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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 28, 1968] Design for effect (April 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

There are all kinds of science fiction stories.  Some explore the human condition, prioritizing people and how they might be affected by emerging technologies.  Others are space or planetary adventures, utilizing an exotic locale as backdrop for classic derring-do.

Analog (formerly Astounding) has always emphasized technological pieces.  They are stories of gadgets, of scientific implementations, not people.  Even better is when the story underscores the libertarian, rather reactionary politics of one editor John W. Campbell Jr.

Sometimes, a skilled writer can get a story into Campbell's mag without that kind of tale.  In this issue, virtually none of them did…

The issue at hand


by Kelly Freas

Secret Weapon, by Joseph P. Martino

The interstellar war against the Arcani is going badly.  Now that the Terrans have doubled their Patrol Corvette fleet, suddenly their losses have quadrupled.  Somehow, the alien enemy is tracking down their gravitational signatures as they zoom through their patrol lanes at four times the speed of light–and even when the human crews manage to intercept the enemy warships, somehow they elude destruction.

Two ships are dispatched to find the answer to this crisis, equipped with a new nucleonic clock that allows the ships to communicate even at superluminary speeds.  Now they can cover each other in case of attack.  When attack inevitably comes, they discover the secret to the enemy's success.

Joe Martino probably enjoyed writing this novella, and John Campbell obviously enjoyed reading this novella, so I suppose the story must be called some kind of success.  However, if you don't enjoy things that read like the centerfold to a particularly dry issue of Popular Gravitics, I suggest you give this one a skip.  This probably could have been a great novel, with time devoted to, you know, characters and prose, as opposed to a thinly dressed up engineering problem whose solution is implied to be beyond the comprehension of the alien foe.

Two stars.

Handyman, by Jack Wodhams


by Leo Summers

A married couple, trapped on a muddy world with virtually no trappings of civilization, try to make even the most basic rudiments of technology to ease their plight.  Eventually, they figure out how to make ceramics, and when a rescue party finally appears, they are now happy to stay on their private world and even to start an export trade of their new kind of china.  Chalk up a win for enforced entrepreneurialism!

I kept waiting for Wodhams to explain how the planet-wrecked pair figured out how to make their ceramic, given that all the ways that didn't work were so lovingly detailed.

Still, the story is at least readable. A low three stars.

Phantasmaplasmagoria, by Herbert Jacob Bernstein


by Kelly Freas

According to the scientists, power from nuclear fusion, harnessing the union of hydrogen atoms to produce boundless electricity, is just twenty years away.  This story details the meandering road to the technology's serendipitous development.

It's a silly piece, and I'm not sure who thought it a good idea to put a fourth of the story in endnotes that one has to constantly refer to.  They aren't worth the pay-off.

Two stars.

Is Everybody Happy?, by Christopher Anvil


by Leo Summers

A hay fever drug has the unfortunate side effect of making everyone extra-friendly.  Society breaks down as folks would rather kibbitz than work.

It says something about Analog and its editor's beliefs that too much friendliness will obviously lead to economic ruin, as opposed to increased efficiency through greater cooperation. Call me crazy, but I work better when I like my co-workers.

Anyway, this is another "funny" piece by Anvil for Campbell, and it's as good as you'd expect it to be.

Two stars.

Incorrigible, by John T. Phillifent


by Leo Summers

A naval officer is up for treason, having facilitated the transfer of technical knowledge to the Drekk, potentially Earth's most dangerous foe.  The implacable lizards, inhabitant of a Venus-type planet (nicknamed "Wet" for its torrid, humid conditions) are incredibly quick studies, and interstellar spaceflight is only a few developments away.

But, the officer notes, at the end of a very long dialogue with his attorney (the sole point of which is to build to the punchline conclusion) the information leak was ultimately to humanity's benefit.  For it involves the ability to teleport water, which the Drekk will use to colonize the nearby planet, "Dry".  And once enough mass is teleported from Wet, the core will explode, destroying the evil aliens.

Well.

I can't imagine this is particularly sound science, this notion that Venus-type planets are at a critical point such that the lost of a few million tons of water can destabilize them, especially coming from a fellow who still characterizes Venus as "wet" five years after Mariner 2.  That notwithstanding, I might have been more tolerant, given the decent writing in this piece, if the author (under his pseudonym) had not used the exact same gimmick to end his recent novel, Alien Sea!

Two stars.

The Horse Barbarians (Part 3 of 3), by Harry Harrison


by Kelly Freas

Jason dinAlt's adventures appear to have come to an end with this third Deathworld novel.  By the end of the story, the Pyrran city has been destroyed by the planet, the horse barbarians of Felicity have been defeated, and Meta and Jason have finally professed their love for one another.

How is Temuchin, highest chief of the Felicitan nomads defeated?  After Jason is found out for the outworlder he is, the barbarian tosses him into a deep pit to die.  Instead, Jason finds his way through a maze of caves, discovering a passage from the frozen steppes to the rich lowlands.  All other methods of toppling Temuchin having failed, Jason tells the warlord the secret of the caves so that the barbarians can finally conquer the whole continent.

Almost immediately, Temuchin realizes his victory is really defeat, for taking all the cities means the inevitable death of the nomad way of life.  The nomads collapse within weeks, and the Pyrrans set up shop.

There are a lot of problems with this book.  Temuchin is supposed to be this awful, violent savage for slaughtering foreign invaders, and for wanting to take out the lowlanders.  Does this justify the Pyrrans in killing and facilitating the killing of far more people than Temuchin ever could have managed on his own?

Beyond that, the historical "lesson" at the end of the story is specious.  Sure, the Chinese sinicized the Mongols, but not all of them, and not in a matter of weeks.  And as for the Goths and Huns (also cited), the former were invited to settle the Roman Empire rather than becoming Roman after conquering, while the Huns were simply defeated in fight after fight.

Thus, I find Jason's actions and motivations more ruthless and inhuman than Temuchin's; they are also out of keeping with the peacenik environmental message so beautifully expressed in Deathworld.

All that said, there's no question that Harrison is a terrific writer (he almost makes you accept the unrealistic extents to which Jason pushes his body).  I turned to this serial first each of the last three months, and I finished each installment in a sitting.  As a result, while I give this segment three stars, and even though I find the premise repugnant, I still am giving the novel as a whole three and a half stars.

Local Effect, by D. L. Hughes


by Leo Summers

An alien space drive discarded near Earth's moon has drastic effects on human scientific development.  It turns out that the speed of light is not a constant…except around Earth.  Thus, Einstein's theory of relativity only describes a local phenomenon, not the universe as a whole.  Alien anthropologists from a faraway star survey humanity and note this local aberration with interest.

This is an interesting premise, but Hughes, knowing his audience (a certain editor named Campbell), turns it into an anti-scientific-establishment polemic, noting that, if only humans were a little more broad minded, they might not have gotten stuck in their rut.  After all, how dare we assume that the rules that hold locally apply to the whole universe?

Except, of course, that is the very soul of the scientific method.  Moreover, observations this century make it clear that relativity does hold throughout the universe–as early as 1919, just four years after the publication of General Relativity, light was seen to have been deflected around the sun's gravity well, pursuant to theory.

This could have been a fascinating story of aliens assuming that all beings should follow an "obvious" course of scientific development, deluded by their own understanding of all the facts.  Instead, we get…this.

Two stars.

Doing the math

If it's a race to the bottom, Analog has won handily, scoring just 2.3 stars this month.  This accomplishment is all the more sad when one realizing that this is a better score than it got last month!

Luckily, the other magazines of the month were somewhat better, including New Worlds (2.8), New Writings 12 (3.1), Famous Science Fiction #4 (2.9), Famous Science Fiction #5 (2.5), Famous Science Fiction #6 (2.7), Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.7)
IF (3.1), and the best, Galaxy (3.3).

Women penned just 4% of the new fiction this month, and even with all the issues of Famous (lumped due to logistics into this one month), there was still only 2.5 to 3 issues' worth of superior stuff.

I guess we'll see if the Pohl mags continue to reign, or if all fortunes oscillate.  I think it's safe to say, though, that Analog could definitely use a loosening of its editorial prescriptions.  Hope springs eternal!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[February 26, 1968] Stormy Weather (March 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

There's no sun up in the sky

Out in the vastness of space, a constellation of man-made moons keeps watch on the Earth below.  Unlike their brethren, the military sentinels that look out for rocket plumes and atomic blasts, these benign probes monitor the planet's weather with a vantage and a vigilance that would make a 19th Century meteorologist green with envy.

In addition to the wealth of daily data we get from TIROS, ESSA, and Nimbus, the West is now getting aid from an unlikely, but no less welcome, source: behind the Iron Curtain.

Two years ago, the Soviets rebuffed the idea of exchanging weather satellite imagery.  "No need," was what they said; "no sats," was probably the real story.  For in August of 1966, all of a sudden, the USSR activated the "Cold Line" link between Moscow and Washington for the exchange of meteorological data.  This action coincided with the recent launch of Cosmos 122, revealed to be a weather satellite.

This constituted a late start in the weather race–after all, TIROS had been broadcasting since 1960.  Nevertheless, better late than never.  Unfortunately, the Soviets first sent only basic weather charts with limited cloud analysis.  Not much good without the raw picture data.  When we finally got the pictures, starting September 11, 1966, the quality was lousy–the communications link is just too long and lossy.  Our ESSA photos probably didn't look any better to them.

By March 1967, however, the lines had been improved, and Kosmos 122 was returning photos with excellent clarity.

We also got infrared data.  The resolution was much worse, but the Soviets maintained they did first discover a pair of typhoons bearing down on Japan.

Since then, the USSR has orbited at least two more weather satellites, Kosmos 144 and Kosmos 184, both returning the same useful data, often from different orbital perspectives than we can easily reach.  For instance, the Soviet pictures offer particularly good views of the poles and northern Eurasia.

It's a little thing, perhaps, this trading of weather data between the superpowers.  But anything that promotes peaceful exchange and keeps the connections between East and West ready and friendly is something to appreciate.  Sometimes the Space Race is more of a torch relay!

Raining all the time


by Kelly Freas

In sharp contrast, Analog remains an island unto itself, and like all inbred families, often produces challenged offspring.  Such is the case with the March 1968 issue, which ranges from middlin' to awful.

The Alien Rulers, by Piers Anthony


by Kelly Freas

We start with the awful.

Fifteen years ago, the blue-skinned Kaozo engaged our space fleet, destroyed it utterly, and became the benevolent masters of Earth.  They created a working socialist society, implementing tremendous public works projects, and humanity proved remarkably complacent under their rule.  Nevertheless, a revolution of sorts has been hatched, and Richard Henrys is tasked with the stickiest assignment–assassinate the Kazo leader, Bitool.

Henrys is quickly captured, but instead of facing execution, Bitool offers him a deal: protect Seren, the first female Kazo on Earth, during the next three days of the revolution, and he can go free.

Sounds like a decent setup.  It's actually a terrible story.  For one thing, the author of Chthon has all of his off-putting tics on display.  Seren is a straw woman, whose vocabulary is largely limited to "Yes, Richard," and "No, Richard."  The social attitudes of this far future world seem rooted in the Victorian times, with passages like this:

"You'll pose as my wife.  Hang on to my arm and–"

"Pose?" she inquired.  "I do not comprehend this, Richard."

Damn the forthright Kazo manner!  He had five minutes to explain human ethics, or lack of them, to a person who had been born to another manner.  Pretense was not a concept in the alien repertoire, it seemed.

He chose another approach.  "For the time being, you are my wife, then.  Call it a marriage of convenience."  She began to speak, but he cut her off.  "My companion, my female.  On Earth we pair off two by two.  This means you must defer to my wishes, expressed and implied, and avoid bringing shame upon me.  Only in this manner are you permitted to accompany me in public places.  Is this clear?"

And this one:

"I promised to explain why this subterfuge was necessary.  I didn't mean to place you in a compromising situation, but–"

"Compromising, Richard?"

"Ordinarily a man and a woman do not share a room unless they are married."

And then, there's the scene where the feminine disguise Richard puts together for Seren falls apart because her body lacks mammalian contours.  Why doesn't he then dress her in male clothes?  And when her stockings start to fall off her legs, I couldn't help wondering how they'd somehow uninvented Panty Hose in the 21st Century.

But then, I'm not sure if Piers Anthony has actually ever talked to a woman, much less seen her in her underthings.

On top of that, the final revelation that the Earth fleet was never destroyed, but instead went on to conquer Kazo, and the two planets have swapped overlords (both governments populated only by the very best technocrats) is so ridiculous as to beggar belief.  That Henrys is invited to become one of the ruling class largely for his novel ideas on how to cut a cake fairly, well, takes the cake.

One star.

Uplift the Savage, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Members of an interstellar agency learn that the best way to increase the technological sophistication of a primitive race is not to give them expertise, but allow them to steal it.  The two-page point is hammered in using fourteen pages of digs at women, higher education, and educated women.

One star.

The Inevitable Weapon, by Poul Anderson


by Harry Bennett

A scientist discovers teleportation.  Useless for interstellar travel, at least for a while, it's great for beaming in concentrated starlight–as a weapon at first, but potentially, to provide energy.

This would be a decent, one-page Theodore L. Thomas piece in F&SF.  Instead, it's fourteen pages of bog-standard detective/secret agent thriller.

Two stars.

Birth of a Salesman, by James Tiptree, Jr.


by Kelly Freas

Jim Tiptee's freshman story is an Anvilesque tale of breakneck pace and nonstop patter.  T. Benedict of the Xeno-Cultural Gestalt Clearance (XCGC) has got a tough job: making sure the trade goods of the galaxy not only take into account the taboos or allergies of alien customers, but also the transhipment longshorebeings. 

Tedium sets in by page two, which, coincidentally, is how many stars I rate it.

The Horse Barbarians (Part 2 of 3), by Harry Harrison


by Kelly Freas

A lot and very little happen in this installment of Jason dinAlt's latest adventure.  Last time on Deathworld III, Jason offered up his fellow Pyrrans as mercenaries to wipe out the horse barbarians on the planet Felicity.  It's fair play, after all, since these barbarians (absolutely not the Mongols, because they have red hair!) slaughtered the last attempt at a mining camp on their frozen plateau.

So, Jason accompanies "Temuchin", the warlord, on an expedition down a cliffside to the technologically advanced civilization on the plains below.  There, they steal some gunpowder, kill a lot of innocent people, and come back–in time to link up with the rest of the Pyrrans for a raid on the Weasel clan.  More slaughter ensues.

Jason feels kind of bad about his part in the killing, but it's all a part of a master plan to someday, eventually, pacify the warriors with by opening up a trade route with the south (as opposed to setting up off-world trade, since the barbarians hate off-worlders).  So whaddaya gonna do?

Well, personally?  Pick a different career path.  Even if the nomads are the biggest savages since the Whimsies, Growleywogs, and Phantasms, what right do the Pyrrans have to kill…anyone? 

Setting aside the moral concerns, Harrison is still an effective writer.  I wasn't bored, just a bit disgusted.

Three stars.

Practice!, by Verge Foray


by Kelly Freas

A shabby little private school for problem children is suddenly the subject of a set of accreditation inspectors.  There's nothing wrong with the kids or the staff–the problem is that the snoops might discover it's really a training ground for junior ESPers!  Luckily, the tykes are on the side of management, and the inspectors are snowed.

I went back and forth on whether this very Analogian tale deserved two or three stars.  On the one hand, I'm getting a little tired of psi stories (the headmaster in the story even says there's no such thing as something for nothing–and that's what psi is), and I resented the smug digs at public school.

But what swayed me toward the positive end of the ledger (aside from the unique and lovely art) was the bit at the end whereby it's suggested that the reason for the school, and the reason psi is so unreliable, is because, like music or language, it's something that needs to be practiced from an early age.  It's a new angle, and pretty neat.

So, three stars.

Can't go on…

Wow.  2.1 stars is bottom-of-Amazing territory, and it easily makes this month's Analog the worst magazine of the month.  Compare it to Fantastic (2.2), IF (3), New Worlds (3.3), and the excellent Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.6), and the contrast is even stronger.

Because of the paucity of magazines, you could fit all the really good stuff into, say, one issue of Galaxy.  On the other hand, women wrote 12% of new fiction this month, which is decent for the times (not to mention the episodes of Star Trek D. C. Fontana has been penning).

It's 1968, an election year.  Maybe this is the year Campbell hands the reins over to someone else.  It certainly couldn't hurt the tarnished old mag.

And then, maybe the sun will come out again!

Speaking of election news, there's plenty of it and more on today's KGJ Weekly report.  You give us four minutes, and we'll give you the world:



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[January 31, 1968] Too much and too little (February 1968 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Too much

Last week, we watched the evening news with mounting dread and anxiety as President Johnson ordered 15,000 reservists into action in response to the seizure of the U.S.S. Pueblo by North Korea.  The U.S.S. Enterprise was already in the Sea of Japan ready to initiate a retaliatory strike.  It looked like the Cuban Missile Crisis all over again.  Lorelei turned to me and worried that things couldn't possibly get any worse.

Then the North Vietnamese launched an all-out assault on seven provincial capitals in South Vietnam.  Fighting reached the streets of Saigon, and the America embassy itself was overrun for six hours.  The conflict is still raging.  So much for the Tet holiday week of peace.  So much for armistice overtures.

So, 1968 is already shaping up to be a scary year in the mundane world.  Let's see how we're doing in the SFNal realm.  The latest issue of Analog starts off strong, from its Kelly Freas cover, to Harrison's name on the masthead.  But does it deliver on its promises?

Too little


by Kelly Freas

The Horse Barbarians (Part 1 of 3), by Harry Harrison

Don't let the title or the cover throw you–this latest serial is, in fact, the third installment in Harrison's Deathworld series.  In the brilliant first story, we are introduced to Jason dinAlt, a psychically adept gambler and roustabout who comes to Pyrrus, the most hostile planet in the galaxy.  Using his ESP talents, as well as his fine brain, he deduces that the reason the world is so antagonistic to humans is due to a kind of psychic positive feedback loop: as the colonists came to regard the planet as their enemy, the planet's flora and fauna responded in kind.  The key to living at peace with the world is a change in mindset, to work with the planet rather than try to conquer it.  It was a lovely ecological message, predating Silent Spring by two years.

The second dinAlt story, The Ethical Engineer is a Deathworld story only in name, with dinAlt captured and taken to another world in Chapter One.  This novel, more than any other, caused me to confuse Harry Harrison for Keith Laumer (as dinAlt and Retief are rather similar in nature and tone) everafter.

This third piece is a little more closely bound to the original.  The premise: all of the city-dwellers of Pyrrus who could make peace with the planet have already left the original settlement for the countryside.  What's left is the hard-core who cannot change their mindset.  Eventually, the planet must defeat them.

Jason has a proposal that may appeal to this remainder.  The planet Felicity has resisted all attempts at establishment of a mining colony.  Specifically, the northern half of the planet's sole continent is peopled by savage horse barbarians who steadfastedly resist any attempt at civilization.  dinAlt suggests that the Pyrrans form a planetary exploration and pacification company; after all, who in the galaxy could be tougher than a Pyrran?  About 400 city-dwellers agree to the plan.

Upon landing on Felicity, Jason is immediately konked on the head and made a captive of Temuchin, leader of the dominant barbarian tribe.  This chief has slowly gained the vassalage of all of the other tribes, cementing his control over the windswept northern steppes.  dinAlt manages to escape, making a trek across the barren wastes.  But the trip back to his ship, the Pugnacious, is only the beginning of his worries.  In order to topple Temujin, Jason and his fellow Pyrrans will have to playact at being a new barbarian tribe, and subvert the chieftain from within…

The tone flipflops between light and deadly serious, and the horse barbarians are a thinly disguised retread of the Mongols (look in your encyclopedia for the birth name of Genghis Khan), though made redheads for some reason.  That said, I read the whole thing in two quick sittings, and I'm enjoying it more than Engineer so far.

Four stars for this installment.

To Make a "Star Trek" by G. Harry Stine

You know our favorite TV SF show has made the big time when Analog makes it the topic of the nonfiction science article!  Stine, a model rocket enthusiast, offers up a fascinating bit of background on the program, including praises of its implementation of technology, and some behind-the-scenes information that must have come straight from show-runner Roddenberry (indeed, this schematic of the Enterprise has been reprinted in current Trekzines.

Four stars, and a must read for Kirk/Spock buffs.

"If the Sabot Fits … " by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond


by Kelly Freas

The psychic man-and-wife author team returns with this mildly diverting piece.  A series of catastrophic computer failures in a Midwest town coincides with a particular broadcast at a public education station.  Could there be a connection?

I'm not sure if the science is sound, but it might be–Walt is an electrical engineer (Leigh, reportedly, just types his mental emanations, but I suspect she is actually the storytelling talent of the pair).

It's not bad.  Three stars.

Peek! I See You! by Poul Anderson


by John H. Sanchez

A freelance helicopter pilot spots a flying saucer out in the southwest desert.  The aliens, who have already made contact with a local population, do their best to avoid widening their diplomatic contacts.

I appreciate the idea of alien relations with individual nations/groups as opposed to with planets as a whole.  Science fiction writers tend to forget that planets are big places, and they can house more than one embassy/colony/climate.

But.

The story is twice as long as it needs to be, and Poul really doesn't do "light and funny" competently, certainly not in the same league as Laumer, Harrison, or Sheckley.

Two stars.

Dowsers Detect Enemy's Tunnels, by Hanson W. Baldwin

"American soldiers find tunnels in Vietnam, a country riddled with underground passageways.  ONLY DOWSERS CAN BE THE REASON!"

Seriously, John?  One star.

The God Pedlars, by Jack Wodhams


by Kelly Freas

The ugh continues.  An interstellar corporation is selling computers to primitive tribesmen.  The pitch: they are actually idols representing a great and wise god.  These "gods" tell the indigenes how to live their lives, build technology, etc.  Of course, it's all for the good of the natives.

In addition to being a rather specious premise, this isn't really a story.  It's a mouthpiece and a straw man having a conversation such that the point is beaten into the reader with a mallet.

Editor Campbell would give this story five stars.  I give it one.

Optimum Pass, by W. Macfarlane


by Leo Summers

Last up, a sequel to Free Vacation, in which Layard and his fat partner (he never gets a name, but his girth is an important aspect of his character) manage to get themselves thrown in the pokey again such that they can get another free trip to an alien world.  Their official mission is to tough out 30 days to determine the suitability of the planet for colonization.  Their personal mission to look for evidence of "The Prodromals", the original galactic civilization.

More light fun, albeit a bit less coherent than the last tale.  Still, three stars.

Unbalanced scale

Despite the auspicious beginning, this month's issue of Analog finished at 2.7 stars, making it the least of the February 1968 magazines.  Even Amazing scored slightly higher (still 2.7 when rounded), followed by IF (2.8), Fantasy & Science Fiction (3.1), New Worlds (3.3), and Galaxy (a slightly higher 3.3)

It was actually a good month for good fiction: out of six magazines released, one could fill two, possibly three with exceptional (four and five star) stuff.  Women, on the other hand, continue to be underrepresented, with just 7% of published new fiction.

So, while Analog was a mixed blessing this month, all in all, the pages of the digests made for much more pleasant reading than the newspapers.  Would that we could have good news in both.  I guess we'll see how February fares.  It is my birthday month; surely that counts for something!

If you want to see more of my beautiful face (made for radio!) tune in for the latest edition of KGJ news!



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Magazine

[July 30, 1963] Inoffensive Pact (August 1963 Analog)

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[Don't forget to vote for the Hugos — the deadline is here!]


by Gideon Marcus

Across the globe, under the medieval spires of the Kremlin, three ambassadors and their teams vigorously discussed the terms of what may be the precursor to Peace in Our Time (where have we heard that before?)

It all started in 1961, when the Soviet Union began testing gigantic atomic bombs in the air and on the Siberian tundra after a three year moratorium.  America followed suit with a series of tests in the Pacific and high in the atmosphere.  These provided a wonderful show for residents of Hawaii but also made planning for Mercury shots a bit more tricky.

Then, in October 1962, the two superpowers came to the brink of war over the Soviet Union's placement of nuclear missiles in Cuba, just 90 miles off the Florida cloast.  Nikita blinked when Jack glared, and the Doomsday Clock, fluttering at seven minutes to midnight, did not tick.

Nevertheless, it was a close shave, and since then, great strides have been taken to ensure the ongoing survival of our species.  For instance, a teletype "hotline" is being established between Washington D.C. and Moscow.  If things heat up, the President and the Premier can be chatting (via text) in short order, no need to work through ambassadors.

More significantly, W. Averell Harriman, a former U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union; Lord Hailsham of Britain; and Soviet Foreign Minister Andrei Gromyko have just put together the first Partial Test Ban Treaty.  It will establish a moratorium on atomic testing in the oceans, in the air, above ground, and in space.  Enforcement of the ban will be done by satellite, which can detect the flash of a nuclear detonation.

Why are underground tests excluded from the ban?  Because we can't easily verify when they've happened, and the Russians don't want us prying too deeply into their affairs.  That said, it is a first step, and one that should greatly reduce atmospheric and orbital radiation — a boon that cannot be understated.  With the ban's ratification (hopefully within the next couple of months), the Free and Communist Worlds may inch permanently back from the potential of war.

Meanwhile, in the United States, editor John W. Campbell appears to have done his utmost not to distract from the unquestionably big news described above.  Indeed, the August 1963 Analog is so unremarkable that it might well have not even been published.  I suppose I prefer good real news to good science fiction, but on the other hand, I pay for my subscription to Analog. 

Well… maybe not for long.  See for yourself.

Change, by R. A. J. Phillips

For once, the "Science Fact" article is neither silly nor dry as dust.  This month's piece is on the Eskimo people of the Arctic, the consequences of their interactions with the industrialized peoples to the south, and the lessons we might carry over to our first contact with aboriginal aliens.

Pretty interesting, actually.  Three stars.

The Hate Disease, by Murray Leinster

I adore the stories of Dr. Calhoun of the interstellar "Med Service" and his cute little monkey/cat, Murgatroyd.  So enchanted have I been by his universe that I have unabashedly cribbed some aspects of it (like the jump drive and the independent nature of the various worlds) for my own stories. 

Thus, it is with great sadness that I must levy a two-star rating on this piece, whose premise involves a contagion that had infected nearly half of a planet's population.  It's just poorly put together, difficult to follow, and the chemical basis for the plague is both abstruse and ridiculous.

"To Invade New York … ", by Irwin Lewis

A mild professor believes he has discovered a plot to paralyze the Big Apple by seizing control of its traffic lights.  This first tale from Irwin Lewis is a shaggy dog bar story without a lot of there there.  Two stars.

Patriot, by Frank A. Javor

An extraterrestrial invasion of Earth is repulsed when one brave man tricks the conquering enemy into raising the flag of a terran nation (presumably the United States).  The hook is that the fellow wends his way into the alien camp by wearing a deliberately mismatched enemy uniform — but it is never explained how that accomplishes his goal.  I read it twice and couldn't figure it out.  It was a silly story, too.  Two stars.

Controlled Experiment, by Arthur Porges

The prolific (if not terrific) Arthur Porges returns with an unnecessary sequel to The Topper, depicting another magical hoax and its scientific explanation.  Forgettable.  Two stars.

The Ethical Engineer (Part 2 of 2), by Harry Harrison

At last we come to what you all will probably (as I did) turn to first: the conclusion to the second novel in the Deathworld series.  When last we left Jason dinAlt, interstellar gambler and lately resident of the dangerous world of Pyrrus, he had been enslaved by the D'sertanoj of a nearby primitive planet.  These desert-dwellers know how to mine petroleum, which they trade to the people of the country, Appsala, in exchange for caroj — steam powered battle wagons.  When dinAlt reveals that he can produce caroj himself, he is promoted to "employee" status and given run of the place.  He eventually escapes with his native companion, Ijale, as well as the obnoxiously moralistic Micah, who kidnapped dinAlt in the first place.  Adventures ensue.

The original Deathworld was a minor masterpiece, a parable about letting go of destructive hatred, suffused with a message on the importance of environmentalism.  It was also a cracking good read.  This new piece is just a yarn, one almost as clunky as the caroj dinAlt works on.  The theme is that universal morality is anything but, and ethics must be tailored to the society for which they are developed. 

I don't disagree, but the passages that deal with ethics are long-winded and poorly integrated; Harrison never matches the message to the underlying carrier wave.  The result reads as if the author had digested a bunch of recent Heinlein before putting finger to typewriter.

The second Deathworld is not bad, just disappointing, particularly given the brilliance of the first story.  Three stars.

It's time to crunch the numbers.  Firstly, I note that the readers of Analog found that Norman Spinrad's first story, the exquisite The Last of the Romany, was the worst story of that issue.  Well, I hope they're happy now.  This latest issue ranks a lousy 2.4 stars, easily at the bottom of the pack this month. 

By comparison, F&SF got a lackluster 2.7 stars, and all the other mags finished above water: Fantastic (with the best story, the Leiber), New Worlds, and Galaxy all got 3.2; Amazing scored an atypical 3.5.  Editor of Fantastic and Amazing, Cele Goldsmith, is the winner this month for certain.

Women fared less well otherwise — out of 39 pieces of fiction (lumping together the various vignettes in this month's Fantastic), only two were written by women — one a short poem co-written with her husband.  Yes, folks.  It's getting worse.

Maybe the SF editors have signed a Partial Woman Ban Treaty?

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Magazine

[June 30, 1963] Calm from the Storm (July 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

We live in increasingly tumultuous times (or maybe we are just better informed about them).  A war is heating up in Vietnam, an even significant enough to have produced fictional characters who have experienced it (e.g. Linc, the veteran in Route 66; Oscar from Heinlein's new serial, Glory Road). 

There's a war waging in our country, too, as Blacks fight for the rights they are due as humans.  They march, they protest, they are attacked, and sometimes they are killed.  The President recently sent a Civil Rights Bill to Congress, but its future is far from certain.

When the news gets unbearable (or if you are a soldier on either of these front lines and need a break) science fiction and fantasy provide welcome respites.  They offer completely new worlds to explore that may have their own problems, but at least they're different ones.  Or the stories posit futures/alternaties where vexing issues have been solved. 

I find myself increasingly seeking out this refuge as the world gets scarier.  This month's last science fiction digest, the July 1963 Analog, afforded me several hours of peace when I needed it.  Perhaps it will do the same for you.

The Big Fuel Feud (Part 2 of 2), by Harry B. Porter

Even as a rocket scientist, I found Porter's increasingly dry comparison of solid vs. liquid fuels to be interminable.  Campbell needs contributors who will be less textbook, more Asimov (or Ley).  Two stars.

The Ethical Engineer (Part 1 of 2), by Harry Harrison

When we last saw Jason dinAlt, the psychic gambler with a galactic range, he had brought a tepid peace between the city-dwellers and the country folk on the lethal world of Pyrrus.  The latter had managed to live with the increasingly hostile life forms on that death world rather than wage an increasingly futile arms race against it. 

Pyrrus barely figures in this new serial, as dinAlt is kidnapped in Chapter One by a religious fanatic bent on taking Jason back to galactic civilization to face crimes against decency.  On the way, their ship is crippled, and the two must become unlikely allies to survive on yet another harsh world.

It's not as good as Deathworld, and it could have just as easily starred another character.  That said, it picks up as it goes, and I found myself wanting more at the half-way break.  I appreciate that Jason dinAlt, like Laumer's Retief, appears to be Black.  Three stars trending upwards.

New Apples in the Garden, by Kris Neville

In an increasingly technological world, the engineer becomes increasingly essential.  So what happens when people stop seeing slip-stick pusher as a desirable career?  Kris Neville describes a dark future of slow but inexorable decay (with the unspoken subtext made overt in the final illustration).  I don't know that I buy this premise given how heavily the sciences are boosted these days, but it is evocatively drawn.  Three stars.

A Knyght Ther Was, by Robert F. Young

Robert Young has written a lot of great stuff, but these days, his work tends to be really bad, usually some sort of in-joke based on an obvious literary reference (usually something obscure like the Book of Genesis).  This time, his story features a fellow named Thomas Mallory who goes back to England in 542 A.D.  Can you guess what he finds?  I'll give you a clue — it's not a decaying Romano-British/Welsh society under attack by colonizing Saxons.

Worse yet, and you'll see this a mile away, Mallory is THE Mallory.  Yes, bootstraps galore in a tediously predictable tale that doesn't even have the virtue of being funny.  Two stars, and that's being generous.  Read the original, or the ur-document penned by Geoffrey of Monmouth.

New Folks' Home, by Clifford D. Simak

Cliff Simak, master of bucolic SF, has got a serial running in Galaxy right now called Here gather the stars, in which aliens set up a galactic way station in a rural part of America.  New Folk's Home is very similar, thematically, in which an old man, making his last vacation to the backwoods of his youth, discovers a beautiful new house in the middle of nowhere.  Why is it there, and how could it be tied to him?  Is it an intrusive eyesore, or just the retirement spot he was looking for? 

I especially enjoy Simak because his stuff tends to have happy endings, and his aliens are benevolent.  Good stuff, as always.  Four stars.

Thanks to the Harrison and the Simak, I have a more positive feeling toward this issue (and the world) than the issue's 2.6 star rating would normally command.  It's not the best magazine of the month, or even near the top — that prize goes to Fantastic (3.3), followed by Worlds of Tomorrow and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1).  Even IF got a higher score (2.8), and it had one of the best stories (Down to the Worlds of Men, by Alexei Panshin).  New Worlds was slightly better, too (2.7).  Only Amazing was worse, and it was a LOT worse (2.1).  So there was lots to enjoy this month to take you out of the miseries of the world.

On the other hand, one misery continues to intrude.  Women wrote just two out of the thirty-seven contributions.  I've been told women aren't just interested, and the editors print the best things they can find.  Why should editors bother to especially solicit women when their jobs are busy enough as it is? 

In reply, I present Exhibit A: Jack Sharkey, whose work fills half of two magazines this month, garnering a whopping two stars between them.  Surely, we can do better than that if we bring in some new blood. We literally can't do worse.

Speaking of Alexei Panshin, the great young author, himself, has answered my letter and offered up an article describing the birth of his first (and most excellent story).  Look forward to it in just a couple of days!

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Book, Magazine

[Feb. 9, 1960] Fighting the World (Harry Harrison's Deathworld)

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Every now and then Astounding (excuse me–"Analog") surprises me.  The end of last year saw some of the worst issues of the digest ever, with stories as poor as any that used to populate the legion of now-defunct science fiction pulps.

Then along comes Harry Harrison, a brand-new writer, so far as I can tell, with one of the best serial novels I've read in a long time. 

Ever get the feeling that the world is out to get you?  What if it were literally true?  This is the premise of Harrison's interstellar adventure, Deathworld, in which the psychically gifted (and crooked) gambler, Jason dinAlt, is contracted by the ambassador from the planet Pyrrus to win a tremendous sum of funds to finance a war.  It turns out that the war is against the planet, itself, which seems to have mobilized all of its biological forces to wipe out the colony there.

Pyruss is deadliest of planets.  With its high gravity, eccentric orbit and overactive vulcanism, its physical qualities alone would be enough to deter any would-be exploiters.  But Pyrrus is also home to a highly inimical set of flora and fauna whose sole purpose is to eradicate humans.  It is a nightmare assortment employing fang, talon, and poison, continually evolving to make life impossible for the colonists. 

For the Pyrrans, it has been centuries-long struggle of increasing difficulty, maintained in the hope of eventual victory.  For dinAlt, with a fresh outsider's prospective, the fight is an exercise in futility—and a paradoxical puzzle to be resolved.  After all, what motive force could impel an entire ecosystem to direct its fury against one small group?

There is a great deal of physical scope to this story, from the gambling halls of Cassylia, to the drab city of the Pyrran colony, to the vast wilds of the Pyrran hinterlands.  There is also an impressive amount of emotional scope.  This is not, as one might expect within the pages of John Campbell's magazine, the story of a muscular ubermensch's victorious combats against the savage brainless monsters of Pyruss.  Rather, it is the story of the weakest man on a planet trying to effect a peaceful solution to a problem that appears, on its face, insoluble.  Deathworld is also supported by a fine cast of characters, particularly the tough Pyrran ambassador, Kerk, and the self-reliant and liberated space pilot, Meta. 

I don't want to spoil any more of the novel for you.  Go ye and read it.  You'll be glad of the time invested.

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Galactic Journey is now a proud member of a constellation of interesting columns.  While you're waiting for me to publish my next article, why not give one of them a read!



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