Tag Archives: Barry P. Miller

[October 24, 1964] Nothing Lasts Forever (November 1964 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

This Too Shall Pass

There is an ancient fable of Persian origin, retold many times over the centuries, about a monarch who asked the wisest sages in the realm for a statement that could apply to all possible situations. The answer, of course, is the title of this piece.

It is impossible to deny the ephemeral nature of all Earthly things, even if we speculate that the universe may be eternal. (The truth of that is still a matter of scientific debate, as to whether the cosmos will expand forever, or eventually collapse into itself.)

Evidence for the temporary nature of politics, for example, came with the unexpected fall of Nikita Khrushchev from power in the Soviet Union, as discussed by our host in detail.


Americans were caught by surprise, it seems.

Obviously, the most common evidence for the fragility of humanity is the universality of death. To mention just one recent example, Herbert Hoover passed away this month, at a more advanced age than any other former President of the United States.


Let him be remembered for his extraordinary work providing supplies of food to millions of starving Europeans during and after World War One, rather than his failure to deal with the Great Depression.

In a less sober way, the 1964 Summer Olympics, the first to be held in Asia, came to an end as well, with a memorable closing ceremony in the Tokyo setting.


Why summer games in October? To avoid the heat and typhoon season.

Few things are as short-lived as popular music, as shown by the fact that two songs reached the Number One position on the American charts this month. First came Oh, Pretty Woman, a tribute to feminine beauty by singer and guitarist Roy Orbison.


I'm used to seeing him with dark glasses.

This was quickly replaced by the nonsensically titled Do Wah Diddy Diddy by the British group Manfred Mann.


Confusingly, the name of the band is the same as the name of the keyboard player.

In Search of Eternal Life

Fittingly, the two lead stories in the latest issue of Fantastic deal with futile attempts to escape the ravages of time.


Cover art by George Schelling

The Knocking in the Castle, by Henry Slesar


Interior illustrations also by Schelling

We begin with a chilling tale set in modern Italy. A widow attends a party, during which the host suggests an excursion to a nearby castle, said to be haunted. The woman reluctantly goes along, only to scream in fear when a knocking emerges from within the dungeon. A flashback reveals the reason for her horror at the sound.

In the United States, she married a man whose ancestors built the castle. Once a year he goes back to the family estate, where his sister lives year-round, rarely emerging from seclusion. We soon discover that the man is well over two hundred years old, despite his youthful appearance. He returns to the castle for an annual dose of the liquid which keeps the siblings from aging.


The magical elixir, a few drops of which drives back the Grim Reaper.

A violent quarrel breaks out between brother and sister when the man wishes to share the potion with his bride. Driven to extreme measures, the sister hides the key to the chamber holding the supply of liquid in a particularly macabre way.


Extreme measures, indeed.

What follows is a grim account of the man's desperate attempt to find the key before time runs out. It all leads up to the frightening conclusion, explaining the woman's terrified scream.

I found myself imagining this story as one of those Italian Gothic horror movies that make their way to the USA in badly dubbed and edited form. That's one reason I enjoyed it, to be honest. I pictured Barbara Steele, veteran of such films, in the role of the mysterious sister. I could see the gloomy interior of the castle in glorious black-and-white, and hear the spooky violin music on the soundtrack.

From a fan of Shock Theater and Famous Monsters of Filmland, a very subjective four stars.

Elixir for the Emperor, by John Brunner


Illustrated by Virgil Finlay

Our second account of a quest for eternal life also takes place in Italy, but goes back thousands of years to the days of the Roman Empire. A general and a senator plot against the life of a popular emperor. Their subtle plan involves offering a large reward for an effective elixir of immortality, convincing the emperor that it really works, thanks to the deceptive aid of the ruler's trusted slave, and substituting poison.

Complicating matters is an old man, saved from death in the arena by the emperor's mercy. In gratitude, he manages to create a genuine potion granting endless life, but is too late to prevent the emperor from being murdered. He hatches his own plot against those who slew his savior.

This is mostly a story of palace intrigue and vengeance, with just a touch of fantasy. The ancient setting is convincing, and there's a bit of philosophical musing at the end. It's very readable, if not particularly memorable, and not quite up to the author's usual high standard.

A middle-of-the-road three stars.

The Man Who Found Proteus, by Robert Rohrer

The gods of mythology, with some exceptions, enjoy the freedom from death sought by the protagonists of the first two stories. This comic romp features the god Proteus, famous for being able to change into any shape.

A grizzled prospector encounters the deity, first as a moving rock, then in the form of a talking mule, and later as a series of letters appearing on the ground, allowing the god to announce his desires in writing. His wants are simple enough; he's eternally hungry, ready to devour anything the prospector can provide. As you might imagine, things don't work out well for the old sourdough.

For the most part, this is a silly comedy, more notable for a certain amount of imagination than for belly laughs.

A slightly amused two stars.

Seed of Eloraspon (Part 2 of 2), by Manly Banister


Illustrations by Schelling again

The hero of this thud-and-blunder yarn may not be immortal, but it sure seems that way some times. As you may recall from last month, he set out to find the ancient city of the long-vanished, technologically advanced inhabitants of an alien world, accompanied by a warrior princess, an enemy turned friend, and a fellow Earthling. After many battles with the wicked Tharn, and a strange encounter with their mysterious rulers, the Bronze Men, they were about to be killed by huge flying monsters.

The author cheats as badly as any old movie serial, by setting up a cliffhanger from which there seems no escape, and then offering a disappointing way out. It seems that the hero, because he's got the advanced mental powers of what the story calls a magnanthropus, is able to communicate with the creatures. It seems that they're on his side, and want him to fulfill his quest. (There's a weird explanation that the flying beasts, along with other beings on this world, are the incarnation of emotions. That seemed really goofy to me.)


A typical battle. I like the use of the circle.

After getting out of that scrape without any effort, our quartet of adventurers fight the Tharn, get captured, escape, and so on. Eventually the hero discovers the secret of the Bronze Men, which will come as no surprise to anybody who has ever read any science fiction, and triumphs over all challenges. This pretty much just involves pulling a lever, which is pretty anticlimactic.


A defeated Bronze Man, although it sure looks more like a stone statue to me.

I got the feeling that the author really rushed through this half of the story. Things move at a breakneck pace, but without much purpose or meaning. The whole thing just sort of fizzles out at the end, leaving the reader exhausted and unsatisfied.

A disappointed one star.

Hell, by Robert Rohrer

(The Table of Contents credits the story to somebody named Howard Lyon. As best as I can figure out, this is a pseudonym meant to disguise the fact that the author has two pieces in the same issue. Rohrer and Lyon, get it? The Table of Contents also lists the author of The Man Who Found Proteus as Robert H. Rohrer instead of plain Robert Rohrer, so I guess there was some confusion around the editorial offices.)

A man finds himself, as the simple title implies, in the infernal regions. He passes some damned souls lying immobile on a beach under a cloudy sky, then takes a ride across the water with a demonic boatman assumed to be Charon. The fellow has no fear of eternal punishment, because he feels ready to face any psychological torment Hell might provide. As you expect, his attitude turns out to be badly mistaken. In a way, he faces the worst kind of immortality, if only in a spiritual sense.

The ending of this brief tale is not surprising. I never did figure out what the point of the motionless bodies on the beach was supposed to be. The story is decently written, but there's not much to it.

A confused two stars.

The Mermaid and the Archer, by Barry P. Miller


Illustration by Robert Adragna

The title characters in this romantic fantasy are two department store manikins, unable to move but conscious and able to communicate through a kind of telepathy. They were crafted by a master puppet-maker, whose affection for his creations gave them life. A violent storm threatens their physical existence, but a painter is able to preserve their love in his art.

This gentle, bittersweet fable suggests a kind of immortality in the works of gifted artists. Written in a introspective, poetic style, it is sure to touch the reader's emotions.

A sentimental four stars.

Daughter of the Clan, by Wilton G. Beggs

A teenage girl, who was adopted as an infant, experiences a gnawing, unsatisfied hunger. An attempted rape leads to the discovery of her true nature, and she meets others of her kind. A particular kind of immortality is implied.

Despite a certain moody intensity in the author's style, this is a simple, predictable tale, which ends just when it starts to get more interesting. Like the lead story, it attempts to produce old-fashioned chills, but not as effectively.

An unsatisfied two stars.

From Here to Eternity

Although none of the stories in this issue are likely to win undying fame, a couple of them should remain in the reader's memory for quite some time, if not forever. It makes me wonder how long copies of the magazine are likely to exist; if not in paper form, maybe on microfilm or some other medium. Whether anybody will be reading this issue in the distant future is an unanswerable question. Let's just be grateful we can enjoy the best of it here and now.


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[May 10, 1964] STUCK IN THE MIDDLE (the June 1964 Amazing)


by John Boston

Regression to the Mean

The June Amazing is . . . middling — a relief compared to some past performances—with nothing outstanding, nothing appalling, and much of it at least mildly interesting.


by Alex Schomburg

Tin Lizzie, by Randall Garrett

Like the previous issue, this one starts off with a hardware opera, but a much more agreeable one than last month’s.  Randall Garrett’s Tin Lizzie is a conscious throwback to older SF, say the late ‘30s just after John Campbell took over at Astounding but before any great transformation took hold, with the writers soberly exploring the engineering challenges of space travel to the inner planets.  No doubt it was too old hat for present-day Campbell, accounting for its appearance here at the bottom of the market rather than in Analog, Garrett’s most regular abode.  Nowadays you’re more likely to find this sort of thing in Boy’s Life than in the SF magazines, or by revisiting the older Winston juveniles you took out of the library years ago.


by Virgil Finlay

Our heroes are piloting a tugship back from Jupiter towing a big bag of a nitrogen compound, mined from Jupiter’s atmosphere and destined for the factories of Luna, when they get a Mayday call from Mars.  Turns out there’s a scientific expedition stranded on the surface in a damaged spaceship and needing help fast.  But the tugship can’t land there because it has no landing gear and its cupro-aluminum hull won’t stand up to an atmosphere anyway, especially the dinitrogen trioxide of the Martian atmosphere.  (Read that aloud in front of a mirror and practice looking authoritative.)

But!  On Phobos are a couple of abandoned “space taxis,” 80-year-old rocket-powered vehicles made for nothing but landing and taking off.  Only problem is that in this day of gravito-inertial engines, nobody knows how to fly a rocket any more . . . except for the centenarian General Challenger, about the only surviving rocket pilot, who is pleased to instruct the boys long-distance from the Moon so they can rescue the stranded scientists.  There’s an added fillip at the end about the primitive Martian life forms.

The story is very capably done, full of technical lectures which I am not competent to assess but which are slickly rendered for the lay person.  This sort of thing would get tiresome quickly if the magazines were full of it, but they aren’t, so it makes for a refreshing change from the usual more sophisticated (or pseudo-) fare.  It’s a moldy fig, but reasonably tasty.  Three stars.

Condition of Survival, by Barry P. Miller


by George Schelling

Garrett's is followed by a considerably longer novelet by Barry P. Miller.  Who?  A Barry P. Miller had a couple of stories in Ray Palmer’s Other Worlds Science Stories in 1956-57, just before the end—not an auspicious sign, if it’s the same guy. 

He certainly knows the drill; the story begins: “For a Greenwich Month, the BuGalEx ship, Wotan’s Beard, had maintained an observation orbit three hundred kilometers above the fourth planet of a G2 class sun near the base of the galactic limb of which Sol was a part.” And, on further exploration, it’s a pretty ambitious story, if ham-handedly rendered.

The BuGalEx folks have landed now and discovered small humanoids, whom they call the Elves.  Their attempts to establish communication with the Elves aren’t going well, so it’s time for Hillier, the Transferman, to do his stuff.  He has his consciousness projected into that of an Elf to figure out what’s going on, and meets a sort of demigod of the Elves’ consciousness, which transforms itself into his heart’s desire and tries to recruit him to help it (or, as he perceives, her) fend off the grasping Terrestrials.

Meanwhile, Hillier’s girlfriend, Linguist Betty Lee, has been fending off her ex, who tries to lure her back with a means of converting aural sensation to tactile sensation, i.e., to have sex somehow melded with or choreographed by Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, because on Earth these days, sexual prowess, born or made, is apparently all anybody cares about.  But Betty is really an old-fashioned girl looking for Mr. Right, whom she sees in Hillier, the naive guy from a colony planet, who seems to want more or less what she does, though it takes a while for them to figure it out.

Miller tries to integrate these two plots, with less success than one would like, partly because he is a glib but clumsy writer whose scenes of interpersonal interaction are nothing short of soap-operatic.  One longs to shout “Rewrite!” and get somebody in who could handle this material more coherently and with more plausible affect.  Theodore Sturgeon?  Sorry, he’s busy.  Anyway, three stars for a nice try and an interesting one, even if the author can’t quite bring it off.

The Pirokin Effect, by Larry Eisenberg

From the attempted sublime to the accomplished vaudevillesque: Larry Eisenberg, who perhaps has been reading too much Robert F. Young, proposes in The Pirokin Effect that the Lost Tribes of Israel ended up on Mars and are communicating by impulses detectable in restaurant kitchens in New York and Philadelphia.  It’s amusing enough and has the virtue of brevity, and is told with a strong ethnic flavor.  Three stars, or maybe the author would prefer three bagels with a schmear.

The Sphinx, by Robert F. Young


by George Schelling

And here is Robert F. Young himself with another silly Robert F. Young story, The Sphinx, which the editor introduces: “Continuing his series of up-dating Terran mythology and folklore. . . .” No brevity here—it’s almost 30 pages.  Protagonist Hall is scouting the area before a big space battle between the Earth and Uvelian space fleets, loses control to something unknown and crashes on a planet.  He reconnoiters and finds a Sphinx and several pyramids.  This Sphinx is alive and explains that she contrived the creation of the Sphinx and pyramids of Earth thousands of years ago, and her sister did the same for the Uvelians, and because this is Young there’s also an Egyptian girl (sic) whom the protagonist decides is (of course) the most beautiful he has ever seen. 

The space battle, which threatens to destroy the planet, starts, but then stops—that’s the Sphinxes’ contrivance too.  Etc., etc.  The best that can be said for this . . . well, contrivance really is the word . . .  is that it is less annoying than Young’s usual, told straightforwardly and not in the overtly arch, coy, cloying, or precious manner that we have come to expect from him.  He is a competent writer at the word-and-sentence level whatever one thinks of what he does with his competence.  I guess that’s why he is published so prolifically; can’t think of any other reason.  Two stars, barely.

SF Profile: John Wyndham, by Sam Moskowitz

Sam Moskowitz is back with another SF Profile, this one of John Wyndham, which as usual presents implausible praise and detailed plot summaries of his pulp stories of the 1930s.  It does give more attention than usual to his more sophisticated work of the 1950s, then reverts to form with two sentences about his most recent novel, Trouble with Lichen.  This one is lighter on interesting biographical detail than many of its predecessors.  Two stars. 

Statistical analysis

So: the issue is a good enough time-passer for those who have time they need to pass.  For anyone else, its attraction may be limited… 


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