.  I mean, you can read it. 

You just won't ever get those hours back.

Two stars.

— — —

(Need something to cleanse your palate?  See all the neat things the Journey did last year!)




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TV

[January 24, 1964] In the Misty Regions of The Twilight Zone (Twilight Zone, Season 5, Episodes 13-16)

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by Natalie Devitt

This past month of The Twilight Zone has offered plenty of imaginative stories, including a ring that influences a young woman's actions, a car with a conscience, a couple grappling with the challenges of long term suspended animation, and a man suddenly discovering that he has the ability to trade circumstances with others. As you will see, the show’s tales of the fantastic still have substance and the ability to entertain.

Ring-a-Ding Girl, by Earl Hamner, Jr.

In Ring-a-Ding Girl, Oscar-nominated actress Maggie McNamara stars as Bunny Blake, a movie star who returns to her hometown of Howardsville after receiving an unusual ring. The piece of jewelry is a gift from the residents of Howardsville and was selected by her sister, Hildy. When Bunny gazes into the ring, she sees her sister begging her to "Come home." About to start filming a picture in Rome, but feeling compelled to see her sister, Bunny stops in Howardsville to pay a visit to Hildy and Hildy’s son, Bud.

Bunny plans to stay in town for just one day, but her visit falls on the same day as a city picnic, which most residents plan to attend. Bunny begins seeing images of the local family doctor inside the gemstone of her ring. Suddenly, Bunny starts to feel ill, so the family calls for the doctor to visit the house. While there, Bunny asks the doctor, who also helps organize the event, to postpone the picnic. He brushes off her request as presumptuous; "This isn’t Hollywood," he says. The doctor then encourages her to relax, because he thinks she is "under a strain."

Still receiving premonitions from her ring, she disobeys the doctor’s orders. Bunny continues to see familiar faces almost every time she stares into her new jewelry. Determined to visit everybody she sees in her ring, she asks her nephew to drive her around town. The actress even stops by the local television station to see an old friend, who is now employed there. Bunny goes on-air to make an announcement: she has plans to put on a performance that will occur at the same exact time as the picnic, forcing those in Howardsville to choose between the two and leaving her family puzzled by her behavior.

Ring-a-Ding Girl takes a while to really get going. It probably does not help that Bunny is not the easiest character to tolerate, exclaiming, “I’m a star,” and otherwise seeming insufferable. But Ring-a-Ding Girl is worth sticking it out for because things really come together nicely at the end. In addition to the strong conclusion, I enjoyed the musical score, which includes cues with a theremin that plays every time Bunny looks into her ring, accompanying the swirl of clouds that then part to reveal the image of someone from her past. The episode earns a pretty solid three stars.

You Drive, by Earl Hamner, Jr.

Oliver Pope is, as Rod Serling’s opening monologue states, a “businessman turned killer” in You Drive. After hitting a paperboy with his car, Oliver flees the scene. Not long after the incident, the headlights of his car start blinking on and off for no apparent reason. Then, his horn begins honking at random. But even after disabling the horn, it continues to honk. Oliver’s wife, Lillian, grows concerned, while he tries to convince her that the problems are just a sign that the car is getting old.

His wife takes it upon herself to take the car to the shop, but once she is behind the wheel, the car takes her to where the paperboy was struck, before suddenly breaking down and forcing Lillian to call for help. Once the car finally makes it to the repair shop, it mysteriously reappears in the Popes’ garage. When Oliver and Lillian contact the mechanic, they are told their car simply disappeared.

Shortly after, Oliver is visited by a co-worker by the name of Pete Radcliff, who after discussing work, informs them that the paperboy has succumbed to his injuries. Pete is later accused of being the driver in the deadly hit-and-run after an incorrect tip. But even with the police thinking they have their suspect, Oliver still has plenty to worry about.

I really enjoyed the plot of You Drive, but my biggest complaint about this episode is not the writing as much as the casting. While I like character actor Edward Andrews, he sometimes seems a bit awkward in the role of Pope. Then there is the supposedly 12 year old paperboy, who looks like he is probably closer to 20. Having said all of that, I did enjoy You Drive, which is why I feel it deserves three stars.

The Long Morrow, by Rod Serling

The Long Morrow is the story of Commander Douglass Stansfield, an astronaut. In the role of Douglass is Robert Lansing, the charismatic star of the previously reviewed 4-D Man. Douglass has been selected to go on an expedition to a star 141 light-years and 40 traveling years away. Unaware that his life would change dramatically before the expedition, he agrees to do it. But right before he is scheduled to depart, Douglass meets and falls hard for Mariette Hartley’s character, Sandra Horn. They go on a date that night, during which they confess their love for one another.

Douglass, who is currently 31, is told by his employer that when he returns from his voyage that “the Earth will have aged, but you will not.“ Sandra, at age 26, tells him that she is willing to wait for his return. The only problem is that she will grow older all through his journey. When he arrives from his expedition, she will be “the little old lady in the lace shawl. The one waving the welcome home sign.” It probably should come as no surprise that things do not go exactly as the couple plans.

If you are willing to believe that the two characters fall in love as quickly as they do, this is a pretty enjoyable episode. The lead actors are quite good in their roles. Also, while it is not too hard to predict what becomes of the characters, it almost does not matter because the episode has an almost hypnotic quality to it, and it gives you the feeling that you will enjoy it no matter what happens. One big distraction to the story, though, is the special effects makeup, which is too heavy. The wrinkles used to convey age are incredibly dark and the product used to whiten hair is so thick that it appears to have the consistency of toothpaste. Overall, I give The Long Morrow three stars.

The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross, by Jerry McNeely

Don Gordon, who appeared in The Twilight Zone’s The Four of Us Are Dying, plays the abrasive title character in this adaptation of Henry Slesar's story [which I pegged as Zoney back then (Ed.)]. Don Siegel returns to the series as the episode's director. Salvadore is a man who has his eyes set on one woman, a social worker named Leah, played by television actress Gail Kobe. She’s already broken up with him, but Salvadore believes that he can win her back. “I ain’t always going to have dirt on my hands. I don’t need no books to show me which way is up. I got the map and I’ll get there,” he says.

Salvadore soon discovers that he has the ability to trade circumstances with others. He offers a wealthy older man his youth in exchange for the old man’s money. With that, he buys everything he wants, including his youth back. Now, young and rich he thinks he has a good shot at winning Leah back.

The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross is probably my least favorite entry this month. While I do not mind an episode that does not try to explain absolutely everything, I must admit that I am a little curious about how Salvadore ended up with his magical ability to switch situations with others. The acting is decent, but the script leaves more to be desired. One thing that this episode has going for it is that it has slightly better special effects makeup than The Long Morrow. Two and a half stars is about all that I can give to the month’s weakest offering.

Signing Off

The most recent episodes of The Twilight Zone have been mostly enjoyable. The only exception being The The Self-Improvement of Salvadore Ross. While the show is still capable of producing some creative and thought-provoking episodes, it failed to present anything truly outstanding. Perhaps The Twilight Zone, itself, has reached its twilight…

(Did you read about all the ways the Journey expanded last year? Catch up and see what you missed!)



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Book, Magazine

[January 22, 1964] The British Are Coming!  The Americans Are Here! (February 1964 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Galactic Journeyers from the United Kingdom have often spoken about the strange phenomenon known as Beatlemania.  Not too long ago, CBS News offered a report on the craze.

This peculiar form of passionate devotion to four shaggy-haired musicians has made little impact here in the United States.  That may change soon.


released January 10


released January 20

With the nearly simultaneous release of Beatles albums by two rival record companies this month, Yanks have the opportunity to judge the British quartet for themselves.

For now, Americans seem to prefer ballads to upbeat rock 'n' roll.

Originally a hit for baritone Vaughn Monroe nearly twenty years ago, crooner Bobby Vinton reached the top of the charts for the third time with his sentimental remake.

Whether or not the USA welcomes the foursome from Britain remains to be seen.  It might be an omen that the latest issue of Fantastic features only American authors. 

Novelty Act, by Philip K. Dick

This prolific author specializes in quirky accounts of tomorrow's fads and follies.  His latest offering is no exception.

Most Americans live in gigantic communal apartment buildings.  The government still allows voting, but there's only one political party.  The President has no real power.  The most revered figure is the First Lady, who is still young and beautiful after a century.

(The description of the character, and the way in which the nation idolizes her, suggest that she is a parody of Jacqueline Kennedy.  The writer could not predict that the target of his gentle mocking would soon suffer a devastating tragedy.)

The protagonist dreams of winning the First Lady's favor by performing classical music with his brother on water jugs.  The brother works at a spaceship dealer, with the help of a robotic imitation of an extinct Martian creature.  The device, like the defunct Martians, can influence human minds.  Everything comes together when the brothers make their appearance before the First Lady, and discover her secret.

This is a mixture of comedy and serious political satire.  Imaginative details create a portrait of a neurotic future United States.  A hint at the end that the brothers may escape their subtle dystopia lighten the story's mood.  Although the plot is disjointed at times, it makes satisfying reading.

Four stars.

The Soft Woman, by Theodore L. Thomas

A man has a doll that looks like a naked woman with the head of a frog.  He meets a beautiful woman and brings her to his room.  A strange and frightening thing happens to him.

I can't say much more about this very brief story without giving away the ending.  It confused me.  I don't understand why the doll has a frog's head, or why it's named maMal [sic].  There seems no good reason for the man's unfortunate fate.  There's some beautiful writing, but what does it all mean?

Two stars.

The Orginorg Way, by Jack Sharkey

An unattractive fellow who grew up alone in a Brazilian jungle has a strange ability to crossbreed plants into organic versions of technological devices.  At first, he makes simple things like fishing rods.  Eventually he creates substitutes for telephones and lightbulbs.  He earns a vast fortune, enabling him to win the girl of his dreams.  Of course, there's an ironic ending.

The absurd misadventures of the protagonist provide mild amusement.  They way in which the plants imitate machines shows some imagination.  As a whole, however, the story is too silly.

Two stars.

The Lords of Quarmall (Part Two of Two), by Fritz Leiber and Harry Fischer

The conclusion of this short novel brings Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser together, along with the two rival brothers they serve, at the funeral pyre of the siblings' father.  The death of the ruler of the underground kingdom leads to open warfare between his heirs.  Sorcery and swordplay follow.

Disguise, deception, and skulking around keep the story moving at a rapid pace.  A major twist in the plot near the end is predictable.  Although there's plenty of colorful adventure, much of the hugger-mugger seems arbitrary.

Three stars.

They Never Come Back From Whoosh!, by David R. Bunch

In this surreal tale, people go inside a gigantic, soot-spewing building.  They do not return.  The narrator, like the others, feels a compulsion to enter the place, against his own will.  Within he meets one of the building's strange caretakers.

This is a bizarre allegory of life, death, nature, and technology.  The author's unique style is compelling, if not always lucid.

Three stars.

Return to Brobdingnag, by Adam Bradford, M.D.

A couple of months ago, the fictional Doctor Bradford journeyed to Lilliput, Jonathan Swift's land of tiny people.  Now he visits the realm of giants.  He finds out that they keep their population under control through death control instead of birth control.  Whenever a baby is born, an elderly person takes poison to ensure a quick and painless demise.  Their government is democratic, but the elite have more votes per person than the lower classes.  The author also describes the science-based sun worship of the inhabitants, as well as their unusual way of performing surgery.

As with the previous installment in this series, the story takes far too long to get the narrator to his destination.  The peculiar ways of the Brobdingnagians seem arbitrary, with no satiric point.

One star.

Death Before Dishonor, by Dobbin Thorpe

As we saw last month, Dobbin Thorpe is really Thomas M. Disch in disguise.  Like Thorpe's creation in the previous issue, this is a tale of horror.

A woman wakes up from an alcoholic blackout and finds a tattoo on her thigh.  She has no memory of how she got it.  It turns out she had a one-night affair with a tattoo artist while she was drunk.  The tattooist is a man of uncommon skill.  His creations have a life of their own.  The woman's romance with another man leads to terrifying consequences.

The story is gruesome, with a touch of very dark humor.  Some might see it as a cautionary tale about drunkenness and promiscuity.  I think the author just came up with a scary idea, and the plot grew out of it.  On that level, it works well enough.

Three stars.

Summing Up

With eight Americans offering seven works of imagination, there are certain to be some stories you like and some you don't.  I appreciate the wide range of fiction found here.  We have satire, pastiche, adventure, allegory, comedy, surrealism, and horror.  The only thing I'd like to stir into the mixture would be a few pieces from talented British writers.  A story by Aldiss, Ballard, or Clarke – to mention just the ABC's of the UK – would be refreshing.  Maybe the Beatles will add the same thing to American popular music.  At least it would mix things up a bit.

(Did you read about all the ways the Journey expanded last year?  Catch up and see what you missed!)




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[January 20, 1964] André Courrèges: Moon Parties

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by Gwyn Conaway

The Space Age has seized the public consciousness, influencing design in everything from architecture to cereal. Fashion is no exception, and one fellow has made it his mission to ensure that tomorrow's fashion will be out of this world.

André Courrèges, a French fashion designer with a young atelier in Paris, is rising quickly in the fashion world. Though he worked for ten years as an assistant to Cristóbal Balenciaga, his own fashion house opened only recently, in 1961.

Since his coming out, he has made considerable waves. Mark my words, 1964 will be a big year for this fresh designer. Let’s take a look at what his house has accomplished, and what his Spring 1964 collection will bring to the proverbial table. But before we jump into his plans for this year, let’s take a look at his philosophy.


Courrèges has become known for his flat, mid-calf-length moon boots and bubble hats. Note that the hats here are not made of soft felt, as we’d expect, but smooth, semi-gloss leather. This material choice makes the style feel more like a helmet.

It’s no surprise that Courrèges began his schooling as an engineering student. Many of his designs focus specifically on mobility for the modern woman. “You do not walk through life anymore. You run. You dance. You drive a car. You take a plane, not a train. Clothes must be able to move too.” He pays particular attention to the knees, usually leaving them bare in his designs to express this sentiment. He also minimizes the bust, ignores the waist, and lengthens the neck, as if to highlight adolescent curiosity rather than womanly charm. Note his iconic flat-soled leather boots as well – perfect for running.


Spring, 1964

In 1963, Courrèges shocked the world with his perspective on young, athletic, mobile women. He recently stated, “My problem is not rich embroidery, useless lavishness. It is to harmoniously resolve functional problems, just like the engineer who designs a plane.” With these principles in mind, he introduced the trapezoid shift and slim-legged trouser suit to mainstream ready-to-wear, thereby liberating women from the restrictive nylons, heels, and merry widows of the previous era.

So what are the designer’s big plans for 1964? A little birdie has told me that he is no longer looking to the engineers that design planes, but to the engineers that design rockets. That’s right! Courrèges has his sights set on the moon.


Moon Girl Collection, André Courrèges, Spring 1964: Moon Girls are ready for adventure and the dawning of a new age. Note the lack of nylons, heels, and excess fabric. This collection is aimed at women a la carte, and embraces our technological future.

In fact, his Spring collection is titled the Moon Girl Collection. This upcoming line is sure to shake the foundations of fashion with its shiny white palette, geometric cuts, and iconic white moon boots. Even the lace trouser suits he has debuted this spring are orderly, flat, and made of stiff wool to keep that geometric silhouette. In addition to wool lace, triple gabardine and PVC are Courrèges’ secret weapons this year. When in motion, these textiles maintain their industrial, geometric silhouette, reinforcing the the designer’s “uniform”. Even fashion photography seems to have changed, preferring weightless, jumping, twisting women. With stiff silhouettes and wry bodies, it’s almost as if Courrèges models are floating in space.


Boxy coats with uniform double-breasted buttons and slim trousers are a defining ensemble this spring, as is the designer’s signature wool daisy lace.

Thanks to Courrèges, we’ve seen a transformation from whimsical quaintness to industrious sophistication, where function and beauty are considered in equal measure. This major shift has happened almost entirely within the past year. Now Coco Chanel’s landmark little black dress is replaced with the white trapezoid shift. Stunning! If Courrèges has set the pace for this decade, what do you suppose is waiting for us come next spring?




(Gwyn's work is just one of the many efforts we're proud of here, at the Journey.  Come see why the Journey is a Hugo-worthy endeavor!)

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Magazine

[January 18, 1964] Pig's Lipstick (February 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

President McKinley once famously observed around the Turn of the Century that everything that could be invented had been invented.  He was not entirely correct, as it turned out.  However, if one were to read the stultifying pages of F&SF these days, one might be convinced that all the SF that could be written had been written.  The February 1964 Fantasy and Science Fiction is a double-handful of cliches with a thin veneer of literary writing to make them "worthy."  It's no wonder editor Avram Davidson has moved to Mexico; he is probably fleeing his outraged readers — whomever's left of them, anyway.

The House by the Crab Apple Tree, by S. S. Johnson

The bad ship S. S. Johnson leads the issue with possibly the most offensive piece I've read since Garrett's Queen Bee.  It's an After The Bomb piece told from the point of view of one the world's last women, who is shacked up with her wretch of a husband and their fourteen year old daughter.  Barely sentient, our protagonist spends most of the story wondering which of the marauding male savages who terrorize her home would make the best husband for her kid.  After all, a woman needs a man.

Bad as it was, I read the whole story (for it it is passably well written) hoping to be pleasantly surprised.  I wasn't.  Mr. Johnson's protagonist shows no initiative at all (and, in fact, each of her episodes is characterized, even precipitated by her inaction), the daughter is violated in the end, and Davidson, in the height of tactlessness, chose to illustrate the gawdam cover of the magazine with a scene of the torture of said little girl.

One star and a new bottom for the magazine.  Shame, Mr. Davidson.  I hope the mail and telegrams stop service to your new home so you can do no more damage.

[And please see the letter sent in by Mr. Jonathan Edelstein, appended below.  It expresses what's fundamentally wrong with this story.  Thank you, Jonathan. (Ed.)]

The Shepherd of Esdon Pen, by P. M. Hubbard

Here's a stunner.  After spending half the vignette telling us about a Scottish shepherd of legend, a modern shepherd departs into a freak snowstorm, searching for his lost flock, and stumbles across the tomb of none other than the aforementioned herder. When he gets back, his sheep are safe.  WAS IT THE SHEPHERD OF EDSON PEN?!?

An ineptly told ghost story that earns two spectrally thin stars.

Ms Found in a Bottle Washed up on the Sands of Time, by Harry Harrison

A pointless bit of doggerel about a fellow intent on disproving the Grandfather's Paradox by doing away with his grandfather — only the old man has quicker draw.

Two stars.

Nobody Starves, by Ron Goulart

A satirical piece (or something) about a dystopian future for whose denizens everything is hunky dory until they stop being useful to society.  No one starves, in theory, but it's damned hard to get a bite to eat when you can't work for your supper.

There's probably a point or two buried under the glibness, but my eyes were too dizzy from rolling to find them.  Two stars.

One Hundred Days from Home, by Dean McLaughlin

The first ship to return from Mars is met halfway by a new ship zipping around at a good percentage of light speed.  The kid driving the speedster guffaws at the old men and their primitive junker, offering them a quick ride home.  Indignant, they refuse. 

Would NASA really send astronauts to Mars and back and not tell them about a huge breakthrough in space travel?  Do these fellows not even have radios?  Editor Davidson says he can't get any spaceship yarns these days, so he was happy to get this one.  With "science fiction" like this, who needs fantasy?

Two stars.

The Slowly Moving Finger, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor has always done a decent job of making abstruse concepts accessible to the layperson.  But this non-fiction piece, about the maximum ages of various animals, is too simple and could have been paraphrased as one sentence: Every mammal but humans lives for one billion heart beats; people get four times that.

Three stars.

Little Gregory, by Evelyn E. Smith

An odd, vaguely SF tale about a woman employed as a governess by a robot for an alien child who turns out to be the vanguard of an extraterrestrial invasion.  It works insofar as it fulfills Smith's goal of telling a 21st Century story with 19th Century style, but I'm not sure why the thing was written at all.

Three stars, I guess.

Burning Spear, by Kit Denton

Pointless mood piece about a kid who can capture and wield sunlight, and the folks who die when they demand proof.

Two stars.

In the Bag, by Laurence M. Janifer

An obvious vignette probably inspired by a trip to the local laundry.  Blink and you'll miss it.  Three stars.  Maybe two.  Who cares?

The Fan: Myth and Reality, by Wilson Tucker

The first of a three-part series on fandom, this one is an historical essay (next month's by Robert Bloch will cover conventions).  I'm a big fan of Bob Tucker, as readers well know, but this is a superficial, perfunctory piece.  It's over quickly, though.  Three stars?  [Note: I forgot to cover this piece in the original printing — thanks to those who pointed out the omission! Ed.]

Come Where My Love Lies Dreaming, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Welcome to the overpopulated world of 2061, where the national parks on the Moon have a long waiting list, the domes open to let the air in only on rare occasion, and citizens take hallucinogenic pills to stay sane.  Still, despite the hoariness of the subject matter, it's not a bad read.  Welcome to the ranks of the prose writers, Ms. Buck.  Now go beyond the well-trodden path.

Three stars.

I'm sounding more and more like John Boston every day.  My wife likes it when I write snippy, but boy am I tired of having things to be snippy about.

Could we please get Tony Boucher or Robert Mills back in the editorial saddle again? 

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(Need something to cleanse your palate?  See all the neat things the Journey did last year!)




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