Tag Archives: gideon marcus

[March 22, 1962] Provoking Thought (April 1962 Analog)


by Gideon Marcus

Ask the average citizen their opinion of science fiction and they'll likely mention monsters, flying saucers, and ray guns.  SF has gotten a bad rap lately, largely due to the execrable movies nominally representing it, but there's no question that the pulps of the 30s and 40s, and the lesser magazines of the 50s didn't help much.  And yet, only Science fiction offers endless worlds in which to explore fundamental human issues.  Religion.  Philosophy.  Politics.  It is only in our fantastic genre that the concept "if this goes on" can be pushed to extremes, whether a story be set in the far future or on a remote planet.  SF isn't just kiddie stuff – it can be the most adult of genres.

Case in point: Analog, formerly Astounding Science Fiction, set a standard in the pulp era as the grown-up magazine in the field.  And while I've had something of a love-hate relationship with the digest that Campbell built, this particular issue – the April 1962 edition – offers up some intriguing political predictions that, if not probable, are at least noteworthy.

Mercenary, by Mack Reynolds

Take four concepts and carry them to the nth degree: 1) unions and corporations increase in power such that they become virtual nations; 2) world disarmament is achieved – to the point that post-1900 weaponry is abolished; 3) the public's demand for violence on television is insatiable; 4) economic class stratification gets stronger. 

The result is a United States where private entities no longer resolve disputes in court; they do literal battle with brigades, even divisions of professional soldiers.  Their conflicts are televised as circuses for the masses (whose bread needs have been met by automation).  Mercenary is the tale of a veteran-for-hire who is desperately trying to climb the social ranks with the one remaining avenue: a successful military career.

This novella is my favorite of the bunch.  Reynolds, who has traveled the world and seen both the Soviet Union and the Mahgreb first-hand, invests his work with a gritty realism that elevates it above its genre siblings.  It's what Dickson's Dorsai should have been in about half the space.  Four stars.

Toy Shop, by Harry Harrison

When no reputable government agency will look at your breakthrough scientific achievement, then it's time to resort to unorthodox methods, right?  I'm disappointed with this one.  It's clearly an opportunity for Harrison (normally quite good) to get a quick $100 from editor Campbell, who champions all sorts of quackery.  Two stars.

A Slave is a Slave, by H. Beam Piper

Take a colony of humans, reduce them to slavery at the hands of a rapacious space vikings, and let stew for seven centuries.  Then topple the viking-descended overlords and see what happens.  This story, set in Piper's often presented Galactic Empire, is a clear analogy for decolonization.  It's got some straw men, some broad strokes, some glib presentation, but I think it makes some good points.  The oppressed aren't always the good guys.  The road to democracy is a long and fraught one.  Noble intentions do not guarantee positive outcomes.  Three stars.

Suppressed Invention, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

I rolled my eyes when I saw the title and the byline for this one, but I was surprised to find that this essay, about recent advancements in electric battery science, is both readable and informative.  Sure, it's got a little bit of the Campbellian spin on things, but the basic facts are here and nicely presented.  Three stars.

The Circuit Riders, by R. C. FitzPatrick

We've seen the idea of "pre-crime" before, where police attempt to stop incidents before they occur.  The example that stands out most to me is Philip K. Dick's Minority Report.  FitzPatrick, to all accounts, is a new author, but he's arrived on the scene with a visceral sensitivity in his first story that suggests he'll be offering up great stuff in the future.  A detractor from Riders is that, after a fantastic cold open first act, FitzPatrick then devotes an unnecessary scene to explaining the mechanics behind the "deAngelis" thought monitor.  Also, the resolution isn't quite up to the build-up.  An invention that can monitor emotional patterns needs a book, is worth a book.  Three stars.

***

Thus, Analog finishes this month on the right side of decent 3-star quality.  Moreover, it presents a set of intriguing visions guaranteed to make you think.  And that's exactly what science fiction should do.

[Mar. 14, 1962] State of the Art (Marvel Comics: May 1962)


by Gideon Marcus

With just three weeks to go before I attend the comics-themed science fiction convention in the Los Angeles area known as "Wonder Con," I think it's high time for an update on what's going on in the world of Marvel Comics.  As I related earlier, Marvel (formerly Atlas) seems bent on rebuilding a stable of superheroes to complement their line-up of Westerns and Model mags. 

Last year saw the introduction of the Fantastic Four, which is now up to issue #4.  More on them later.  This month, the new superbeing is The Incredible Hulk.  I hesitate to use the word "hero" since The Hulk doesn't seem to be a good character, at least, not yet.

Dr. Bruce Banner is a brilliant physicist, in charge of development of the "G Bomb."  This device doesn't seem to do much expect shoot out a burst of gamma rays.  In the Marvel universe, this appears to cause unpredictable (but non-deadly) instant mutations. 

As the countdown for the first test approaches, a young man drives out onto the test grounds.  Banner, a man of conscience, races out to help him.  The doctor's treacherous assistant, a Soviet spy, activates the bomb anyway, and Banner takes the full brunt of the blast.

This turns Banner, at least temporarily, into a Mr. Hyde-type character.  He is possessed of incredible strength and an implacable desire to destroy.  The Hulk (so named by a terrified soldier) still retains some human intellect, but he does not know that he was originally a human scientist.

It turns out that Banner's transformation is tied to the day/night cycle.  As the sun dawns, The Hulk reverts to his original form.  For at least twelve hours a day (more, at the poles!) Banner is himself.

Of course, no supercreature exists in a vacuum.  There is a fundamental corollary of Newton's 3rd Law in the comics universe.  The Hulk's nemesis is a deformed Communist supergenius: The Gargoyle!

There's not much of a fight here.  Gargoyle incapacitates The Hulk and his sidekick (the rescued youth)

But in the flight back to Russia, the gray beast becomes Banner again.  The scientist uses his terrific brain to revert the Gargoyle, who was created with radiation, too, to human form.  This robs him of his superpowers, but lets him die… a man!

I leave it as an exercise for the reader whether it is better to be ugly and gifted or comely and unremarkable.

Inside this issue of The Hulk, there was an ad for two other Marvel mags.  They just happen to ones I'm already inclined to pick up, so I'll give you a peek in them, too:


"The Magazine that Respects your Intelligence" and "The one that doesn't!"

Marvel goes in for anthology mags.  Amazing Adult Fantasy is essentially watered-down The Twilight Zone.

For instance, the self-aware vignette about the fellow who gets taken to Mars and ends up in a zoo (like that The Twilight Zone episode with Roddy McDowell, q.v.).

Or jokey bit about how Stan and Steve come up with ideas…

Or the one about the Castro lookalike who is killed by the plague after shooting down the American plane that was coming to (not) Cuba with the cure…

Or the title piece about the fellow who breaks the time barrier and comes back to a frozen Earth…

You decide whether or not these stories respect your intelligence.

Over in Fantastic Four, The Torch has a tiff and leaves the group.  Collateral damage ensues:

That's just the B plot.  The A plot introduces a new supervillain, though he doesn't seem all bad.  It is Namor, the Sub-Mariner, who first appeared back in a Marvel predecessor mag back in 1939!  He has lost his memories and is residing in a skid-row rehabilitation house.  But the Forceful Four coax his memories back, and the Lord of Liquid vows revenge for humanity's ravaging of the seas.

But first, he takes a detour down Lovers' Lane…


Honestly, I think she's better off than with Reed, destroyer of motorcycles, diminisher of women.

Can Namor be defeated?  Do we even want him to be?  You'll just have to read the magazine and find out!  It's probably worth your time just for all the beefcake (fishcake?) this issue features…

See you in the funny papers!

[March 12, 1962] Must come down… (The Twilight Zone, Season 3, Episodes 21-24)


by Gideon Marcus

and


by Lorelei Marcus

[I'll let the Young Traveler lead this time.  She's put her finger on what we enjoy and don't about The Twilight Zone]

Guess who's back with another The Twilight Zone review! Well, I personally prefer Rocky and Bullwinkle, but I'm afraid you came here for a The Twilight Zone review, so I suppose I'll have to comply. As usual, me and my father watched four episodes of Sterling's show over these past four weeks.

Kick the Can, by George Clayton Johnson

We seem to have found a common theme in all of the very highly rated episodes. Specifically, that we hate them! For example, we have the classic gem, Eye of the Beholder, where the episode can be summed up with: “Oh they're taking off the bandages… Oh, they're still taking off the bandages….. Oh, they're STILL taking off the bandages…… snore.”

This episode was no exception. It was about a group of old people at a retirement home who, through playing a children's game, are able to become young again.  I wouldn't say we hated this episode, like we did many other popular ones, but it certainly wasn't groundbreaking like many make it out to be. There was no real twist, and the only mystery aspect was if they were actually going to turn into kids by the end of the episode. I'm sure it probably didn't help that I'm not very familiar with kick the can either. I prefer skipping rope, or, of course, watching television. All joking aside, I believe this episode wasn't exactly bad, but also didn't go anywhere. It sort of just dragged on without resolving itself. In my opinion, it certainly doesn't deserve the popularity it got. 1.5 stars.


by Gideon Marcus

Where some see sentimental genius, I see mawkishness.  The setup could have been done in half the time, leaving plenty of room for some sort of poignant decision the part of the protagonist.  I would have enjoyed the crusty old fellow making the deliberate choice to finish his years naturally.  This would address fundamental questions of existence: Is it worth reliving the past when it is the sum of one's experiences that make a life?  Is there, perhaps, more value in the arc of an existence fully enjoyed?  2 stars.

A Piano in the House, by Earl Hammer


by Lorelei Marcus

I would say this second episode was a great example of a simple concept done right. A bitter art critic gets a self-playing piano for his wife's birthday, but the peculiar thing is it causes the people hearing its music to reveal their true emotions, brought forth in the flavor of the particular song that is playing. The man, being a sadist, decides to cruelly use it on the house guests attending his wife's birthday party. In the end, the wife plays a specific song that causes the sadist to spill his darkest fears, humiliating himself. This episode really left a feeling of a mixture of bitterness and awe the way only The Twilight Zone can do. It was very simple, and yet entertaining all the same. I also very much liked the theme of, “Don't do to others what you wouldn't want done to yourself,” that was clearly displayed throughout the episode.  3.5 stars.


by Gideon Marcus

This piece might not have been nearly as interesting without the entertaining portrayal of the critic by skillful Barry Morse.  His lines are genuinely funny, and he turns a mediocre script into a compelling performance.  Three stars.

The Last Rites of Jeff Myrtlebank, by Montogomery Pittman


by Lorelei Marcus

For once me and my father's opinions on an episode differed, if only by a little bit. This third show was about a young man rising from the dead, and how the people around him react and adjust. The mystery of the episode is whether he's a demon, actually alive again, or something else. I won't tell you which one it is, because I don't entirely know myself! This episode left on a bit of a cliffhanger, though it is fairly easy to extrapolate and theorize from what they give you. I personally wasn't very fond of all the people hating and being suspicious, but I know my father enjoyed it, so I'm happy about that. 2 stars.


by Gideon Marcus

It's all right to disagree.  Two travelers separated by thirty years shouldn't have altogether identical opinions, should we?  It's the performances that sell this episode (as is often the case in this show), and there's no denying that the opening scene is an indisputable gotcha.  That said, this episode tries to have it both ways – lambasting ignorance and prejudice while undermining said condemnation by showing the townspeople likely had the right to be suspicious of the erstwhile corpse.  Three stars.

(Interesting tidbit: Ed Buchanan, who played the doctor who pronounces Myrtlebank dead, and then alive, showed up two weeks later on an episode of Thriller as…you guessed it – a doctor!)

To Serve Man, by Rod Serling (based on a story by Damon Kinght)


by Lorelei Marcus

Lastly, we have last week's episode! In the short time its been out, this episode has also gotten a high rating by many. I won't say much about the episode to avoid spoiling it, but I will say that I didn't catch the twist until the end. I have mixed feelings about this episode. It was light and dark at times, but seemed to just drag on throughout. I suppose you could say that this episode was thoroughly mediocre, and I probably will forget it in the future. 1.5 stars.


by Gideon Marcus

I didn't like this story when it was a jokey throwaway in the November 1950 Galaxy, and I like it even less played straight.  Moreover, could they get someone dopier looking than Richard Kiel (who "played" the alien)?  Lots of telling, not a lot of showing, and a punchline only Benedict Breadfruit could love.  One star.


by Lorelei Marcus

Overall, we had a mix of really good, really bad, and just in between episodes this time around. They total up to an average of 2.125 out of 5 stars. Despite the below average score, I'm still somewhat excited to review the next batch of episodes. I'm hoping we'll have a more reliable batch of good episodes in the future, but you never know. I'm counting on you Serling! Until next time!

This is the Young Traveler, Signing off.


by Gideon Marcus

What she said…

[March 10, 1962] Mail Call! (The April 1962 Galaxy)


by Gideon Marcus

If there is any true measure of fame, it might well be the amount of fan mail you get.  Many stars employ services to plow through their truckloads and give each missive personal response.  Jack Benny came out on his TV stage last night holding a giant sack of fan mail – of course, it was really filled with trash and old cans… 

Galactic Journey's popularity lies somewhere inbetween; we do get our fair share of postcards, but I haven't needed to hire help to read them…yet.  Truth be told, it was for these correspondences that I started this column.  I love meeting you folk – you start the most interesting conversations! 

Science fiction magazines get letters, too.  Many of these digests feature letter columns: Analog, IF, Amazing, and Fantastic.  The two notable hold-outs are Fantasy and Science Fiction and Galaxy.  I suspect the main reason for F&SF is lack of space, it being the shortest of the monthly mags.

Galaxy's reasoning is more complex.  In fact, its editors (first H.L. Gold, now Fred Pohl) have polled readers to see if they wanted a lettercol.  In the last 12 years' of the magazine's existence, the answer has always been no.  Ironically, as much as I love talking to fellow fans, I think I'm in agreement (though I do like letters in comic books).  More room for stories!

Speaking of which…have a look at the stories that came out in this month's quite good Galaxy, dated April 1962:

A Planet for Plundering, by Jack Williamson

Things start a bit slowly with our lead novella.  Wain Scarlet is an anachronism – an atavistic maladjust in an interstellar society of humans.  Where his countrymen are universally beautiful in form and thought, Scarlet is ugly and venal.  Dispatched to the remote star system of Sol to determine whether or not to melt the Earth to use as a galactic stoplight, his sole concern is which of the parties involved can bribe him the most.  Even the revelation that the third planet of the system may well be the ancestral home of humanity means little to him.

Jack Williamson has been around a long time, and his pulpish instincts often creep to the fore in this tale of first contact.  Planet has moments of engagement, and the protagonist is delightfully anti-heroic, but the rough patches bog it down.  Two stars.

Tail-Tied Kings, by Avram Davidson

Davidson, now editor for F&SF, continues his slide into mediocre self-indulgence.  If you recall Miram Allen Deford's Oh Rats! from issue before last, you've got the plot of this one – superrats escape from captivity, poised to take over the world from their bipedal erstwhile masters.  Not unreadable (like some of Davidson's other recent stuff), but why bother rehashing the same story?  And so soon?  Two stars.

Star-Crossed Lover, by William Stuart

Ah, but then we have William Stuart, who rarely disappoints and usually delights.  This Galaxy veteran offers up a fun, tongue-in-cheek tale of romance between a loveable schlub and an eager-to-please, highly wanton ET.  What could go wrong when you've got the literal woman of your dreams?  You'll have to read and find out.  Four stars.

For Your Information, by Willy Ley

Everyone's favorite German returns this bi-month with a piece on shaped charges.  These are explosive shells whose effectiveness is multiplied by how the powder inside is molded.  Pretty fascinating stuff, actually, but the letter Q&A portion afterward is lackluster.  Three stars.

The Long, Silvery Day, by Magnus Ludens

You ever have one of those perfect days?  When everything goes just perfectly?  Ever wonder if someone was behind it?  The impressively named Magnus Ludens is a brand new author, and he hits a triple his first time at bat.  Four stars for this charming story.

Big Baby, by Jack Sharkey

If Stuart is a name that raises expectations, Sharkey's is one that lowers them.  Big Baby is the next in his series starring Jerry Norciss, a telepathic member of the Contact service.  His job is to jump into the minds of beasts on various planets to learn more about the local ecology.  It's not a purely scientific mission – there's always a colony in trouble.  The tidbits about the lonely, junkie-esque life of the esper are compelling, but Baby's menace isn't as interesting as the ones in his last story, there's far too much exposition, and the solution is clumsily rendered.  Two stars.

Gourmet, by Allen Kim Lang

I've no particular reason to like Gourmet, about a spacer who can do wonders with algae rations – but I do.  Perhaps it's because I fancy myself a gourmand, or because Lang is pretty good with the typewriter.  Either way, it's a swell story.  Four stars.

Founding Father, by J.F. Bone

Did the slaveowners think they were righteous?  Do the Whites who lynch Blacks feel good about what they do?  Founding Father puts us in the minds of a pair of reptilian aliens who investigate modern-day Earth.  Their ship has insufficient fuel for the return trip, so they place mental taps into a married couple and compel them to collect some. 

What ensues is a difficult read, particularly if mental coercion is your weak point.  There is no happy ending, and the enslaved's resistance is slowly, methodically destroyed.  Yet the slavemasters are not uncivilized.  Their actions are justified, at least to themselves.  And it's all rendered with a somewhat insouciant touch, appropriate given whose viewpoint we see through.  Chilling.

This is an awfully hard piece to be objective about.  It's a cruel story, all the more shocking for its lightness of tone.  But I think it's deliberate.  I've read enough of J.F. Bone to be assured that he knows what he's doing.  If you finish Father without having addressed your feelings about slavery, racism, and the indignity of nonconsensual control, then you're either not getting the point, or you may have no soul.  Tough stuff, but worthy.  Four stars.

Moondog, by Arthur C. Clarke

About an astronaut and the dog who saves him, even over a distance spanning hundreds of thousands of miles, several years, and the veil of life.  This is a rather pedestrian tale from perhaps the most preeminent of British sf authors, but to be fair, I'm more of a cat lover.  Three stars.

So there you go – a jumbo-sized issue of Galaxy that finished on the good side of decent.  Something to write home about?  I leave that to you to decide…

[March 7, 1962] Sunny side up!  (Orbiting Solar Observatory (OSO) #1)


by Gideon Marcus

Look up at the night sky, and what do you see?  Darkness and countless points of light.  Maybe a planet or two, brightly untwinkling in the black.  It is interesting that the sky should be black – after all, there are lots of photons (light particles) buzzing around the sky even after the sun has gone down.  You've got radio waves and x-rays.  Gamma rays, microwaves, and the shimmering veil of infrared – heat.  And yet, we can't see any of it.  Just the pinpricks of stars on the night's sheet.

Part of that is a biological limitation.  Our eyes only see a tiny window of the electromagnetic spectrum: from purple to red, the colors of the rainbow.  Some species of life see a bit further, into the ultraviolet or the infrared.  Only one species has crafted the ability to see beyond this range: humanity.  With our scintillators and geiger tubes and giant dishes, we can see waves of all kinds. 

Well, not quite.  You see, even with these detectors, we are still half blind.  The blanket of air covering the Earth blocks many wavelengths of photons from outer space: X Rays, Cosmic Rays, many wavelengths of Ultraviolet.  To see the truly unseeable, you have to go into orbit.

That's when we really can look at those points of light.  These are the stars, those busy factories of nuclear fusion, busily turning hydrogen into helium.  There are 100 billion in our galaxy, alone!  And we happen to have a lovely example just 93 million miles away, orders of magnitude closer than Alpha Centauri, the second nearest system.  While we have been observing the sun with our eyes for thousands of years, and with instruments for several hundred, these observations have always been hampered by the screening interference of the atmosphere.

Enter OSO – the Orbital Solar Observatory.  This 200kg spacecraft is the heaviest American science satellite to date, dwarfing all of the Explorer series of probes.  It is the first satellite launched devoted to the long-term study of the sun, in wavelengths you can't see from the Earth's surface.

There are 13 experiments on board the (appropriately) solar-powered craft including three X-Ray detectors, four Gamma Ray monitors, an ultraviolet sensor, several particle counters, and a dust sampler.  Not only will OSO be up in orbit for months, but it will be joined by successors in the series such that, for the next 11 years (a complete solar cycle of sunspot maximums and minimums), we will have continuous measurements of our star.  It is an unprecedented experiment, one which will tell us much about the nearest star and, by extension, the rest of the Galaxy's stars.

Not only that, but we will learn a great deal about solar storms and the hazards of radiation to human spaceflight.  This will give us a better idea of when and for how long it is safe for astronauts to travel in space, on the way to the Moon, for instance (NASA Director, James Webb, says he expects a landing by 1968!)

When will this ambitious project start?  Why…today, March 7, 1962, in fact!  It was launched from Cape Canaveral this morning, and to all indications, it is working flawlessly.  It is the kind of mission that won't get a lot of press, particularly when compared to the glory that cloaked Glenn's manned Mercury mission last month.  Nevertheless, I think OSO deserves attention and praise.  It constitutes a genuine leap in technology and it extends the eye of our race far above the clouds in a way no previous satellite has done. 

If they gave out Hugos for unmanned probes, this one would get my vote!

On the other hand, OSO-1 has plenty of competition for that award, and it's sure to get much more.  Tiros 4, the fourth weather satellite, joined its still-functioning older brother (#3) last month on the 8th, and there have been a few mystery military launches since then.  The President has clamped down on Air Force flights as of the beginning of the year, so I don't know much about them save that two were Discoverer film-based spy sats and one was a Samos live-TV spysat.  Another launch happened just today, but it was classified, and I know nothing else about it.  (It's ironic that the reason for the information clamp-down is that the Soviets accused us of employing surveillance satellites, and we're trying to hide it; I'm afraid the cat's already out of that bag!)

So stay tuned…there's more yet to come!

[March 5, 1962] Exotic Blend (Condor: a San Diego SFF convention)


by Gideon Marcus

Science fiction fans are a rare breed.  Consider that even the most widely distributed science fiction monthly, Analog, has just 200,000 readers.  Compare that to the 180 million folks living in America.  That's about one in a thousand.  If you come from a midlin'-sized city of, say, 50,000, there are just 50 of your kind in town.  It can feel pretty lonely, especially in our rather conservative land.

That's why we have science fiction conventions.  For a brief, shining weekend, the density of fans goes from .1% to 100% (except for the occasional stranger who wanders dazedly into the hotel or hall in which the event is held).  It is a rare opportunity to exchange ideas, fanzines, gossip.  We buy and sell our specialized goods.  We wear outlandish costumes.  We drink a bit too much, and we occasionally commit acts that we probably won't tell our parents or kids about.

Welcome to Condor, San Diego's home-grown science fiction gathering.  We had many dozen attendees from throughout Southern California, a gathering that rivaled the famed Worldcon in size.  They ranged from the very young to the venerable, and they came in all shapes, sizes, colors, and genders.  It truly was a fine cross-section of the best humanity has to offer.

Of course, the Journey presented, this time on the notable events in science fact and fiction of 1961.  We had an excellent, engaged audience, and I hope y'all will correspond with us by post until we can meet again. 

We were also asked to speak on the burgeoning field of Japanese animation, which is just starting to become known about in the United States.  World travelers are still comparatively rare, so we were able to share the knowledge we have garnered over many trips across the Pacific (blessedly, we now can travel by jet plane – much faster than the prop planes we used to fly in).

Other panels we attended included one on the latest discoveries in astronomy (including discussions of the latest planned probe to Venus), a couple of writing workshops, and an interesting class on painting — in which the Young Traveler transitioned with ease between student and instructor. 

The Exhibits Hall not only had a delightful art gallery, but there were the usual myriad dealers hawking their wares.  I was particularly excited to pick up a few back magazines and recent paperbacks I'd missed.

And here is a new friend, who makes the most interesting things with those crochet hooks…

There were several attendees who weren't in costume:

And, of course, a fair number who were:

It really was a fabulous time, and I am sad that it comes but once a year.  But then, that's why other cities hold conventions…

[Sep. 30, 1960] Discoverer 15 and a preview for October

It's the end of the month, and that means a sneak preview at what's in store next month on the Journey.  There is also a bit of space news I missed.  Things are now moving fast enough in the world of rockets that it's easy to fall behind!

For those following along at home, here's what's coming out in October.  Items that I plan to review are listed in bold:

Magazines:

October 1960 IF Science Fiction

October 1960 Analog

October 1960 Fantasy and Science Fiction

October 1960 Amazing

October 1960 Fantastic

Books:

Starfire, Robert Buckner

Men into Space, Murray Leinster

Movies:

I aim at the Stars

Television:

The Twilight Zone

The Flintstones

2nd, 3rd, and 4th Presidential Debates

Conventions:

Geek Girl Con

Here's a recap of this month's digests and how they fared against each other:

F&SF was the clear winner at 3.75 stars.  Both Galaxy and Analog trailed far behind, both at 2.75 stars.  F&SF also had my favorite story: From Shadowed Places.  There were 23 authors across the three books; two of them were women.

Now for the Space News:

Looking back through my newspapers, I see that the Air Force got off another Discoverer on September 13.  This fifteenth in the series of capsule-return spacecraft was the third success in a row.  Like its predecessors, it was launched into a polar orbit (as opposed to the East-West orbits used for civilian shots), with an apogee of 787 km and a perigee of 217 km.  17 orbits later, the capsule began its reentry somewhere over Alaska.  Though the airplanes deployed to recover the capsule did not manage to catch it in mid-air, the probe was later found drifting in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Christmas Island.

Now here's the interesting part.  The capsule carried no biological payload (as usual), but it did carry instruments being "tested for later reconnaissance satellites," namely MIDAS, the missile-launch detector, and SAMOS, the official Air Force spy sat program.  This is the first time the Air Force has admitted what I've suspected all along–that Discoverer is really a testbed spy sat.  One of the articles I read went on to say that the capsules will be carrying monkeys sometime soon.  Don't hold your breath.  Discoverer never had anything to do with the manned space program.

Thus ends September.  Here's looking at a busy October!

[Sep. 28, 1960] Face to Face (the first Presidential debates)

What an immediate world we live in.  Think about life six hundred years ago, before the printing press, when news and knowledge were communicated as fast as a person could talk, as fast as a horse could trot.  Think about life two hundred years ago, before the telegraph knit our nation together with messages traveling at the speed of light.  Think about the profound effects movies, radio, and television have had on society.  With each advancement, the globe has shrunk.  One can now hear broadcasts in virtually any language from the comfort of one's home.  One can get news as it happens from the other side of the planet. 

And, for the first time, the American people can, through our representatives in the media, have a direct conversation with our presidential candidates.  For yesterday, thanks to the marvel of modern television, Senator Kennedy and Vice President Nixon were able to discuss matters of national urgency in the first-ever televised presidential debate, on September 26.

I can't stress enough how exciting the experience was for me, as I imagine it was for you.  For the first time, the candidates felt like people.  Their platforms were clearly articulated.  By the end of the event, I had a much clearer idea of what my choices would be come November.

It was an interesting contest, and I think both candidates acquitted themselves well.  Kennedy began the event rather stiffly, but by the midpoint, he had hit a fiery, engaging stride.  Nixon affected a rather deferential mien, which surprised me.  As a result, he came off as a gentleman, but a bit complacent.  He also seemed, at times, to struggle for words.  Not often, but it suggested a touch of exhaustion.  I shouldn't be surprised, given the man's campaigning schedule.

As for the substance of their remarks, during this hour-long debate specifically on domestic matters, I took four pages of hastily scrawled notes.  I'll try to digest them into something short and cogent.

The candidates were given eight minutes for opening speeches.  Kennedy led off, linking freedom with economic prosperity.  So long as the world remains half slave and half free (paraphrasing a famous Republican, how the times have changed), the way for freedom to endure is for economic progress to be made.  He touted the Tennessee Valley Authority (TVA) as a model for future, government-led success.  He acknowledged the moderate prosperity of the post-War era, but charged that we must do better, that we can do better.  Interestingly, this is the only time that either of them addressed the strong racial inequality in our country.  Nixon was conspicuously silent on the issue–perhaps he hopes to wrest the South from Democratic control.

Nixon, unlike Kennedy, used the full span of time allotted for the opening speech.  For the first half, he was strikingly defensive.  America was not standing still, he said, a tone of desperation creeping into his voice, and a sheen of sweat on his chin.  The Vice President fared better as he shifted to propounding his own agenda.  He maintained that the Republicans know the secret to progress, and that the Eisenhower era was far more successful than the Truman era.  He ended his comments with a dig against Kennedy: "I know what it means to be poor."  This is true, but so long as the Republican party is the party of big business, I don't think it matters.

Then a panel of four reporters presented a series of questions to the candidates.  Three of the ten dealt with whether or not Kennedy and Nixon were qualified to be President.  In Kennedy's case, the issue was age, to which Kennedy replied that he and Nixon had both been in governmental service since 1947.  The Senator also noted that Lincoln (again!) had the shortest of political resumes and yet was one of our greatest Presidents.  For Nixon, the issue was eight years of ineffectiveness.  Had he done anything memorable as Vice President?  Nixon said he had; Kennedy disputed Nixon's claimed accomplishments.  It was pretty damning that Eisenhower, himself, said he needed a week to recall a major Nixon accomplishment–and he turned up empty a week later.

Things got more interesting, for me, when substantive policy issues were addressed.  Regarding ongoing farm subsidies, Kennedy insisted that they were necessary given the volatile nature of the agriculture business, the relative weakness of the farmer in his market, and the importance of the food production sector.  Nixon agreed that subsidies must continue while the wartime surpluses remain, but that the farmer must ultimately be weaned off the government teat.

In response to a question regarding the national debt, Kennedy asserted that the debt could not be reduced before 1963, but that his expanded programs would be paid for by the growing economy they would guarantee.  Nixon noted that the government would have to front payment for the programs before it came back as taxes, and he insisted that Kennedy's programs were too "extreme."  The only way to pay for them would be to raise taxes or go into inflation-causing debt, both of which would hurt the American people.

Perhaps the subtlest issue of the debate was teachers' salaries.  Both came out in favor of it.  But Nixon has a record of voting against it.  The Vice President says he worries that involvement of the federal government will reduce the freedom the teachers have to instruct as they wish.  Kennedy dismissed this argument noting that the bill he supported in February of this year had no such strings attached–the federal government would simply give money to the states, which would then spend it as they saw fit.  Nixon noted, however, that this would incentivize the states to simply diminish their contribution to education in an amount equal to what the federal government provided.  Interesting points.

The highest drama ensued when Kennedy was asked if he would be more effective as a President in getting bills passed than as a Senator.  Kennedy noted that he had no trouble getting his proposals passed in his legislative chamber; it was the obstinate Republicans in the House and in the White House that blocked them.  With him as President, his policies would be effected.  Nixon, rather unconvincingly, said it was not Eisenhower's veto that blocked Kennedy, but the will of the people that veto represented. 

The spirited debate continued into the next question, regarding Nixon's ability to lead.  The Vice President rather bashfully averred that whomever the people voted for would be an effective President–but the people wouldn't support someone who espoused extreme measures.

Kennedy countered forcefully that a $1.25 minimum wage was not extreme, that medical insurance for those over 65 was not extreme, and that federal support of education was not extreme.  And should he be elected, he implied, those measures will pass. 

The last question addressed the issue of domestic Communism.  Both candidates expressed their concern over the problem, but it was pretty clear that neither of them were too worried about it.  Kennedy noted that the primary threat was external Communism.  Nixon urged that we must be "fair" to our people when combating domestic Communism, lest we become too like our repressive enemies.  Given Nixon's strong role in the anti-Communist movement a decade ago, this note rang a bit false.

At this point, the candidates were given three minutes to sum up.  Nixon stressed that the Soviet Union may be growing faster than the United States, but that's just because they are so much further behind.  In 1960, as in 1940, the Soviet Union has just 44% of America's Gross National Product.  And while he and Kennedy agreed on general goals, their means were different.  I couldn't quite parse out what Nixon's means would be–only what they would not be (i.e. increased federal spending).

Kennedy ended on the offensive.  He said he did not want America to sit idly while the Soviet Union closed the economic gap.  The Senator said that, if we are happy with the nation as it is, by all means, we should vote for Nixon.  But if we're the least bit dissatisfied (and who is ever completely satisfied?), we must vote Democratic.  Because America is "ready to move," and Kennedy can get us moving.

The debate had a paradoxical effect upon me as a voter.  I was (and am) predisposed to poll Democratic, and seeing Kennedy perform only reinforced that tendency.  On the other hand, I feel I have a better handle on the Vice President, and I like him more than I did before the event.  Thus, while Kennedy may have "won" the debate, I think both candidates came out winners in terms of presenting themselves as competent, likeable executive possibilities.

More important, perhaps, is the way this debate has presented in a clear-cut fashion, the issues facing the American people.  We all have a lot to think about now.  And stimulating the cerebral juices is a laudable achievement for a device commonly known as the "idiot box."

[Sep. 26, 1960] Third time unlucky (Atlas Pioneer failure)

It's enough to break an engineer's heart: yet another Atlas Able launch has gone awry, sending its Pioneer payload not to the Moon, but into the drink.

It is an anticlimactic ending for a mission that withstood all of nature's attempts to stop it.  Just two weeks ago, one of the most destructive hurricanes in history smashed into Florida, sending the launch crew packing.  They got the booster back up in good time, however.

No, what killed the mission were engineering glitches (a brand-new word for a brand-new problem).  In fact, not once has the Atlas Able, the odd marriage of the Atlas ICBM and the top two stages of the old Vanguard booster, worked out.  The first failure was a static test firing that ended in explosion.  The second disappointment involved a popped nosecone.  This third time, something went wrong in the second stage.  The booster got tipped beyond its ability to compensate, and the thing ended up boring straight into the Atlantic Ocean 14 minutes after launch.  'Dolf Thiel, the Air Force's ex-German rocketeer (counterpart to the Army's Von Braun), says his team still doesn't what caused the crash.  That's $10 million down the drain.

There is only one Atlas Pioneer probe and one Atlas Able booster left in the Air Force stable.  The next flight is planned for the end of this year.  Let's hope the fourth time turns out to be the charm.  It would be nice.  The Atlas Pioneer is an impressive machine– at 140 kg, the biggest American deep space probe yet attempted.  The slew of onboard experiments have already been successfully tested on previous flights (Explorer 6 and Pioneer 5), and the vehicle carries the very first engine that can be started, stopped, and restarted in space.  Interestingly, there is no camera on the Atlas Pioneers; but if you saw the results the last time the Air Force released a photo from space, you can understand why they wouldn't want to use their old camera again.


From here

If you're one of the 158 million Americans (out of 180 million) that owns a TV set, I'm willing to bet I know what you'll be doing tonight: the first ever presidential candidate debates will be televised this evening.  I'm very interested to see how this newest of campaign ideas meshes with the newest of communications media.

[Sep. 21, 1960] If you can't beat em… (Theodore Sturgeon's Venus Plus X)

Ted Sturgeon wrote a book about sex.

It appears that Sturgeon has always wanted to write "a decent book about sex,"–how it affects our society, not the act itself.  At least, that's what Sturgeon says in the post-script of his strange new novel, Venus Plus X.  Well, it is a decent book (pun intended), and Sturgeon has a lot to say about sex and the relations of the genders in its 160 pages.  Some of it is told, some of it is shown; the end result is a fiction-buffered sermon not unlike the kind Heinlein likes to concoct. 

First, a Cook's tour of the plot.  Venus is really two concurrent stories.  The "A plot" involves Charlie Johns, a bit of a lover, a bit of a loser, snatched from present-day America by a band of futuristic hermaphrodites called Ledom.  These are not aliens, mind you–just a new variety of genderless humanity.  His kidnappers ostensibly have the most benign of intentions for Johns.  They simply want him to observe their society and give his opinions; whereupon, he can return whence he came.

Ledom (the place and the people share a name) is a technological wonderland.  The Ledom obtain limitless power from the "A-field," which generates energy from a matter-antimatter reaction, the antimatter being (tautologically) generated by the A-field.  This makes possible structures built in the shape of cornucopias balanced on their points.  Food is abundant, delicious, and perfectly tailored.  Transportation is as instant as one would like.  Most importantly, the lands of the Ledom are completely shielded from the outside world.  It is always sunny in Ledom, and no harmful elements can intrude.

This seeming paradise is also sociologically perfect.  There is no War between the Sexes.  Indeed, there is no violence at all.  Mating is completely consensual and pleasurable, but it is not the driving force nor the pinnacle expression of love for the Ledom.  Children are raised in common, and all are taught to eke a living from the soil, even in the presence of the bounty made possible by the A-field.  Thanks to the other great Ledom invention, the "cerebrostyle," education can be implanted directly in a Ledom's mind.  This frees people to pursue the careers for which they feel most suited.

Sturgeon gives each episode of Johns' journey loving, perhaps overindulgent, attention.  The clothes, the food, the buildings, the pottery, the incessant singing of the children, the worship of the children by the adults (the only kind of religion in which the Ledom indulge), all get pages of description.  The impression one is left with, that one is supposed to be left with, is that through the elimination of gender and by learning from humanity's mistakes, the Ledom have created Heaven on Earth.

As counterpoint, Sturgeon gives us the "B plot," which appears in vignettes alternating regularly with the pieces of Johns' story.  Told in the present tense to further stress its otherness, it is a slice-of-life portrayal of two families living next door to each other in near-future suburbia.  In this thread, Sturgeon points out two concurrent trends: the increasing convergence of male and female roles, and the reactionary reinforcement of "traditional" gender identities.  In the former, we see the genesis of the Ledom; in the latter, we see the strife the Ledom have apparently avoided.

Also highlighted are our (1960s American) hang-ups regarding the physical act of sex.  Again, the Ledom have avoided them, but at a price you and I might be unwilling to pay. 

In presenting the book as I have, theme-first, if you will, it must sound frightfully dull.  Well, it is, in some parts.  Even Sturgeon's unquestioned gift for the written word cannot completely sugar-coat this horse pill of sociology.  The great mystery driving the story (and one is mostly aware of it thanks to the dramatic blurb on the back of the book) is only revealed and then quickly resolved near the end.  As a result, there isn't a lot of a plot to the story, nor much build-up. 

That said, the questions posed are fascinating, and if the reader doesn't leave with profound insights on gender relations, s/he will at least come away with profound insights on Ted Sturgeon. 

Three and a half stars. 

Note: The title of the story is derived from a passage in the book.  At one point, Johns wonders how to represent the gender of the androgynous Ledom: "They used to use the astronomical symbols for Mars and Venus for male and female…What in hell would they use for these?  Mars plus y?  Venus plus x?"

This pedant thinks it makes more sense to say "Mars plus x, Venus plus y" (after the sex-determining chromosome).  Perhaps "Venus Plus Y" was a less appealing title.

Note 2: The book can also be purchased here