Tag Archives: Ed Emshwiller

Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[November 20, 1967] Fresh Air? (December 1967 Amazing)

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by John Boston

A Fresh Heir

We have been harbinged.  When Harry Harrison, recently departed as editor of SF Impulse and suddenly appeared as book reviewer in this magazine that seemed to have eschewed features entirely, I wondered whether it was an omen of a larger change. 

And here that change is, in big letters at the top of the cover of this December Amazing: “HARRY HARRISON New Editor.” Joseph Ross is gone from the masthead and his departure is unheralded elsewhere in the magazine, though Harrison is quite gracious to him in his book review of Ross’s anthology The Best of Amazing.


by Johnny Bruck

Otherwise, the kudos are reserved for the recently-deceased Hugo Gernsback.  Harrison’s editorial is a tribute to him, and Science Fiction That Endures, Gernsback’s own guest editorial from the April 1961 anniversary issue, is reprinted.  Gernsback says among other things that enduring SF stories are those that “have as their wonder ingredient true or prophetic science,” and notes that Jules Verne and H.G. Wells wrote most of their notable SF early in their careers, later succumbing to “science fiction fatigue—the creative science distillate of the mind had been exhausted.” That sounds scientific!

But does this change in masthead mean any actual material change in this too frequently lackluster magazine?

The most visible difference is that the cover and title page have suddenly become more crowded.  Nine items are touted on the cover, five of them touted as “NEW” and others as “SPECIAL” or even “XTRA SPECIAL.” There’s so much puffery going on that the cover illustration, by Johnny Bruck from the German Perry Rhodan periodical, is confined to the bottom third of the cover, though little harm is done, since it’s quite horizontal in orientation, depicting a spaceship traveling very low and being pursued by flying snakes.  Beat that, Frank R. Paul! 

Other aspects of the magazine’s presentation represent both continuity and change.  The proofreading is still terrible; look no farther than the misspelling “Lester del Ray” on the title page of his story.  And curiously, part of the magazine—pages 90 through 125—is in a different, smaller typeface than the rest, though this increase in wordage is not touted on the cover or elsewhere.

As to the contents, the balance is shifted only a little.  Two short stories and the serial installment are original, one story is probably reprinted but this is its first appearance in English, and four short stories are reprinted from earlier issues of Amazing and Fantastic.  And of course we don’t know whether Harrison actually had much of a hand in selecting what went into this first issue of his incumbency.  But the question of reprints versus new material seems to be a continuing sore point.  Note the column on the left side of the cover—five iterations of "NEW"—which musters everything in the magazine that's not a reprint, including the book review column.

So, too early to tell, but promising—it almost has to be, given Amazing’s doldrums of mediocrity to date under Sol Cohen.  As Bob Dylan, the alleged troubadour of my generation, put it:

I wish I was on some Australian mountain range.
I wish I was on some Australian mountain range.
I got no reason to be there, but I imagine it would be some kind of change. 

Santaroga Barrier (Part 2 of 3), by Frank Herbert


by Gray Morrow

First, to the non-reprinted fiction.  The longest piece of fiction here is the second installment of Frank Herbert’s serial Santaroga Barrier, in which the suggestively named Gilbert Dasein tries to unlock the secret of the reclusive town of Santaroga, which seems to involve a psychoactive substance called Jaspers that the locals all consume.  As usual I’ll hold my comments until the story is complete.

The Forest of Zil, by Kris Neville


by Jeff Jones

Kris Neville, who contributed prolifically to the SF magazines during the early 1950s but slowed down considerably thereafter, opens the issue with The Forest of Zil, a cryptic story of space explorers who land on a planet entirely covered in forest and begin to make plans to clear trees to make space for human activities.  The forest begs leave to differ, and its response can be read either as an epic in brief of raising the ante exponentially, like A.E. van Vogt but not as noisy, or as a weary parody of the entire conceptual armamentarium of SF.  Or maybe something else!  How many faces can you find lurking in the coffee shop placemat?  Four stars for this subtly memorable piece.

The Million Year Patent, by Charles L. Harness


by Jeff Jones

Charles L. Harness, a patent lawyer by day, is present with The Million Year Patent, in which the technicalities of patent law collide with those of relativity, not very interestingly to this lay person.  Two stars.

An Unusual Case, by Gennadiy Gor

The “Sensational Story from behind the Iron Curtain” per the cover is Gennadiy Gor’s An Unusual Case, translated from Russian by one Stanley Frye.  Gor, born to a family exiled to Siberia by the Tsar, was apparently part of the avant-garde in the Soviet Union in the 1920s, but survived to write popular science texts as well, and to start writing SF in 1961.  There’s no indication where this story was previously published, if at all.  It’s a first-person account by the creator of an artificial intelligence (apparently at least humanoid; a hand is mentioned) of his rearing of this pseudo-child, which is cut short when representatives of the corporation that financed the project come to take it away, as it protests piteously.  It’s short and poignant, though blunted a bit by not making much sense; the ingenue develops detailed memories of human life that its creator didn’t put there.  Three stars, and I hope we see more of Gor’s work here (or anywhere).

The Smile, by Ray Bradbury


by L. Sterne Stevens

The ”Ray Bradbury Masterpiece” touted on the cover is The Smile, from the Summer 1952 Fantastic, set in what seems like an American town after a nuclear war has mostly destroyed civilization and left everyone who survived destitute.  People of course respond in the only logical way—by destroying or defiling any available relics of the former civilization.  A while back it was smashing an old car with sledgehammers; today everyone is lining up to spit on a fragment of a famous painting (clue: the title).  But young Tom just can’t get with the program.  It’s a bit overdone, but Bradbury’s overdone is better than many writers’ perfectly-baked.  Or something like that.  Three stars.

Stacked Deck, by Lester del Rey

Our Journeyer-in-Chief recently had occasion to mention “the sort of inferior stuff that filled the lesser mags of the ’50s.” Here’s the real article, Lester del Rey’s Stacked Deck from the November 1952 Amazing.  Del Rey is one of SF’s hardy journeyman professionals, in the game since 1937 as writer, first for John Campbell’s Astounding and Unknown, then for everyone in sight during the 1950s’ efflorescence of SF magazines.  In the ‘50s he edited magazines and anthologies and wrote novels as well as stories, including a prodigious ten of them under various pseudonyms for the Winston series of juvenile SF.  Occasionally he excelled, and his work almost always maintained a basic level of competence.

Almost always.  Sometimes a working writer just has to crank it out, inspiration or no, as in this excruciatingly contrived piece.  Before it opens, a man flew to the moon, without enough fuel to get back, expecting to be rescued in time by a later expedition.  (This already makes no sense.) But that rocketeer, inexplicably, showed up again on Earth, talking about entities he encountered on the moon but claiming scrambled memory.  So a better-equipped expedition sets out, only to discover that the Russians are neck and neck with them.  All this is told in an annoyingly jaunty, I’m-just-a-regular-guy first person style, as in the opening sentence: “The bright boys with their pep talks about space and the lack of gravity should try it once!”


by Ed Emshwiller

Upon landing, our heroes find a building with an airlock, and inside, a nice lounge with red leather chairs, a cigarette machine, and plenty of alcohol and food, along with a machine shop and a lot of electronic gear, with signs and manuals in English and Russian—and a vault full of missiles, ready to be armed with warheads.  They surmise the Russians are finding something similar.

So what gives?  All along there have been passing references to gambling, such as the protagonist’s having bought a sweepstakes ticket, and racing magazines lying around, some inside the mysterious building.  Our hero picks up one of the latter and finds a note in it written by the aliens who set up the building, explaining that they are all betting on whether the Earthfolk will blow themselves up in short order, or avoid extermination and come calling on the aliens a bit later.  Narrator ruminates: “I don’t like being the booby prize in a cosmic lottery.  And that’s all the human race is now, I guess.”

And that arid gimmick is the story, with no other redeeming feature.  Del Rey must have been short on the rent that month.  One star. 

Luvver, by Mack Reynolds

Speaking of gimmicks, arid ones that is, Mack Reynolds’s Luvver (Fantastic Adventures, June 1950) is about as contrived as Stacked Deck.  Old Donald Macbride and his flirtatious daughter Patricia are having spaceship problems and make an emergency landing on a handy planet despite the “RESTRICTED ZONE.  LANDING FORBIDDEN” warning that comes over the radio. The local garrison, consisting of Steve and Dave, hustles them off their ship—blindfolded—and into their quarters, warning them not to look around, not to go outside, not to open the windows, without explaining why. 

But Patricia, of course, goes outside, and before Steve can drag her in, she sees a little animal–a luvver.  He knocks her out and the guys shoot her up with “the lethe drug,” since wiping her memory is her only hope.  Steve explains to the old man that all animals have means of defense—speed, size, venom, scent, etc.  The luvvers’ defense is eliciting undying love—“a stronger force than the most vicious narcotic”—in anyone or anything that sees them.  If Patricia retains her memories, she will “die of melancholy” if kept away from them, and if they escaped their world, pandemonium would ensue.

The gimmick is slightly less inane than del Rey’s, and Reynolds writes in a style more facile and natural than del Rey’s artificial and irritating voice, so two stars, barely.

Sub-Satellite, by Charles Cloukey

The gem of the issue, remarkably, is Charles L. Cloukey’s Sub-Satellite, from the March 1928 Amazing.  It recounts a great inventor’s construction of a spaceship and his voyage to the Moon in it, and the attempt on his life there by a disgruntled and demented former employee who has stowed away.  It is well told in an agreeable, slightly stilted but very plain style with a good balance of narration and exposition, reminding me of (my old memories of) Jules Verne.  It too ends with a gimmick—one that has been used in later decades by better-known writers—but there’s much more of a story here than in del Rey’s or Reynolds’s efforts, so it doesn’t detract from the whole.  Four stars.

So who’s this Cloukey?  Never heard of him, though I’m familiar with most of Gernsback’s repeat contributors.  Turns out he died in 1931, at age 19, of typhoid fever, after publishing eight stories, a poem, and a serial novel in Gernsback’s magazines.  Sub-Satellite was his first story, and he was not quite 16 when it was published.  Forget G. Peyton Wertenbaker, whose The Man from the Atom, done when he was 16, was pretty terrible—Cloukey is the real prodigy of the Gernsback years.  Too bad he didn’t last.

Summing Up

So, not a bad issue, with a couple of four-star stories, and some evidence (mainly the cover and table of contents) that the new regime at least wants to make the magazine look a bit livelier.  Whether a sustained improvement is in process of course remains to be seen.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 20, 1967] An Analog of Analog (August 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Imitation is…

I think it's safe to say that, for almost twenty years there have been three Big Science Fiction Magazines.  Each aims at a specific branch of the scientification fandom.  For instance, John Campbell's Analog (formerly Astounding) is at once the hardest of the Big Mags, focusing on near-future gizmo tech or sweeping galactic epics with a scientific core, and also one of the softest, given John's weakness for psi stories.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction covers the literary end of the STF spectrum, and it also veers into the outright fantastical (q.v. the masthead).  Galaxy navigates a sort of middle path between the two.

But the most recent issue of FS&F had me wondering exactly which magazine I was reading again, for this month, Ed Ferman's publication feels a lot like Campbell's.  Perhaps writers have finally answered FS&F's plea for harder works, or maybe Ferman finally had a sufficient number of such pieces to fill (most of) an issue.  Either way, it's an interesting departure, especially with the increased art throughout.  Does it work?  Let's find out!


by Ronald Walotsky

Nuts, Bolts, and Dragons

Reduction in Arms, by Tom Purdom

My good friend Tom Purdom offers up this fascinating piece set in the early '80s.  The superpowers have bound themselves by the Treaty of Peking to curtail the development and implementation of terrible weapons.  But there is always the suspicion that one side or another is working on some version of a "ninety-five plus virus"–one that will wipe out most of a non-incoluated population.

Sure enough, American agents are tipped off when a Soviet biologist, supposed to be a patient in a specialized "role-play" treatment center, is found cavorting with ladies at a bar 30 miles away.  A raid is authorized.  Between hostile Soviets and rogue team members, the investigation quickly becomes fraught with peril.

Tom himself has this to say about the tale:

After I got out of the army in 1961 I became very interested in arms control and disarmament.  I did a lot of reading on the subject and ended up writing two articles for the Kiwanis magazine (a good middle market for a new writer).  An opportunity to write an article for Playboy didn't work out but I got to interview some of the people I'd been reading.

Fred Pohl suggested I write a story on the subject for Galaxy.  I didn't think I could handle the technical stuff needed for a story about detecting nuclear weapons so I decided to write about biological weapons which seemed like they might be the next big threat.  Microbiology labs, in addition, can be hidden in all sorts of small spaces.  I decided to focus on a treaty banning secret research because I had come to the conclusion we tended to run the arms race against ourselves.  Our people thought up a possibility and we had to work on it because the Russians might be working on it.  If we could determine they weren't, both sides could avoid another cycle in the arms race.

I picked a mental health facility as the hiding place because it raised interesting human and moral issues.  The story revolves around ethical and political issues instead of a duel between inspection technologies and evasion technologies.  The programmed environment therapy seemed like a natural extension of Pavlovian conditioning.

Fred Pohl rejected the story.  My agent, Scott Meredith, tried it on Redbook and Esquire with near misses at both places.  The fiction editor at Esquire said he wanted to buy it but he was overruled by higher ups.

The story was a novelette, about ten thousand words.  Playboy said they'd buy it if I could cut it in half.  I did but they rejected it.  Ed Ferman at F&SF liked the short version but felt it needed to be longer.  So I expanded it to its original length.  He bought it and now it's the August cover story.  One of the peak moments in my writing career, so far.

The story grew out of intense, solid research and some deep thinking on the whole problem of arms control.  When I finished it, I felt I had summarized and dramatized the key issues and dilemmas.  Perhaps the sweeping treaty in the story isn't very plausible.  We live in a time when the advance of technology makes serious arms control seem a necessity–so necessary even the politicians will have to see it.  Science fiction explores What might happen if?  The If may seem unlikely, but is still worth exploring.

I originally called the story "1980".  Ed Ferman asked for a change and I thought Reduction in Arms had a nice military clatter.  I also suggested War and Peace and A Farewell to Arms but he preferred Reduction in Arms.

There's no question that Tom has gotten a feather in his cap for the placement of this tale.  I will say that, although I found the concept interesting, it suffers for being an action piece told in third-person by a largely uninvolved party.  Visceral immediacy would have given the story more punch.

Still, it was interesting to see a Reynolds-esque thriller outside of Analog— and without the nardy slang Reynolds employs.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Conflict, by Ilya Varshavsky

Here is an import from the Soviet Union, about the large and small scale strife between humans and their increasingly sapient "servants".

I think it loses something in translation.  Two stars.

The Baron's Dog, by L. J. T. Biese

When an unemployed governess in Italy is offered 25,000 lira a month to walk a Transylvanian wolfhound, what's a girl to think?  Especially when the employer is tall, dark, handsome…and strictly enjoins against photography of his pet?

I found this tale delightful, such a nice contrast from all the creeping horror that such a setup normally would have entailed.  It's not quite Analogian, but it is good.  And if L.J.T. Biese isn't a woman, I'll eat my hat.

Four stars.

Soft Come the Dragons, by Dean R. Koontz

Koontz is a brand new author, and he offers up the tale of a far-off world, the miners who live in fear upon it, and the gossamer dragons that turn beholders to stone.  It's all rather metaphorical and lyrical and not quite sensical, rather as if Koontz spent the night reading Zelazny's works and then tried his hand at it.

I'd say it works more than it doesn't, but Koontz' rawness definitely shows through.  Three stars.

Earthwoman, by Reginald Bretnor

Will Adamson, born on a distant world, is human in all qualities save one: he and his race are possessed of telepathy, knit into a consciousness collective.  He is sent to Earth to discern how it is that we can love without the possibility of true connection.  And if we truly be human, is there an innate telepathic skill just waiting to be awakened?

Bretnor usually write silly stories or bad puns, so this more serious piece is a welcome change.  I found it a touch too affected, but otherwise enjoyable.  And definitely something that could have appeared in Analog.

Three stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

Mosquito, by Theodore L. Thomas

F&SF's story seeder suggests mosquitos might be laden with vitamins and inoculants such that their bite becomes a beneficial distribution method.  As usual, he misses some important aspects of his invention.  To wit, mosquito bites are not controllable in distribution or quantity.  And even if they provide needed drugs and nutrients, they still aren't pleasant to receive.

Two stars.

Bugs, by Charles L. Harness

Speaking of bugs, Charles L. Harness (who used to team up with Thomas under the pen name Leonard Lockhard) has authored this story of living bugs employed as espionage bugs.

There's a lot of "as you know" explanations, and the smugness with which the Americans subvert their KGB counterparts is pure Analog.

Mildly interesting, but just a bit too glib as well as prolix.  Two stars.

The Bubble, by J. W. Schutz

The destruction of humanity's first and only space station has spooked the government, and now they've decided to pull the plug on space investment.  Deane Aircraft, the largest space contractor, is faced with a pivotal decision: retool back to making conventional vehicles, or become the first private space presence.  The linchpin to the success of the operation isn't Theodor Deane, President of the company, nor the thousands of engineers he employs.  It's certainly not Theodor's greedy wife, Lillian, nor her paramour, Briggs, who is also Theodor's financial wiz.

It's Georgia Lighton, Theodor's secretary, who comes up with all the brilliant, cost-saving ideas.

The whole thing reads like a cross between Silverberg's Regan's Planet and a soap opera.  Again, very Analog.

Not great, but Analog.  Three stars.

Moondust, the Smell of Hay, and Dialectical Materialism, by Thomas M. Disch

The first man on the Moon, Mikhail Andreivich Karkhov, is dying.  Does he die for science?  For love?  For the state?  Or something else entirely?

A beautiful, moving piece, made all the more poignant by the recent twin tragedies that claimed the lives of three astronauts and one cosmonaut.

Five stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

Argent Blood, by Joe L. Hensley

A man is being treated in a ward for the incurably insane.  Between fits of "disturbance" he begins to mistrust the charitable nature of his doctor and nurse.  But he has a plan…

A good, atmospheric piece.  Three stars.

Kaleidoscope in the Sky, by Isaac Asimov

In a rare return to topics astronomical, Dr. A. submits a nonfiction piece on the moons of Mars, and how these extremely low flying rocks would appear to a surface observer.  If, indeed, they are even suitably placed to see them, for unlike our Moon, Phobos and Deimos orbit so close to their planet that Martian pole-dweller could not see them.

Good stuff.  Four stars.

Quick with His Hands, by Avram Davidson

Capping things off, this vignette of sibling rivalry on Mars, ably told and with a tearjerking finale.

Four stars.

Doing the math

So, did F&SF's experiment in apery succeed?  Well, there were high points and low points, but the overall impression I was left with was favorable.  We'll just have to compare it to the real thing in just over a week to see if Brand X beat the competition!

(Speaking of kooky stunts, it looks like F&SF is joining forces with several other organizations to hold a writing contest.  I wish them the best of luck, although the last time a magazine (Galaxy in that case) did this, in the early '50s, they got bupkis, and Fred Pohl had to write as a novice under a pseudonym to give them anything worth publishing.)



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Book, Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

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

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by John Boston

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


by Johnny Bruck

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


by Gray Morrow

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

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

Cold Comfort, by Winston K. Marks


by Gray Morrow

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

The Mad Scientist, by Robert Bloch


by Virgil Finlay

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

Atomic Fire, by Raymond Z. Gallun


by Leo Morey

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

Project Nightmare, by Robert Heinlein


by William Ashman

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

The Builder, by Philip K. Dick


by Ed Emshwiller

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

Summing Up

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

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




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 22, 1966] True Idols (the Isaac Asimov issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Good Doctor

If generations are measured in 20 year spans, then science fiction is entering its third generation.  It all started with Weird Tales, Amazing Stories, and the other more speculative pulps of the mid 1920s.  By the 40s, we were in what folks are calling the "Golden Age", when Astounding ruled the roost.  Since then, we've had what I'd call the "Silver Age" (or perhaps the "Digest Age" or the "Galactic Age") and are just starting one called the "New Wave".

The pulp age is now so long ago that we've already lost some of its more prominent writers: Doc Smith passed away last year, Ray Cummings was gone by 1957, Robert Howard and H.P. Lovecraft didn't make it out of the 1930s.  Others are still alive and well…and still active: Murray Leinster, Jack Williamson, Edmond Hamilton, Clifford Simak, Frank Bellknap Long, Hugo Gernsback.

The Golden Age spawned a new crop of greats, from Leigh Brackett to John W. Campbell, jr.  And there may be no author of that era of bigger stature, greater prolificity, not to mention bottom line, than Isaac Asimov.

One can say a lot about Isaac.  Garrulous, idiosyncratic, a workaholic, too pushy with his "harmless" romantic advances.  But also brilliant, thoughtful, charming (at least in print).  Love him or hate him, there's no question that he's left his mark on the field — from Nightfall, to I, Robot, to Foundation.  For twenty years, Asimov turned out SF stories with incredible reliability.  Then, with the launch of Sputnik, he turned his pen mostly to science fact.  He's found a permanent home at The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, to that publication's credit.  Asimov also churns out a flood of science books for the mass market.  There's really no category of the Dewey Decimal System this fellow hasn't touched upon.  He's an inspiration (a cautionary tale?) to us all.

So it was perhaps inevitable that F&SF would devote an issue to this titan of the genre.  If you can get past the over-the-top cover — but it's nice to see EMSH back — then a decent mag awaits.  Especially at 50 cents, which is cheap these days for a digest.

The Man Behind the Curtain


by Ed Emshwiller

The Key, by Isaac Asimov

First up is Asimov's first new SF story of significant length in quite some time.  Two geologists stumble upon an alien artifact during a selenological expedition.  Its ramifications for humanity are profound, so much so that the two have a lethal brawl.  One escapes to hide the artifact before dying.

He leaves this clue:

It's up to Wendell Urth, the agoraphobe protagonist of several F&SF stories from the mid 1950s, to crack the case.

The beginning is pretty gripping, and I'm happy to say I got some of the clues.  But it boils down to a rather abstruse puzzle with a bit too much punning for my taste.

Three stars.

You Can't Beat Brains, by L. Sprague de Camp

Sprague's short bio of his friend, Isaac, is not entirely flattering, but it does spotlight Asimov's undoubtedly prodigious intellect.

Three stars.

Isaac Asimov: A Bibliography, by Isaac Asimov

If you ever wanted to know what Asimov has been up to (besides chasing skirts) for the last thirty years, this is a good ledger.  25 science fiction books (two of which the Journey has covered), three pages of short stories, three more pages of non-fiction articles (most of which the Journey has covered), and 30+ nonfiction books.

Whereas I've got just two books and four stories (and a thousand non-fiction articles) to my credit.  Ah well.  I'm still young.

Portrait of the Writer as a Boy, by Isaac Asimov

For this month's non-fiction article, Asimov takes on his favorite subject — himself!  Actually, I appreciated this glimpse into the world of science fiction reading and writing in the late 30s.  It's an era I missed, despite having been born just a few months before Asimov (not having gotten into STF in a big way until ~1950).  Perhaps he'll some day use this article as a nucleus for an autobiography.  He's written everything else.

Four stars.

The Prime of Life, by Isaac Asimov

Here's a mildly diverting poem about being a legend in his own time, but too young yet to be taken seriously.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Mirror, by Arthur Porges

You didn't think it was going to be all about Asimov, did you?  Sure, he did, but you?

Mr. Porges offers up a paint-by-numbers piece of macabre about an old mansion with a spooky looking glass over the mantle.  The setup and the telling were quite good, but the ending was second-tier early days FSF — or maybe even earlier pulp.

Three stars.

Come Back Elena, by Vic Chapman

The science fictional notion of storing memories in a computer and then inserting them into an android or biological blank slate has been around a while.  This latest take from a new author starts quite promisingly.  A grieving husband finds his wife's doppleganger a decade after the wife's death.  She agrees to contribute sufficient biological material such that he can quick grow a new body as a vessel for her stored memories.  But, of course, All Does Not Go Well.

There's a novel's worth of premise to explore here: is it murder to displace the personality of a human being, even one that has been alive for just a few days?  Is the resulting person a new persona or a ressurrection of the old?  What are the legal ramifications, for the subject and the experimenter?

Chapman avoids all of these, instead turning in a rather humdrum "shock" ending.  It's a pity because the first half is quite strong.

Three stars.

Something in It, by Robert Louis Stevenson

Vignette on the immovable faith of a missionary encountering the irresistible force of an indigene's religion. 

Blink and you'll miss it.  Three stars.

The Picture Window, by Jon DeCles

"There's nothing new under the Sun."  So complains an industrialist to his artist friend.  Or should I say "former" friend as the dam the capitalist has erected is flooding out the beloved valley the painter has made his home.  The artist bets his ex-buddy $50,000 that he can make a truly new piece of art.

What he creates is…well, you be the judge.

Jon (he's a friend, so I call him Jon, even though that's not his actual name) has created a story that is, in execution, something of the opposite to Chapman's and Porges'.  It starts out a bit rocky, all shouty dialogue, but the latter half is memorable.

I'll take a good ending over a good beginning.  Four stars.

Burning Question, by Brian W. Aldiss

Speaking of memorable, here's a story snatched right from the front page.  An inhabited world far from Earth is soon to be a way station to the stars in a galactic continuation of the Cold War.  The indigenes have decided they would rather immolate themselves in protest than tolerate our base.  One sympathetic colonel's attempts to sway the American authorities to give in to native demands just this once fall on deaf ears.

There's some good philosophical stuff in here, and maybe some lessons for Lyndon.  Four stars.

An Extraordinary Child, by Sally Daniell

Lastly, a piece by another newcomer.  This one involves a child with a handicap of the mind.  He is brilliant, but tuned to another wavelength — one that allows him to see the little people.  Only these brownies/faeries/elves all speak like Beatniks, and they have murder on their mind.

Our Esteemed Editor has noted that woman authors are far more likely to have children featured in their stories.  I had high hopes for this one, a well-written piece portraying a sympathetic child with a mental aberration.  Unfortunately, it settles for cheap thrills rather than profound statements.

Three stars.  Maybe next time.

What's Up, Doc?

All told, this Asimovian issue is not one for the ages.  Part of the problem is the two newcomers are not stellar, and Asimov is a bit rusty.  That leaves just a couple of veterans to contribute comparatively good stories, and an old grognard to turn in…a typically unimpressive piece.

Perhaps Isaac deserves better than this.  Or perhaps, like a revue show featuring an over-the-hill performer, it's exactly what one would expect.

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[July 20, 1966] An Endless Summer (August 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Surf's up!

My daughter and I are dyed-in-the-wool beach lovers.  We live just 10 miles from the shore, and now that Highway 78 is a real two-lane throughway, it's a snap to head down to Carlsbad for a jump in the waves.  I'm not a real surfer, mind you.  Water terrifies me.  But every year, I muster enough courage to try body surfing and belly boarding, and after the first wipe-out or two, it's "Cowabunga!" and fun for the rest of the afternoon.

We came back from our latest coastal excursion to pick up a viewing of The Endless Summer, a documentary of two Malibutians as they traveled around the world in pursuit of the perfect wave (which they find in the most improbable of places!) It's a great film, and highly recommended.

Hang Ten

I was in for a pleasant surprise when I got home.  According to Mike Moorcock, summer is when sf mags publish their worst stuff since readership is at its lowest.  I wasn't looking forward to this month's issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction, but aside from one dud, it actually turned out to be quite a decent book.


by Gray Morrow

The Productions of Time (Part 1 of 2), by John Brunner

Murray, a sauced-up actor on the wagon, is hired for a most unorthodox production by a most unorthodox producer, name of Delgado.  Murray is sequestered in a country inn with a number of other talented but problematic performers.  One has a heroin addiction.  Two are homosexuals.  One has a pornography habit.  Moreover, all of them have their weaknesses tempted: our hero keeps finding booze in his room (he angrily calls for its removal), the addict discovers a two ounce flask of horse in his, the obscenity-junky is well-supplied in copies of Fanny Hill and the like, etc. 

Things get even weirder when Murray discovers that all of the beds in the inn are wired with tape recorders.  When confronted, a testy Delgado says they're for hypno-learning, but the recorders don't have speakers!  The televisions are also strangely equipped with extra electronics, and they are wired to a central control system in a locked room.

The producer's eccentricities and the cast's friction notwithstanding, the troupe manage to put together a pretty good impromptu show.  Whereupon Delgado denigrates Murray's perfect performance and demands the whole thing be scrapped.  Is it part of his technique?  Or is the play never meant to be completed, part of a larger experiment.

This story feels very Leiberian, perhaps because of the subject matter.  It was slow to engage, but by the end, I was sorely disappointed that I'd have to wait a month to read the resolution.

Four stars thus far.


by Gahan Wilson

Matog, by Joan Patricia Basch

A contemporary of Paracelsus is retained by a local Baron to summon a demon.  He succeeds but is unaware of the deed as the fiend appears behind him.  For the duration of the creature's captivity on our plane, he is kept company by the summoner's charming young daughter, who has fallen for the Baron's son.

What ensues is an all's-well-that-ends-well tale involving a much-put-upon demon, whose reputation for evil and mischief is largely human ascribed (though not entirely), a thwarted romance, and a surprisingly effective set of veterinary medicines.

Fun fluff in a pleasantly archaic style.  Three stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

The Seven Wonders of the Universe, by Mose Mallette

Humans pierce the boundary between universes and find themselves in need of a travel brochure to encourage tourism.  This is that brochure.

One of the dumbest non-fact articles I've yet read and too obsessed with sex.  One star.

For the Love of Barbara Allen, by Robert E. Howard

This hitherto unpublished story is perhaps the last composed by the Conan creator before he killed himself.  It involves time travel, the Civil War, and enduring love.  Pleasant enough, though more interesting for the circumstances around its creation than its content.

Three stars.

Meteroid Collision, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas suggests in this science fact vignette that micrometeoroids be used to power spacecraft.  They'd hit a piezoelectric hull that would harness their intense energies.

Cute, but 1) I suspect the efficiency would be very low, and 2) there just aren't that many micrometeoroids.  Solar cells are cheaper, lighter, and work all the time.

Think harder, Ted.  Two stars.

Letter to a Tyrant King, by Bill Butler

Cute doggerel composed at the end of the Cretaceous, one dinosaur to another.  Three stars.

A Matter of Organization, by Frank Bequaert

A cog in the corporate machine ends up in a Hell that is all too familiar.  Can his cunning and bureaucratic prowess keep him from eternal torment?

A nice twist on the classic formula.  Three stars.

Near Thing, by Robin Scott

Expansionist aliens call off an impending invasion of Earth after encountering smog.

Silly, overdone, and eminently forgettable.  Two stars.

BB or Not BB, That Is the Question, by Isaac Asimov

I've been waiting for a good piece comparing the Steady State and Big Bang theories of cosmology, and The Good Doctor has delivered.  One of the best articles of the year from any source.

Five stars.

Come Lady Death, by Peter S. Beagle

Bookending this issue with quality is the first story I've read by Mr. Beagle (apparently a reprint from 1963).  A wizened socialite decides her swansong party shall include an invitation to Death.  The encounter is unusual in many ways.

I shan't spoil the plot as this lovely piece is worth reading.  Suffice it to say that the author has a light, compelling style, and I look forward to more fantastic works by him.

Four stars.

Back to Shore

That was pleasant.  Sure, there was a lot of mediocrity 'round the middle, but the take-off and landing were quite nice.  And there's every indication that next month's reading will be excellent: it will feature the second half of the Brunner novel and a new The People story by Zenna Henderson!

Here's to a nice long summer.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[December 14, 1965] Expect the Unexpected (January 1966 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's . . . a Meteor? A Satellite? A Flying Saucer?

Things got off to a bang earlier this month, in a most unexpected way. On the evening of December 9, folks in Canada and the United States saw a fireball in the sky. According to witnesses, something crashed in the woods near the town of Kecksburg, Pennsylvania.

(Cue eerie theremin music.)

The US military and state troopers sealed off the area and began a search. So far, they haven't reported finding anything.

(That's what they want you to think.)


Isn't this the way The Blob started?

After eliminating things like a plane crash, the authorities seem to think the most likely suspect is a meteor that exploded in the atmosphere. (Vocabulary lesson for today: A very bright meteor, particularly one that blows up spectacularly, is known as a bolide.) It might possibly be debris from a satellite, some suggest. Of course, you and I know it's really little green men . . .

Another Song of Solomon?

Almost as surprising as a blazing visitor from outer space is a modern pop song with lyrics that are a couple of thousand years old. The Byrds are currently at the top of the American music charts with their version of Turn! Turn! Turn!

Composed by folk singer Pete Seeger, almost all the words are taken from the Old Testament book Ecclesiastes, supposedly written by King Solomon. The exceptions are the title, repeated several times, and the closing line I swear it's not too late, emphasizing the song's antiwar message.


She don't care about grammar either, I guess.

What Do You Expect For Four Bits?

Appropriately, the latest issue of Fantastic is full of unexpected happenings.


Cover art by James B. Settles, taken from the back cover of the August 1942 issue of Amazing Stories.


The best copy I can find of the original. Please excuse the tiny print. I doubt this is a very accurate representation of the planet Uranus anyway.

Six and Ten Are Johnny, by Walter M. Miller, Jr.


Cover art by Barye Phillips and Leo Summers.

From the very first issue of Fantastic comes this tale of an unexpected encounter on a distant world.


Illustrations by Virgil Finlay.

A shuttle carries a survey team from a starship down to the surface of the planet. The crew has an uneasy feeling about the place, for no obvious reason. They land on a plateau above a dense jungle. They are shocked to meet Johnny, who claims to be the sole survivor of a lost starship. Things get even weirder when some of the crew members vanish, and the others claim that they never even existed.


Officers from the starship join the survey team in an attempt to figure out what's going on.

Everybody seems to be in a dazed condition, except the protagonist. That's because he's got a metal plate in his head, which protects him from having his mind controlled by the alien organism that makes up the jungle.


The wild-eyed madman in this picture is actually our completely sane hero, who is trying to protect a colleague from the creature's telepathic powers.

This is a grim little science fiction horror story with a feverish, eerie mood. I'm not sure I believe the way the alien organism works, or if the behavior of the crew is plausible. (Would you really bring a bunch of dogs on a starship to test if a planet's atmosphere is breathable? Of course, the real reason they're present is so they can go crazy and bark wildly, like in any scary movie.) Not the most profound story in the world, but a competent spine chiller.

Three stars.

Wonder Child, by Joseph Shallit


Cover art by Robert Frankenberg.

The January/February 1953 issue of the magazine supplies this account of an invention with unexpected effects.


Illustrations by Ed Emshwiller (better known as Emsh.)

A married couple would like to have a child, but they don't want to deal with all the work of raising it from infancy. They happen to know a scientist who has created a gizmo that will speed up the nerve growth of a fetus in the womb. Their son develops rapidly, sparing them a lot of trouble with things like toilet training.


He also develops a precocious interest in sex.

Despite some problems with teachers, neighbors, and other kids, things seem to be going pretty well. What they don't know is that their acquaintance is a classic Mad Scientist, who has also given the child increased aggression. It's not hard to see that things won't work out for the best.

I found both the technology and the behavior of the characters implausible. The ending of the story left a bad taste in my mouth. I suppose the author does a decent job portraying a pair of self-centered bohemian parents, but they're not much fun to read about.

Two stars.

Axe and Dragon (Part Two of Three), by Keith Laumer

Let's take a break from reprints and turn to the latest installment in this new novel.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow.

As you may recall, the improbably named Lafayette O'Leary wound up in a strange, supposedly imaginary world through self-hypnosis. He has some control over things, creating food, drink, clothing, shelter, and the like. However, the place has a stubborn reality of its own.

After surviving a duel in a slapstick fashion, he winds up being framed for the kidnapping of the land's beautiful princess. Much running around follows, with O'Leary even creating a secret door for himself, so he can escape into it.


He also briefly returns to the so-called real world, where he runs afoul of the law.

Determined to clear his name, he sets out to rescue the princess from a fabled giant and his supposed dragon. Complicating matters is the king's magician, who has more advanced technology than you'd expect in this steam-powered world, and who seems to know more about what's going on than he admits.


There's also a big guy.

The mood remains very light, with even more comedy than the first part.  The breakneck pace of events holds the reader's attention.  Even if the whole thing could be dismissed as much ado about nothing, it provides adequate, forgettable entertainment.

Three stars.

What a Man Believes, by Robert Sheckley


Cover art by Vernon Kramer.

Back to reprints with this tale of the afterlife, from the November/December 1953 issue.


Illustrations by Henry C. Pitz.

A guy who didn't expect anything after death winds up in an oddly accommodating Hell.  It seems he has a choice of eternal punishment: he can undergo physical torture, fight wolves, or drift in a boat.


He can also climb a mountain.

Predictably, he selects the boat, preferring endless boredom to unending agony.  This leads to an ending that, well, didn't make a lot of sense to me.  I suppose some irony is intended, but it falls flat.

Two stars.

Three Wishes, by Poul Anderson


Wraparound cover art by Richard Powers.

A nice old man makes an unexpected discovery in this yarn from the March/April 1953 issue.


Illustration by Dick Francis.

The elderly fellow is Papa Himmelschoen.  If that sounds familiar, you're probably thinking of Papa Schimmelhorn, a character created by Reginald Bretnor in the story The Gnurrs Come from the Voodvork Out back in 1950.  Anderson's old man has a similar thick accent, so I assume this is a deliberate allusion.

Anyway, the kindly Papa mends a pair of pants for a neighbor, and gets a little statue of a fairy as payment.  It comes to life when, in a burst of gaiety, he kisses it.  His reward is three wishes.  Since he's completely happy with his life, he doesn't know how to use his wishes.  The solution to his problem isn't completely satisfying, and involves a bit of circular reasoning.

This is a trivial work from a talented writer.  The mood is pleasant enough, and Himmelschoen is a lot less obnoxious than Schimmelhorn, but it doesn't add up to much.

Two stars.

Phoney Meteor, by John Beynon


Cover art by J. Allen St. John.

From the yellowing pages of the March 1941 issue of Amazing Stories comes this piece, by an author better known as John Wyndham.


Illustration by Jay Jackson.

Neatly wrapping up the magazine with an incident similar to the one I mentioned at the start of this article, this story involves a mysterious object falling to Earth.  Since the setting is England during the Second World War, the local folks treat it as a possible Nazi weapon. 

Alternating sections of narration reveal that it's really a spaceship, carrying a large number of aliens from their dying world.  It's obvious from the start, and the illustration, that they're tiny beings, so Earth seems like a planet full of giant monsters.

That's about all there is to the story.  Beynon/Wyndham writes well enough, but I found the accounts of life in England during the Blitz more interesting than the science fiction stuff.

(Everybody seems very coolheaded when faced with this potentially deadly object.  I suppose that's a bit of wartime propaganda, to maintain morale.  Keep Calm and Carry On, and all that.)

Two stars.

Did It Meet Your Expectations?

I wasn't expecting this issue to be so weak, ranging from so-so to below average.  I can understand the financial reason for using so many reprints — I believe the publishers have full rights to the stories and art, so they don't have to pay anything for them — but it results in a lot of disappointing early work from well-known writers.  If I were in a worse mood, I'd be tempted to tell the editor exactly where he can go with all these old relics.


Cartoon by Ray Dillon.  It's a reprint, too, from the same issue as Poul Anderson's story.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 10, 1965] Binary Arithmetic (September 1965 Fantastic)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Yin and Yang


An ancient Chinese representation of the topic I will discuss.

Up and down. Left and right. Hot and cold. Female and male. Good and evil.

There's a natural tendency for human beings to think in pairs of contrasting concepts, sometimes in opposition, sometimes complementing each other. Such dualities are useful, but are often greatly oversimplified, painting everything as black or white, and ignoring the many shades of gray between.

I thought about this, oddly enough, when I heard the news just yesterday that Singapore is no longer part of the nation of Malaysia, as it had been since winning full independence from the United Kingdom in 1963. Instead, it is now a sovereign nation.


Lee Kuan Yew, Prime Minister of Singapore, announces the city-state's new status at a press conference.

Political differences between the central Malaysian government and Singapore led to the split, as well as strife between persons of Malay ethnicity and the mostly ethic Chinese population of Singapore. It's not yet clear whether Malaysia kicked Singapore out, or if the city left of its own free will.

This division of one nation into two made me think about the way our minds see things as dyads. I even perceived recent hit songs as a pair of opposites.

For most of July, (I Can't Get No) Satisfaction by the Rolling Stones was at the top of the American music charts. It's a hard-driving tune, sure to grab your attention the first time you hear it.


And it's now my favorite rock 'n' roll song.

As if the gods of record stores and jukeboxes wanted to help me prove my theory of duality, the song that reached Number One in the USA this month could not be more different. Herman's Hermits have a smash on their hands with I'm Henry VIII, I Am, a comic music hall ditty that goes all the way back to 1910.


The success of this very silly song may foretell the end of the world.

New and old. Serious and funny. Good and bad. (OK, that last one is a matter of opinion.) Even when it comes to entertainment, things seem to exist as opposites, at least in our heads. The latest issue of Fantastic is no exception.

It's Two — Two — Two Magazines In One!

I trust the makers of Certs will forgive me for making fun of the well-known slogan from their TV commercials. It's appropriate for the revised version of Fantastic, which combines one new story with a quartet of reprints.


Art by the late Frank R. Paul.

That cover looks pretty old-fashioned, doesn't it? That's because it first appeared more than a quarter of a century ago, as the back cover of the very first issue of Fantastic Adventures, May 1939.


Look familiar?

The new publisher of Fantastic obviously intends to reuse as much material from the past as possible. Also dating back to the innocent days before World War Two is the following now-dated scientific explanation for why a Martian might look something like the being on the right. (The one on the left is a human, in case you were wondering.)


The redundancy in Item F makes me giggle.

Before this place becomes, as Tom Lehrer put it in Bright College Days, soggy with nostalgia, let's take a look at something hot off the presses.

Stardock, by Fritz Leiber

Starting off the issue is a new adventure of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser, whom we've met many times before.


Illustrations by Gray Morrow. You can already tell that a lot is going to happen.

This time we're in Fafhrd's homeland, a place of snow and ice. A cryptic bit of doggerel leads our heroes to a chain of mountains. In search of a fabulous treasure, the ill-matched pair make their way, slowly and painfully, up a gigantic peak. Along for the fun is a large white feline, who becomes as important a member of the team as the giant Northerner and the diminutive Southerner.


They've already made a long, hard climb before they even begin to scale the highest mountain.

All kinds of challenges and mysteries stand in their way. The Gray Mouser has visions of a green, mask-like face, and Fafhrd experiences dreams of touching a woman he can't see. Two rivals are after the same treasure, and they have a pair of unusual companions. Most bizarre of all, gigantic invisible beasts, something like flying mantas, carry equally unseen enemies.


And what would a sword-and-sorcery yarn be without a monster to fight?

Eventually, the bold duo reach the top of the mountain, encounter the beings who live inside, and find out who led them there, and why.


A naked Gray Mouser and a dwarf who isn't naked.

Lieber's imagination runs wild here, and his writing is simply gorgeous. A lecture by Fafhrd, in which he describes each mountain in poetic language, is a thing of beauty. The trek up the ice-covered peak is described in exquisite, vivid detail. (I suggest reading this story while wrapped in a blanket and sipping hot cocoa.) There are enough fantasy elements for a full-length novel, and the plot has plenty of twists and turns to keep the reader's attention.

Five stars.

Sally, by Isaac Asimov

The rest of the magazine consists entirely of reprints. The first comes from the pen of the Good Doctor.  It first appeared in the May/June 1953 issue of the same publication.


Art by W. T. Mars. At least Ike got his name on the cover.

As you might expect, the story deals with robots, of a sort. In this case, we're talking about self-driving automobiles, with positronic motors that are also their brains. The narrator runs a sort of retirement home for these intelligent vehicles, once their owners have passed on. The cars have personalities, as far as their caretaker is concerned. The sedans are boys, and the convertibles are girls, including the title character.

An unscrupulous fellow, one of Asimov's few villains, tries to purchase the retired cars, so he can put their brains into different bodies. The idea is that he can then make a profit, selling old autos for new. The narrator, as horrified as he would be if the man was suggesting vivisection on people, refuses. The Bad Guy returns, using force this time to get his way. Let's just say that things don't work out for him.

There aren't a lot of surprises in the plot, unless you count the fact that the author's famous Three Laws of Robotics don't apply here. As usual for Doctor A, he writes clearly and efficiently.


Illustration by Emsh. All the illustrations for previously published stories are also reprints.

Automobile enthusiasts, among whom I cannot count myself, will probably get an extra kick out of this story. I thought it was worth reading, while waiting to have your vehicle fixed at the car shop.

Three stars.

"You'll Never Go Home Again", by Clifford D. Simak

This story first appeared in the July 1951 issue of Fantastic Adventures (not to be confused with Fantastic.) Flipping through the pages of the older magazine, I note that it still had the quotation marks around the title, but also had an exclamation point. (I worry about these things.)


Art by Robert Gibson Jones. The cover story has an exclamation mark also, as do several other pieces in the table of contents. I guess it was an exciting magazine.

A team of space explorers lands on a distant planet. It's made very clear, right from the start, that these folks are extremely careful when it comes to investigating a new world. The many scientists aboard the spaceship check out everything to make sure the place is safe, and there are soldiers to keep the peace.

A seemingly primitive humanoid alien shows up. A gizmo allows the alien and the humans to communicate, which is definitely a convenient plot device. The extraterrestrial offers the statement quoted in the title (without exclamation mark) not as a threat, but simply as a statement of fact.


Illustrations by Leo Summers.

The rest of the story deals with the explorers trying to figure out what the alien meant. It turns out to be something about the planet they hadn't considered.


A broken watch provides a clue.

In essence, this is an Astounding-style puzzle story, and not a very interesting example of one. Somebody like Hal Clement would have come up with a better solution to the mystery. By 1951, Simak was already an experienced pro, so it's written decently. However, there is none of the appreciation for the outdoors, or the affection for all living things, that we expect from him.

Two stars.

The Dark Room, by Theodore Sturgeon

We go back to Fantastic (not to be confused with Fantastic Adventures, or, for that matter, Fantastic Universe) and dig out a copy of the July-August 1953 issue for our next blast from the past.


Art by Rupert Conrad. The great Theodore Sturgeon is reduced to being one of others.

We begin with a married couple leaving a party. They're both devastated by what has just happened. You have to read between the lines a bit, but it becomes clear that the woman, for no reason she can explain, had sex with another man there.


Illustrations by Emsh.

After the couple breaks up, the man, still an emotional wreck, finds out that other people have done equally inexplicable things at parties held by the same wealthy host.


Looks like a nice party, doesn't it?

Some of these incidents are minor, as when a sweet, grandmotherly woman who writes innocent books for children comes up with an extremely dirty story. Some seem good, as when a man who knows nothing at all about music creates a hit song. Others are much more serious, even including murder. In each case, somebody did something completely out of character.


Maybe not so nice after all.

Launching his own investigation into the mystery, the betrayed husband sneaks into the rich man's home; in particular, to the dark room of the title. (This is itself an anomaly, as the room is decorated in an ultra-modern fashion, while the rest of the house is very conservative.) He discovers something strange and frightening, and learns an uncomfortable fact about himself.


The lady and the spider have more in common than first meets the eye.

This unique psychological fantasy, with more than a touch of horror, demonstrates Sturgeon's gift for creating memorable, three-dimensional characters. The premise is much more subtle than just the typical monster story you might expect when the giant spider shows up. It might even make you ponder your own personality, and what you would never do.

Four stars.

The Worm, by David H. Keller, M. D.

As Mister Peabody might have said to Sherman, it's time to jump into the WayBack machine, and visit the remote past. Come with me now to the year 1929, and the March issue of Amazing Stories.


Art by Frank R. Paul, of course.

An old guy lives alone, except for his dog, in a mill that hasn't been used in a long time. He hears an odd noise, similar to what the mill's grinding stones used to sound like, coming from beneath the basement. Pretty soon the source of the noise is obvious.


Illustration by Frank R. Paul, naturally.

The man makes a desperate effort to stop the bizarre creature from destroying his home and everything in it. Does he succeed? You'll have to read the story to find out.

I have to admit that I wasn't expecting much from a Gernsbackian, pre-Campbellian, bit of scientifiction from three-and-one-half decades ago. To my surprise, this chiller was pretty well written. There's even some sophisticated characterization, as when the man recites random bits of poetry to himself. It's a simple yarn, executed with some talent.

Three stars.

Half a Loaf is Better Than None

With extra pages, and the contrast between original fiction and reprints, I felt like I was getting two magazines for the price of one. The first part, with Leiber's fine new story, was worth four bits all by itself. The second part was a mixed bag. Sturgeon's story was very good, Simak's was a disappointment, and the others were OK, if nothing special. If you pick up a copy, I'd suggest taking a break and enjoying a cup of coffee after you read Stardock, so you'll be ready for some lesser works.


It would seem fitting to add some of this stuff to your java.

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Magazine

[Mar. 18, 1965] Per Aspera (April 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction

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by Gideon Marcus

A Storm is Coming

"These are the times that try men's souls"

Thomas Paine

The times, they are a changing.  If the post-Korea decade was a national honeymoon for the United States, then the tumult following Kennedy's assassination surely marks the dawn of a new era.  To be sure, that decade of "good times" was secured in part on the back of many, be they Black, female, and otherwise.  Nevertheless, it felt like we, as a country, were moving toward racial justice and equality, toward shared prosperity, toward peace in the world.

Not anymore.  Where it seemed there might be rapprochement between East and West, now there is, once again, active American military involvement in Asia.  Some 3,000 troops have been dispatched, and the USAF is taking an active role in the campaign rather than simply propping up our South Vietnamese allies (whomever is leading them this week).

The Chicago Tribune says the national mood is tilting in favor of this involvement, a recovery from dashed morale just a few weeks ago after several Viet Cong incursions.  At the same time, the peace movement, which I wholly endorse, has also picked up steam, viz. the sit-in of 11 protesters at the White House last week.  I take this as a hopeful sign.

Progress toward civil rights has been a matter of two steps forward followed by one backward.  The "backlash" against newly won Black rights was in full display on March 7 when uniformed police brutally shut down a planned march for voting rights from Selma to Montgomery, Alabama.  Quickly dubbed "Bloody Sunday," it was an adamant Southern rejection of the Negro's right to basic humanity.

Even Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.'s arrival on March 8 could not immediately change affairs, and an attempt made March 9 was blocked at the bridge out of town.

But the South has never lead this nation, not in the 1860s, nor in the 1960s.  Those who saw this injustice were appalled, and this disgust reached the highest quarters of government.  On March 13, President Johnson declared this restriction of free expression to be "a national tragedy", and on March 15, in an address to the jointly assembled Congress, announced sweeping Voting Rights legislation.

Yesterday, a federal judge set aside restrictions against the march.  It will proceed as planned, starting as early as tomorrow or the next day.  Again, a sign that we can make it through adversity to our dreams.

Weathering Through

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has had its own tribulations after a decade of unparalleled excellence under its first two editors.  The Avram Davidson era, 1962-64, was something of a nadir for the proud publication.  Now that the magazine's owner, Joe Ferman, has taken over the editorial helm (though there are rumors that it's his son, Ed, doing the work), the magazine seems to be pulling out of its nosedive.  Come take a look at the latest issue:


by Bert Tanner

Arsenal Port, by Poul Anderson

Once again, Poul Anderson takes the cover with the continuation of the adventures of Gunnar Heim, last seen in January 1965's Marque and Reprisal.  The retired space captain had obtained a letter of marque from the French government to harry the Alerion regime, which had taken the Terran planet of New Europe hostage after a short war.  Off went Heim to space in the cruiser, Fox 2, along with a scurvy crew, and there the first story ended.

Port takes place on the environmentally hostile planet of Staurm, where Heim has stopped to obtain arms for the trek.  Possessed of heavy gravity and a toxic atmosphere, not to mention carnivorous trees and insane battle robots, it is perhaps even more difficult a world than Harrison's Pyrrus.

Complicating matters is the arrival of Heim's ex-lover, a xenobiologist named Jocelyn, who rather pointedly rekindles the affair.  But is her love sincere, or is it merely to sabotage Heim's mission in furtherance of the goals of the Peace Party?

On the one hand, this installment is beautifully written, and the depiction of Staurm's weird planetology is hard science fiction at its best.  We get a bit more of Heim's background and some nice color on his executive crew, too.  On the other hand, Port boils down to a fairly simple adventure trek and doesn't further the main plot.  It's roughly analogous to the middle third of Heinlein's Have Spacesuit, Will Travel, which also featured in F&SF.  It's enjoyable reading, but you could just as easily skip it.

I waver between three and four stars.  I'm going to settle for a high three and wait for the outrage.


F&SF is now experimenting with cartoons.  Here's one by Gahan Wilson.  There will be others.

Keep Them Happy, by Robert Rohrer

In the future, the death penalty is retained; but in order to be as humane as possible, the condemned are made as happy as possible before the execution.  The story begins with a convicted murderer being told he has been acquitted and can go free — before being killed by a blow to the head by Kincaid, the psychologist/executioner-in-chief.  The rest of the tale involves a bitter widow who killed her husband for infidelity, and Kincaid, who undertakes to find out what it will take to make her happy. 

I found Happy to be disturbing and not a little anti-woman.  And, in the end, completely predictable. 

It's decently written, however, so it gets a low two star rating.


F&SF by Ed Emshwiller

Imaginary Numbers in a Real Garden, by Gerald Jonas

Here's a cute poem that utilizes mathematical symbols to complete its rhymes.  But I fail to see why one looks beyond the stars for complex numbers (you look in electric circuits) and in any event, "i" is the symbol that should have ended the piece.

Three stars.

Blind Date, by T. P. Caravan

Hapless lab assistant is catapulted to the future by a mad scientists, only to find himself immediately made part of festivities celebrating his trip through time.

This tale is the very definition of forgettable; twice, I had to refer to the magazine to remember what this rather goofy tale was about.

Two stars.

The History of Doctor Frost, by Roderic C. Hodgins

Ah, but here's a good one.  Frost is a fresh take on the Deal with the Devil genre (indeed, it's stil possible!) On the threshold of making a vital mathematical discovery, Dr. Frost is visited by a servant of Satan who offers to guarantee the man's success if only he will surrender his intellect and abilities to the devil after his demise.  Frost demurs and is given 24 hours to make his decision, which he uses to consult with, in turn, a Jesuit Priest, a psychologist, and a female friend.  In the end, the decision is entirely Frost's.

It's rather beautifully done, an archetypical F&SF story.  Four stars.

Lord Moon, by Jane Beauclerk

Jane Beauclerk is back with another tale set on the nameless world we were first introduced to in July 1964's We Serve the Star of Freedom.  Said planet is inhabited by humaniform aliens under the authoritarian regime of the Stars, venerable scholar/tyrants each with their own specialties. 

This story involves Lord Moon, a sort of knight, who sails to the lawless twelve thousand islands of Lorran hoping to free and marry the daughter of a Star held captive there.  It is not until the end that we have any encounters with actual Terrans, and the whole story is told in a magical legend sort of way.  Indeed, it is left an open question whether or not magic works, side-by-side with science, on this particular world.

It's an acquired taste, but I enjoyed it.  Three stars, like the last one.

The Certainty of Uncertainty, by Isaac Asimov

Doc A offers up a non-fiction article on quantum mechanics.  Such is always a bold decision as it is an abstruse topic that does not lend itself well to popularization.  Indeed, Asimov runs into the same problem as everyone else: he doesn't end up explaining it very well.

Having taken quantum mechanics in college (it was very new stuff then), I can tell you that it's not that complicated or difficult to comprehend — provided you have a solid grounding in calculus and second-year physics.  Without them, any explanation is just pointless analogy. 

I'm not trying to be a snob, and the Good Doctor does do a good job of explaining how tiny things live in a universe of their own, increasingly different from our everyday world as the scale shrinks.  But in the end, you're left with a lot of gee whiz stuff and not much understanding.

Three stars.

Eyes Do More Than See, by Isaac Asimov

F&SF's science columnist by-and-large gave up fiction writing with the launch of Sputnik.  He still keeps his hand in, every so often, though.  Eyes involves energy beings of the Trillionth Century, our long distant descendants, who decide to return to dabbling with physical forms…and quickly discover why they'd given it up.

Apparently, this short-short was originally rejected by Playboy.  In any event, it displays a rarely seen poetic side of the author, but whether you'll find it moving or maudlin depends on your particular sensibilities.

I fall right in the middle.  Three stars.

Aunt Millicent at the Races, by Len Guttridge

And last, here's a modern-day Welsh fairy tale about a boy whose aunt is transformed into a horse, and how the boy's father exploits the occurrence for financial gain.

Normally, this kind of silly plot would be too trivial to keep my interest, and no doubt played for laughs.  Neither is the case.  Guttridge's writing, so tight and evocative, so cinematically vivid, makes this my favorite piece of the issue.  It misses five stars, but only just.

The Star of Hope

Yes, times are currently tumultuous, and things can often seem hopeless.  It's important at junctures like these that we reflect on what's positive in our life, the power we have to make things better, and the security that comes of knowing that things that have gone bad can truly come 'round.

And that's something to celebrate!


New York's Saint Patrick's Day parade, yesterday




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Magazine

[February 16, 1965] Return to a Quagmire (March 1965 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Sliding Downhill

In the twenty years since the beginning of the Cold War, there have been many potential flashpoints between East and West.  In 1950, Chinese-backed North Koreans almost took the entire Korean peninsula in a see-saw, later stalemated, conflict that lasted until 1953.  Berlin twice became the hot spot — during the 1948 blockade and after the building of the Wall in 1961.  Cuba, too, has been a fraught locale, with the 1959 Communist takeover followed by the disastrous American-backed invasion in 1961 and then the near-calamitous Missile Crisis of 1962.

And then there's Vietnam.

Formerly part of French Indochina, the region has been divided into two roughly equal halves since 1954, when Ho Chi Minh's Viet Cong threw off the colonial yoke in 1954.  Since then, the Communist North has engaged in both insurgent and conventional tactics against the South.

Of course, the United States has backed South Vietnam despite it being a rather corrupt and authoritarian state that, for the past two years, has seen a revolving door of junta leaders running the country.  American involvement included air support and "military advisers", our presence including about 20,000 troops, all told. 

And then came the Gulf of Tonkin incident last August, in which American naval vessels reportedly were attacked off the coast of North Vietnam.  That opened the door for a flood of American air strikes, including into neutral Laos to bomb the "Ho Chi Minh" supply trail.

It was perhaps inevitable that the Viet Cong would hit back, first with a bombing of an American billet in Saigon last month, and now, on February 6, with a mortar attack on Camp Holloway, near Pleiku in central South Vietnam.

8 soldiers died in that attack, more than 100 were injured, and there was extensive damage to American equipment.  In retaliation, the U.S. launched Operation Flaming Dart, yet further intensifying the air war.  Wives and children of American personnel were ordered to leave Vietnam, Hawk surface to air missile batteries were set up at the airbase in Da Nang, and a general escalation of the conflict appears inevitable.  Publications, from the conservative Chicago Tribune to liberal LIFE Magazine, are clamoring for direct involvement.

That means American troops abroad, and anyone between 18-25 not currently enlisted in the military better start reconsidering their plans for the next few years.  People like my nephew, David, who just turned 23.  He's married, has a young son, and goes to UCLA, so perhaps he's safe.  For now. 

In any event, the papers are full of Vietnam news these days, and the voices against escalation are being drowned out by the hawks. 

It looks like we're about to slide, slow-motion-wise, into another Korea.  Call me an iconoclast peacenik, but I'm registering my protest early.  This won't end well.

No Relief in Sight

For those hoping that the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction would offer a respite from the world's glum news, I'm afraid I have to disappoint you.  The return to form we rejoiced in last month quickly fizzled.  This month's mag is a dud:

The Doors of His Face, the Lamps of His Mouth, by Roger Zelazny

In the sultry oceans of Venus resides a leviathan of a fish, a kind of mammoth angler called "Ikki".  Bane to boaters, menace to fisheries, Ikki has been the target of big game hunters and professional exterminators.  None have succeeded.

Rich dilettante Jean Lucarich is willing to pick up where others have left off, driving a 10-acre raft equipped with tranquilizer harpoons and giant cages off in search of the modern day Moby Dick.  So keen is her desire that she has hired her old flame, a deep sea adventurer, to be a baiter.  His job is to lure the Ikki in range of Jean's craft…and capture.

Persons who are more familiar with literary fiction can probably tell me what style Zelazny (the author) is going for.  I found it overwrought and, in places, difficult to parse.  But what bugged me the most was the utterly archaic (virtually Burroughsian) rendition of Venus.  Zelazny's version of the Planet of Love is kinda warm, rather than 800 degrees Fahrenheit.  Its day is roughly like an Earth's day, rather than 250 days long.  The air is breathable, the water potable. 

I nitpick because there's no way that the author doesn't know his Venus is wrong.  Mariner 2, first interplanetary probe, finished its mission two years ago.  It was in all the papers.  Indeed, the story would have been more palatable had it taken place on Earth, say, in some remote corner of the Indian Ocean.  It might even have been so, originally — some reject planned for Collier's or some other mainstream mag.

Anyway, it's not bad, but it's not really SF, and I found it too consciously literary.  One Bradbury is quite enough.

Three stars.

Final Appeal, by J. H. Brennan

This first piece by the Ulsterian Brennan involves the quest for justice when the judges are all automated.  It's one of those pieces that requires such an implausible development of technology (in this case, no human involvement at all in the rendering of judgment) that the "clever" solution falls flat.

It doesn't help that the solution, itself, while it may appeal to the mainstream of society, will be distasteful to a more free-thinking sort.

Two stars, and only because it kept me along for the ride until the inevitable disappointment (which came about a page too late).

Essentials Only, by Jack Sharkey

An absent-minded professor accidentally opens up a portal to a virgin alternate-Earth.  He invites his friend to join him for a lifetime of simple pleasures, but of course, they need to bring their girlfriends.  And their girlfriends insist on some modicum of civilization.  And that includes certain, essential people.  And their possessions.  And more luxuries, just in case.  And so on.

Jack Sharkey varies between mildly impressive to (more often) rather dreadful.  But this story is pleasantly droll, inoffsenive.

Three stars.

The End of Eternity, by Ernesto Gastaldi

According to F&SF's new editor, Joseph Ferman, the state of Italian SF is pretty poor: mostly send-ups of cliches we abandoned in the Pulp Era.  But, Ferman promises, this imported tale (translated by Harry Harrison) is something different.

He's wrong.  End takes place in modern day Rome on the eve of its nuclear destruction.  The bomb that will destroy it, scientists say, is so powerful that the space-time continuum might be ruptured.  By the way, the protagonist is named "Romulo", and the story is redolent with reminders of the antiquity of the city.  Can you guess what will happen?

Two stars for this Italian version of the creation myth.

Tripsych, by Ron Smith

Ferman praises Smith for his satirically broad rendition of three hoary SF ideas in as many vignettes.  However, the world doesn't need more bad stories, even if their badness is intentional.

Two stars.

Illusion, by Walter H. Kerr

In 1951, J. T. McIntosh wrote Hallucination Orbit, the definitive tale on cracking up while on solitary assignment in space.  Kerr's poem is on the same topic and compares unfavorably in all respects.

One star.

Better Than Ever, by Alex Kirs

There's a movie playing "over there".  It takes a month to watch, and no one can tell you what it's about.  But those who see it come back…changed.  More mature, no longer plagued with their frailties and foibles.  Better, one might say.  An adman named Clinton is one of the last, stubborn holdouts, increasingly alienated as everyone he knows, one by one, goes to see this movie. 

This is his story.

Well, sort of.  Nothing much happens in this short piece, mostly just a portrait of social isolation — an isolation Clinton refuses to remedy with the obvious solution.  Can you blame him?

Anyway, it's a fair piece, I guess.  Probably some kind of metaphor.  I don't know. 

Three stars, sure.

Oh, East is East and West is East, by Isaac Asimov

In a recent Analog, editor Campbell included a geographical quiz: which states of the U.S.A. are the farthest North, South, East, and West?  It's kind of a trick question since it hinges on the fact that Alaska straddles the 180th meridian and, thus, is both the farthest East and West (and North, but that's obvious to anyone who's read the paper since 1959, when Alaska became a state).

I got the answer right, but then, my first book was an atlas.  The Good Dr. A. got it wrong, and thus produced an article to explain why he was really right.  It's cute, but it doesn't tell you any more than a decent map would. 

Three stars.

Ado About Nothing, by Bob Ottum, Jr.

There is a wall at the end of the universe posted with a sign that says that nothing exists beyond the wall.  If you don't believe it, put a quarter in the wall and look through the peephole for yourself.

It's a silly vignette, but it appealed to the former editor, Avram Davidson, whose collected materials Ferman is apparently still depending on.

Two stars.

Uncollected Works, by Lin Carter

If 50 million monkeys at 50 million typewriters could eventually produce the works of William Shakespeare, what could a computing machine with infinite monkeys worth of random creative capacity produce?

Lin Carter has been around for a while, at least in SFF and Lovecraftian fandom circles, but this is the first story of his I've run across.  Told from the perspective of an old literary critic, given to sentimental verbosity, it's a charming piece.  It doesn't make a lick of sense, but it's charming.  I feel like a little more thought could have made the scientific conceit more plausible, which would have then made the story more effective.

Three stars, anyway.

Maiden Voyage, by J. W. Schutz

Thankfully, the end of the issue is the bright spot.  Schutz, currently American Consul General in Tangiers (Morocco), offers up this novelette in epistolary, detailing a scientific mission to Mars in the mid 2030s.  Refreshingly, it stars a woman, and in a chatty, engaging style, describes the rigorous training, arduous journey, and perilous events that she endures. 

It's straight science fiction, more what I'd expect from Analog than F&SF these days, and I enjoyed it.  Bravo, especially for a first effort.

Four stars.

War Report

Both Vietnam and F&SF have been troubled spots for some time, with only isolated moments of hope to keep us going.  I guess the question is this: do we continue to throw good money after bad?  Maybe we should stick both out for another year and see what happens.  If neither improves, maybe it's time to pull out, at last…




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Book, Magazine

[November 7, 1964] Landslides and Damp Squibs (December 1964 IF)

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by Gideon Marcus

In Your Heart, You Knew He Was Wrong

It's been a month for dramatic political change.  In the Soviet Union, Khruschev was deposed after eight years in power, and the British Labor party came to the fore after thirteen years in the wilderness.  And in the United States, the reactionary politics of Arizona Senator Barry Goldwater have been loudly repudiated: Lyndon Johnson has been elected President in the biggest landslide in recent memory.

On his coattails, Democrats have ascended to high offices around the country.  In the Senate, Robert Kennedy beat incumbent Ken Keating for the open New York seat, Joseph D. Tydings trounced incumbent James Glenn Beall in Maryland, and Joseph M. Montoya smashed appointed incumbent Edwin L. Mechem in New Mexico.  Only in California did former hoofer George Murphy win against the Democrat, Pierre Salinger, in something of an upset.  What's next for the Golden State?  Ronald Reagan as Governor?!

And in the House, Democrats picked up a whopping 37 seats.  This means that the party of Jackson and Roosevelt (#2) has not only the White House, but veto-proof control of both houses of Congress.  It's likely that The Great Society will continue unabated through the next two years.

Even in the science fiction world, revolutions are happening.  Avram Davidson is leaving his post at F&SF (thank goodness), and Cele Goldsmith, at the helm of Fantastic and Amazing, has gotten married. 

But with this month's IF, editor Fred Pohl's neglected third daughter, things are not only business as usual, they're a little worse…

The Enemy is Us


by Gray Morrow

When Time Was New, by Robert F. Young

We begin with a tale of time travel.  Howard Carpenter, a native of 2156 A.D. Earth, has gone back to the late Cretaceous in his "Triceratank", designed to fit in with the Mesozoic fauna.  His mission is to find out why there is a modern human skeleton lying in 80 million year old strata.

But once there, he finds two children, Marcy and Skip, who are on the run from kidnappers.  But these kids aren't time travelers — they're actually space travelers from a contemporary (to the far past) Martian civilization!


by Gray Morrow

Thus ensues an adventure whose style and subject matter would make for a fine kiddy comic or Danny Dunn adventure, but which is somewhat jarring for a grown-up mag.  Also, I find it highly improbable that a race of humans identical to those on Earth (specifically, the blonde, blue-eyed kind) would arise on Mars, and 80 million years ago, no less.  A slightly lesser quibble is the appearance of Brontosaurs; they were long extinct by the Cretaceous period. 

And then there's the relationship between the 32 year old Carpenter and the 11 year old, however precocious, Marcy.  It's all very innocent and largely on Marcy's part. I can't say more without spoiling the story, but in the end, we get a situation not unlike the reveal in The Twilight Zone episode, The Fugitive.  I didn't mind it all that much, but some may find it off-putting.

Anyway, I'm sure John Boston would give the story one star, two at best.  But Robert Young, even at his worst, is still a pretty good author, and despite the story's flaws, I did want to know what was coming next.

So, a low three. 

The Coldest Place, by Larry Niven

Niven, a brand new author, takes us to the coldest place in the universe, home to a most unique kind of lifeform.  The kicker, revealing the setting, is interesting, as are the various concepts Niven introduces in the piece.  On the other hand, there's really a bit too many ideas here for the short space allotted, so the story doesn't really go anywhere.

I have a suspicion that, given proper time to develop, this author may be one to watch. 

Three stars.

At the Top of the World, by J. T. McIntosh


by Nodel

Two hundred years after the last war, Gallery 71, deep underground, prepares for Ascension Day.  What awaits them on the surface?  Is there even a sky?  Or all the legends just mythical doubletalk?

It's a good setting for a story, not dissimilar to the author's previous 200 Years to Christmas, but the ending is both a fizzle and a letdown.  Also, I could done with less of the author's unconscious sexism.  No father admirers his daughter's "exquisite curves" and I would have expected a greater role for women in the piece than two teenagers of little consequence.

Another low three.

Pig in a Pokey, by R. A. Lafferty

Lafferty, whose middle name would be whimsy if it didn't start with an A., offers up a duel of wits between a porcine head-collector and the human who would claim the former's asteroid.

Neither foul nor fine (which makes it "fair", I guess), it's over before you know it.

Three stars.

The Hounds of Hell (Part 2 of 2), by Keith Laumer


by Ed Emshwiller

The bulk of the issue is taken up with the conclusion to Keith Laumer's latest novel.  Last time, John Brandeis was on the run from a horde of demonic dog things who assumed human guise and filched human brains.  Brandeis went so far as to have his body highly cyberneticized so that he could fight the hell hounds on an even footing.  With the help of the feeble-minded sailor, Joel, he managed to give them the slip.

But not for long.  Upon arriving in America, Brandeis' worst fears are realized: the aliens have taken over key positions of authority, probably throughout the world.  Worse, when he lures one of them to a remote spot in Colorado, in the hopes of ambushing and interrogating one of the invaders, Brandeis is, in turn, ambushed and killed.

And when he wakes up, it's in the body of a 70 foot tank, waging a war against other brain-run tanks on the Moon!


by Ed Emshwiller

Hounds of Hell has a lot of promising threads.  It could have been an exploration of what it is to be human in an increasingly inhuman body.  The robot tank angle, brilliantly explored in prior stories, could have been developed as a sort of prequel to those pieces.

The problem is, we never learn a damned thing about Brandeis, nor do we really care about the world that the Hell Hounds have taken over.  The only character with any substance is Joel, and he plays a minor role.  In the end, Hounds is a series of action scenes that aren't even up to the author's normally decent standard.

Two stars; two and a half for the book.

The Results

IF used to be Galaxy's experimental twin.  It was a magazine with rawer authors and more outré stories.  Now that Pohl has to spread his material three ways, IF seems to be the dumping ground for the least worthy stuff.

This month, at least, it wasn't worth the 50 cent cover price.  A poor issue to accompany the Christmas subscription renewal drive!

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