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[March 24, 1969] Apocalypse Impending? New Worlds, April 1969


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

As I mentioned last month, this issue begins yet another new era for New Worlds. With the retirement of Mike Moorcock and Charles Platt from full-time editorialship in the last issue, it is Langdon Jones that steps up to the mark as editor this time.

For that reason alone, it should be an interesting one, but last month’s issue also pointed out that the April issue was going to have an apocalyptic theme:

The named list from last month.

With Mike Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius saving the world from destruction, the advert proudly declared, “Is The Apocalypse Already Upon us??” Gone is the optimistic, forward-looking shiny and new future as suggested by the SF of the 1950’s, and in its place we have post-apocalyptic gloom, doom, decay and squalor. It has been an ongoing theme in the magazine for the last few years.

Is it a more realistic view of the future or just depressing? I guess reading this issue will help me decide!

A figure in yellow against a white background of a boy with a dog next to him. Cover by Mervyn Peake.

To be fair, the white cover with a minimalist approach to titling and imagery, this month by the recently deceased Mervyn Peake, does not give an impression of 'gloom and doom'. Far from it. I found it more interesting than the recent generic covers. A good start.

Lead In by The Publishers

Much is made of the fact that this issue has the UK debut of the US’s enfant terrible Harlan Ellison.

A Boy and his Dog by Harlan Ellison

A photo of two faces. The lower one is an inverted mirror image of the one above. In a post-apocalyptic US we are told of teenager Vic and his telepathic dog, Blood. Vic is a teenage boy who spends his time scavenging the world for basic needs—food, companionship, and sex—as well as generally avoiding other groups, known as roverpaks, doing the same thing. They meet Quilla June – unusual because most women live where it is safer, underground. Vic rapes Quilla June before they are attacked by another roverpak. Blood is hurt in the scuffle. Quilla June escapes and returns to her underground home of Topeka.

Determined to get food and find Quilla June, Vic leaves Blood on the surface and follows Quilla June underground, to discover that bringing Vic underground was the original plan by the subterranean city elders. New blood (see what Ellison did there?) is needed to replenish the depleted stock of men! Vic sees this as a great opportunity for sex with lots of different women, but soon tires of being basically a sex slave. He escapes back to the surface with Quilla June, only to find Blood hurt and in need of food to survive. The open ending leaves Vic with a quandary – does he leave Blood or feed Blood?

This one should activate all the seismic shockmeters: there’s sex, masturbation, rape, gore, violence, cannibalism, radioactive mutations and a distinct lack of morals and ethics as Vic and Blood try to survive. (It's a little concerning when I'm told that Ellison used his own dealings with gang culture in the US as inspiration for this story.)

As good as it is, that’s not to say that there aren't worrying elements – Quilla June’s change from rape victim to willing participant is a little jarring to me, but to some extent this reflects the brutal society Vic and Blood live in and the amoral stance that Vic has towards life. Unsurprisingly, when presented with a version of what pre-War domesticity is like, he rebels and runs away back to his previous life.

We’ve had lots of post-apocalyptic stories before—Charles Platt’s Lone Zone, for example, back in July 1965—but this novella has greater depth and more complexity and style than any of those I have read before.

Undoubtedly memorable and a million miles away from the classic hero template of older SF work, A Boy and his Dog reinvents the apocalyptic adventure story and generally holds up. I found it bold, interesting, lively and yes, controversial. As good as Delany’s Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones back in the December issue. 5 out of 5.

The Ash Circus by M. John Harrison

And here’s M. John Harrison’s take on Michael Moorcock’s Jerry Cornelius (more of which later.) They do say that imitation is the best form of flattery, and here Harrison copies the beginning of Ian Fleming’s James Bond movie You Only Live Twice before having Jerry return to a decaying London, then travel to Scotland and Manchester to become inspired by Byron and then get involved in a putsch in London, before meeting the authoritarian Miss Brunner again.

It’s actually not bad as a mixture of James Bond and The Avengers television series, with the dark humour of Cornelius coming to the fore, but it is less out-there than Moorcock’s own Cornelius material (again – more of which later.) This may, of course, make the story more readable than some of Jerry’s other esoteric stories. 4 out of 5.

How the Sponsors Helped Out by Anthony Haden-Guest

Poetry – or rather a list of different things sent by companies to ‘The Front’ – Hamleys sent toys, IBM sent a brain, and so on. This being New Worlds the poem doesn’t miss throwing out a few choice expletives in the mixture – guess what Playboy sent? I dare not repeat the word here. Mildly amusing. 3 out of 5.

Labyrinth by D. M. Thomas

Four text boxes of increasingly undecypherable text.More poetry. Described as ‘a poem for light and movement’, Thomas manages to produce strange typewritten boxes that are at times undecipherable. A typical ‘form over content’ type piece. 2 out of 5.

The Beach Murders by J. G. Ballard

Another one of Ballard’s stories where novels are compressed into paragraphs. The clever part is that each paragraph begins with the letters of the alphabet. Described as ‘An Entertainment for George MacBeth’, this one reads like the description of an exotic holiday beach party and also feels, rather oddly at times, like a James Bond plot – not the first time I’ve thought that for this issue. One of the more enjoyable of Ballard’s recent stories for me, perhaps because it feels a little more like the material Ballard was writing when I first noticed him. 4 out of 5.

Inside by J. J. Mundis

A naked lady's top torso with bare breasts.The inevitable 'naked lady of the month' picture.

Another strange story from J J Mundis after the rather odd ‘Luger’ story last month. This time, a depressing stream of consciousness story that’s all sex, drugs and allegory about being empty inside. Nothing really worth remembering. 2 out of 5.

For Czechoslovakia by George MacBeth

Yet more poetry, this time from the poet J. G. Ballard wrote for earlier. As expected, it is dark, gloomy and depressing, combining prose passages from The Diary of a German Soldier, written in 1939 interspersed with verses written by MacBeth using the process of automatic writing. I’m intrigued by the process, if less impressed by the poetry. 3 out of 5.

A Cure for Cancer (Part 2 of 4) by Michael Moorcock
A black and white picture of Jerry Cornelius in messianic pose. Artwork by Mal Dean.

After Harrison’s version, we now return to the originator of the Jerry Cornelius stories.

A black and white picture of a corpulent bishop, the villain of the story. More artwork by Mal Dean.

This month Jerry continues his meandering travels across time with Karen von Krupp to try and find Bishop Beezley. Lots of prose in small sections (with even an homage of J. G. Ballard in Ballard style lists of text), whose connections are rather obtuse, lots of sex and Miss Brunner – again! (see also M. John Harrison’s story.)

The plot’s undecipherable, but I feel that this is one you appreciate for the enthusiastic energy rather than the plot. Who knows what’s going on, but the writer clearly had fun writing it. 4 out of 5.

Book Reviews

A Turning World by Brian W. Aldiss

Where Aldiss muses on how perspectives change through time, throwing in a couple of reviews along the way – basically, a discussion on how others might see us in the future.

The Cannon Kings by Joyce Churchill

Referring to recent publications, Joyce Churchill (also known as M. John Harrison) writes about the importance of Germany’s armaments manufacturers in the first half of the 20th century.

A Slight Case of Tolkien by James Cawthorn

It is left to James Cawthorn to review the genre books. This month he looks at Jack Vance’s Catch A Falling Star, Robert Burnet (sic) Swann’s Moondust, Shirley Jackson’s The Sundial,  Clifford Simak’s So Bright the Vision coupled with Jeff Sutton’s The Man Who Saw Tomorrow, James Blish and Norman L. Knight’s A Torrent of Faces, Ron Goulart’s ‘light-hearted’ The Sword Swallower and a well-deserved reprint of William Hope Hodgson’s horror classic, The House on the Borderland.

A picture of the text telling us of the forthcoming attractions in next month's issue.

Summing Up

This one’s heavy on the espionage Bond-type vibes this month, what with not one but two Jerry Cornelius stories and a Ballard that reads like a Bond story in a Ballard style. As a first issue of the new regime with Langdon Jones as editor, it is not bad – although it may have been better had the Cornelius stories been spread out across different issues. Personally I like the stories, but they're not for everyone, and there's a lot of it here.

But then there’s the Harlan Ellison story that surpassed even my high expectations of his work. If the 'impending apocalypse' is represented by this story, then it's a memorable one to be sure, if decidedly downbeat. According to Ellison, the future is dark and tough.

I can’t see this one being published in the US in the usual science fiction magazines, but even allowing for its deliberate shock tactics, it really impressed – much more than say Bug Jack Barron, which tried to shock readers in a similar way, I think.

If I needed anything to show how much the British genre scene has changed in the last few years, this would be my example, albeit written by an American. Shocking and controversial, yes – but perhaps the best story I’ve read in New Worlds to date. A real coup for the new editorship.

Until next time!



February 26, 1969] Springtime for Moorcock? New Worlds, March 1969

black and white head-shot photo of a spectacled, bearded, mustached man in his 40s
by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

As I am a Brit, you may have realised that it is essential that from time to time we talk about the weather – after all, it is usually so changeable here.

And post-Christmas I haven’t really mentioned it – the grey, sometimes snowy, dreariness of Winter is not something to write home about, unless it is extreme as it was in the winter of ’63. None of that recently, thank goodness!

Anyway, I was guided to write something about atmospheric conditions because as we approach March, things seem to be improving. It is lighter with longer hours of daylight and noticeably warmer. Spring is clearly on the way.

Daffodils and blossom in spring, Hampton, Greater London

But does this upturn in the weather mean that I continue to look at New Worlds with a sunnier disposition? Let’s see..

cover of the magazine, magenta, with Michael Moorcock holding up his arm wardinglyCover by Gabi Nasemann. Is this Moorcock horrified by his announcement? 

Lead In by The Publishers

Well, I was expecting to be annoyed here by the second part of James Sallis’s diatribe on the modernist novel, as told to expect last month, but no. Instead, we have the return of the Lead In and a shock revelation.

The Lead In tells us that Mike Moorcock and Charles Platt have resigned as editors of New Worlds magazine from the next issue. “It is with regret that we announce the resignation of Michael Moorcock and Charles Platt…”

After my initial astonishment, I read it again. It’s not quite what I thought I read – it actually says that Moorcock and Platt are resigning “from full time editorial involvement”.

Whilst this is clearly a change – and one I didn’t expect – it does not mean that they are banished from the magazine forever; more that they have other things to do, like write stuff and ensure the regular production of the magazine as publishers. An advisory role, in fact. Talking of writing:

A Cure for Cancer (Part 1 of 4) by Michael Moorcock

Artwork by Mal Dean.

Our lead story is a Jerry Cornelius story by the originator himself. In case you didn’t know, three months ago, the magazine declared that Mike Moorcock’s character Jerry Cornelius would continue in future issues by stories written by others, starting with James Sallis’s Jeremiad, which was in last month’s issue. So this is a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one.

This time Moorcock gives us what is really a James Bond-ian espionage romp, with guns, sex, cars, helicopters and airplanes, more sex, drugs – things that Fleming or the movies could never get away with – but in a sectioned, fractured, Ballardian style that currently seems de rigueur at New Worlds.

The plot, not that it really matters, is deliberately random but concerns Jerry travelling all over the world and meeting various odd characters, many of whom he seems to bed. There are villains in the form of Doktor Krupp and Bishop Beesley, a sort of corpulent Sidney Greenstreet.

Although the story may be initially set in 1970, there’s an interesting juxtaposition of old and new as Jerry seems to combine elements as diverse as  George Formby songs from the 1940’s and Beatles lyrics with futuristic weapons like the vibragun. It’s an engaging mix, even if it’s not always clear what’s going on. Hopefully the second part will make things clearer, but this is another one where you must not consider the story’s logic and just enjoy the ride.  4 out of 5.

White Dove by Carol Emshwiller

Artwork by Pamela Zoline.

The return of Emshwiller to New Worlds. I have found that her previous prose has often been unsettlingly sexual and odd, something I’ve not really liked personally. But it can’t be denied that she has an impact on readers and so it is here.  This is a story of a statue of an older man that the narrator is obsessed by. 3 out of 5.

The Death Layout by Graham Charnock

Graham was last seen with Crim in November, a story I’m tempted to call ‘grim’, though it wasn’t really that bad. This time it is about life and death – more cheerful stuff. Darkly satirical as an advertising campaign looks at how they can profit from a recent upsurge in pain and suicide. Could give ‘Chuckles’ Ballard a run for the monopoly on negative topics. 3 out of 5.

Mr. Black’s Poems of Innocence by D. M. Thomas

The magazine’s obsession with D.M. Thomas continues, with something given under the premise that it is a transcript of speech from Mr. Black, a schizophrenic, as he is treated. As the story progresses, in Flowers for Algernon fashion, Black becomes increasingly more literate and emotional. Despite my usual moans I found this more readable than some of D. M.’s previous efforts. 3 out of 5.

The Luger is a 9mm Handgun with a Parabellum Action by J. J. Mundis

Here’s an American writer we’ve not seen since November 1966. One of those allegorical stories where the narrator talks to his dog, who is an atavism, for most of the story, but at the end the owner shoots the dog with the titular Luger, presumably signalling the death of God, religion or both. Minor tale that sadly underperforms for me. 2 out of 5.

Plekhanov Screams by Leo Zorin

Bizarre artwork by Mal Dean, seemingly stuck in at random in the middle of this story.

It may help you to know that Georgi Plekhanov was a  Russian philosopher and revolutionary widely regarded as the first Marxist, but if you didn’t know that the story becomes even more meaningless than it actually is. Here Georgi Plekhanov is a surgeon on a secret operation. Lots of randomness, meaningless sex and obtuse actions ensue, including the odd artwork above, which I couldn't decide whether it was part of the story or not . Literary pretention at its highest.  2 out of 5.

I D by Charles Platt

The latest dystopian post-apocalyptic story, filled with death and decay. The narrator follows a mysterious woman before drifting into a dream-state which imagines birth and death. When he awakes the woman isn’t there, of course. Ballard-like bleakness. 3 out of 5.

The Killing Ground  by J. G. Ballard

Artwork by Mal Dean.

And talking of Ballard, here’s ‘Chuckles’ himself. Unusually though, this one is startlingly direct, an anti-war story where the British Army is tasked with the difficult task of maintaining order in a world in decay. Includes a not-so-subtle nod to the US war in Viet Nam. Unusual in its directness, although as a result many will see it as lower-league Ballard. Nevertheless, I liked it. 4 out of 5.

The Hiroshima Dream by George MacBeth

Continuing the war theme, now with poetry, this time from writer and reviewer MacBeth. His last prose piece was in July 1967. The Hiroshima Dream touches on themes that seem very Ballardian, so it seems a logical piece to follow Ballard. Death, destruction, dystopia….fifty tankas*  all based around apocalypse and the nuclear bomb dropping at Hiroshima. Although it is shockingly dark, I prefer MacBeth to D. M. Thomas.  4 out of 5.

*I had to look it up in my dictionary – tankas are prose poems made up of five lines, similar to haiku.

Book Reviews

The Future of Art by Kenneth Coutts-Smith

Coutts-Smith reviews a book with an ambitious title – Heaven and Hell in Western Art by Robert Hughes, and then Art, Affluence and Alienation by Roy McMullen.

Mr. Throd and the Wise Old Crocodile by M. John Harrison

M. John Harrison reviews books of genre interest – the latest Mervyn Peake reprinted novel, Gormenghast, which shows what a talent the late Mr. Peake was, a spy novel by Anthony Burgess, and a story collection by Fritz Leiber, described as “one of the most underrated and misunderstood writers in the field”.

No News is Good News by William Barclay

Barclay reviews in detail Andrew Wilson’s The Bomb and the Computer, which reduces warfare to computer-simulated wargames.

The scary thing is that these simulations are real. Look at the diagram above, which could be easily used in, say, Viet Nam. I guess that this is science fiction made real.

Those Erotic Green Men in Their Flying Machines by James Cawthorn

Eye-catching title aside, James Cawthorn reviews Frank Herbert’s ‘far more presentable than it deserves’ The Heaven Makers, the ‘dated but fast-moving novel’ Doomsday Morning by Catherine L. Moore, and A. E. van Vogt’s first story collection for fifteen years (‘not a collection designed for new readers’)

More positively are the reviews of books from now-departing editors. Michael Moorcock’s latest ‘original and remarkable’ Elric fantasy, Stormbringer and  Charles Platt’s The Garbage World,  which we reviewed when it was a serial here in the magazine There are also brief reviews of Alan Garner’s fantasy novels, as well as Poul Anderson’s ‘ponderous and irritating’ The Star Fox, Robert Silverberg’s The Time Hoppers, The Ring by Piers Anthony and Robert E. Margroff. There's also  a brief re-review of The Dream Master by Roger Zelazny, which was reviewed a while back.

Also quickly mentioned and reviewed by D.R.B. are a number of books also received about poetry, theatre and imagery.

Pictures: M. C. Escher

A page of pictures by this unusual artist, who you may remember was also examined in the July 1967 issue of New Worlds. Seems to be here to highlight the publishing of a new book, The Graphic Work of M. C. Escher.

Summing Up

With a cheery wave goodbye, the leaving of Moorcock and Platt as full-time editors leaves something of a hole at New Worlds, but I am sure that they are leaving feeling that the magazine is in safe hands under the auspices of Langdon Jones and James Sallis.

My own view on Sallis’s work is much less positive. He is far too fond of the poetic allegory and the ‘dissertation as lecture’ article for my liking, as recent issues have shown, although he can surprise me and also produce work I liked. I'm not sure where this means New Worlds will go.

Despite the weather making things seem better, Moorcock's final issue is a rather dark one, with most of the material being about life and death, war and things that are generally unpleasant.* The only thing to lighten the mood is Moorcock's own A Cure for Cancer, which doesn't seem to take itself seriously at all.

*This gloom also looks to continue in the next issue, looking at the 'Next Month' banner (below.)

So, as Moorcock and Platt move on to pastures new – well, more book writing and editing, anyway – is it possible we have another dawning of a new age – not just for them but for New Worlds as well?

Um. Even under new management I’m not expecting things to change much. I think that this issue is what we should expect more of in the future, continuing the trend of combining the well-known writers such as J. G. Ballard with newish writers who are becoming regulars – Leo Zorin, Graham Charnock and yes, my own favourite (sarcasm) D. M. Thomas.

However,  with allegory piled onto allegory, the overall feel is that the issue is rather intense. As is always the case with such experimental work, there are times when it worked for me, whilst others less so. It should make the future interesting.

Ah well – just when I thought things were settling down! Life’s never boring here at the British front, eh?

Until next time!






[February 18, 1969] (February Galactoscope)

Is ten books a record for the Galactoscope?  Lucky we have so many folks reading furiously for the Journey.  And it's a good thing, because amidst the dross and mediocrity, there's a couple of gems…


by Tonya R. Moore

Let the Fire Fall by Kate Wilhelm

Kate Wilhelm is perhaps better known for her debut short story, "The Mile-Long Spaceship" (1963) and Clone (1965), the Hugo Award nominated novel written in collaboration with Theodore L. Thomas. Perhaps you've read her work in Orbit, edited by her husband, Damon Knight.

The ominous title of this book, Let the Fire Fall, promises fire, brimstone, and a violent alien invasion—but the bad guys in this story aren't the extraterrestrials. The plot: A spaceship inhabited by pregnant alien women lands in small town America. The aliens are friendly, and clearly hope to be welcome on this new planet they’ve discovered. One vile and opportunistic man named Obie Cox– under normal circumstances, a small-town philanderer of no account, blessed with uncommon charisma–manages to worm his way to the pulpit. One there, he takes advantage of humanity’s rampant xenophobia and the ineffectuality of Earth’s bureaucracy through flat-out lies, hate, and fear mongering. What he wants is control and he achieves that by weaponizing humanity’s worst traits and using them to brainwash the populace and plunging the world into dystopian chaos.

At first, Wilhelm’s strangely familiar-feeling and deliberately matter-of-fact writing style, peppered with many clever twists of phrase, seems to capture the spirit of Ray Bradbury or an episode of the Twilight Zone. What we get, instead, is a riveting and decidedly tragic tale of First Contact gone awry in a world populated by an almost irredeemable cast of humans.

Wilhelm’s courage and ambitiousness in attempting to capture the vile side of human nature is admirable. Still, even a forward thinking and imaginative author such as herself cannot seem to escape the discriminatory views of our time. Let the Fire Fall perpetuates the sexist view that women must be submissive to men and even the women important to the plot are given no initiative to steer their own destinies. While Wilhelm is progressive enough to acknowledge the existence of homosexuals, the way she characterizes homosexuality as one of the “vices” permitted by the villainous Obie Cox’s vaunted religion suggests a personal disapproval of such individuals. (To be fair, what her characters feel, even the "good" ones, doesn't necessarily reflect Wilhelm's feelings on a subject.)

In any wise, Let the Fire Fall is an excellently written novel. The author’s insight and ability to imagine a dark future, all too possible, are incredible. I love this book but I hated reading it. The way it mirrors our current reality where opportunistic charlatans have risen to political power by preying on the gullibility of the American populace fills me with trepidation. Let the Fire Fall is an insidiously horrifying and damning condemnation of the human race. This book will make you squirm and fret about the world as we know it, and the future of our species. You will not feel comfortable reading this book. You should not.

4 out of 5 stars.



by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

The House on the Strand by Daphne du Maurier

House on the Strand by Daphne Du Maurier 1969 hardback cover from 1969
cover by Flavia Tower

Daphne du Maurier has been a favourite of mine for a long while. I read Rebecca in my teens and have slowly been building up a collection of her writings. However, she has only had one truly SFnal release to date, the marvellous collection The Apple Tree, most notable for containing the original short story of The Birds.

That was until this year, when she followed in the footsteps of fellow literary darlings Naomi Mitchison and Virginia Woolf and put out a book on a mainstay of science fiction, time travel.

Dick Young goes down to visit his old university friend Professor Magnus Lane in Cornwall. Dick agrees to be the test subject of the Professor’s new alchemical invention and finds himself transported back in time to the era of Edward III’s infancy. The story follows Dick and Magnus’ trips back and forth between the 14th and 20th centuries.

What Du Maurier always does well is give a real sense of atmosphere to her tales. As is usual in her books Cornwall takes on the mysterious atmosphere of Bronte’s Yorkshire and Doyle’s Dartmoor: a strange wild place where anything can happen. She also illustrates well the sense of dislocation Dick feels moving between the periods, making him feel like an outsider in both.

Tom's Midnight Garden by Philippa Pearce cover from 1958.
Cover by Susan Einzig

And yet, I don’t feel like it did anything particularly new or interesting here. The children’s book Tom’s Midnight Garden explores similar themes better for me. Also, in spite of the period being underserved in historical narratives, I didn’t feel like I gained much more insight or understanding of it than I would have done from an encyclopedia summary.

This almost reads like one of those historical stories that had a touch of added SFnal content to get into the magazines. Of course, that is not the case here (DuMaurier could release her shopping list and it would be a best seller) and this is still a good read, but I did not feel like it is doing anything exceptional nor is it destined to be one of my favourites.

Three Stars

New Writings in S-F 14 ed. By John Carnell

Cover for hardback edition of New Writings in SF-14 ed. by John Carnell

As John Carnell has now edited as many editions of New Writings as Ian Flemming wrote James Bond novels, he is entitled to enjoy himself. As such, he says this volume is entirely composed of stories he personally loved, rather than mixing in some he knew were good but not to his taste. But how much do my feelings ally with his?

Blood Brother by James White
We start with the always reliable James White with another tale of Sector General.

Following on from Vertigo, a team is returning with Surreshun to “Meatball” to assess the species' medical needs and to locate the manufacturers of their responsive organic tools. Unfortunately, the native entities of the planet believe that Surreshun was kidnapped by the crew of the Descartes and are not keen to let this happen again.

This once again is a fascinating exercise from White, trying to imagine a wholly alien species from our understanding and the problems it could cause. The natives of “Meatball” have an inbuilt dislike of anything similar to themselves and have no central form of government but exist in a deep layer of animal life. How to communicate ideas like friendship to a species like that is a true challenge.

What White is always great at is giving us a sense of how diverse the species in the Galactic Federation are, whilst still making it seem like an everyday occurrence at the hospital. For example:

Despite the fact that one species was covered in thick silver fur and crawled like a giant caterpillar and the other resembled a six-legged elephant, they were fairly easy to deal with because they had the same atmosphere and gravity requirements as Conway. But he was also responsible for a small ward of Hudlars, beings with hide like flexible armour plate whose artificial gravity system was set at five Gs and whose atmosphere was a dense high-pressure fog – and the odd-ball TLTU classification entity hailing from he knew not where who breathed superheated steam. It took more than a few hours to tidy up such a collection of loose ends…

He continues to know what he does well and produces the most consistently strong series currently ongoing in Science Fiction.

Four Stars

If You're So Smart by Paul Corey

Ibby has a mental disability and suffers from regular seizures, so lives permanently at a mental hospital. He also helps out in the animal testing lab. However, he may be able to understand the animals better than the scientists.

A pedestrian tale, poorly told. Whilst I have heard that Corey is an American writer and journalist of some renown, I am only familiar with him from his awful appearance in New Worlds earlier in the decade. Apparently he has an SF novel out from Robert Hale but this isn’t inspiring me to pick it up.

A low Two Stars

The Ballad of Luna Lil by Sydney J. Bounds
Gerard The Rhymer wrote The Ballad of Luna Lil many centuries ago. This work analyses the historical accuracy of the tale to the real life of Captain Bartholomew “Black Bart” Sparrow, a space free trader, and Lily La Lune, singing star of the videos.

I am a great lover of analyses of fictional works and this one doesn’t disappoint. It turns what could be a standard pulpy adventure into an exploration of a fictional universe, containing fascinating ideas and raising questions about the power of art.

A high Four Stars

The Eternity Game by Vincent King
In a tale told from four perspectives (A, G, P & Z), two different species find themselves in the Place, attempting to survive in their collapsing galaxy.

We learn from the introduction that Vincent King is also a visual artist and Carnell describes this work as being like an abstract painting. I am not sure I agree with that, it is certainly not as obscure as some of the writings of Ballard, Burroughs, or Farmer. Rather, you have a puzzle that fits together by the end.

I don’t think it is quite as effective as his usual Medieval Futurism, but still a worthy piece.

Four Stars

Tilt Angle by R. W. Mackelworth
The Earth has entered a new Ice Age, and Tomas and Donna are sent on a mission from the City to find food stores. But is this parasitic existence right or sustainable?

Another one of these Frozen Earth tales that have been popping up a lot recently in the UK (we do like to moan about the weather). Whilst evocatively told, it feels abrupt and incomplete. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw further stories in this world.

Three Stars

The Song of Infinity by Domingo Santos
Once again we have a work in translation, this time from a Spanish author. He is apparently well known in his own country but I am not aware of any prior translations into English. This one was selected and translated by the late great Arthur Sellings.

We get the internal monologue of an astronaut who finds himself accidentally floating through space without any hope of rescue.

This is a well told and melancholic tale but one that nevertheless didn’t really affect me as much as I felt it was trying to.

Three Stars

Green Five Renegade by M. John Harrison
Astronaut of the Green 5, Chad Redeem, encounters alien life forms. Discovering them to be naïve and peaceful compared to the human race, he goes on the run rather than risk his knowledge of them becoming known to the authorities.

Oh dear, I am not sure what happened here. Even putting aside some weird printing errors, it is overwritten, cliché driven and full of creepy descriptions of women. I know Harrison can do a lot better so I am surprised to see this come from his pen.

One Star

So, the good ship New Writings continues steadily on its course. Some good works, some poorer, still generally very much in Carnell’s usual mode. Much the same crew manning the rigging with nary a woman in sight*. Whilst it may not always be the most exciting voyage, it shows little signs of leakage. Onward!

*I believe it has now been over 5 years since Carnell published a story by a woman, the last being Dial SCH 1828 by Gweneth Penn-Bull in December ‘63’s Science Fantasy.



by Gideon Marcus

Ace Double 72400

The High Hex, by Laurence M. Janifer and S. J. Treibich

Here is the sequel to Target: Terra that nobody asked for.  In this one, the African space station has begun broadcasting a menacing message, all chants and tribal drums, that seems to presage a heating up of the White/Black cold war.  The crew of Space Station 1 are recalled to duty and tasked with infiltrating the second station.  The plot is thickened with robots and destructive aliens, and the Africans aren't the bad guys after all.

If you enjoyed the gaggish and frivolous tone of the first book, you'll like this one.  Otherwise…you won't.

Two stars.

The Rim Gods, by A. Bertram Chandler

If you read and enjoyed the four stories of John Grimes, a space captain running the rim of galactic space, then this is an opportunity to get all of them in one convenient package.  In this fix-up, they are unchanged, with only short concluding scenes added to each piece to link them together.

They all appeared in IF, where David gave them three stars apiece.  I see no reason to change his assessment.



by Victoria Silverwolf

War And No Peace

Two new novels deal with armed conflict, international or domestic.  One takes place in the very recent past, but not the one with which we're familiar.  The other is set in the near future, one we'd like to avoid.  Let's start with something that didn't happen less than two years ago. 

If Israel Lost the War, by Richard Z. Chesnoff, Edward Klein, and Robert Littell


Uncredited cover art.

In the tradition of Bring the Jubilee (1953) by Ward Moore (the Confederacy wins the American Civil War) and The Man in the High Castle (1962) by Philip K. Dick (the Axis wins the Second World War), this book reverses the result of a war. 

The title makes that obvious, of course.  We're talking about the so-called Six Day War (June 5 through 10, 1967), in which Israel triumphed over a coalition of Arab nations.

I know less about military stuff than almost anybody, so I won't try to analyze the war.  However, there seems to be general agreement that Israel's preemptive strike, devastating the Egyptian Air Force and giving Israel complete control over the skies, was a key factor in the victory.

What if Israel didn't attack first?  What if Arab forces destroyed most of Israel's air power instead?

That's the premise of the novel.  The result is overwhelming victory for the Arab nations, with Israel's territory soon being divided up among them.


The book's map, showing the progress of the imagined conflict.

The occupying forces initiate a reign of terror.  As in many wars, looting, rape, and murder follow the victory.  The big winner is Egyptian President Gamal Abdel Nasser, who dominates his allies and intends to create a new, bigger United Arab Republic.

(The UAR was the name given to the union of Egypt and Syria from 1958 to 1961.  The United Arab Republic is still the official name of the nation better known as Egypt.)

As I said, I'm no expert on war, so I don't know how plausible this scenario might be.  It assumes closely coordinated action among the Arab states, which is questionable.  It also presumes that Arab aircraft would be able to bypass Israel's early warning defense system.  (There are even some lines in the book that indicate that this is unlikely.)

So how is the book as a work of fiction?  Well, given the fact that the three authors are journalists (all working for Newsweek), it's no surprise that it reads like nonfiction.  There are a few minor fictional characters, but all the major ones are real people.  We follow politicians and military leaders from Israel, the Arab nations, the USA, and the USSR. 

The work is obviously very pro-Israel.  (Richard Z. Chesnoff is married to an Israeli woman, and used to live on a kibbutz.) Whether one sees the book as reasoned justification for Israel's preemptive strike, or as anti-Arab propaganda, it is sure to stir up controversy.  Judged strictly on its literary merits, I'd have to say that it's readable enough.  The authors are definitely more interested in getting their message across than in creating a work of art.

Three stars.

The Jagged Orbit, by John Brunner

Let's turn from an imaginary past to a speculative future.


Cover art by Diane and Leo Dillion.

The race problem in the United States is much worse in the year 2014 than it was in our own time.  Some cities (Detroit, Washington, etc.) are under the control of kneeblanks, while others are still firmly dominated by blanks.

Oh, you're not familiar with those terms?  Maybe it'll help if I point out that blank is derived from the Afrikaans word blanc (white) and that kneeblank (often just knee) comes from nieblanc (not white.)

This is a sample of the book's futuristic terminology, which takes some time to get used to.  It's not as difficult as the slang in A Clockwork Orange (1962) by Anthony Burgess, but it requires a little effort.

Anyway, ordinary citizens are forced to defend themselves with serious weapons, supplied by arms dealers.  The dominant supplier of deadly devices is a family-run corporation that resembles the Mafia.

That's the background.  What about the story?  Well, it's complicated.  There are a lot of important characters and a lot of plot threads.  Let me try to come up with a greatly oversimplified synopsis.

There's a psychiatric institute under the direction of a megalomaniac who treats his patients with extreme isolation from society.  One of the inmates is a kneeblank soldier who suffered a breakdown in war, but who now seems perfectly sane.  In fact, he's an electronics genius.

A woman who produces enigmatic prophecies while under the influence of drugs (as in ancient times, she's called a pythoness) performs at the institute.  A fellow who exposes scandals on television (the book calls him a spoolpigeon) records her act.  He also happens to be married to one of the patients.

Meanwhile, a kneeblank spoolpigeon gets kicked out of Detroit by the city's kneeblank mayor, at the instigation of a blank South African.  (The tragic situation of apartheid is still going strong in 2014.)

In addition to that, a kneeblank revolutionary who put kneeblanks in control of much of the United Kingdom is on his way to the United States.  Even though US officials are terrified of him, he easily gets through customs.

What does this all have to do with a secret project of the arms dealers?  Suffice to say that the kneeblank soldier I mentioned above isn't what he seems to be.

I've only given you a vague hint of what the novel is like.  In addition to the convoluted plot, there's the narrative style.  The first two chapters, for example, consist of a single word split into two parts.  Many of the chapter titles are very long and often satiric.  In the middle of the book, Brunner provides quotes from real newspaper articles about the American race problem.

The climax involves science fiction themes that are more speculative than those found earlier in the book.  These may strain the reader's suspension of disbelief.

This novel isn't as groundbreaking as the author's stunning masterwork Stand on Zanzibar, but it's pretty close in quality.

Four stars.



by David Levinson

A Familiar Refrain

In music, it’s common for artists to cover an old standard or just something someone else has already done. Usually, they have a different approach that may be about the same, worse, or better. Once in a while, they’ll take an old song and make entirely their own (Jimi Hendrix and Frank Sinatra have a singular talent for this).

There’s a similar phenomenon in science fiction. Someone comes up with an interesting idea—time travel, alien invasion, what have you—and eventually almost everybody tries to see what they can do with the concept. Harry Harrison’s latest novel is just such a work. How well did he do?

Captive Universe, by Harry Harrison

Art by Paul Lehr

Two Aztec villages lie on either side of a river in a valley long isolated from the outside world. We soon learn that things are not as they seem. The serpent-headed goddess Coatlicue is a physical presence that stalks the river bank at night, and typical Aztec features include blonde hair and blue eyes.

Into this world is born Chimal, a young man with a penchant for asking uncomfortable questions. When he inadvertently causes the death of the high priest (and the sun fails to rise, because there is no one to say the necessary prayer), Chimal must flee the valley. The society he finds outside the valley is no less hidebound and no fonder of questions with uncomfortable answers.

Although I’ve talked around it for the benefit of those who would like to experience the surprise on their own, I suspect many of you have figured out what’s going on. Although Harrison adds one or two interesting flourishes, the novel follows the expected course to one of the standard endings. Indeed, the story follows such a predictable course, I found myself more interested in what happened centuries earlier to create the situation or what is going to happen a few decades after the end.

Is it worth your time? Maybe. Is it worth your money? Definitely not, especially not at hardback prices.

Three stars, but not recommended.



by Brian Collins

Spacepaw, by Gordon R. Dickson


Cover art by Leon Gregori.

Dickson has been busy as of late, with his serial Wolfling currently running in Analog, and with a new paperback original alongside it. Spacepaw is a less serious novel and seems to be aimed at a younger readership, which is fine by me. It takes place on Dilbia, the same planet featured in Dickson's 1961 novel Special Delivery. Like that earlier novel it features the Dilbians, a race of nine-foot-tall bear-like aliens who are not exactly hostile but who certainly have a curious way of going about things.

Bill Waltham is an agriculture scientist sent to Dilbia, supposedly to meet up with Lafe Greentree, his on-site superior, and Anita Lyme, a "trainee assistant" working under Greentree. The problem (actually two problems) is that Greentree is not here: he had sustained an injury whose severity the off-planet hospital is strangely vague about disclosing, and Anita has been taken captive by a pack of Dilbian outlaws. The only possible help Waltham can get are the mischievous Dilbian the Hill Bluffer (that's his name, the Hill Bluffer) and a Hemnoid named Mula-ay (italics not mine). The Hill Bluffer is not terribly useful and Mula-ay seems to be working for a third party—in Waltham's favor or not remains to be seen.

This novel is basically a comedy of manners. To rescue Lyme and convince the Dilbians to pick up agricultural skills (the race is a rural lot that lives off the fat o' the land), Waltham will have to adapt to Dilbian customs. The black-furred giants are a comical lot, with silly names like More Jam, Perfectly Delightful, and Grandpa Squeaky; they even give Waltham a Dilbian name, "Pick-and-Shovel," which the serious-minded human does not appreciate. The leader of the outlaws, Bone Breaker, is pretty affable despite his name and occupation. The stakes are kept somewhat low, even when Waltham is duped into accepting a duel to the death, which is fitting for a comedy, even if doesn't leave the reader with much to think about.

Dickson's brand of humor is unlikely to spark laughter, but it's effective at often invoking a smirk. Waltham himself is a bit of a wet blanket, but the comedy mostly stems from this straight-laced hero type being forced to deal with some deeply unserious aliens. Lyme is a bit of a shrew, but Dickson does write her as competent and independent-minded, even if I suspect he does not think very highly of her.

A solid three out of five stars, possibly four for young readers.

The Tormented, by Dorothy Daniels


Cover art by Jerome Podwil.

A good deal less enjoyable is a new Gothic horror novel I picked up, by an author I've never heard of before. Despite having been published this year, The Tormented reads like a fossilized dinosaur, but not one of the interesting ones. It's a pastiche of late-19th century supernatural horror. I'm sure Daniels likes Henry James and Arthur Conan Doyle, but unfortunately she is not remotely as good a wordsmith as James or even Doyle.

Sharon Aldrich lived on a New Orleans plantation called The Pillars until both her parents died, and it turns out all the money had dried up. After a stint or two abroad she returns to The Pillars as governess for a new family that's moved in, the Beaumonts. Craig Beaumont and his wife Emily are stuck in a loveless marriage while Emily's sister, Sarah, tags along as a third wheel. Cassie, Craig's daughter, is a reasonably well-adjusted child despite the fact that she had witnessed a horrific death in the family not long ago. And there seems to be a ghost problem on the plantation. The place is most certainly haunted (it takes all of about five minutes upon Sharon's arriving for a ghost to start whispering in her ear), and worse yet, Sharon must now deal with a dysfunctional upper-class family.

You would think that at only 160 pages this would be a densely packed narrative, but it's not. There's quite a bit of padding. Most of the wordage is dialogue, with characters often getting into arguments with each other and then almost immediately apologizing for causing a fuss. Emily and Sarah are major shrews, and Sharon is not much better. It soon becomes clear Sharon and Craig like each other but are hesitant to take action, what with the whole marriage thing. Even the ghost does not pose much of a threat. No wonder the Confederacy lost. The Tormented is probably a few thousand words longer than James's The Turn of the Screw, but feels shorter because it spins its wheels so often. Not much actually happens, and despite the New Orleans setting Daniels injects practically no atmosphere into her writing.

The most damning part is that this is 1969, not 1889. I kept thinking, "Why play such an old and tired genre straight? What point is Daniels trying to make by doing this?" After having read the whole thing, I still don't know.

Two out of five stars.




[January 26, 1968] A New World Order New Worlds, February 1969


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

After the grumpiness of my last review, I’m pleased to say that 1969 has arrived and put me in a better frame of mind. I am determined that this new year will see me being more positive. Mind you, New Worlds seems determined at times to try and derail my positive outlook. This new issue is back to the usual mixture of things that inspire, as well as things that confuse and even annoy.

A noticeable change is that the magazine is under new publishers. Last month it was “Stoneheart Publications”. This month it is “New Worlds Publications”, edited by Moorcock, Charles Platt and James Sallis.

Impressively startling cover by Gabi Nasemann.

Although the publishers may be new, the cover – another one of those strangely-hued pictures of people – is, I must admit, quite startling. It rather made me think of the ending of 2001: A Space Odyssey (which I have finally seen at the cinema, by the way.) If the idea is to grab customer’s attention at the few newsagents willing to put the magazine on its shelves, I would say well done.

But does it say anything about the magazine, or the contents within? (Actually, it does, but obliquely, in that there’s a brief reference to a newborn child in Sallis’s Cornelius story.)

I guess that some may like this enigmatic approach – who knows what you’ll read about in this issue? – but I’m less convinced. The experiment of putting story prose on the front seems to have gone, though, as too the Lead In telling us of the writers and artists in this month’s issue.

Article: Orthographies by James Sallis

Instead of the Lead In, we have the return of the much-delayed and now Co-Editor James Sallis. (See last month’s issue for details.) In the article Sallis muses on the point and purpose of the modernist novel, which may be quite interesting, but unfortunately Sallis fills the article with such highfaluting gobbledygook that reads as if it is straight out of a university thesis paper.

Whilst Orthographies clearly shows Sallis’s wider reading (perhaps that’s what he’s been doing whilst away?) I did wonder whether the regular readership would appreciate it. Analog it is not! (More of which later, by the way.) Part two follows next month – personally I can wait. Not a great start. 2 out of 5.

Jeremiad by James Sallis

As expected, the usual nudity, not entirely related to the prose. Artwork by Gabi Nasemann.

Two months ago, the magazine declared that Mike Moorcock’s character Jerry Cornelius would continue in future issues by stories written by others, starting with James Sallis’s Jeremiad. It was delayed but now we have it.

And… actually, it’s not bad, though being a Sallis piece, it can’t refrain from getting some poetry in. Result – sex, drugs, disassociation with reality. It seems to be about changes through fractured elements of time, which seem to relate to Jerry’s mental breakdown. Although there are parts and characters regular readers of the Moorcock stories will recognise, this is not a typical Jerry Cornelius story. Its purpose may be unclear – much of it seems dream-like, suffused through a drug-induced haze – but dare I say it, it is a good Jerry Cornelius story. 4 out of 5.

Period Piece by J. M. Rose


A brief allegorical stream-of-consciousness story, set in some sort of dystopia or post-apocalyptic event. Sallis and Moorcock seem to love these sorts of stories, which read as if they’re some sort of weird dream. (This one has chickens hatching in the writer’s mouth and a pubic hair frozen in an ice cube, for example.) The prose is deliberately provocative, but this is nothing really new. 2 out of 5.

Kite by Barry Bowes

Artwork by Gabi Nasemann.

This is almost a kitchen-sink drama, a description of Noreen Polltoaster, a young primary school teacher who longs to escape her mundane, safe lifestyle and do something more daring with her life. Her response is to go out in the rain wearing nothing but a coat and lie down naked in a park, where she is spotted by two young boys. The inner monologue is well done, and the sense of dullness created is impressive, but the story all seems, like Noreen’s life, rather pointless. A safe and rather boring 3 out of 5.

Construction by Giles Gordon

A story as odd as the previous one, about the construction of a building and observations from it. It is all angles and girders and views of crowds, as the author mumbles precariously about who-knows-what. This is typical Giles Gordon stuff. I’m not a fan, personally but some may like it, in that now-typical “read the poetic prose, never mind the meaning” kind of way. 2 out of 5.

Article: Salvador Dali: The innocent as Paranoid by J. G. Ballard


J. G. “Chuckles” Ballard this month first tries to distil the meaning of the work of surrealist artist Salvador Dali. Lots of cutup sections and pictures, including the intriguing table below.

Table made up by J. G. comparing different writers. Notice the positioning of Pohl and Asimov and that of Burroughs (presumably William S., not Edgar Rice!), a sign of where this magazine seems to be going.

I would say that this is perhaps the article Ballard was born to write. Interesting, entertaining, and very odd, yet suited to Ballard. 4 out of 5.

The Spectrum by D. M. Thomas
Artwork by Haberfield.

More D.M. Thomas. I was slightly more interested when it said that the poem was “after the Xi Effect by Philip Latham”, a story I’m sure I’ve read at some point, but I was sadly disappointed. A poem of the end of the world, and suspender belts. Moving on… 2 out of 5.

The Master Plan by John T. Sladek

Artwork by John T. Sladek.

Another anti-war, or at least anti-military story by Sladek. Similar in style and tone to Disch's Camp Concentration, this gains points by being briefer, yet nearly loses points by being perhaps too similar in style and tone.


Pictures, poetry, extracts of text all combine to create this collage. 4 out of 5.

The Adventures of Foot-fruit by Mervyn Peake
Work by Mervyn Peake.

Part of an unfinished work by the recently deceased Mr. Peake.

The Angstrom Palace by C. J. Lockesley

Artwork by Prigann.

Another fractured dreamscape. Nice prose but really nothing of consequence. 3 out of 5.

The Conspiracy by Norman Spinrad

Artwork by Prigann.

The return of Norman. Prose made up of slogans, interspersed with unanswered questions. Manages to combine contemporary cultural references with paranoid ideas – life’s all a conspiracy, really. Though we’ve seen work like this before – see John Dos Passos, John Brunner and yes, good ol’ J. G.. I liked this one for its distrustful manner. 4 out of 5.

How Doctor Christopher Evans Landed on the Moon by J. G. Ballard

And writing of J. G., here’s a short prose piece. This one took a bit of working out, but it seems to show an unsuccessful Moon landing in the form of a computer print out, even when the computer program says it is successful. (Notice the velocity at zero feet.) One where you have to join the dots yourself, so to speak, and all the better for it. Mind you, I was a little disappointed to discover that this was not the welcome return of science article writer Christopher Evans! 3 out of 5.

Entropy by Thomas Pynchon
Artwork by Gabi Nasemann and Charles Platt.

Since the publication of his novel The Crying of Lot 49 in 1966, I’ve not read much from this writer, although he seems to be gaining a reputation for writing dense, complex literary novels – something that seems to fit in with New Worlds’s current agenda.

So, as expected, this is a complicated, fractured story dealing with physical and metaphysical change. There’s lots of talk about heat exchange and metaphysical allegory across different time periods.

Reading this, I think that this is what the ‘new’ New Worlds aspires to be. It is deliberately obtuse and stubbornly literary in style. I don’t think I got it all, but it seems meaningful, unlike other similar stories New Worlds often publishes. I have to admire Entropy for being partly confusing, partly irritating, and yet undeniably damnably clever. 4 out of 5.

Article: Mervyn Peake – An Obituary by Michael Moorcock


As mentioned earlier, and as the title explains. Moorcock praises Peake’s work whilst pointing out the irony that his work was only now becoming better known as his health was failing. Untapped potential, sadly.

An advertisement from this issue of Peake's better-known work.

Book Reviews

A varied list this month. M. John Harrison covers a range of books that look at social class and modern myths, R. Glyn Johns reviews some psychological material and Marshal McLuhan, and Peter White discusses some surrealist literature. None is really genre-related.

Onto the science stuff, and Charles Platt positively reviews Arthur C. Clarke’s The Promise of Space amongst others.

More science-fictional in nature, James Cawthorn reviews Philip K. Dick’s ‘uneven’ The World Jones Made, the ‘refreshingly simplistic’ Analog 3 edited by John W. Campbell, and the limited adventure novels Assignment in Nowhere and A Trace of Memory by Keith Laumer. The Best of Fantasy & Science Fiction 13 edited by Avram Davidson is generally received favourably, even when Zenna Henderson’s People story is described as ‘soggy’. The Rest of the Robots by Isaac Asimov succeeds only too well, and SF: Author’s Choice edited by Harry Harrison is as fascinating and as diverse as you would expect. Cawthorn finishes with brief reviews of Orbit 3, edited by Damon Knight and A Far Sunset by Edmund Cooper.

Briefly mentioned and reviewed by D.R.B. are a number of books also received.

Summing Up

Perhaps inspired by the new publishers, this issue of New Worlds feels like a sort of reset. More than ever before, I think this issue shows New Worlds' desire to be a literary magazine. Yes, there is a mixture of new and old authors, but it feels like more than ever before the emphasis is on literary material you wouldn’t read elsewhere. For better or worse, you'll not get an issue of Analog or The Magazine of Fantasy & SF like this.


Why am I not surprised to see this advert for a controversial new album here?

Until next time!




[January 14, 1969] Ten for the road (January Galactoscope)


by Gideon Marcus

We've got a whopping ten titles for you to enjoy this month.  Part of it is the increased pace of paperback production.  Part is the increased number of Journey reviewers on staff!  Enjoy:

Double, Double, by John Brunner

From the author of Stand on Zanzibar, and also a lot of churned-out mediocrity, comes this mid-length novel. Can it reach the sublimity of last year's masterpiece, or is it a rent-payer? Let's see.

The band "Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition" (great name, that) have a bit of a Be-in on a deserted beach south of London. Their frivolity is marred by the appearance of a flight-suited zombie, half his face eaten away.

Strange happenings compound: the lushy Mrs. Beedle, who lives in a wreck of a home by the beach, suddenly starts appearing in two places at once. Those who encounter her find themselves doused with some kind of acid. Meanwhile, Rory, a DJ on the pirate radio ship Jolly Roger, hauls up a fish on his line that transforms halfway into a squid before breaking free.

The local constabulary, as well as the scientific types in the vicinity, are increasingly alarmed and then mobilized, as the true nature of what they're dealing with is determined: an alien or mutated being with the power to digest and mimic anything it encounters.

In premise, it's thus somewhat akin to Don A. Stuart's (John W. Campbell Jr.) seminal "Who Goes There". In execution, it's not. The rather thin story is developed glacially, with lots of slice-of-life scenes that are not unpleasant to read, but don't add much. Indeed, one could argue that it is possible to unbalance things too far in the direction of "show, don't tell"—Double, Double is written almost like a screenplay, with endless little cliff-hangers, and always from the point of view of the various characters.

Beyond the writing, the premise is fundamentally flawed: digestion is never 100% efficient. Heck, I don't think it's 10% efficient. And this creature can not only digest but duplicate, down to memories? Color me unconvinced. Also, we are lucky that it chose to come to land as quickly as it did—if it had just stayed in the sea, all of the sea life in the world would have been these… things… in very short order.

All told, this is definitely a piece written for the cash grab, perhaps even a recycled, rejected script for the TV anthology Journey to the Unknown. It's not a bad piece of writing, but I'll be donating it to my local book shop when I'm done.

Three stars.



by Brian Collins

For my first book reviews as part of the Journey, I got some SF and fantasy in equal measure. Neither are really worth it, but here we can see the difference between a deeply flawed novel and one that is virtually impossible to salvage.

Omnivore, by Piers Anthony

I know it’s only been a few months since Piers Anthony hit us with his second novel, Sos the Rope, but he has already given us another with Omnivore. That’s three novels in two years! For all his faults, you can’t say he’s lazy. It’s quite possible that in thirty years there will be more Piers Anthony novels than there are stars in the sky.

Omnivore is a planetary adventure, not dissimilar from what Hal Clement or Poul Anderson would write, but with some of those “lovable” Anthony quirks. Here’s the gist: A superhuman agent named Subble is sent to investigate three explorers who have returned to Earth from the “dangerous but promising” planet Nacre, each with his/her trauma and secrets as to what happened. Why did eighteen people die while exploring Nacre prior to these three, and what did they bring back with them? There’s Veg, who as his nickname suggests is a vegetarian; Aquilon, an emotionally fraught woman who now has a case of shell shock; and Cal, gifted with a brilliant intellect but cursed with a frail body. Veg and Cal love Aquilon and Aquilon loves both men. Romantic tension ensues. Anthony pulled a similar love triangle in Sos the Rope, but for what it's worth this one is not quite as painful.

Nacre itself is the star of the show, and it would not surprise me if Anthony were to return to this setting in the future. It’s a fungus-rich planet in which the land is covered in an unfathomable amount of “dust”—spores from airborne fungi. There’s so much airborne fungi, in fact, that the sun has been more or less blocked out, and the animal life has adapted not only to low-light conditions but to move about with only one (big) eye and one limb. Clement would have surely treated this material with more scientific enthusiasm, but Clement sadly is no longer producing his best work and this novel is a serviceable substitute for the not-too-discerning.

Omnivore is Anthony’s best novel to date; unfortunately it’s still not good. There are two crippling problems here. The first is that Anthony simply cannot help himself when it comes to writing women unsympathetically, and the first section of the novel (there are four, each focusing on a different character) is the worst. Veg, while heroic, is unfortunately a woman-hater. I don’t necessarily have an issue with characters having unsavory flaws, but the problem is that this dim view of women bleeds into the rest of the novel to some degree. It should come as no surprise that Aquilon, the sole female character, is also the only one driven purely by emotions as opposed to intellect. Subble himself may as well be a robot, but Anthony writes him as a human so that he can a) take drugs, and b) seduce Aquilon.

The second is that it’s clear that this novel is About Things, but I can’t figure out what those Things could be. There is obvious symbolism at work. The trio of explorers play off of elements (herbivore/carnivore/omnivore, brains/brawn/beauty, and so on), but I’m not sure what statement is being made here. This is especially glaring in a year where we got many SF novels that are About Things; indeed 1968 might’ve been the year of SF novels that try to say Something Very Important. Omnivore might’ve been fine in the hands of a Clement or Anderson, but rather than be true to itself (an Analog-style adventure yarn), it has delusions of importance. It doesn’t help that Anthony gives us a puzzle narrative, but then takes seemingly forever to tell us what the puzzle actually is. The solution, thus, is unsatisfying.

At the rate he’s progressing, Anthony may be able to pen a decent novel in another few years. Two out of five stars, maybe three if it had caught me in a very forgiving mood.

Swordmen of Vistar, by Charles Nuetzel


Cover by Albert Nuetzell

Now we have the latest in what's proving to be an avalanche of heroic fantasy releases, and this one is simply painful to read. We know something is amiss just from looking at the title; to my recollection Nuetzel never used "swordman" or "swordmen" in the novel itself, which leads me to wonder what he could've been thinking. The writing between the covers is no less clumsy.

Thoris is a galley slave, in an ancient world not far off from the mythical Greece of Perseus and Pegasus, when he and the princess Illa find themselves possibly the only survivors of a shipwreck. Thoris falls in love with Illa before the two have even had a full conversation together. They first arrive at an island of cannibals before escaping, only to fall into the clutches of the tyrannical Lord Waja and his sword(s)men of Vistar. Also imprisoned is the wizard Xalla, who is father to a woman named Opil whom Thoris had saved earlier. With no other options, Thoris makes a deal with Xalla to vanquish Waja and then free the wizard—on the ultimate condition that Thoris also take Opil as his bride.

The back cover compares Thoris to Conan the Cimmerian and John Carter of Mars, and indeed Swordmen of Vistar is supposed to be a rip-roaring adventure with a damsel in distress, a morally ambiguous wizard, and a giant snake. One problem: the prose is some of the most ungainly I've ever laid eyes on. Edgar Rice Burroughs and Robert E. Howard were not tender in their use of the English language, but they had a real knack for plotting which Nuetzel lacks. This is a 220-page novel and surprisingly little happens in it. I hope you still like love triangles, because this novel also has one. Lord Waja and his top henchmen are defeated by the end of the eleventh chapter, but we still have two more to go with Opil as the final obstacle. We need to pad out this already-short book, obviously.

With how much I've been reading about love triangles, I think God may be telling me to try acquiring a second girlfriend. If I were Thoris I would be stuck with a tough choice. Do I pick the tough-minded woman who clearly appreciates my swordsmanship, or the haughty princess who's been degrading me for much of the novel? Sure, the former threatens to kill me if I refuse her, but nobody's perfect.

By the way, Nuetzel may be excusing the awkward prose by stating in the preface that the Thoris narrative is a translation of an ancient manuscript that some academic had written up and given to him. Unfortunately academics, by and large, are terrible writers with no ear for English, and this shows in the "translation." It doesn't help that yes, this is derivative of the John Carter novels, along with a few other things; and while Robert E. Howard's Conan stories are often About Something, Nuetzel doesn't really have anything to say. If you've read hackwork in this genre then the good news is that you've already read Swordmen of Vistar, and so can save yourself the trouble of buying a copy.

Basically worthless, although the illustrations (courtesy of Albert Nuetzell) are at least decent. One out of five stars.



by Jason Sacks

The Star Venturers by Kenneth Bulmer

Bill Jarrett is a galactic adventurer, a man who spans the stars to find excitement, glory and money. He’s a flirt and a fighter and the kind of guy who can work himself out of situations. But when Jarrett gets abducted, has a mind-controlling creature strapped to his head, and is sent to overthrow a man who he’s told is a dictator, Jarrett finds himself in a situation he might not be able to win.

Well, yeah, of course, Jarrett does end up winning in the situation he finds himself in, with the help of his friends and a few mechanical contrivances. Because of course he does. As a galactic adventurer, that’s what you might expect from him.

The Star Venturers is an entertaining Ace novel, a quickie star-spanner with a handful of ideas which might stick to your brain. Author Kenneth Bulmer occasionally throws in a small element of satire or self-awareness which enlivens the plot; there’s a bit of a feeling of the author kind of winking at us as he tells this story. But there’s not nearly enough of that stuff to make this book stand out.

Bulmer does play a bit with an interesting concept, the sort of self-learning machine, a kind of artificially intelligent creature called a frug (which Jarrett nicknames Ferdie the Frug) which is placed on a person’s forehead like a headband and which compels the person to follow orders lest they feel horrific agony.

Mr. Bulmer with his wife Pamela

Bulmer takes pains to imply that the device is both mechanical and semi-sentient, a kind of uncaring vicious machine which Jarrett sometimes reasons with and almost treats like a pet – if the pet was a giant tumor which could only cause pain, that is. This idea of artificial intelligence dates back at least to the first robot stories, but the author gives the idea a fresh coat of paint here, and that concept is a real highlight for me.

Other than that, this is a pretty basic space fantasy Ace novel, which is entertaining for its two hour reading time but which will have you quickly flipping over to read the novel by Dean Koontz on the other side. At least it’s not About Things or Very Important. Instead The Star Venturers is just forgettable.

2.5 stars

The Fall of the Dream Machine by Dean Koontz

On the other hand, the flip side of this Ace Double is pretty memorable. Dean R. Koontz, an author new to me, has delivered a fascinating satire of a world which is easy to imagine and just as easy to dread.

In the near future, post apocalyptic America, television rules our world. All the people in America live for a special show which all can experience viscerally. That TV show, called The Show, has seven hundred million subscribers. Those subscribers watch a continuing story, kind of a soap opera, about the characters on the screen. But they don't just watch the characters, they also feel the same emotions as the characters. They feel empathy and pain for the characters. In a real way the characters and viewers are bonded.

Because the actors are so well known, so much a part of their audience's lives, even the act of replacing an actor can be tremendously fraught with stress and worry. The act of leaving The Show can be freeing but also terrifying. And when lead actor Mike Jorgova leaves The Show, it makes his life much more complicated. He becomes untethered, is trained to become part of a revolution, and discovers the deeper frightening truths behind a world he scarcely understood.

Young author Dean Koontz delivers a clever and exciting story which shows tremendous potential. He does an excellent job of creating his world in relatively few words, delivering character in just a few broad strokes and creating memorable villains and settings. The end action set-piece, for instance, is built with real suspense and ends with a thrilling struggle which is filled with energy.

Dean Koontz

Along with that aspect, young Mr. Koontz delivers two more elements which separate this book from many of its peers.

First, he paints a fascinating future which seems like a smart extension of McLuhan's concept that "the medium is the message." Koontz creates a TV show which feels like reality, in which the characters live in some semblance of real life while engaging in exaggerated, bizarre actions. That's a concept which feels all the more possible these days, with controversies about the Smothers Brothers and Vietnam dominating headlines about television in 1969.

Koontz also delivers a series of philosophical asides which discuss human evolution from village to society and the ways mass media both shrinks the world and expands our horizons. Nowadays we know everything about people who live across the world but nothing about the people who live next door to us, and that gap only promises to get wider. As our social networks grow, the strengths of our connections only shrink.

This is heady stuff for an Ace Double – and I've only touched on a few of the many ideas shared almost to overflowing here. In fact, the book is chockablock full of ideas but the ambition is a bit high for their achievement.  Like many a new author, Koontz has many, many ideas he wants to explore but there are a few too many on display. Nevertheless, despite its thematic density, The Fall of the Dream Machine reads like a rocketship, hurtling ahead until it lands gracefully, sharing a thrilling journey for the readers.

Keep your eye on Mr. Koontz. I predict great things from him.

3.5 stars.



by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Frontier of Going: An Anthology of Space Poetry, ed. By John Fairfax

Frontier of Going 1969 Cover

Poetry has always had a strange place in science fiction. Long before appearing in Hugo Gernsbeck’s magazines, poets have been attempting to explore fantastic themes. However, in spite of their regular presence in almost every SFF periodical, and many fanzines, they rarely seemed to be talked about, nor are they represented in either the Nebulas or the Hugos (although we here give out Galactic Stars to them).

Enter John Fairfax and Panther publishing, who have put together this anthology of responses to the space age. The selection inside is varied. Some are original and some are reprints. Some are SFnal, some are fantastical, others closer to reality. And, as the editor puts it:

Some poets are optimistic about the space odyssey, others view it with cynicism…and other poets do not care if man steps into space or the nearest bar so long as human relations begin with fornication and end with death.

As this book contains almost 50 separate pieces, I cannot hope to cover them all here; rather I want to give an overview and highlight some of the best.

Possibly due to my natural cynicism, Leslie Norris’ poems were among my favorites. He is willing to engage deeply with the future, but believes the same problems we have down here will continue there. For example, in Space Miner we hear of the fate of those travelling to distant worlds for such a job:

He had worked deep seams where encrusted ore,
Too hard for his diamond drill, had ripped
Strips from his flesh. Dust from a thousand metals
Stilted his lungs and softened the strength of his
Muscles. He had worked the treasuries of many
Near stars, but now he stood on the moving
pavement reserved for cripples who had served well.

Just a small part of one of his moving poems that raise interesting questions about where we are headed.

Closely related is John Moat’s Overture I. His works concentrate less on the science fiction but still wonder if we are heading in the right direction:

That twelve years’ Jane pacing outside the bar,
Offering anything for her weekly share
Of tea; those rats now grown immune to death –
I ask you, in whose name and by what power
Have you set out to colonize the stars?

This is only an extract and continues in that fashion. It ponders if what we are bringing to other planets is something they would care for.

Not all are so negative. Some, instead, write about the wonder and artistic possibilities of space travel. Robert Conquest (who SF fans may know from his anthologies or short fiction in Analog) produces a Stapledon-esque epic among the stars in Far Out:

While each colour and flow
Psychedelicists know
As Ion effects
Quotidian sights
Of those counterflared nights.

Yet Conquest still asks within, what is the value of these views to the artist? A complex piece for sure.

There are probably only two other names you have a reasonable chance of recognizing inside: D. M. Thomas and Peter Redgrove, both for their occasional appearances in the British Mags. As you might expect these are among the most explicitly science fictional. For example, in Limbo Thomas gives us a kind of verse version of The Cold Equations, whilst Redgrove’s pieces are trains of thoughts of two common character types of SFF.

However, it should not be thought others have written repetitively on the theme. These poems include such diverse topics as the difficulties of copulation in space, how to serve tea on a space liner, the first computer to be made an Anglican bishop, and explorers getting absorbed into a gestalt entity.

The biggest disappointment for me are the poems from the editor. It is to be expected Fairfax would have a number of pieces inside but, unfortunately, they are among the most pedestrian. For example, his Space Walk:

Around, around in freefall thought
The clinging cosmo-astronaut,
Awkward and expensive star
Dogpaddles from his spinning car.

The poem has nothing inherently wrong with it, but it does not feel insightful, nor does it do anything experimental. It more feels like what would win a middle-school poetry competition on the Space Race. Probably deserving of a low three stars but little more.

I feel, at least in passing, I need to point out we have the recurring problem of the British scene. In spite of the number of poems contained within, none of the poets appears to be woman. There are no shortage of women poets, either in the mainstream or within the fanzines, so I find it hard to believe there were no good pieces available. Hopefully, this can be remedied in a future volume. The Second Frontier, perhaps?

Either way, this is still a fabulous collection. Of course, it will not be for everyone. Poetry is probably the most subjective form of literature, and not everyone likes to sit down to read more than forty poems in a row. However, the selection here is a cut above what we tend to see from our regular science fiction writers (looking at you, de Camp and Carter) and I hope it helps raise the form to higher standards and recognition.

Four Stars for the whole anthology with a liberal sprinkling of fives for the poems I have called out.



by Victoria Silverwolf

The Four Seasons

Four new novels suggest the seasons, at least for those of us living in the temperate regions of the northern hemisphere. Let's start with the traditional beginning of the year, as opposed to our modern January.

Springtime of Life

Spring is associated with youth. Our first novel is narrated by a teenager, and is obviously intended for readers of that age.

The Whistling Boy, by Ruth M. Arthur


Cover art by Margery Gill, who also supplies several interior illustrations.

The first thing you see when you open the book is musical notation. The melody is said to be a very old French tune, and it plays a major part in the plot.


Those of you who can read music may be able to whistle along with the boy.

Christina, known as Kirsty, is a schoolgirl whose mother died a while ago. Her father remarried, this time to a much younger woman. Like many stepchildren, Kirsty resents her.

An opportunity to escape the awkward situation for a while comes when Kirsty gets a job picking fruit in Norfolk. She moves away from her home in Suffolk and lives with a kindly elderly couple.

Strange things start to happen when she hears music coming from an empty room next to her attic bedroom. She meets a local boy who experienced amnesia and sleepwalking when he stayed in the house. More alarmingly, he almost drowned when he walked toward the sea in a trance.

In addition to this mystery, which involves the supernatural, there are multiple subplots. Kirsty has to learn to get along with her young stepmother. A schoolfriend has no father, an alcoholic mother, smokes, admits to having tried marijuana, and is later arrested for shoplifting. One of her two young brothers suffers an accident.

Despite all this going on, and a dramatic climax, the novel is rather leisurely. The author captures the voice of her young narrator convincingly, and never writes down to her readers. There's a love story involved, and the book might be thought of as a Gothic Romance for teenage girls. In addition to this target audience, adults and even boys are likely to get some pleasure from it.

Three stars (maybe four for teenyboppers.)

The Long, Hot Summer

Our next book takes its characters into a place of tropical heat.

Genesis Two, by L. P. Davies


Cover art by Kenneth Farnhill.

Two young men are hiking when they get lost in a storm. They wind up in a tiny village with only a handful of people living there. It seems that a dam under construction is going to flood the place, so most folks have moved out.

They spend the night in the home of an elderly couple whose son was killed in World War Two. (That may not seem relevant, but it plays a part in the plot.) The other inhabitants of the doomed village are an ex-military man, his adult son and daughter, a somewhat shady fellow, and the former showgirl who lives with him.

Things get weird when this quiet English village develops a tropical climate overnight. Bizarre plants, some like hot air balloons and some like birds, show up. The surrounding countryside changes into a land of earthquakes and volcanoes. What the heck happened?

We soon find out that people from a time thousands of years from now use time travel to transport folks hundreds of thousands of years into the future. Why? Because the future people face an all-encompassing disaster, and want to start human life all over again in the extreme far future.

(They only select folks in the past who were going to be wiped out of history anyway. The village was just about to be buried under a huge landslide, leaving no evidence behind.)

The rest of the book shows our reluctant time travelers exploring, figuring out a way to survive, and fighting among themselves. The two young women pair up with a couple of the men, but not in the way you might expect.

Near the end, the plot turns into a murder mystery, which seems a little odd. The conclusion is something of a deus ex machina. Otherwise, it's an OK read. The characters are interesting.

Three stars.

Autumn Memories

Fall is a time of nostalgia and anticipation. We gaze at the past, and ponder the future. Our next book features a lead character who has a lot to look back on, and plenty to concern him coming up.

Isle of the Dead, by Roger Zelazny


Cover art by Diane and Leo Dillon.

The book takes its title from a famous painting by 19th century Swiss artist Arnold Böcklin.


The artist created several versions of the work. This is one of them.

Francis Sandow, our narrator, started off as a man of our own time. (There are hints that he fought in Vietnam, or at least somewhere in Southeast Asia.) He went on to travel on starships in a state of suspended animation, so he is still alive many centuries from now. In fact, he's one of the wealthiest people in the galaxy.

(Some of this is deduction on my part. The narrator only offers bits and pieces of his life throughout the text. The same might be said about the book's complex background. The author makes the reader work.)

Francis made his fortune by creating planets as an art form. If that isn't god-like enough for you, he's also an avatar of an alien deity, one of many in their pantheon. It's unclear if this is a manifestation of psychic power or a genuine case of possession. The mixing of religion and science in an ambiguous fashion is reminiscent of the Zelazny's previous novel Lord of Light.

Somebody sends Francis new photographs of friends, enemies, lovers, and a wife, all of whom have been dead for a very long time. He also gets a message from an ex-lover (still alive) stating that she is in serious trouble.

This sets him off on an odyssey to multiple planets, as he tracks down an unknown enemy. Along the way, he participates in the death ritual of his alien mentor. The climax takes place on the Isle of the Dead, a place he created on one of his planets as a deliberate imitation of Böcklin's painting.

The bare bones of the plot fail to convey the exotic mood of the book, or Zelazny's style. His writing is informal at times; in other places, he uses extremely long, flowing sentences you can get lost in.

As I've suggested, this novel requires careful reading. Stuff gets mentioned that you won't understand until later, so be patient. I found it intriguing throughout. If the ending seems a little rushed, that's a minor flaw.

Four stars.

The Winter of Our Discontent

Winter has its own special beauty, but it is often seen as a dismal time. The characters in our final book face a bleak future indeed.

S.T.A.R. Flight, by E. C. Tubb


Uncredited cover art.

About fifty years before the novel begins, aliens arrived on Earth with what seemed to be benevolent intent. Well, you know what they say about Greeks bearing gifts.

The Kaltichs brought longevity treatments and advanced medical techniques that could replace any damaged organ. The catch is that Earthlings have to pay a high price for these things.

There's also the problem of overpopulation. The Kaltichs promised to give humans the secret of instantaneous transportation to a large number of habitable planets. It's been half a century, and we're still waiting.

Because the longevity treatments have to be renewed every ten years, and the Kaltichs deny them to anybody they don't like, Earthlings are subservient to them. We have to call them sire, and punishment with a special whip that inflicts extreme pain follows any transgression.

Our protagonist, Martin Preston, is a secret agent for S.T.A.R., the Secret Terran Armed Resistance. (I guess we're still not over the spy craze, with its love of acronyms.) The agency asks him to imitate a Kaltich and infiltrate one of their centers, which are off limits to humans.

(I should mention here that the Kaltichs are physically identical to Earthlings. That seems unlikely, but it's a plot point and we get an explanation later.)

Because the previous fellow who tried this had his hands cut off and sent back to S.T.A.R., Martin understandably refuses. An incident occurs that changes his mind. With the help of a brilliant female surgeon (who, like most of the women in a James Bond adventure, is gorgeous and sexually available), he sets out on his dangerous mission.

What follows is imprisonment, torture, escape, killings, double crosses, and the discovery of the big secret of the Kaltichs, which you may anticipate. The book is similar to a Keith Laumer slam bang thriller, if a little more gruesome. Hardly profound, but it sure won't bore you.

Three stars.


There you have it, folks. Take ten and enjoy all the new novels coming out. We'll be back next month to help you figure out which ones to put at the top of the pile.




[December 26, 1968] Comfort OK? Looking Forward, Not Backwards New Worlds, January 1969


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

A recent comment from our leader here at Galactic Journey caused me to pause for thought. As he summed up the year in science fiction, it struck me that we are about to end one year (not that un-obvious, admittedly) and about to begin the last year of the decade, in what must be one of the most significant decades in recent human history.

Personally, the near-end of the decade seems to have crept up on me, but I can’t deny that it has certainly been eventful. Who knows, judging by all the recent activity (e.g. the Apollo missions!) we could be seeing people on the Moon in the next couple of years. Wouldn’t that be wonderful?

Anyway, I digress. My point is that I was suddenly made aware of how much things have changed in the last decade.

Which in a roundabout way brings me to the many changes involving New Worlds in the last few years. The New Worlds of 1968-69 is a very different beast from that of ten years ago. Some will say ‘better’ – more intelligent, more literary, more complex, more adult in nature – whilst others will say ‘worse’ – perhaps summarised as “Where’s my Science Fiction?”

After reading Gideon’s final article of November, I wrote him a letter, noting:

“More seriously, despite my personal grumblings, New Worlds is miles ahead of what the magazine used to be, even if its science-fictional content varies enormously. Much more inner space than outer space these days.

And there’s a whole debate over whether we can count it as an SF magazine any more – many of its older readers think not! – but it is noticeably different to pretty much anything else out there at the moment. I do hope that New Worlds can keep going next year, although it's not entirely certain.

That applies not just to the US but to Britain as well, of course – there is no other magazine to compare it to, as all the others have been cancelled!"

This year exemplified that range of content. In the last issue alone we had, on one hand, the stunning Samuel R. Delany story, Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones, which I am still thinking about, and on the other a story about a man repeatedly raping a paralysed patient and making her pregnant. Talk about eclectic….

Cover by Gabi Nasemann

Anyway, this month’s issue feels like the return of the old guard. Although the cover is in the new format started last month – a strangely coloured but generic photo of two heads, text from one of the main stories within – the roster of authors is mainly the usual. Even these stories are mostly connected to previously published stories… more later.

Lead In by The Publishers

More about the contributors this month: Ballard, Disch, Langdon Jones. They also sneak in an apology for the contents of this issue being different to what was expected due to the Post Office delivering the manuscripts too late for publication. Hmm.

The Tank Trapeze by Michael Moorcock

Last month the magazine declared that Mike Moorcock’s character Jerry Cornelius would continue in future issues by stories written by others, starting with James Sallis’s Jeremiad.

For whatever reason this hasn’t happened, and so we get a story from Jerry’s originator instead, the sixth by my reckoning. And we’re straight into contemporary issues, with assassin-for-hire Jerry being in Czechoslovakia whilst the Russians take over the country. Jerry plays cricket whilst Dubrovnik burns, seduces (or is seduced) by a woman and executes a young boy-monk, who may or may not be important. Memorable, shocking, surreal – a typical Jerry Cornelius story. 4 out of 5.

Anxietal Register B by John T. Sladek

Back in the April 1968 issue Sladek wrote New Forms, an increasingly surreal fictious form. It was amusing and quite popular (I liked it.) As befits the current mood of this issue, if it works once, why not do it again?

This time it is about testing how anxious you are. Mundane responses are encouraged amongst shockingly provocative ones – “Have you ever suffered from: arthritis… rheumatism…homosexual tendencies” etc. It is still amusing, but its impact is diminished as the shock novelty value of the first time is less of a surprise second time. 3 out of 5.

Epilogue for an Office Picnic by Harvey Jacobs

A story in the form of a unrequited love letter between "Bald Mr. X from Data Processing" to "Sherill" – or  Sheril, or Sherrill – the writer isn't sure. An odd tale that's meant to be amusing. I just found it sad. 2 out of 5.

The Summer Cannibals by J. G. Ballard

Ah, J. G. “Chuckles” Ballard. Lots of imitators of late, none really of his ability. After the last few stories by him have underwhelmed me (see The Generations of America in the November 1968 issue), we’re back into a better story of Ballard’s usual observational descriptions of societal bleakness – sex, cars, money, belongings, the American lifestyle. (Anybody else notice how often Ballard’s characters are just walking?)

With its sections of different prose styles, photos and sheer oddness, this is a better piece of work than his last one, although I’m not quite sure about the strange juxtaposition of sex and car parts. (Really. Try reading the section entitled “Elements of an Orgasm”.)

As perplexing yet as iconic as ever, The Summer Cannibals is typical Ballard and therefore welcome, if only to be brought down by the point that this is like Ballard-things we’ve read before and – of course! – another extract of something that will soon be a novel. Does it matter? Echoing the tone of Ballard – not really. Appreciate the style, consider the content. 4 out of 5.

Spiderweb by John Clute

An author we’ve read before, back in the November 1966 issue, but has been very quiet since. This seems to fit the current New Worlds template – a surreal story of love, sex, race and graphic hallucinations, although mainly sex. Vivid imagery. Bug Jack Barron has a lot to answer for by setting a standard for this sort of thing. 3 out of 5.

Article: Sim One by Christopher Evans


The welcome return of Dr. Christopher Evans brings us an interesting article about how close we are to creating a life-like human robot. I think Asimov would be pleased at the progress, but I keep thinking about Philip K. Dick’s stories about simulacra and personally am a little horrified. 4 out of 5.

Hospital of Transplanted Hearts by D. M. Thomas

Erm.. poetry warning. If you’re a regular reader of my reviews, you know my general view on poetry. But perhaps you know more about it than I do, New Worlds reader.

Just to be clear – New Worlds editors really like D. M. Thomas. As in, REALLY like. Declaring the poet to be “without question, one of England’s very best poets” in the Lead In, they like this particular poem so much it is available as a poster, courtesy of Charles Platt.


Here, I’m less enthused. This was the ‘poet’ who wrote that awful Mind Rape poem back in the March issue, after all, but I try not to let that affect me.

Here the poem is like a pick and mix jumble of statements and phrases so you can make up your own as you skip through the Battleships-type grid. It is amusing, but less important than it would like to be. It is certainly not an event on the scale of the Second Coming of the Messiah that New Worlds seem to want to create. (How’s that for a Christmas reference?)

The thing about creative work such as poetry is that people often passionately agree or disagree about such things. This may be a case in point. Others may love it – me, less so. 3 out of 5.

Juan Fortune by Opal Nations

A story in deep homage to Ballard here – broken into sections, with lists of characters WRITTEN IN CAPITAL LETTERS like a play…and (of course!) all about sex. Seems pointless to me. (the prose, not sex!) 2 out of 5.

Ouspenski’s Astrabahn by Brian W, Aldiss

It hurts to write about this one. “The longest part of the Charteris series”, it says in the Lead In, about to be published as a book. As a series I have grown to actively dislike, I have little to say on this one. Yes, it’s clever, and as ever with Aldiss, well written. But at the same time, it’s an incomplete extract of a story that may make little sense if you haven’t read the previous parts and secondly, it degenerates (like some of the previous parts) into a variety of prose styles that I can only politely describe as stylistic gobbledygook.

Does the story, such as it is, make sense? Is it worth my time? In the end I didn’t care about the characters, the setting or the story.

Others will disagree, I’m sure – I’m just pleased that this, whatever it is, is finished, and I can move on (see also Bug Jack Barron earlier this year too.) 2 out of 5.

Book Reviews

J.G. Ballard reviews The Voices of Time by J. T. Frazer in a very Ballardian way, Langdon Jones reviews Silence by John Cage as if it was a questionnaire, John Brunner reviews four psychology books published by Allen Lane, whilst at the same time trying to persuade me that as a reader of science fiction I should read such books (I’m personally not too convinced), and William Barclay reviews Jack Trevor Story’s books, an author I only know because of Hitchcock’s film of his novel, The Trouble With Harry.

It is left to James Cawthorn to review some British science fiction books, although Thomas M. Disch reviews Quicksand by John Brunner. Joyce Churchill (who I believe is a pseudonym for M. John Harrison) briefly reviews a bunch of anthologies and John Brunner’s Stand on Zanzibar. Langdon Jones also gives us the sad news of Mervyn Peake’s recent death, illustrating it with some of Peake’s drawings.

Summing Up

I think Moorcock and his team have been pushed to get an issue out this month. (Perhaps they’ve been Christmas shopping instead?) Whilst Langdon Jones has been away, his absence, not to mention the effect of Post Office delays, as mentioned in the Lead In appears to have led to what feels like an issue cobbled together from remainders from old established authors with nothing really new to say, just finishing off what has already been started.

I realise that some readers may see the issue as a comfort, as in the return of old friends, but to me, it is like a shop clearing the shelves of tired, old stock ready for the new year. The Ballard is entertaining, but even then just a variation on a previous theme. I’ve said on many previous occasions (even last month!) how much I’ve come to dislike Aldiss’s Charteris stories, and it doesn’t help that this conclusion fills up much of the issue. At least the Jerry Cornelius was good.

I know that there are readers that will love both the Ballard and the Aldiss and even D. M. Thomas’s ‘poem’, but not me, sadly. The standard has been raised so much in recent years that it is almost a given now that each issue of New Worlds will surprise, amuse, antagonise and annoy. For the first time in a long time, this issue for me has really let me down.

Really the only good thing I can say about the issue is that at least these series are finished, and as the new year begins, we can look at new material in the future – looking forward, not backward. Rather appropriate for the end of one year and the beginning of the next, I think.
On a more positive note, have a great Christmas, and I look forward to returning next year when (hopefully) I will be less grumpy. “Bah, Humbug!” and so forth.

I'm off to look at the Christmas Radio Times to cheer myself up and see what's worth watching and listening to (Morecambe and Wise?)

Until next time!



[December 16, 1968] Adventure and eulogies (December Galactoscope)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Arthur Sellings Double Feature
Arthur Sellings Picture
I was sad to read in last month’s Science Fiction Times of the death of Arthur Sellings at only 47. His is a name not well known enough outside of the UK.

Example covers of Authentic Galaxy Fantastic Universe If from 1953-1955 containing Sellings work
Just some of the markets from the early-mid 50s publishing Sellings

His story follows the standard pattern of many of the current crop of great SF writers. He began at the start of the 50s magazine boom, being published first in the British magazine Authentic in 1953. He then became a regular contributor to H. L. Gold’s Galaxy, going on to appear in many of the major US publications.

Example Covers of Science Fiction Adventures, New Worlds, Science Fantasy containing Sellings work along with his first novel, The Silent Speakers
He continued to be published in the 3 major UK magazines as well as starting on his own novels

As the magazine market contracted, he was concentrated largely in the British publications of Carnell and Moorcock, but also branched out into paperback novels.

In spite of getting well reviewed works coming out of Ballantine and occasional appearances in Pohl’s various periodicals, most SF fans across the pond would probably have no recollection of the fellow. His death marks a double shame as he was as prolific as ever and British writers, finally, seem to be getting more acceptance in America.

Yet it should not be thought he was a Moorcockian New Waver. Seven months before Ballard published his famous Which Way to Inner Space? in New Worlds, Sellings used the same editorial column to suggest his own vision to save SF, entitled Where Now?. Here is an extract:

The Next Revolution…is a return to roots…I am certainly not advocating a return to the rudimentary kind of s-f in which a professor holds up everything for two or three pages, while he explains it all to his idiot daughter…But a story should be intelligible – in itself – without reference to any other…Science fiction has become too glib. That sense of wonder is the prime thing which s-f can offer to the new-comer. If it doesn’t that is one more reason for him to turn away.
….Earth Abides, a ‘simple’ story on a theme as old as Noah. Yet it was new – and just as compelling for the fan as for the general reader…All the basic themes can similarly and profitably be investigated.

So, what has that meant in practice? Well, his best works have often dealt with familiar ideas but trying to consider *how* this might play out to an ordinary person. Silent Speakers looks at how having some limited telepathy could affect an individual, much in the manner of Wells’ Invisible Man, whilst The Last Time Around, uses the time dilation effect to look at how the traveller into the future would struggle to adjust to social changes and maintain relationships.

This year he released two of his best works, a short story collection and a novel. So, let's pour one out for Arthur and dive into his books:

The Power of X by Arthur Sellings

Cover of 1968 edition of The Power of X
Cover by Richard Weaver

In 2014 “Plying” was developed, the ability to duplicate an object exactly by taking it out of the fourth dimension. Although it could not be done infinitely, this created a large secondary market for Plied paintings, where someone may pay higher amounts for an original in order to make their money back via Plying twelve copies. Of course, the process is expensive and highly regulated.

Four years later, Max Afford, the new owner of Gallery O, discovers he has the unusual ability to detect whether or not a painting is Plied by touch. This would have turned out to be little more than a curiosity if it wasn’t for him being invited to meet the President of Europe…only to discover he is just a Plied copy of the original.

Everyone tells Max that it is not scientifically possible, yet he can sense it has been done. Who could do such a thing? And why?

Andy Warhol. Marilyn Monroe. 1967. Portfolio of ten screenprints. composition and sheet

Around 30 years ago Walter Benjamin wrote The Work of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction. Last year, Andy Warhol created 10 portraits of Marilyn Monroe through mechanical printing. So, whilst “Plying” may not be quite available today, the questions being grappled with are contemporary ones.

This work touches on the nature of reality, what is lost when something is duplicated and the aura that we have around certain objects. These are heady subjects, but Sellings displays his usual skill to make them understandable and fit them into a science fictional framework without it descending into a word salad of gobbledygook.

At the same time, it is a well-paced conspiracy thriller that does a wonderful job creating the world of a 21st century united European republic. As you are quickly going on with the plot, someone will give away they are from London by using the metric system in East Anglia, where the locals generally do not. The feel is closer to The Great Escape than 2001: A Space Odyssey.

It should also not go unnoticed that Sellings has a wonderful turn of phrase, and some parts are deliciously funny such as:

The ‘package’ must be something special, or she would have simply brought it in to me. What was it? A three-ton hunk of concrete by Harold Bleckstein? He was in the middle of a three-ton concrete period just then and had an artist’s fine disregard for such small details as phoning to let you know the latest was on the way.

Or

‘Not a patch on that brewery, was it, Ada?’ I don’t know what they had expected. Free samples?

Add into this multiple fleshed-out women characters and some very progressive attitudes on display and I am more than happy to give this a full five stars.

The Long Eureka by Arthur Sellings

Cover of the 1968 Edition of The Long Eureka
Cover by Richard Weaver

His second short story collection covers from where the last one left off, in 1956, going up to 1964, along with a couple of originals.

Blank Form

Black and white illustration of a psychiatrist in his office talking to a shapeshifter in the form of a bear
Illustration by Martinez, from Galaxy

Originally published in July 1958 Galaxy, Sellings tells of Fletcher, a psychologist who believes he has run down a man with his car. It turns out that the victim is not only uninjured, but is actually an amnesiac shape-shifter. Being a psychologist, Fletcher does not wish to hurt or profit by this fellow, but to help him.

This is a perfect example of what Sellings does so well. Take a standard SFnal concept and bring it into a much more ordinary mode, looking at how different people might react in an uncliched manner. The ending feels a bit incomplete but still a strong tale.

Four Stars

The Scene Shifter

Cover of 1959 edition of Star Science Fiction #5
Cover Artist Unknown

Possibly the high point of his American career. This story was published in Star Science Fiction #5, between Daniel F. Galouye & Rosel George Brown.

When actor Boyd Corry goes to see one of his films, he finds it has been changed from a drama to a broad comedy. Soon it happens again, where an ordinary romantic comedy is changed to pornography. These shots were not filmed and the reels themselves have not been tampered with. What could be causing this?

At first this seems like a slight tale about the movie industry, something of a piece with The Time-Machined Saga, but it evolves into something deeper. It looks at the relationship between the audience and the picture, asking who really has control of a story.

Four Stars

One Across

Black and White illustration of a newspaper boy yelling: "Extra! Gedge disappears behind Russia's lines!" Whilst behind him there is a man's face in agony and a hand points towards the words
Illustration by Cal, from Galaxy

Jumping back to earlier in Selling’s career, One Across was originally published in May 1956’s Galaxy.

Norman is addicted to crosswords, doing more and more challenging puzzles. In the most fiendish puzzle yet, he discovers it can only be solved by utilizing four dimensions. This realization causes him to be transported to another dimension, a desert plain inhabited by people who have solved complex problems. They are building a utopia and need him for one purpose, breeding.

This does feel like it is from a writer’s earlier career, more what you might see turn up in an If First. It has a good style and some interesting ideas but none of them are properly explored.

Two Stars

The Well-Trained Heroes

Black and White illustration of a man in a black outfit looking haggard
Illustration by Jack Gaughan, from Galaxy

Now for a more recent piece, covered by the Journey in the review of Galaxy June 1964. Our esteemed editor synopsized it well , so I am not going to be repetitious.

We are also in agreement in our thoughts on the story. The central concept, a kind of reverse The Space Merchants, is a good one, but the story is too long and rambling, with the decision to make it told predominantly through dialogue making it all far too expository.

A low Three Stars

Homecoming

In this previously unpublished work, Sellings once again makes use of an amnesiac. Sam Bishop wakes up after a car smash with only the vaguest memories of his life. Having lost his legs in the accident, Sam finds himself growing restless without a job. And, in spite of how nice everyone in Greenville seems, he can’t help but feel something is wrong.

Whilst using what would seem to be a Twilight Zone style of setup, we get a much deeper exploration of a host of ideas such as, how we treat the disabled, what the difference is between reality and illusion, what really is a home?

A high Four Stars

The Long Eureka

Cover of August 1959 Science Fantasy with a more abstract illustration
Cover Art by Brian Lewis

Back to reprints, where the titular piece comes from August 1959’s Science Fantasy.

In 1820, Issac Reeves believes he has discovered the Elixir of Life. Unfortunately, no one believes him, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t seem to age. Convincing anyone else is going to take a very, very, very long time.

I have a soft spot for longitudinal tales of immortals, so this fitted right into my wheelhouse. Also, it manages to be both funny and tragic as Isaac struggles in vain to get anyone to believe him, with each successive generation having a new explanation for his claims.

Four Stars

Verbal Agreement

Black and White illustration showing a Vernan woman talking to an Earthman as he pulls a book from his bag
Illustration by Dick Francis, from Galaxy

Returning to Galaxy once more, with this story from September 1956.

Humphrey Spink is a poet in the 22nd Century, struggling to come up with something new to say. Seeking to broaden his horizons, he accepts a very curious job offer from Cosmic Developments Inc.: to try to find out how to purchase from the Vernans, a telepathic species that only have disdain for Earth’s technological progress.

This one of the many tales of the time trying to demonstrate an alien race totally different from our own, but it is a good example of the theme. Not a classic but enjoyable.

Four Stars

Trade-In

The other original tale in this collection is Sellings taking on robotics. When a newer robot model comes along to replace them, each robot has twenty-one days to find a new owner. The problem is, who wants an outdated creation?

This is a very affecting story giving real humanity to our creations. These armies of unemployed robots remind me of the great depression, where so many people needed work but could never find any. It brings the metaphor right back to its earliest roots and gives us a fascinating solution for Davie by the end.

Four Stars

Birthright

Black and white illustration with a humanoid against a starfield which also contains a pair of eyes and a rocket.
Illustration by Eddie Jones, from New Worlds

And finally, one of his first stories for New Worlds, from November 1956.

Farr finds himself in a white room tended by gods of metal. At first, he is hostile towards them but, eventually, he agrees to learn from them. Following his educational journey, we learn of his people’s origin and the purpose the gods have for him.

This is definitely a more experimental and controversial piece, with lines such as:

I anger again. God is evil god I hate god. I smash god face again.

At the same time, it touches on a number of thorny issues and delicious concepts. By the end I am not sure where I stood on any of the character’s choices, and it is all the better for it.

Five Stars

Hic jacet Arthurus, auctor quondam et auctor futurus*

Central scene of The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon by Edward Burne-Jones, a painting from 1898

So, there you have it. I hope I have shown he was a brilliant writer who has yet to have the full appreciation he deserves. Hopefully, like his legendary namesake, his reputation will rise in SF’s hour of need.

*Apologies for the bad Latin.



by Gideon Marcus

Ace Double H-103

The Age of Ruin, by John M. Faucette

Awakened from his sleep by a nightmare, Jahalazar of the purple hair yet hears the cry of his kind:

Help us, Jahalazar, your people are dying.

So, Jahalazar, a warrior without peer, armed with Chernak, the Throwing Sword, and Lil Chernak, the Slitting Knife, he bids farewell to his adoptive home. The crude realm of Clan Chevy in the bowl of Bomb Valley is like a paradise compared to the the lands Jahalazar must travel—first to Sea City, where the fish-headed people fight off the rubber-suited Zharks and their fearsome weapons that project flesh-devouring Diss. Thence over mountains. Further over higher mountains on the back of friendly, giant spiders. Across the endless plains on which two mechanized armies are locked in eternal conflict.

And on and on, past volcanic and mutated horrors, into domains ruled by sadists, to others dominated by distorted but good souls, and always with the ever-evolving Diss, now sentient and bent on world conquest, nipping at his heels.

Ever in the background: what caused the Age of Ruin, and can humanity rebound from it?

Sounds pretty cool, doesn't it? This is yet another "after the apocalypse" novels, of which Spawn of the Death machine and Omha Abides are fine examples from just this year. Unfortunately, The Age of Ruin is not up to their caliber.

Oh, the writing's not bad, in a sort of derivative, pulpy style. The monsters, scenery, and scenes are pretty interesting. The problem is there's nothing holding them all together. Each chapter is a self-contained story, and ultimately, Jahalazar is a sort of sight-seer. It's almost like Danté's Inferno.

The other issue is that Faucette, the author, throws out all of these monstrosities and weird human nations without any thought of logistics. Here we have the equivalent of Harry Harrison's Deathworld in terms of lethal environment, yet somehow humans are growing food and supporting realms. Given that Jahalazar rarely has the opportunity to sleep, I'm not sure how people manage to do the mundane things that running a civilization requires.

This is Faucette's second book, his first being another Ace Double half, Crown of Infinity, released earlier this year. I haven't read that one so I can't compare, but now I'm mildly tempted.

Three stars.

Code Duello, by Mack Reynolds

If you wanted to see more of Helen, the 26-year old acrobatic agent who goes undercover as an 8-year old (first seen in" Fiesta Brava"), then this is your chance. Code Duello is the latest in Mack Reynolds' saga of the United Planets, a future setting in which humanity has spread to the stars, and each planet has the freedom to pursue whichever socioeconomic path it chooses. Usually, it's something modeled on Earth history, and it's often pretty extreme. Mostly, it's a chance for Reynolds to show off his knowledge of history and politics and take real-life societies to absurd extremes.

It's also an opportunity for spy high jinks. There is a race of aliens who inhabit the "Dawnworlds". They don't communicate with humans, but they possess far more power than humanity, and they have been known to destroy perceived competitors if they get too threatening. This is why Earth has set up Section G, a supersecret spy organization whose job is to subtly ensure that all of the planets, despite ostensibly being free from interference, are never allowed to backslide technologically or productively. The idea is that, if we are to have a chance against the Dawnworlders, we must always be progressing rather than sitting on our laurels.

The planet of the week is Firenze, a world based on Florence (of course). Its salient features are that everyone likes to resolve conflicts by dueling (and everyone is quick to want to duel) and the supposedly democratic world is actually a rigidly controlled dictatorship. There is supposedly an "Engelist" underground, always on the verge of taking over, yet no one, not even the government officials, know who the Engelists are, what they stand for, or if any have even been seen in the wild.

The agents who have been sent to Firenze to investigate the situation (actually, explicitly to help the current government against the rebels…which seems like jumping the gun since obviously little was known about the Florentine government or its supposed insurgency) are as follows: Helen, as mentioned above; Dorn, a brilliant algae biologist who also happens to be the strongest man in the galaxy; Zorro, who is a demon with a whip; and Jerry, whose signature feature is his unbeatable luck. Once again, we have the setup for a Retief-style zany adventure, and it is mildly amusing…for a little while. Additional mystery is added when Zorro finds that the Florentines seem to have knowledge of the Dawnworlds, which was supposed to be a carefully controlled United Planets state secret.

But eventually, I got tired of Helen snorting/sneering/smirking through every line, the historical screeds that would flow incongruously from the mouths of various characters (always with relevance to, say, someone who had traveled the world circa 1960), and the slapstick nature of the book. I finished, because I wanted to know how the mysteries ended, but it was definitely a story written on autopilot.

Two and a half stars.



by Victoria Silverwolf

Young and Old

Two new novels deal with the elderly and the young. Other than that, they could not be more different.

The Sword Swallower, by Ron Goulart

The first novel from this comic writer is a greatly expanded version of a story that appeared in the November 1967 issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction.


Cover art by Gray Morrow.

The Noble Editor didn't care for the novelette when it first appeared. Will the long version be any better or worse?


Cover art by Seymour Chwast.

Ben Jolson is an interplanetary secret agent. As a member of the Chameleon Corps, he has the ability to change his appearance at will. He can look like anybody or anything. He's had a couple of other misadventures prior to this one.

Military officers have vanished. It seems that so-called pacifists are trying to prevent the Barnum system of planets from conquering Earth. Ben's job is to find out who's responsible and stop them.

(I guess this explains the otherwise obscure title. Making a sword disappear is kind of like making a soldier disappear, I suppose.)

At this point, I expected a satire of militarism, given the fact that the bad guys are pacifists and the good guys are attacking Earth with deadly force. It didn't quite work out that way.

Ben disguises himself as a very old man and sets out for a rejuvenation center on a planet that also serves as a gigantic cemetery. He gets mixed up with a female secret agent who is on his side, but who isn't part of the Chameleon Corps.

Following the clue he finds there, he changes into a young person and infiltrates a group of beatnik/hippie/folk singer types. From there, he goes to the huge cemetery to confront the guy behind the disappearances. Along the way he has to rescue the female agent.

That's the plot of the novelette, as well as the beginning and end of the novel. What's been added to increase the word length is Ben's involvement with a computer that acts as a crime boss. There's some other stuff, too.

The book didn't amuse me. If you think it's funny that Ben beats the computer at Monopoly, you may get a kick out of it.

It doesn't work as action/adventure/suspense, because Ben immediately gets out of trouble every time the bad guys get the upper hand, either by changing his shape or just by using his fists.

It fails as satire for a couple of reasons. The supposed pacifists turn out to be intent on arming Earth against the invaders. That undermines any Orwellian War is Peace theme. The portraits of the elderly and the young are just silly rather than biting.

The best I can say about the novel is that it's a very fast, easy read. The breakneck pace is similar to one of Keith Laumer's yarns.

Two stars.

They, by Marya Mannes

As far as I can tell, the only other work of fiction by this author is a novel that came out twenty years ago. (There may be some short stories of which I am not aware.) She's much better known for nonfiction, and has a reputation for being an acerbic social critic.


Cover art by Robert Hallock.

Her first novel was a ghost story, in which a dead woman looks back on her life. Maybe she'll publish another one in 1988. For now, we've got a dark vision of the near future.


Photograph of the author by Alex Gotfryd.

The fact that the cover depicts the author is our first hint that this isn't a typical science fiction novel. That seems more appropriate for a book of essays or some such. Her warm smile doesn't fit with the mood of the book either.

Not many years from now, people who are fifty years old are forced to retire and live in segregated communities, cut off from contact of any kind with younger folks. At the age of sixty, they have to pass a physical exam or else be forced to choose between suicide or execution by the government. At sixty-five, not even a clean bill of health can save them from mandatory death.

(Shades of Wild in the Streets, with its concentration camps for people over thirty-five years of age! Despite similar themes, that movie and this novel are quite different experiences.)

The narrator is one of five people living in a house by the sea. (As a special privilege, the government allows these creative types to dwell there instead of the usual ghetto for old folks. The house used to belong to the narrator and her husband, who killed himself when the youth movement seized power.)

Besides the narrator, who was a journalist, we have a painter, his model, a composer of classical music, and a writer of popular songs. The latter is also the narrator's current lover. The composer had a much younger wife who lived with the others for a while, but soon left to be with folks in her own age group.

I should also mention the narrator's dog, the composer's cat, and the bird that belongs to the painter and the model, because they are important characters as well.

Besides providing the reader with exposition, the narrator records the philosophical discussions and arguments among the five, often quoting them at length.

(The author does a fine job of making their voices distinct. The painter is angry and bitter, his speech full of profanity. The model speaks simply and emotionally. The composer is elegant and intellectual. The songwriter is witty and satiric.)

As you might be able to tell, much of the book consists of talk. The characters discuss what went wrong with society, and how it might be cured. Don't expect a lot of action.

An odd plot twist occurs late in the book. A beautiful, dark-skinned young man shows up, apparently washed up by the ocean. He doesn't speak, and his origin remains a mystery. The novel ends with a group decision by the five elders.

Besides dealing with the youth movement and attacking the way it disregards the past, the book also raises a lot of other issues. Art, music, politics, and education are discussed at length.

In addition to this rather dry material, there's some beautiful writing about the seashore, which the author obviously loves.

Not for all tastes, to be sure! I suspect a lot of readers will be bored to tears by all the talk, and find the unexplained arrival of the young man baffling.

Two stars.



by Cora Buhlert

A King on the Run: The Goblin Tower by L. Sprague De Camp

Weihnachten mit Heintje 1968

Do you remember thirteen-year-old Dutch singer Hein Simons a.k.a. Heintje, who is not only the breakout star of 1968 in West Germany, but whose sappy song "Mama" is the most successful single of the year?

Young Heintje followed up the success of "Mama" with a Christmas album entitled Weihnachten mit Heintje (Christmas with Heintje) where he sings traditional German Christmas carols. He also has a new single out called "Heidschi Bumbeidschi", which is even more painfully saccharine than "Mama", if that's possible. It is not a Christmas song, but a traditional Bohemian lullaby, which unfortunately does not stop West German radio stations from playing "Heidschi Bumbeidschi" in continuous rotation in the run-up to the holidays.

Heidschi Bumbeidschi by Heintje

Hein Simons is clearly a very talented young man. I just hope that he eventually gets to sing songs that are more appropriate to a modern teenager.

Off With His Head

During the latest visit to my trusty import bookstore, I spotted a familiar name in the paperback spinner rack, namely L. Sprague De Camp, who has been editing and tinkering with the Conan reprints for Lancer Books. However, this time around, it wasn't another Conan book, but an original fantasy novel by L. Sprague De Camp called The Goblin Tower. The striking cover by J. Jones, probably the most talented new artist to emerge in recent times, drew me in and the blurb on the back sounded intriguing as well, so I picked the book up as a St. Nicholas Day present to myself. So let's see how L. Sprague De Camp does when he is not messing with Conan…

The Goblin Tower by L. Sprague De Camp

After a dedication to De Camp's fellow swashbuckler Lin Carter and a map of Novaria, the setting of the tale, The Goblin Tower certainly starts off with a bang or rather a chop, since Jorian, the current king of the city of Xylar, is about to be executed in front of the city gates. For in Xylar, it is custom to publicly behead the king every five years. Whoever catches the severed head shall become the new king, until it is his turn to mount the scaffold.

As methods of selecting a government go, this one is rather bloody and not particularly efficient, though it does prevent the establishment of tyranny, because every ruler comes with a built-in expiration date, as well as bloody wars of succession. Also kudos to L. Sprague De Camp for remembering that a monarchy is not necessarily hereditary; for example the Holy Roman Empire initially was not.

Jorian seems resigned to his fate and sanguine enough, even though he never desired to be king in the first place. Nor has he any intention to lose his head and so Jorian tricks the executioner and assembled populace of Xylar and escapes his own beheading with the aid of the wizard Karadur and his magical rope trick, which allows Jorian to climb away from the scaffold into what his people view as the afterlife.

This Never Happened to Conan

The "afterlife" in which Jorian briefly finds himself turns out to be our modern world. Worse, poor Jorian materialises in the grassy median strip of a highway and almost gets run over by a car – not that Jorian knows what a car is; he initially thinks it's a monster before realising that it is a vehicle. Jorian also meets a police officer in his brief sojourn in the modern world, though he mistakes the man for a carpenter, since Jorian has never seen a gun before, but finds that it looks like a carpenter's tool.

L. Sprague De Camp is a more humorous and satirical writer than Robert E. Howard was (though Howard could be very funny as well, e.g. in his Sailor Steve Costigan stories), which means that their styles don't always mesh well in the posthumous Conan collaborations. However, the brief interlude of our modern world seen through the eyes of a Barbarian king from a fantasy world plays to De Camp's strengths. The scene is hilarious, though De Camp can't resist adding some of his own opinions about the shortcomings of our world. It's also impossible to imagine anything like this ever happening to Conan.

L. Sprague De Camp
L. Sprague De Camp

A Quest and a Roadtrip

Alas, Jorian's sojourn in the modern world is short-lived, before he returns to his own world to meet up with Karadur. He also learns that the wizard didn't just save Jorian's life out of the goodness of his heart. No, there is a price. Karadur wants Jorian to help him retrieve a chest full of magical manuscripts called the Kist of Arvlen and bring it to a conclave of wizards at the titular Goblin Tower.

So Jorian and Karadur set off on their quest and now we learn the reason for the map at the beginning of the book, 'cause the pair will visit every single location marked thereon, have adventures and get entangled with beautiful women, vile wizards, and treacherous nobles, all the while pursued by Xylarian soldiers who want to recapture their errant king for his beheading. Along the way, Jorian rescues twelve slave girls from a brotherhood of retired executioners, once he realises that the executioners want to use them for practice to keep their skills sharp, and steals the Kist of Arvlen from the bedchamber of a shape-shifting serpent princess. He narrowly escapes being sacrificed to a jungle god and takes part in a heist to steal the statue of a frog god, replacing it with a real frog, much to the confusion of the worshippers.

Finally, Jorian and Karadur and the Kist of Arvlen make it to the conclave of wizards at the Goblin Tower, which turns out to be an edifice constructed from real goblins, who have been turned to stone by magic. What could possibly go wrong with holding a wizard symposium in such a place?

A Meandering Tale

Jorian and Karadur's adventures are a lot of fun, but they are also meandering and episodic to the point that every chapter seems more like a standalone short story than part of a greater whole. The fact that Jorian, who is more Sheherazade than Conan, frequently regales the people he meets by telling stories reinforces that episodic and picaresque feel of the novel.

However, this fault is not unique to The Goblin Tower, but appears to be a structural issue with the entire genre that Fritz Leiber dubbed "sword and sorcery". Born in the pages of Weird Tales almost forty years ago, sword and sorcery is a genre of short, fast adventures. Whether it's Robert E. Howard's tales of Conan the Cimmerian or Kull of Atlantis, Fritz Leiber's stories about Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser or the dreamlike adventures of C.L. Moore's Jirel of Joiry, all of these characters initially appeared in short stories and novellas, and modern heroes in the same mode such as Michael Moorcock's Elric of Melniboné, Roger Zelazny's Dilvish the Damned or John Jakes' Brak the Barbarian follow suit.

However, the genre landscape has changed since the heyday of the pulps and the dominant form – particularly for fantasy – is now the novel. Of course, there are sword and sorcery novels, from Robert E. Howard's The Hour of the Dragon a.k.a. Conan the Conqueror via Poul Anderson's The Broken Sword, Björn Nyberg's The Return of Conan a.k.a. Conan the Avenger, Michael Moorcock's Stormbringer and Lin Carter's A Wizard of Lemuria all the way to Fritz Leiber's Swords of Lankhmar, Joanna Russ' Picnic on Paradise and De Camp and Carter's Conan of the Isles. Having read and enjoyed several of these novels, it's notable that many of them tend to be very episodic and feel like fix-ups, even if they aren't. This makes sense in the case of The Hour of the Dragon, which was after all serialised in Weird Tales, or Swords of Lankhmar, the first part of which appeared as a standalone novella in Fantastic. But The Goblin Tower is a paperback original that was never serialised anywhere, so why is it structured like a serial?

Nonetheless, The Goblin Tower is a highly enjoyable novel, which allows De Camp to show off his humorous side, something he rarely has the opportunity to do with the Conan stories. Furthermore, the open ending is very much begging for a sequel and I for one will certainly pick it up.

Four stars

Rosenthal Christmas plate 1968
This year's collectible Christmas plate by the china manufacturer Rosenthal depicts Bremen's market place in the snow – a rare sight indeed.




[November 26, 1968] Warhol, Delany, Cornelius and Perversity New Worlds, December 1968


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello again.

Some degree of normality this month. Yes, I actually got a copy of the new New Worlds (and if you’ve been following the drama of the last few issues, you’ll know that the regular arrival of an issue is no longer a given.)

But is it any good? 

I thought that the last issue in November was a bit of an improvement, but as we’ve said before, that is no guarantee of the next issue being good – or even there being a next issue at all.

Nevertheless, I was hoping that this issue would at least match the previous.

Cover by Gabi Nasemann

Well, we can’t accuse editor Mike Moorcock and his team of resting on their laurels. The cover shows a new development straight away. We have what is rather expected – the generically meaningless picture of a young woman in strangely coloured tones – but then along the right-hand side we have the start of Brian Aldiss’ story …And the Stagnation of the Heart. I guess that this is an attempt to make you read more within.

Lead In by The Publishers

More about the contributors this month. Perhaps the most interesting thing here is that Bill Butler, poet and proprietor of The Unicorn Bookshop in Brighton, has recently been arrested on obscenity laws.

Other than that, the usual descriptions of the authors and their work to date.

…And the Stagnation of the Heart by Brian W, Aldiss

Ah, the return of Brian Aldiss, with a story that (thank goodness) isn’t a Charteris story, that ongoing series of stories set in the Acid House Wars, but instead a continuation of an idea that Aldiss first began back in the March 1966 issue of Impulse (Remember that?) with The Circulation of the Blood. There Aldiss told of Clement Yale, a scientist who was involved in developing an immortality drug, which, unless there were accidents or murder, could extend human life to the point of near-immortality – for a price. The main consequences then as a result were that those who could afford the drug (mainly in Europe and North America) were developing a new social order. In "…And the Stagnation of the Heart" Yale and his wife go to India, where they see the other side of the coin.

In India and Pakistan, the immortality drug is banned, with appalling consequences. Yale discovers that Calcutta is a city overrun with people and has famine as a result. Yale basically sees the other side of the coin – what could happen in the world with uncontrolled population growth?

Brian does well to describe both the beauty and the squalor of a Third World country and examines what can happen if places are denied immortality. It also poses the question of whether it would be right for these people to have access to a drug which would make them near-immortal.

I’m not sure what the importance of shooting goats in the story means, other than to perhaps emphasise the difference in lifestyles between India and more developed countries.

Nevertheless, a thought-provoking story, tempered only by the fact that it feels incomplete.  4 out of 5.

The Apocalypse Machine by Leo Zorin

Zorin’s story is a satirical monologue, a speech detailing a new apocalypse machine to its prospective customers. In an understated way, this involves setting off a nuclear device in London’s Hyde Park and initiating earthquakes in various parts of the city. All die in the end. Interesting idea that is firmly anti-nuclear/anti-war, written in a satirical manner. 3 out of 5.

Article: Warhol Portraits, Still Lifes, Events by Andrew Lugg

A summary of the work to date of film-maker and artist, Andy Warhol. Fascinating – an article that had me applauding one minute and shaking my head in disbelief the next. Can’t say that Warhol’s a dull character, though. 4 out of 5.

The Delhi Division by Michael Moorcock

The welcome return of Mike Moorcock’s Avengers-like super-agent Jerry Cornelius! Jerry goes to India (see also Aldiss’s story set in India – coincidence?) to assassinate someone with the help of Mata-Hari-like Sabitha. The attempt fails and so different time streams dominate.

This is one where different time streams seem to be tangled—somewhere (or rather somewhen, perhaps) Cornelius has a child, others not. As a result, this one is less fun than previous stories as Jerry shows a much more melancholic side to his persona here.

Generally though, The Delhi Division is still deliberately provocative and occasionally scurrilous. I’m interested by the point that, as this month’s Lead In says, there will be more Jerry Cornelius but written by other people next month. I wonder where they will go. 4 out of 5.

The Colours by Thomas M. Disch

Or as you Americans will say, “The Colors”. This is a piece about the effect on Raymond and the people around him by a machine that shows colours to create moods. Really, it’s about the effect of drugs on a listless society, although this may be a metaphor for TV. It may feel relevant to the drug-taking young people of society today, but to me it seems filled with meaning and yet meaning little. I’m not really sure what it is trying to say, although that may be the point. 3 out of 5.

The New Agent by Joel Zoss

We have mentioned in the past of New Worlds' determination to shock, and this is one of those stories.

It is about Nickolas Dugonie, a nurse who has a relationship with a paralysed patient, Phyllis Wexler. Nickolas’s obsession with the immobile patient leads to them having sex and Phyllis becoming pregnant, although this also seems to lead to a reawakening of Phyllis, something she keeps secret from all except Dugonie. Deeply unpleasant, and yet memorable, but for all the wrong reasons. You want a shockingly nasty story? You got one. This one is more deserving of the outrage Bug Jack Barron got, in my opinion. 2 out of 5.

Peace Talking by Bill Butler

Ah, poetry, this time of an anti-war nature. Move along, please. As with most of these attempts to raise my cultural experience, I try but find them short and unmemorable. 2 out of 5.

Time Considered as a Helix of Semi-Precious Stones by Samuel R. Delany

This may be the big seller of the issue, as Samuel is one of the big internationally recognised Science Fiction writers of the New Wave. It doesn’t disappoint. A real highlight in its complexity, style and sheer energy.

It is a story told in the first person by a individual with various aliases but generally with the initials HCE, a criminal who is attempting to sell some stolen goods in a New York bar. Before the delivery takes place, his buyer is found dead. HCE discovers that he is being followed by Special Services, who then disappears. HCE meets up with Hawk, a Singer (who to me sounded a little like a new version of Heinlein’s Rhysling from The Green Hills of Earth.) Hawk manages to get HCE into a grand mobster’s party in order for HCE to sell his stuff. There HCE sells his stuff to Arty the Hawk (whose similarity in name is a little confusing), a big-time gangster, but just afterwards the party is raided and there is a fire.

Picture by James Cawthorn

Using his new-found money, HCE makes a name for himself. He sets up an ice cream parlour on Triton, a moon of Neptune, to cover his other activities and becomes a rival to Arty the Hawk. The story ends with the Hawk and HCE meeting and agreeing to work together rather than kill each other. Afterwards HCE is left contemplating this new situation.

This story shows how much of a breath of fresh air Delany is to the science fiction genre, being both classic in content and “cutting-edge” at the same time. At its most basic level, it is a crime story set across different planets, but it is more than that.  It made me think of it as something Heinlein would write if he was a New Wave writer and not the writer of Stranger in a Strange Land, taking old science-fictional elements and making them seem new. Lyrical but not baroque, Delany creates visual imagery without lengthy verbiage. I read the story more than once and found more details I had missed the first time around. Potentially Award-nomination stuff. 5 out of 5.

Book Review – Two Kinds of Opium

It may not be too much of a surprise to see the new New Worlds focus on non-genre books in its reviews of late. With that in mind, this month has a mixture of genre and non-genre publications. First off, “W.E.B.” (possibly ‘William Ewart Barclay’, a pseudonym for Mike Moorcock) reviews books that are about China (China Observed by Colin Mackeras and Neale Hunter, The Oriental World by Jeannine Auboyer and Roger Goepper and Peter Swann’s The Art of China, Korea and Japan ) as well as John Selby’s The Paper Dragon about the Opium Wars of the 19th century.

M. John Harrison in his new role as book reviewer deals with what we would see as more traditional science fictional fare , under his own name and as the pseudonym Joyce Churchill- The Final Programme by a certain Mike Moorcock, Camp Concentration by Thomas M. Disch, Jesus Christs by A. J. Langguth, Black Easter by James Blish, Nova by Samuel R. Delany (heard of him?) Picnic on Paradise by fellow New Wave writer Joanna Russ, The Last Unicorn by Peter Beagle and The Reproductive System by John Sladek. With new hands to the wheel, it is good to see more science fiction reviewed, even if you may disagree with the reviews, as I often did.

There are then some Biology books reviewed by Caroline Smith and a very brief mention of some books reviewed by W.E.B. again, which range from a book on The Death of Hitler to The Making of Star Trek. Eclectic, eh?

Summing Up

With a new front cover style, this issue of New Worlds seems to have a new energy this month. As ever, the stories are eclectic and wide-ranging, from those I liked (Delany, Aldiss, Moorcock) to the pointless (Disch, Zorin) to the one I hated (Zoss) which seemed to just want to shock.

A better-than-typical New Worlds issue then, although recently they have not been bad, in my opinion. The Delany is really a potential award-winner, I think, and alone makes the issue worth buying.

(And where would New Worlds be without a provocative photo or a mention of J. G. Ballard? This is an advertisement on the back cover.)

Until next time!




[October 22, 1968] Hello Again!  New Worlds, October & November 1968


by Mark Yon

Scenes from England

Hello. Testing, testing.. Anyone there?

This feels a little like one of those lonely messages out on the ether, post-apocalypse. I was last here for the July 1968 issue, whose publication, if you remember, was at a time of turmoil…. And then nothing for nearly four months.

Until now, when, like the proverbial British buses, two turn up (nearly) at once.

So – let’s start with the October issue.

I can only assume that the late arrival of the October issue was in part because of the recent kerfuffle. Editor Mike Moorcock explains the situation in this issue (and which you can read about in more detail in my last review), that with the effective banning of sales in English newsagents New Worlds is to survive mainly on subscriptions in the future, with a dollop of cash from the Arts Council, admittedly.

To Moorcock’s credit, he doesn’t dwell on the matter. But this whole issue feels like a statement of intent and a possible return to what I would regard as ‘normal’ – for New Worlds, anyway. It’s now being published from a new address, for one thing.

Cover by Malcolm Dean

And that ‘return’ seems to be echoed in the cover, too. Thank God – a ‘proper’ cover illustration. You know, with a picture, and something that looks like it’s taken more than ten minutes to produce. Whilst I could argue that it’s not the most complex piece of artwork ever shown – and a tad on the gory side – at least it is what I would regard as art.

Lead In by The Publishers

Some changes here too. Editor Mike Moorcock has brought readers (those of us who are left, anyway) up to date with what has been happening in the Lead In, even if some kind of strange time warp has happened as the Editor claims that his comments were made “last month” and not actually in the April issue. Readers with a good memory and less impacted by this may remember when Moorcock promised more pages and pictures in colour – clearly now that isn’t going to happen.

Other than that, the usual descriptions of the authors and their explanations of their stories, for those of us too unintelligent to work it out for ourselves.

Disturbance of the Peace by Harvey Jacobs

Do you remember The Shout? in the last issue? (I know, but it’s been a while.) Disturbance of the Peace reminded me a little of that, as it is an observational piece about I’m not sure what.

The story is focused on Floyd Copman, set in a fairly contemporary Manhattan. Floyd has a pretty mundane job in a bank, where in amongst the dull details of a day we find that Floyd is being watched by a dishevelled customer, who spends all of his day staring at Floyd. It becomes a bit of an obsession, and despite multiple attempts to remove him the situation inevitably ends up with the man’s return. It is quite unnerving for Floyd, and eventually results in both the old man having a fit and Floyd fainting.

What’s the point of the story? There’s lots of description of the city Floyd travels in and the things he sees, not to mention things happening around Floyd – the descriptions of his co-workers are supremely awful – and yet it all seems to be of little purpose. It’s more of a mood piece to me, but at its best it reminded me a little of John Brunner’s work. 3 out of 5.

The Generations of America by J. G. Ballard

"Sirhan Sirhan shot Robert F. Kennedy. And Ethel M. Kennedy shot Judith Birnbaum."

In which Ballard lists, in huge blocks of continuous text, people shot by other people.

I don’t know if all the names mentioned are real, although I have no evidence to suggest that they are not – there are some such as Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King, but the rest could easily be made up – but if the point is that lots of people have been shot in America, the point is made. Whilst the very, very long list makes the point that far too many people are shot, the purpose of the prose may also be to highlight the fact that many of the shootings that happen in the US are to people of whom we know nothing. They should be remembered, and it is perhaps an indictment of society that most of them are not.

The issue for me is that not only do I find reading long lists difficult, the block of text as presented is difficult to focus on – which I accept may be the purpose of the prose. It shows that Ballardian thing of repetition, after all – something he – repeats – often in his work.

But this feels like a Ballard clutching at straws, even if this is Ballard again riffing off American culture, and not in a good way. Is it fiction? I don’t know. It makes a good point, admittedly, but I think it is less exciting, less meaningful than his work from before, and weaker as a result. 3 out of 5.

Bubbles by James Sallis

If you’ve read my previous reviews, you may know that newly-appointed Associate Editor Sallis has been foisting much poetry upon us readers lately – something I’ve not appreciated. Happily then, this is a prose piece, and rather like Disturbance of the Peace it’s good on observational description, but this time about London. As we get all these lyrical sentences, the plot, such as it is, is about remembering someone – Kilroy – who is about to die. A story thus of a life lived and the places they frequented before showing us that life moves on. 3 out of 5.

Article: Into the Media Web by Michael Moorcock

An interesting article about how all media – audio, visual and print is interconnected like a spider’s web. Mike explains that future media will show an improvement in quality but at the same time have a lowering of standards in order to ensure mass appeal and remain commercial. How we manage a balance between all of this will be an important point in the future.

I can’t say I disagree.

Moorcock then manages to make his point using the analogy of Westerns and how they were important as printed stories, became less popular but have now been resurrected by returning to their core values through the medium of television. It shows the relative complexity of the interrelationships between media. Is this article inspired by the recent troubles here at New Worlds? Well, possibly, except that it is an extract from a longer article, and therefore possibly written before the furore. It can be said though that it is a reflection on the current state of play in the media, and it may not be coincidence that much of New Worlds' latest difficulties are in part due to Moorcock’s insistence on doing what this article says the media must do – setting new boundaries, of being different and not touting formulaic stuff. This article, like all good articles, was informative and also made me think. 4 out of 5.

Casablanca by Thomas M. Disch

No, nothing to do with the Humphrey Bogart movie. Disch’s story seems to be a satire on Americans abroad, showing us their insularity and pettiness. (We really are having a go at the US this month, aren’t we?) It all begins relatively normally before Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, our hapless Americans, find themselves in Casablanca in the middle of an anti-American demonstration and the unleashing of nuclear weapons, the once powerful now rendered impotent. It’s a compelling example of what happens when insular arrogance created by self-importance suddenly becomes redundant.
With its depiction of Americans lost in another country and befuddled by local customs, Disch's story reminded me of less of the movie Casablanca than the beginning of Alfred Hitchcock’s film, The Man Who Knew Too Much. Talking of Hitchcock, others must think highly of this one too, because I understand the story has recently appeared in one of those Alfred Hitchcock anthologies and is reprinted here. 4 out of 5.

Drawings by Malcolm Dean

by Malcolm Dean

I expected this section a little, as for the last few issues we’ve had graphic stories in various forms. This feels to me like it is the New Worlds version of Gahan Wilson’s efforts in The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction – but as you might expect in a British magazine, darker, and perhaps odder. 2 out of 5.

Biographical Note on Ludwig van Beethoven II by Langdon Jones

The return of ex-Associate Editor Langdon Jones. Fresh from his publication of the Mervyn Peake Gormenghast material, this story begins like a typical biography (the clues in the title!) of a musician before the reader realises that it is satirical. It has many of the hallmarks expected in Langdon Jones’s usual material – florid language, poetry, musical scores, lyrics and so on. An inventive flight of fantasy, clearly meant to be a satirical musing on the music business and culture at large. I know some readers will like it more than me. For me, a middling 3 out of 5.

Photographs by Roy Cornwall

And again, something that’s been missing from recent issues, those pictures of strange artwork. This new version has buildings with patterns of light and shadow – and of course, a naked lady. No explanation – I guess we are just meant to be inspired – or aroused. 2 out of 5.

We’ll All Be Spacemen Before We Die by Mike Evans

Ah, poetry. 3 out of 5.

Bug Jack Barron (Part 6 of 6) by Norman Spinrad

At last – the final part of this story. It has only taken ten months to get here. (sarcasm inserted – feel free to vent your own frustration here.) Despite taking five parts to get to this point, some of the story is condensed here in the summary, even though it has never been seen before!

Quick recap – In the last part, Henry George Franklin makes a drunken claim on Jack’s TV show that he had sold his daughter to a white man for $50 000. After the show, Benedict Howards, the owner of the Foundation for Human Immortality, demands that Franklin is kept off the air and threatens to kill Barron if he doesn’t. Barron’s response? He goes to visit Franklin in the Mississippi.

After being told the story by Franklin, the two are fired upon. Franklin is killed. Barron is convinced that Howards is behind the buying of the little girl – and more so other mysterious disappearances in the area. He becomes determined to test Howards in his next TV show.

He agrees to meet Howards in Colorado and records the meeting. When Howards admits to killing Franklin, he discovers Barron’s recording. The result is that Barron wakes up in hospital having being made immortal. The secret is out – it is the glands of these young children that create immortality, but they are killed in the process. And Sara has also been treated.

Barron is now part of the process – can he now incriminate Howards on air? On his return to New York, he tells Sara what has happened. They now have a decision to make – does Jack live forever or tell the world and die now?

Before the show goes live, Sara contacts Barron, and after taking LSD tells Jack that she thinks he is not making the decision to attack Howards because of the need to protect her. To solve this, she jumps off Barron’s apartment balcony.

The story then takes up the narrative from here.

With the suicide of media star Jack Barron’s ex-wife, things are now set for a final showdown between Jack and Howards. The death of Sara was in part caused by Howards in an attempt to free Jack from being tied down to Howards.

I don’t think I need to say too much here. Suffice it to say that things are tied up as justice is done and Sara is avenged. If you’ve read all that has gone before, you’ll understand what’s happening. Everyone else? Less so – and perhaps be less inclined to bother.

Perhaps the more important point is: was it all worth it? After all, a story stretching across six issues has to merit some value, surely? I started reading it myself way, way back in November 1967 with some degree of optimism at a new and exciting means of telling a story and by the end am exhausted, willing the story to have departed long before it did. I suspect that reading it as a novel may reduce this feeling a little, but for me after its initial signs of promise it was too much for too long. Let’s also not forget that its publication nearly brought down the magazine as well. It outstayed its welcome, for me. Time will tell if other readers look on it as wearily as I do. Hard to think that at the start I was thinking 4 and 5 out of 5, now it feels more like 3 out of 5.

Time for something new.

Book Review and Comment – Boris Vian and Friends by James Sallis, and the conclusion of Dr. Moreau and the Utopians by C. C. Shackleton

Firstly, James Sallis (remember him?) reviews Boris Vian’s novel Heartsnatcher, translated from the original French by Stanley Chapman. This allows Sallis to quote great chunks of Vian’s text. Unsurprisingly for such an obscure work, Sallis can’t recommend it highly enough. He relates it to work by authors such as Ballard and Thomas Pynchon but also more recent writers here such as Aldiss, Disch, Sladek and Langdon Jones, describing Vian’s book as a new logic of the imagination.

It might gain some interest as a result.

The only other book of note briefly mentioned here is the paperback publication of Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, which “has all of Clarke’s virtues well-displayed.” For what it’s worth, I agreed when I reviewed the hardback novel here back in July. There'll be more on this later.

Lastly, we have the conclusion of an article by C. C. Shackleton (aka Brian Aldiss) begun last issue about H. G. Wells’ ideas of utopia. It may be difficult to read without referring back to the earlier, and longer, part, but I followed it easily enough. Unsurprisingly, as Aldiss/Shackleton is a huge admirer of Wells, the article is positive, saying at the end that Wells pretty much started the idea in science fiction that the genre (and therefore much of Wells’ work) is “a study of man and his machines and society’s changing relationship to science and technology.” To which I would add, “Well, yes – him and Jules Verne.” I’m sure there’s others that could be mentioned too.

Summing up the October New Worlds

A big sigh of relief this month. Although the issue is somewhat of a mixed bag and with nothing too controversial, it does feels more like a normal issue of New Worlds, with the usual mixture of allegory and confusion usually engendered by its presence.

Interestingly, although it has always been there in the last few years, this was the first time that I did notice how American (Americentric?) the issue felt. Perhaps it was because it’s been a while since I read a copy, but I really noticed it this time. Is this a consequence of New Worlds now being sold where most of you are? Perhaps. However, with American writers throughout and the prose filled with American characters and places, the quaint old idea of New Worlds being a “British” magazine seems to have gone – even when most of the stories seem to be attacking America satirically or ideologically.

The return of stalwarts like Ballard, even if he has passed his prime, will be a reason to buy this one, although being mainly subscription-based, the magazine may only be preaching to the already-converted.

For me the most memorable item, unusually, was Moorcock’s article. It’s not common for me to be impressed by the non-fiction, but this one really made an impression. The fiction, by comparison, was rather pallid. Nice prose, nothing especially extraordinary. If I was pushed to make a choice, I would suggest that Disch’s Casablanca was the fiction piece I appreciated most.

Most importantly, this issue means the end of Jack Barron, which took a long, long time to get there but finally ended. It is due out in book form fairly soon, I gather – if they can find any bookshop willing to stock it, of course!

The November New Worlds

So just as I was writing up my thoughts on the October issue, the November issue arrived. Looks like Mike and the gang are trying to make up for lost time! The issue is here.

Cover by Gabi Nasemann

One of those images that I suspect only a recreational drug user will understand. A step back from the October issue, I think.

Lead In by The Publishers

The key point here is that Moorcock points out that all of the fiction in this issue is from new writers. I see this raising of potential talent as a good thing, but my more cynical self suspects lower rates were paid. I also suspect greater variability in quality. We will see!

Area Complex by Brian Vickers

To the first – the cover story. I liked this one. It’s an account compiled from writings by a number of teenage gang members living in a gang in a future Clockwork Orange kind of dystopia. As you might expect, it is a tough existence, living in decaying cities with lives filled with sex and violence. The group often kills others from rival groups, whilst trying to survive.

The big twist at the end is that the group are a religious sect living in a post-disaster world. This also gives the writer chance to have a pop at religion as is rather expected in New Worlds these days. It doesn’t end happily, but then that’s what we’ve come to expect in these British anti-utopian stories.

What impressed me most was how this story epitomised the New Wave stuff at the moment. If anyone remembers Charles Platt’s Lone Zone back in July 1965 it reminded me of that, but with lots of elements that could be from Aldiss, Ballard, Anthony Burgess (Clockwork Orange) and Langdon Jones in style and content, for example, but are instead from a new writer. Old ideas in new ways, perhaps. A good start to the issue, if typically depressing. 4 out of 5.

Pauper’s Plot by Robert Holdstock

A story of a future life in a factory where the protagonist spends his life as a factory slave pauper, wanting to kill his Overseer, Mister Joseph. Effective description of an awful life that is devoted to work – they have no free time, no chance to go outside. There’s an obvious analogy to the factory and the machine our protagonist is slaved to being life’s dreadful grind. Think of it as a Dickensian novel set in the future – rather like the musical film Oliver! I saw the other week, but without the music, which I kept thinking of whilst reading this. Again, not a bad effort, even if the ending is a bit of a let-down. 3 out of 5.

The Pieces of the Game by Gretchen Haapanen

Another story in poetic prose, that style so beloved by Associate Editor James Sallis. The plot, such as it is, tells us of Sarah, living in a smoggy Los Angeles from which she manages to escape the daily drudgery – in other words, similar to Holdstock’s story! The tale is OK but doesn’t really say a lot, other than creating pictures in your head.

But never mind a plot: be in awe of the pretty prose (though occasionally set out in that way of type in various directions across the page that I am starting to really dislike). 4 out of 5.

Black is the Colour by Barry Bowes

Another story determined to be controversial dealing with the issue of colour. A white man suddenly wakes up one morning to find that he is now black. Deliberately provocative prose – the ghost of Bug Jack Barron hasn’t quite gone away, has it? – but the story makes the point that people of different coloured skin are treated differently in society, and it’s not long before the storyteller’s life suffers as a result. Not a particularly original idea, but it makes its point pretty well. 3 out of 5.

How May I Serve You? by Stephen Dobyns

A story of consumer capitalist culture, it describes a future world where a man who loves the physicality of coinage goes on a spending spree at Schartz’s, using his own manufactured money. He is arrested and we discover that it is an unfortunate consequence of being reconditioned. A nice take on the influence of money and consumable goods in our lives. I’m surprised that “Coca-Cola” hasn’t had something to say on the story though – or do they see it as subliminal advertising? 3 out of 5.

Crim by Graham Charnock

A story that feels a bit Bug Barron in nature. CRIM is a story of future warfare combined with media saturation. Lots of violent imagery, separate characterisations and made up language. This feels similar to some of the other fiction in this issue and gets across the idea that war is bad in a Brian Aldiss Barefoot in the Head kind of way. The difference here is that CRIM feels like it is trying too hard. 3 out of 5.

Article: Graphics for Nova Express by Richard Wittern

Images for what is presumably a new edition of William Burroughs’s Nova Express that seem a bit pointless without context. 2 out of 5.

Sub-Synchronization by Chris Lockesley

Ah, the inevitable New Worlds sex story! Actually, after that initial attempt of using a discussion of sex to grab your attention, it soon becomes something about time, in that disjointed poetic manner that James Sallis seems to like. I didn’t understand it myself. 2 out of 5.

Baa Baa Blocksheep by M. John Harrison

Another disjointed story about grotesque characters doing something incomprehensible. Like most of the allegorical stories here, it is about impressions and poetic description rather than anything else.

It seems to be about this Arm, who with another person named Block go to work for Holloway Pauce, who for some bizarre reason is experimenting on sheep. Whilst this is going on, we get Ballard-ian extracts of stories that Arm is trying to get published, of characters named Gynt and Morven. Deliberately odd and unsettling, obtuse and simultaneously designed to provoke, it becomes memorable for vivid but fractured sections of prose. For example, the first line is: ”Arm scuttled the streets like a bubonic rat–furtive by nature, flaunting in the exigencies of pain."

Typical New Worlds material. I’m sure it all means something… somewhere, but after two readings, I’m still not sure what that is myself. Appreciate the lyrical imagery; don’t look for meaning. 3 out of 5.

Book Reviews: The Impotence of being Stagg by R. G. Meadley and M. John Harrison

Harrison reviews as well as writes in this issue – I suspect that this will become a regular thing.

Unsurprisingly, the reviewers do not like old-style SF, such as that published by Doubleday, and so give a thumbs-down to Joe Poyser’s Operation Malacca, Lloyd Biggle Jr.’s The Still Small Voice of Trumpets and Flesh by Philip Jose Farmer, although they grudgingly admit that Farmer’s more-sexual tales are more entertaining than the rest. I have tended to think of Farmer as a New Wave writer in the US – Harlan Ellison certainly did in Dangerous Visions, so my surprise is that they have anything bad to say about it at all.

Of the other reviews, R. A. Lafferty’s The Reefs of Earth is regarded as a “slight work… well worth a glance if you have nothing else to read”. The publication of Philip K. Dick’s first novel Solar Lottery shows “how far Dick has progressed in the thirteen years since its first publication, and little else.” Arthur C. Clarke’s 2001: A Space Odyssey is “a book for all the family” and will “hardly offend anyone” being seen as “An inoffensive and mundane little piece of Establishment SF.” Lastly, Charles Harness’s third novel, The Ring of Ritornel is seen as “brash, fascinating, eclectic,fast and glossy” but is a less satisfying work when compared with his earlier novels.

Article: Phantom Limbs by Frances Johnston

A medical article that is a little reminiscent of those written by Dr. Christopher Evans back in the early Moorcock issues of New Worlds. It begins with the recent film The Charge of the Light Brigade before going on to discuss the need for artificial replacement limbs and the future of such devices. I guess that it is close to being a robot, but not quite. It’s interesting but feels oddly out of place in this magazine. 3 out of 5.

Summing up the November New Worlds

An issue pleasing in its variety, but rather expectedly more variable in its quality. What we have here is a number of new writers taking inspiration from previously published authors, but as a result we have a lot of techniques we’ve seen before repeated. I recognise Ballard, Aldiss and Langdon Jones in those. The content is more of the usual – strange, disjointed, atmospheric.

I enjoyed most Area Complex, but wasn’t too excited about the Lockesley and the Charnock. The Harrison may be the most bewildering, but Barry Bowes’s story is the one that might cause most outrage, although it isn’t really saying anything new, sadly.

Out of the two issues, I think that the November issue is stronger, simply by having more stories with more of a range, even when a number of them resort to techniques that seem a little familiar. The idea of having an issue with all new writers to this magazine is a good one and shows that there is new talent out there to encourage. The downside of this is that the magazine doesn’t have any big names like Aldiss, Ballard or Disch to encourage the faithful, which might be what the magazine needs to get those reader numbers up, even when some of these new writers seem to be similar in prose, tone and style. Nevertheless, a good issue with good intentions, and one that feels fairly strong, if not entirely successful. It’s a fresh start of sorts, and I look forward to the next issue – hopefully next month!

Until next time – I wish everyone a Happy Halloween.



[October 12, 1968] (October 1968 Galactoscope)


by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

Although only bi-annual, rather than quarterly, at the moment, Carnell continues to regularly release his anthology series, easily eclipsing Pohl’s Star series and Knight’s Orbit. Will it be lucky #13?

New Writings in S-F 13
Hardback cover for New Writings in SF 13
Carnell notes there is an international flavour to this volume, with four Brits, Two Aussies, One American and One Belgian. Has any English Language SF publication series managed to have a male Belgian author before a woman author of any nationality? I think it may be a first! (International SF had both in its second issue.)

The Divided House by John Rackham
Leaving in 1984 on a ten-year voyage to look for intelligent life, Space-Farer IV now returns (due to time compression) in 2104. They find an Earth divided by genetics between the ruling Croms and their slaves, the Nandys, and the crew are split into the different camps.

I recently saw Judgement at Nuremburg on the BBC and this brought to my mind a scene where a witness on the sterilization procedure says:

My Mother…She was a hardworking woman, and it is not fair what you say. Here. I want to show you. I have here her picture. I would like you to look at it. I would like you to judge. I want that you tell me, was she feeble-minded? My mother! Was she feeble-minded? Was she?

This story addresses the question of eugenics, how we can judge one type of person to be inferior to another and how easy it is for science to be perverted. Important ideas.

And yet, I am not 100% sure I understand the conclusion he is meant to be reaching, nor the way in which it is delivered. I suspect this may be a story Rackham is planning to expand to novel length.

Three Stars for now.

Public Service by Sydney J. Bounds
On a densely populated island city, the fire service are reduced to a policy of containment instead of stopping fires. The poor are crying out for change, but what else can Fire Control do?

Reading this, I wondered if it was inspired by Kowloon Walled City, where the lack of access roads make it impossible for fire vehicles to enter. As such, it felt believable even in its exaggerated fashion, and Bounds put it together with great style. Dark, atmospheric but an all too realistic vision of the future.

Four Stars

The Ferryman on the River by David Kyle
The tower platform is a common site from which people throw themselves to their death. Hector is a salvager who takes away those who jump and offers them a new life. But is he salvation or slaver?

This is very much a stylistic piece, so your opinions will likely depend on how you feel about a regular switch between long run-on sentences full of descriptions and short clipped statements, in other words, how I write. I like it.

Four Stars

Testament by Vincent King
The Exploration Corps travel to 3m2t670, the last unexplored planetary system in the galaxy. Their mission, to determine if any other world has ever evolved life. We hear the record of Officer Dahndehr as his apparent discovery of the remnants of an ancient civilization turns to disaster.

King has tended to specialize in Vancian Medieval Futurism, but he manages to do well here in more common SFnal settings. It is a touch old fashioned, like a combination between Clarke and Ashton Smith, but he adds a unique style to it and has a twist in the tail I did not expect. Well done all round.

Four Stars

The Macbeth Expiation by M. John Harrison
On an unexplored planet an expedition shoots a group of alien beasts. When they return to the site, however, there is no sign of the encounter. Did they fail to hit them? Were they hallucinating in the first place? Or is something stranger going on?

This is described as a psychological thriller, and I would say that is accurate. It is a fairly atmospheric example, which makes us question what is real, albeit an unexceptional one.

A high three stars, probably a fourth for those who really enjoy the subgenre.

Representative by David Rome
Catton is an insurance salesman who is annoyed by his young neighbours, The Brownings. They laugh off his sales attempts and are convinced they will never need it. However, upon discovering a near identical couple have moved in next to his friends, he suspects something stranger is happening.

This is another example of what I term “Exurban Uncanny”, which often turns up in New Writings, unnerving stories about the sterileness of new towns. This is a pretty good story of this type, if rather obvious.

Three Stars

The Beach by John Baxter
People live in the warm embrace of the beach. Swimming, partying and in full contentment. One day Jael suddenly notices that buildings exist beyond the beach and leaves to investigate.

I am not sure what to make of this. Is it meant to be a mockery of surf bums? A stylistic experiment? An exploration of how people cope with trauma?

Whatever it is, Baxter writes it well enough to earn Three Stars.

The City, Dying by Eddy C. Bertin
Written in a sloping up and down fashion: A Thousand separate pieces each crying out for help Then below in big bold letters: Destroying
In breathless and experimental style, Bertin tells of Wade’s attempts to find meaning whilst living in a police state. But, in such a place, what is reality and what is nightmare?

Apparently, this was originally written for a Belgian literary contest, then translated into Dutch and further into English, revised by the author each time. However, you wouldn’t know it. It reads incredibly well and makes use of the kind of typographical experiments en vogue in New Worlds.

Yet, it doesn’t feel like it is doing anything particularly new; rather it is what might happen if Kafka had submitted a piece to Michael Moorcock.

A high three stars

Keep Calm and Carry On
So, overall, this was a pretty solid volume of his series. Nothing that would rise to an all time classic but nothing I did not find interesting to read. Will the series continue its success? Given the British John C. has been editing SF publications for just as long as his American counterpart, I don’t see either of them putting down their red pens any time soon.



by Victoria Silverwolf

Laughing to Keep From Crying?

The latest Ace Double (H-91) contains two short novels (probably novellas, really) with plots that seem comic, at first glance, but are treated mostly in a serious manner. Let's take a look at them.

Murphy's Law

The shorter of the two presents a situation in which anything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Target: Terra, by Laurence M. Janifer and S. J. Treibich


Cover art by Jack Gaughan.

Some folks are inside a space station carrying nuclear weapons to be used against the Enemy should war break out. Our hapless hero, Intelligence Officer Angelo DiStefano, has to deal with artificial gravity that changes from zero to three times Earth normal, and everything in between, at random. His magnetic boots wander around on their own. The food machine produces inedible stuff that looks like weirdly colored snakes.

Bad enough, but when he finds out that the station's weapons are aimed at every major city on Earth, Good Guys or Bad Guys, he's got real problems.

So far, the story seems like a black comedy farce. I was taken by surprise, therefore, when an expository chapter reveals that the majority of Asians died in a plague that didn't harm non-Asians. Not exactly funny. Anyway, that's got something to do with the surviving Asians getting ready to attack the others, which will cause the station's missiles to launch.

(I should mention that the station has run out of sex suppressant, so the only woman aboard has a paranoid fear of being raped. Sorry, I'm not laughing.)

Angelo tries to figure out who's trying to wipe out all life on Earth. Aliens? A mad saboteur? And what can be done to prevent total Armageddon?

There's a lot of quirky characters, from a "midget" electronics genius to a captain who never leaves the bridge. Besides the distasteful content I mentioned above, there's also another armed space station containing Africans. The implication that there's a sort of racial Cold War going on doesn't fit very well with the silly slapstick that starts the story.

Two stars.

Far Out Music

The other, slightly longer, half of the book features a musical group set on going where no one has ever rocked and rolled before.

The Proxima Project, by John Rackham


Cover art by John Schoenherr.

Horace McCool is a rich guy who is obsessed with the band's female singer. The members of the Trippers call themselves Jim, Jem, Johnny, and Yum-Yum. Nobody knows their real names, or anything else about them.

Horace wants to marry Yum-Yum, even though he's never even met her. When he manages to make his way backstage during a concert, she's not interested at all. (Her utter disdain may be best demonstrated by the fact that she casually strips nude in front of him in order to take a shower.) Unable to take a very firm No! for an answer, Howard gives her a gift that has a tracking unit hidden in it. With his loyal secretary, who has her own crush on one of the male members of the group, Horace follows Yum-Yum and the others to a mansion on the Moon, and then much further.

Sounds like a romantic comedy, doesn't it? And yet there's a serious tone to much of the story. The four members of the Trippers are super-geniuses who only started the band so they could raise enough money for their secret project. They're cynical about the rest of the human species, and just want to get away from Earth forever, even if it means a seemingly suicidal one-way voyage.

Horace's mad passion seems way out of character for an otherwise sensible fellow. The climax of the story strained credibility to the breaking point. I suppose the author might be saying something about the worship of celebrities and the Generation Gap, but it's not a profound work in any way.

Two stars.

A is for Anywhere

Next on my reading list is a book that takes its two protagonists on another wild journey, but not into outer space.

Dimension A, by L. P. Davies

The narrator is a teenage boy who gets a message from a buddy of the same age. It seems that the other fellow's uncle disappeared, along with his mysterious helper. Enlisting the aid of a scientist, for whom the narrator works, they try to figure out what happened.

Not much of a mystery, really, because we find out right away that the uncle was working on a way to reach a parallel reality known as (you guessed it) Dimension A. (Does that mean our own universe is Dimension B?)

What with one thing and another, the two kids accidentally land in Dimension A, and don't see a way back. They have to deal with hallucinations created by an unseen entity behind a green mist, as well as primitive humans who somehow manage to have ray guns. Can they find the missing uncle and make their way home?

The novel seems intended for younger readers, mostly because of the age of the two main characters. The language isn't overly simple, and adults of any age can read it without feeling they're being talked down to. The book doesn't try to be anything but an imaginative science fiction adventure story, and it succeeds at that modest goal.

Three stars.

New and Improved?

Two well-known writers recently published expanded versions of earlier works.

Into the Slave Nebula, by John Brunner

This is a revision of one half of an Ace Double from 1960. (D-421, to be exact. The other half was Dr. Futurity by Philip K. Dick.)


Cover art by Ed Emshwiller.

I haven't read it, so I can't compare it with the new version.


Cover art by Kelly Freas.

At some time in the far future, Earth is a place of wealth and leisure. Robots and androids (artificially grown humans, with blue skin to identify them) do the work, while other folks enjoy themselves.

(There's a brief mention of people who have lost their wealth through foolish behavior. They're known as the Dispossessed. Otherwise, poverty doesn't exist.)

During a time of wild celebration, the protagonist stumbles across an android who has been severely beaten and maimed. Another android, knowing his fellow slave can't survive, puts him out of his misery with an injection. The protagonist is horrified by what happened to the dead android, but it's just considered destruction of property instead of murder.

(Given the different skin color of the android and their legal position in society, an analogy with American slavery prior to the Civil War seems likely.)

Adding to the mystery is the discovery of a dead man nearby with a knife in his chest. A police detective comes by, but doesn't seem very interested in solving the case.

The surviving android, noticing that our hero is sympathetic, slips him an item taken from the dead man. It reveals that he was a very important person everywhere but Earth. This sends the protagonist on a journey to several different colonized planets, where he learns the dark secret behind the manufacturing of the androids. Along the way, people keep trying to kill him.

(There's a plot twist that made me want to call the book Blue Like Me, but that seemed too frivolous.)

Not in the same league as the author's groundbreaking masterpiece Stand on Zanzibar, but a competent science fiction novel.

Three stars.

Hawksbill Station, by Robert Silverberg

The novella Hawksbill Station appeared in the August 1967 issue of Galaxy.


Cover art by Sol Dember.

The Noble Editor gave it a positive review when it first appeared. Will the novel be better, worse, or about the same?


Cover art by Pat Steir.

In the twenty-first century, the United States is under a totalitarian (but superficially benign) government. Capital punishment is banned, but political prisoners are sent back in time about one billion years. Since travel to the future is impossible, this is equivalent to a life sentence.

The protagonist is the de facto leader of the exiles. (All male, by the way; there's another prison colony for women millions of years apart from the men. The novel never visits the female prisoners, and that might make for an interesting sequel.) He's more or less sane, unlike many of the other guys. One is trying to make a woman out of mud. Another is trying to use ESP to escape. Yet another attempts to contact aliens.

The situation changes when a new prisoner arrives. He's younger than usual, for one thing. More telling is the fact that he claims to be a economist, but doesn't known a darn thing about economics. What is he doing here?

If you've read the novella, you know that's the same plot. What's been added is a series of flashbacks, showing how the main character became a revolutionary and how he was betrayed and imprisoned. (These sections also feature the novel's only female character. She doesn't show up too much, but her fate adds a certain poignancy.)

The flashbacks make the character and the world in which he lives seem more real, but they're not absolutely necessary. Whether you prefer the leaner novella or the richer novel is a matter of taste. There isn't a big difference in quality, if any.

Four stars.



by Gideon Marcus

The Spawn of the Death Machine, by Ted White

Ted White has done it again…in more ways than one.

Some of you may remember Rosemary Benton's stellar review of Android Avenger, in which she gave five stars to the tale of Bob Tanner, a cyborg and revolutionary in a staid, computer-run future.

In the luridly (but appropriately) titled Spawn of the Death machine, Bob Tanner is back, and so is Ted White in fine form.

First, a little background, from the horse's mouth:

SPAWN was sold originally to Paperback Library, but was not my first submission to them (through my agent). The first book I submitted to them (in outline) was BY FURIES POSSESSED. They said they were looking for an Ace-Book-type book, so I figured, wothell archy, how about the sequel to an Ace Book? Which SPAWN is, being the sequel to ANDROID AVENGER (original title, changed by Don Wollheim, was THE DEATH MACHINE). That they bought.

The cover of the original edition of SPAWN was by Jeff Jones, who showed me the painting before I'd finished the book. The protagonist is holding a knife and defending the girl. So I wrote that into the book as a scene. But the art director decided to "improve" the cover and had the knife repainted (crudely) as a sword, and had shackles added to the girl, twisting her body in an anatomically absurd position. Pissed Jeff off no end, and me too.

Per Ted, Jeff is working on rewriting the rules of conduct for cover artists (keeping original paintings, selling only one-time repro rights). If successful, it will be a boon for all artists.

Anyway, as for the story…

Bob Tanner is wakened inside some sort of vault, naked, amnesiac. The robot brain inside exhorts him to explore the outside world, to spend a year amongst the humans, then report back with what he finds.

It turns out that civilization is long passed. He first arrives at the ruins of New York, the outskirts of which are inhabited by the most primitive of survivors, generations removed from the civilization Tanner only remembers in fragments. He is captured but escapes, taking with him the young Rifka, a captive member of the tribe.

Thus begins a series of adventures including a tangle with a bear, a run-in with a more advanced town with a mayor who doesn't let newcomers leave, a widespread constellation of farming communities at a 19th Century level of technology, and even a super-advanced enclave run by a group of individuals who were once the underdogs of society.

Through it all, Tanner becomes increasingly aware of his non-human nature—his metal bones, his ability to breathe fire, the hyperspeed he is capable of in brief spurts. And, at last, he discovers who he really is and decides what destiny he will forge for himself.

As is typical for Ted's books, I tore through this novel in short order. The man can't write a dull sentence even with a gun to his head. He takes the most cliché of settings and turns it into something fresh, certainly a damnsight better than Zelazny's recent stab at postapocalypse with Damnation Alley.

This may sound silly, but what I really liked about the book is that it's a romance. And not a "superman claims grateful damsel as prize" romance, but a believable progression of a relationship. Rifka is a well-realized character, one imbued with passion and an independent nature and set of priorities. It's not surprising that Ted draws her with such care—she is named after his wife, Robin Postal (Rifka means Robin in Yiddish). But, in general, the author is good with his female characters, surprising not just for the genre, but for the pulpy subgenre and venue.

I also really appreciate that one gets a pretty full picture of Bob Tanner even without having read the first book (in fact, I haven't, though it's on my shelf—it's really tough to find the time to read everything; even stuff you know is good). Honestly, the only real demerit to the book is its structure, really a series of vignettes. In that way, it is reminiscent of Omha Abides, C.C. MacApp's recent After-The-Apocalypse novel. Sure, White writes it better than most anyone else, but it still suffers from the disjointed, episodic nature of it.

Still, 4.5 stars, and I'm sure it'll make the Galactic Stars or at least get honorable mention this year.



by Jason Sacks

Star Well, by Alexei Panshin

I have a new favorite science fiction writer whose work I’m going to track. His name is Alexei Panshin and he’s had a terrific 1968.

Several months ago I reviewed Panshin’s novel Rite of Passage and found it intriguing, with great atmospherics, complex characters and a clever attitude which seemed to tell the story in multiple dimensions. Panshin told his story with a slightly ironic reserve to it, an approach which gave a detached commentary on the events, as if the narrator of the tale was someone looking back fondly at the events which shaped her.

That element is on display again in his newest novel, Star Well, but this time that ironic detached commentary reads like wry takes on the world readers are experiencing in the novel. For instance:

The apparently frightening and hopeless situation may turn out to have a candy-cream interior. That has been the main premise of the happy ending since the return of Ulysses.

Or he brings in a cute, clever meta-commentary about plot elements which gives the reader an aha! kind of feeling:

When managers of illicit traffic meet, their biggest plaint is the employment problem. In a word, henchmen. There are all too few young crooks willing to take training service under older and more accomplished men.

… a commentary which then goes into a detailed explanation of why it’s so dang hard to get good help these days, especially in a star base many light years away from anything important.

In short, these excerpts read like a bit of postmodern commentary on the space opera of Robert Heinlein. And since Panshin has written a monograph about Heinlein (Heinlein in Dimension, available through your local library, I’m sure), that reference has to be intentional.

Mr. Panshin's analysis of Heinlein

The lead character here is one Anthony Villiers, a kind of lazy trust fund baby who’s spending his life just wandering the Nashurite Empire, occasionally drifting when he has cash, occasionally grifting when he doesn’t have cash. He’s aristocratic and hates getting his hands dirty, but he also has a gentlemanly aspect about him which makes Villiers feel charming and kind.

Villiers finds himself at the Star Well, a space port/gambling hall/shopping stopover which has been drilled into an asteroid in an area of space in which “the stars don’t grow”; in other words, a simple stopover for travelers who need a warm bed and maybe a touch of the illicit while on their way to their final destination. As such, it’s a perfect place for illegal smuggling and inept, corrupt bureaucrats who are striving to improve their social position or at least their bank accounts.

A photo of Mr. Panshin from last year.

As you might guess, Villiers can’t help but get involved in the events at the Star Well, becoming quite the reluctant hero as he finds himself in conflict with Godwin, a man of low birth who yearns to be aristocratic, and Godwin’s boss Hisan Bashir Shirabi, a man with a massive inferiority complex who yearns to be like Villiers. Our protagonist also becomes unexpectedly close friends with the fifteen-year-old Louisa Parini, who traveled to Star Well en route to a stuffy finishing school but who craves adventure.

This is all so lightweight and enjoyable, and this whole charming souffle of a novel comes in at a mere 154 very quick pages – just like a Heinlein juvenile. And just like one of the juvies, there’s plenty of hints we’ll see more of Anthony Villiers in the future as he continues his peripatetic wanderings. I hope to spend many years following our besotted aristocrat as he wanders through the Nashurite Empire.

3.5 stars