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Science / Space Race

[June 8, 1966] Pyrrhic Victory (the flight of Gemini 9)

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by Gideon Marcus

Keeping Score

It is remarkable to think how different the Space Race was just a little over a year ago.  Mercury was long past.  The Soviets had just stunned the world with two Voskhod flights.  One of them had carried three cosmonauts in space.  The other was the base for the first spacewalk.  We all waited with bated breath for Voskhod 3, sure it would leave American space efforts in the dust.

But it never happened.

The week after Voskhod 2, Gemini 3 went up.  A modest flight, barely a repeat of Glenn's mission, but with two people.  In June, Gemini 4 featured America's first spacewalk.  August's Gemini 5 mission lasted an unprecedented eight days.  December saw two Gemini (6 and 7) perform the first controlled space rendesvous.  And in March of this year, Gemini 8 accomplished the first docking in orbit.

Where are the Russians?  Indeed, the greatest threat to American space supremacy in the latest mission of Gemini 9, just concluded two days ago, was Mr. Murphy and his old back of tricks.

Prince of the Pad

Scheduled for May 17, 1966, Gemini 9 was supposed to be the first real all-up test of the two-seat spacecraft.  Astronauts Tom Stafford (veteran of Gemini 6) and Gene Cernan would dock with an Agena and conduct a spacewalk.  If successful, this would demonstrate all of the techniques and training necessary for a trip to the Moon. 

The first bit of bad luck involved the Agena docking adapter.  Shortly after liftoff on the 17th, one of the booster engines gimballed off center and propelled rocket and Agena into the Atlantic ocean.  The two astronauts, bolted into their Gemini capsule for a launch intended for just a few minutes after, had to abort their mission.

Luckily, NASA had a back-up: the Augmented Target Docking Adapter (ADTA).  The ADTA was basically an Agena without the engine.  A Gemini could practice docking with it, but the ADTA can't be used as an orbital booster for practice of the manuever that Apollo will employ when it breaks orbit to head for the Moon.

ADTA went up on June 1, no problem.  But just seconds before launch, the Gemini 9 computer refused navigational updates from the Cape.  The launch window was missed, and once again, Tom and Gene were forced to scrub.  Stafford got the nickname "Prince of the Pad."

On June 3, however, Gemini 9 had a picture-perfect liftoff, which we caught on TV, tuned into CBS for Walter Cronkite's smooth coverage.  Just a couple of hours later, Stafford had skillfully maneuvered his Gemini into docking range of the ADTA.

Angry Alligators and Foggy Visors

Unfortunately, ADTA was a mess.  The payload fairing that protected the adapter during launch had failed to come off.  It covered the front of the thing, half open, looking for all the world like, as Stafford described it, an "Angry Alligator."  Gemini 9 kept station with the adapter for a bit, but it was clear that a docking was impossible.  Eventually, the spacecraft left the ADTA behind.  There was other work to do.

Because on June 5, Gene Cernan suited up and left his cramped co-pilot seat for the longest spacewalk in American history.  This was to be a true working spacewalk, not just a sightseeing tour.  Connected to the Gemini by a long strap of nylon, Cernan clambered to the nose of the spacecraft to retrieve a micrometeorite experiment.  Then, agonizingly slowly, he made his way to the rear of the spacecraft.  It was proving much harder to operate in zero gee than expected.  That was okay; stowed in Gemini's rear was the Astronaut Maneuvering Unit (AMU).  With the AMU, theoretically, Cernan would become his own miniature spaceship, able to flit around as if on angel's wings.

Mr. Murphy would have none of it.  Struggle as Cernan might, he couldn't detach the AMU for use.  After endless struggling, during which Cernan's visor completely fogged up and his heart rate soared above a hundred beats per minute, Stafford ordered his crewmate back inside half an hour earlier than scheduled. 

Those of us who watched the TV coverage beheld things about as dimly as poor Cernan.  The transmissions from Gemini were garbled into unintelligibility, and as there was no live footage possible of the actual spacewalk, CBS had rigged up a stage setup involving a Gemini model, a rotating Earth background, and a poor fellow on wires in a spacesuit floating around.  ABC had a similar "simulation."  It was…less than convincing.

Happy Endings

The last day of the flight was uneventful.  Gemini 9 had completed, if unsatisfactorily, its scheduled activities.  I can imagine poor Tom and Gene were probably a bit glum at the lackluster record of the mission, though Stafford could take pride in being the first astronaut to fly two missions in the same spacecraft — and in the space of just seven months, to boot.

There was one bright spot in the mission, however.  After a perfect retro-fire almost exactly three days after launch, Gemini 9 came down in the Atlantic closer to its carrier recovery fleet than any previous mission.  So close did it splashdown to the U.S.S. Wasp that, for the first time, the carrier crew caught sight of the landing.

As did we at home.  Broadcast live via Early Bird satellite, we saw the beautiful spray of water followed by the graceful collapse of the parachute.  Within half an hour, the spacecraft and crew had been hoisted aboard the Wasp.  Less than four hours later, the two astronauts were already on their way back to Cape Kennedy for debriefing.  Spaceflight has become an efficient routine.

Which, if anything, marks the understated triumph of Gemini 9.  It's true that things did not go as planned during the flight.  Not in flashy, potentially deadly ways as in Armstrong's whirling flight in March, but frustratingly nonetheless.  But on the other hand, we've now had seven two-man flights in quick succession, with three more planned before the end of the year.  Compare this record to the six Mercury flights spread out over two years, the longest of which lasted barely more than a day.  America can afford less-than-perfect missions; if anything goes wrong, we can make it up in a few months.

This marks a threshold of maturity for American spaceflight.  Whereas the Soviets managed to secure an early lead in the Space Race with a series of spectaculars, like the tortoise and the hare, slow and steady will win ultimately win the competition for the United States. 

It may make for boring television, but that's a small price to pay for victory!




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Science / Space Race

[June 4, 1966] Over Under Sideways Down (Surveyor 1, Explorer 32, Kosmos 110 + 119!)

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by Gideon Marcus

[With Gemini 9 currently overhead and preempting regular network programming, it's easy to forget the other space spectaculars that are going on.  Here's the skinny on four of the more exciting ones.]

Live from the Moon!

America may be second in the Moon race, but we sure aren't far behind the Soviets.  Less than a month after the Russians managed their first soft-landing (with Luna 10, after several failed efforts), NASA's Surveyor 1 did it in just one try. 

On May 30, 7:40 AM Pacific, Atlas-Centaur #8 lifted off from Cape Canaveral less than a second after its scheduled launch time.  757 seconds later, right on the button, Surveyor departed from its Centaur stage on an almost perfect path toward the Moon.  Nevertheless, just before midnight, the spacecraft made a 20.75 second mid-course burn, reducing its landing margin of error from 250 miles to just 10.

Surveyor made a flawless touchdown almost exactly two days later, at 11:17 PM on June 1.  Shortly thereafter, America got its first pictures from the surface of the Moon.

The success of Surveyor marks several major achievements. Firstly, it's a success for the rocket that carried it.  The Atlas-Centaur is the most advanced booster currently in existence, the first to utilize pure hydrogen for fuel and liquid oxygen for the oxidizer.  There is no more efficient combination in existence, and the development of a system that could successfully utilize the pair has been tough.  Now that the Centaur second stage is operational, it can be used on top of many different first stages — from Titan to Saturn.  This dramatically increases the mass of the probes that can be sent to the Moon or to other planets.  By comparison, Surveyor masses more than twice as much as the Ranger crash-lander probes, launched with the less powerful Atlas-Agena.

Surveyor's success also marks a big leap forward for the Project Apollo.  It's been bandied about that this flight shaves a year off the schedule.  This soft-lander mission was really a dress rehearsal for a manned spacecraft, and what a beautiful rehearsal.  Reaching the lunar surface at just twelve feet per second, the three legged Surveyor with crushable aluminum honeycomb feet endured no undue strain.  Moreover, it didn't sink into a quicksand of lunar dust, as had been previously feared.  The landing spot, inside the dry Ocean of Storms, is in a zone that an Apollo mission will be sent to.  If a probe can safely land, then a piloted Lunar Excursion Module can, too.

Finally, Surveyor 1 marks a triumph for lunar science.  Not a huge one, mind you; Surveyor, like the latter Rangers, serves primarily as a handmaiden to the Apollo project.  Nevertheless, we have our first hundred pictures, temperature data, seismological data, and radar reflectivity data of the lunar surface.  The selenologists (lunar counterpart to Earth-based geologists) have plenty of information to play with.

Surveyor will continue broadcasting photos for at least the next 11 days, up through the lunar night.  Then there will be several more missions in the series.  You can be sure you'll read about them here!

Son of Explorer 17

Three years ago, NASA sent up its first high orbit atmospheric satellite, Explorer 17.  It only lasted a few months, going silent on July 10, 1963, but it returned a wealth of information on the least dense regions of our atmosphere.

Every good story deserves a sequel.  On May 25, 1966, we got one: Explorer 32, a satellite so similar to Explorer 17 that it must be considered kin, was hurled into an eccentric orbit that brings the ball of a probe zooming just 150 miles from Earth before flying far, far away.

Too far, actually.  It was only supposed to reach ~500 miles from the Earth at apogee.  Instead, because the Delta booster that carried Explorer didn't turn off in time, the satellite reaches 1000 miles in altitude before looping back.

This has not adversely affected plucky 32, and we are once again getting a wealth of data on the temperature, composition, density, and pressure of the upper atmosphere.  Explorer 32 also has several improvements on its predecessor.  Explorer 32 has solar cells, so its onboard batteries will last years instead of months.  Because the satellite has a tape recorder on board, data can be stored rather than only relayed when a ground station is in sight.  This means the data set from 32 will be continuous.

Even when the satellite goes silent, thanks to its perfectly round shape, it will be useful for measuring the density of the atmosphere, as 17 has been.  A bunch of cameras are tracking 32 from the ground.  Its slow orbital decay will tell us how thick the air is way up there.

It will be a legacy any parent could be proud of!

The Other Side

There have been a whole bunch of Kosmos satellites launched since our last update.  While all of them are classified to some degree, and most of them (Kosmos 107, 109, 111, 113, 114, 115, and 117) were probably spy satellites akin to our biweekly Discoverer program, a couple stand out as unusual — mostly because we know what they are!

Kosmos 110, launched February 22, 1966, carried two caninauts: Veterok and Ugolyok.  They and a menagerie of biological samples circled the Earth for an unprecedented 22 days before safely landing.  We're not sure what capsule was used for the trip, but it was probably a modified Voskhod — I don't think they've had time to test a lunar spacecraft akin to our Apollo yet.  Nevertheless, it's certain that this feat was conducted in support of long term efforts in space: either a Moon mission or a space station effort.

Most recently, Kosmos 119 went up on May 24.  We can deduce its purpose based on what it's doing, namely emitting 31.8 kHz and 44.9 kHz radio-waves.  It is believed that 119 is an ionospheric experiment to determine if and how ultralow frequency electromagnetic waves pass through that region of the atmosphere.  Data from this satellite will be useful for estimating charged-particle concentration in the lower ionosphere.  Whether the satellite's mission is purely scientific or serves to support some sort of military application is unknown.  Nevertheless, it's nifty!

Things to Come

Of course, the big news over the next week will be how successful Gemini 9 is at completing its rendezvous, docking, and spacewalk maneuvers.  You can be certain we'll have full coverage of that mission after splashdown next week!

Speaking of adventure in space, don't miss your chance to get this amazing novel by yours truly!

From a recent review:

Imagine Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys … in space! Kitra took me back to my childhood when I would have loved to read stories of young people in sci-fi settings overcoming difficult odds and conquering the universe. In Marcus's own words: "Tales of friendship, ingenuity, and wonder."

Take a group of diverse friends (not all human), toss in a bit of gender fluidity, cultural diversity, and conflict, and push them to their limits as they have to work together to overcome an unexpected threat. This YA fiction will thrill any number of budding science fiction fans.




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Serial

[May 31, 1966] Worth Remembering (June 1966 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Decoration Day

First the war, then the licking of wounds.  Not all wounds are physical.  After the Civil War rent this nation in two, spring became a time for remembering the dead, their blood shed in almost incomprehensible numbers.  In 1868, the ritual honoring of fallen veterans became an official holiday known as Decoration Day (for the decoration of graves).  Over time, the name changed to Memorial Day, and last month, President Johnson proclaimed the custom's birthplace to be Waterloo, New York, the event first occurring a century ago.

The last Civil War veteran passed away in 1956, but this year's Memorial Day still found us licking our wounds.  Indeed, last week marked the bloodiest seven days for American soldiers since Korea: 966 casualties in Vietnam alone, 146 of them fatal.  Will next year's day of remembrance be worse?

The Issue at Hand

A cute segue would be in poor taste at this juncture, so I'll simply proceed to the review.  The latest issue of Analog drew my attention with its striking astronomical cover.  Let's turn the page and see what delights and disappointments Herr Campbell has for us this month.


by Chesley Bonestell

The Ancient Gods (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson

In the letter column, Poul Anderson talks about discovering a beautiful painting by Chesley Bonestell.  It depicts a the night sky as seen from a planet perhaps 200,000 light years north of the Milky Way.  I would guess that this painting, as well as perhaps a viewing of last year's film, Flight of the Phoenix, provided the inspiration for the author's latest tale. 


by John Schoenherr

I shall give nothing else away save that those who know me know I'm a sucker for astronomically correct tales of exploration, and that Flight of the Phoenix got my nomination for the Best Dramatic Hugo.

Four stars so far.

Early Warning, by Robin S. Scott


by Stan Robinson

Lee is a big man, a skilled man, a man whose job is to throw monkey wrenches into supposedly foolproof systems like the D.C./Kremlin Hotline and Pentagon intelligence computers.  Is he a double-agent?  A mole?  Or something more?

There's really not enough to this story to engage; it feels more like a fragment of a Joe Poyer thriller than a complete piece.  Just some workmanlike action writing and a smug, Campbell-pleasing sting. 

Two stars.

CWACC Strikes Again, by Hank Dempsey


by Gray Morrow

"Hank Dempsey" (I have it on reliable information that this is a pseudonym for Harry Harrison, apparently trying to make the big lucre by pushing all of Campbell's buttons) is back with CWACC: the Committee for Welfare, Administration, and Consumer Control, last seen last year.  Pronounced "Quack," the goal of this two-person operation is the support and representation of eccentric inventors.  You see, to the scientific community, they're just kooks, but we all know that those industrious garage inventors produce way more of the world's innovation than the anonymous folks in white coats.  Right?

Anyway, in this episode, CWACC's administrator teams up with an enemy, the local kook-catching flatfoot, to rescue a CWACCer, whose invention is being used by con artists to sucker in, of all people, the police commissioner.  Along the way, "Dempsey" gets some pseudo-scientific shots in, like the assertion that the common cold can be defeated by sufficient vitamins in one's diet. 

Vaguely readable garbage.  One star.  I hope it was worth selling your soul for four cents a word, Harry!

Live Sensors, by Carl A. Larson

This nonfiction article started auspiciously, promising to compare the biological sensors with which animals are naturally equipped to the most refined artificial detectors.  The overall package is lacking, however.  There are lots of interesting tidbits on the capabilities of creatures, but they are interspersed with larder passages that don't do too much.  Never do we find out how we might utilize or at least learn from natural sensing devices. 

It would also help if Analog employed subheadings.  Three stars.

Stranglehold, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

My nephew David rang me the other day (on Sunday, when the rates are lowest) to tell me how much he enjoyed the new Chris Anvil story.  This may be a ringing endorsement (ha ha!) but I always take David's recommendations with a grain of salt, especially where Anvil is concerned.

A scout team following up on a lost comrade lands on a planet despite receiving a warning that such would be dangerous.  Once planetside, they find themselves subjected to illusion after terrifying illusion, only their unshakeable monitors telling the truth about reality (why wouldn't their perception of the monitors also be changed?)

Turns out the inhabitants have some kind of telepathy and can change their perception of reality and those of others.  After the team escapes with their rescued friend, they determine that a race with psychic phenomena cannot develop science since they fudge the results to their liking.  Contrarily, a race that chooses a scientific path atrophies psychic phenomena because…well, just because.

Therefore, all races, including humanity, have psychic potential, and it's only because we chose the path of science that spoonbending isn't more prevalent.  Q.E.D.

Gee, I wonder how this story got published.

What I really don't understand is what possible advantage the alien trait of mass hallucination affords.  If it were real transmutation being employed in this story, there might be something to it, but there isn't.  A being that thinks it is having its physical needs met when it is not quickly becomes a sick and/or dead being.  Maybe it's more of a reality enhancer, as in the first Cugel the Clever story, which I guess would make more sense.

Anyway, Stranglehold feels like what would happen if Bob Sheckley ever wrote for Campbell.

Two stars.

Escape Felicity, by Frank Herbert


by Kelly Freas

In Frank Herbert's latest, a lone interstellar scout plunges his ship deep into a nebulous cloud.  He is determined to fight off the "push" that causes all of his corps to return to Earth after a certain point.  But is the compulsion programmed in by BuPurs to keep scouts from going native?  Or is there an external agency involved?

I found this one of Herbert's more compelling pieces, though it falls apart a bit at the end.  And it feels like the title is a pun in search of a story; I can't figure out its applicability to this one.

Three stars.

Doing the Math

Thus, Analog ends up near the bottom of the pack with a 2.6 star rating, only beating out the mostly-reprint (and consistently lackluster) Amazing 2.5.  Ahead of Campbell's mag are New Worlds (3.1), Galaxy (3.1), Impulse (3.0), IF (3.0), and Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.8).

Worthy material comprised about an issue-and-a-half out of six this month.  Women produced 11.25% of the new fiction, at the high end of the usual range.

All told, June 1966 may not be remembered in times to come, particularly as impressive as last month was.  But, as noted at the beginning of the article, sometimes having to remember is painful.

Until next month…

If you need a mood-lifter now, tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest and best hits!




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Magazine

[May 20, 1966] Things to Come and Things that Are(June 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Future

Over in England, they're swimming in science fiction anthology-esque shows, from Out of the Unknown to Doctor Who.  What have we got Stateside?  Lost in Space?  My Favorite Martian?  Ever since The Outer Limits and The Twilight Zone went off the air, TV has been something of an SF wasteland.  That may all be changing come Fall.

A new show, called Star Trek is supposed to be kind of an anthology/serial — the same crew every week, but wildly different stories, many by actual science fiction authors.  It could end up being like Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea or Forbidden Planet (i.e. pretty but dumb), or it could be the revolution necessary to bring science fiction to the masses.  We won't know for another four months.  I'm prepared for disappointment, but I also can't help being a little excited.

The Present

Until then, I've got a pocket full of futures right hear in front of me with this month's Fantasy and Science Fiction.  As usual, it's a grab-bag of good and ho-hum, the latter in greater proportion… but whaddaya want for four bits?

Dig it:


by Hector Castellon

This Moment of the Storm, by Roger Zelazny

Zelazny has made a name for himself with his fantastic but punchy prose, sort of an SFNal Hemingway, the vanguard of the American New Wave.  For me, he's hit or miss, though his hits are worth waiting for.  Storm looked like it was shaping up to be a hit, but I'd say it's a near miss.

Dozens of light years from Earth lies Tierra del Cygnus, a rustic "stopover" colony where folks on decades-long STL interstellar trips can break out of hibernation and stretch their legs before embarking for their final destination.  Our protagonist, Godfrey Justin Holmes, is a Hell Cop, responsible for civic peace and weather safety with his 130 floating, autonomous metal eyes.  He'd settled on Cygnus after fleeing a tragic personal loss, and on Cygnus, he believes he has found the key to mending his heart.

But in the midst of solving this long term problem, an acute short term one arises: the biggest storm his area of the planet has seen in recorded history is brewing.  And for a week, it lashes with unabated fury.

I have the same problem with Storm that I did with Keith Roberts' Lady Anne: I'll be reading right along, enjoying the evocative prose, but after a few pages, I find myself wondering, "What the hell is all this?  Get to the point, man!"  Pretty writing isn't enough.

Beyond that, Storm feels utterly conventional.  Take out the spaceflight trappings, which is easy to do as they are not central to the story, and you've got a thoroughly terrestrial story. 

It's not bad, mind you.  Zelazny does a masterful job of introducing the world and the relevant considerations in subtle snatches of detail rather than a single burst of exposition.  Others might also enjoy the blunt, first person perspective; I eventually found it a little tiresome and too reminiscent of the better …and call me Conrad.

So, a minor work from a major player.  Three stars.

The Little Blue Weeds of Spring, by Doris Pitkin Buck

A winged woman commits the horried crime of breeding outside her caste.  Her punishment is exile to ground-bound humandom on Earth.  But a plucked bird can still find ways to soar…

A nice poetic piece that's perhaps a bit too trivial.  Three stars.

Care in Captivity Series: Tyrant Lizards Tyrannosaurus Rex, by Barry Rothman

This is one of those non-fact pieces, in this case, about raising a tyrant lizard what had been frozen for 70 million years.  Very slight stuff.  Two stars.

The Adjusted, by Kenneth Bulmer

A pair of caretakers mind the last vestiges of humanity, locked in cages, fed porridge, clad in rags, but hypnotized to think they are leading fulfilling lives.  It's all part of the computers' plan, you see — a way of dealing with the hordes unemployed and pointless humans. They can't just be killed off, but they also can't be left to their own chaotic devices.

Of course, there's a sting in the story's tale, one that you'll see a mile away.  It's not very clever, at first, but there's something compelling about a world of humans under the thrall of machines, all living in a shared fantasy world, slave to some sinister but inscrutable purpose.

It might make an interesting movie someday.  Three stars.

Migratory Locusts, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas suggests that since locusts are just grasshoppers that get too crowded together, maybe humans will turn into something else altogether when Indian/Chinese conditions become the worldwide norm.  I suppose there's an SF story in there somewhere.  In this case, there's not enough here here to provoke much thought.

Two stars.

Memo to Secretary, by Pat de Graw

Pat de Graw offers up an ode to bureacratic paperwork, Stone Age style.  Nicely done, particularly the line about the wing/ed/itorial bull.

Four stars.

A Quest for Uplift, by Len Guttridge

A carny agent out looking for freaks in a world where access to health care has largely addressed unwanted deformity follows a tip that leads to a genetic lineage of true levitators.

Unfortunately, elevation turns out to be involuntary — and communicative.

Guttridge's narrator tells the story in an unbroken harangue that will glaze your eyes over by page three.  It also manages to be casually and offputtingly offensive several times over.

One star.

Forgive Us Our Debtors, by Jon DeCles

Ah, but then we have a rather sublime tale of an empath whose job is planetary evaluation.  On the world of Red Kitra (a fine name), said empath is tasked with attuning to a world's entire ecology to determine if the glimmer of sentience lies therein.  He ends up in a literal and metaphorical web of karma, learning the value of life, as well as the meaning of charity, in the process.

I may be a little biased as I happen to be friends with Jon, but I think this is inarguably the best piece of the issue.  Four stars.

The Isles of Earth, by Isaac Asimov

Another list article from Dr. A, this time on the size and distribution of Earth's islands.  Diverting, I suppose, but nothing you won't find at the beginning of any decent atlas (of which I have about two dozen — I like atlases!)

Three stars.

The Pilgrims, by Jack Vance

We wrap up with the penultimate tale of the ordeals of Cugel the Clever, hapless magical errand boy in the far future setting of The Dying Earth.  As related in prior episodes, this is a set of stories that gets less appealing as it goes on, though Vance does mix in some amusing literate ribaldry.

This particular installment doesn't even have a proper ending.  Let's hope the series as a whole does.

Three stars.

The Edge of Tomorrow

All told, the latest F&SF merits a drab 2.9 stars, definitely one of the weaker entries of the past year.  But every month offers a chance at redemption, and the next issue is only a few weeks away.  Will the July issue offer a collection of immortal classics or more of the humdrum same?

The anticipation, waiting to find out, is half the fun!

While you're waiting, tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest and best hits!




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Magazine

[May 10, 1966] Rocky Jaunts (June 1966 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Real-life Adventures

Out in the southeast corner of California is a hidden treasure, a beautiful national park known as Joshua Tree, named for the surreal plants that characterize the region.  And in the heart of a tiny, unincorporated community there, resides the place called Space Cowboy Books.

Jean-Paul Garnier, the Space Cowboy, invited us out to see the spring bloom in the wilderness.  We were able to take him up on his offer too late to see the flowers, but we did see some amazing petroglyphs and water/wind eroded facades.  Even better was the absolute quiet of the place, the aural equivalent of a dark sky (which they also have there).

Of course, it was a several hour trip up Highway 395, over Highway 60 to Interstate 10, and then up Highway 62, which terminates at Joshua Tree. 

But we had beautiful scenery, each other for conversation, and a brand new 8-track player in the car for music.

I also had the newest issue of Galaxy, which I was able to read while the Young Traveler drove.  Ah, the luxury of having children!

And so, a tour of the trips I went on while on a trip:

Fictional Adventures


by Gray Morrow

Heisenberg's Eyes (Part 1 of 2), by Frank Herbert


by Dan Adkins

Frank Herbert is back.  Hooray.

Actually, the setup's not too bad: It's the far future, and humanity has complete control of its genetic destiny.  Society is divided between the dronish "Sterries" (sterile humans), the occasional persons who can have potentially viable offspring, and the immortal (but also sterile) Optimen, who run everything, a triumverate's administration lasting a century.

Children cannot be borne the natural way; for an embryo to make it to maturity, a doctor's intervention is required.  So begins Eyes, on the eve of a "cutting" that will turn the artificially united progeny of a Mr. and Mrs. Durant into a human being — perhaps even an Optiman.

But before the horrified gaze of the assigned surgeon, some external force modifies the fertilized ovum, making the modification to immortal perfection impossible.  An expert is called in, who salvages the embryo, but in the process causes it to become that rarest of beasts: a nascent human that can reproduce on its own.  Such a thing is strictly forbidden, yet the expert and his accomplice nurse take pains to ensure that the contraband embryo's nature is hidden from the world.  Or so they think.

This takes up about half of this installment, and so a quarter of the book.  I have to give credit to Herbert's ability to spew a half dozen pages of medical jargon and keep it interesting. 

Things slow down in the second half, when we meet the ruling trio and discover that the plot has wheels within wheels.  It also involves an underground race of Cyborgs, who have been biding their time for tens of thousands of years to regain ascendancy over the planet, though they are as clueless about how the modification of the Durant's child occurred as everyone else.  Part 1 ends with the first shots being fired in a renewed war between the Optimen culture and the Cyborgs.

A couple of issues: Eyes is written in typical Herbertian style, which is to say in this weird third person omniscient viewpoint that switches characters every sentence and overuses italicized depiction of internal monologues.  Perhaps, as one of the oligarchs states in Eyes, "Efficiency is the opposite of Craftsmanship," but I still think the story could have been a lot better at half the length in the hands of someone else.  Like Dune.  Also, no society remains static for tens of thousands of years — not Egypt and not the weird world of Eyes.  And then, of course, there's the pseudo-telepathy the Durants enjoy that involves a code of finger presses.  It reminds me of shows where a paragraph of Morse code can be deduced from four dots and a dash.

Anyway, three stars for now.  Herbert's done worse, and I've yet to see him do much better.

Priceless Possession, by Arthur Porges

In the depths of space, the 23rd Century equivalent of the ambergris-bearing whale is the anenome-like "Star Sailor" or "S-2."  Its micron thin sail, produced over thousands of years, is the most valuable commodity in the universe.  On board a particular merchant ship, an Ensign and a Lieutenant find their cupiditous designs hindered by a captain who believes he is in telepathic communication with the current prey.

It's not a happy story, but it's pretty good.  Three stars.

For Your Information: Brownian Motion, Loschmidt's Number and the Laws of Utter Chaos, by Willy Ley

Beginning with an explanation of the word 'gas' (which is as deliberately coined as 'radar' or 'Kleenex'), Ley goes on a whirlwind trip through the history of fluid dynamics.  It's one of Ley's better pieces, though a little rushed and occasionally following the pattern of the Brownian Motion he ultimately explains.

But then, that's history for you.  Four stars.

The Eskimo Invasion, by Hayden Howard


by Jack Gaughan

Out in the wilds of Canada, an anthropologist has made a terrible discovery: a tribe of "Eskimos" are really something else, the female of their species infinitely appealing…and able to have children every month.  And they worship the Great Bear, a Cthulhu-esque entity that will devour/conquer/lead the world.  Can Dr. West make it back in civilization to warn humanity?

This is a well-written tale, but the premise is so dumb that I found myself irritated with it after a night's contemplation.  Two stars.

Galactic Consumer Report No. 2: Automatic Twin-Tube Wishing Machines, by John Brunner

The second in Brunner's Consumer Report series (the last dealing with budget time machines), this piece offers recommendations for and cautions against various models of "Wishing Machines," which are supposed to be able manufacture anything.  Not as amusing as the last one, but diverting enough.

Three stars.

This piece is followed by Algis Budrys' books column, which I am increasingly enjoying.  I read this latest one, describing Sheckley's Tenth Victim, Wilhelm and Thomas' The Clone, and Brunner's The Squares of the City for its humorous commentary and the illustration of the signs of good and bad editing and publishing.

When I Was Miss Dow, by Sonya Dorman

On a planet of amorphous proteans, a young, sexless being destined to become Warden of its people, takes on a human female form in order to more easily interact with the Terran mission to the planet.  As Miss Martha Dow, said creature falls fake head over custom-built heels with an elderly biologist — and ultimately, the feelings are reciprocated.

I found myself really enjoying this unrestrainedly emotional piece, intertwining human and alien feelings in a vivid manner.  This is the first published piece by Dorman using her full first name (previously, she had simply been "S"), and I'm delighted that she finally feels comfortable enough to use it.  I know I always look forward to her byline!

Four stars.

Open the Sky, by Robert Silverberg


by Gray Morrow

At long last, we come to (what I believe to be) the conclusion of Silverberg's Blue Fire series.  It's been a long trip, with five entries spanning more than a half-century of history.  We've seen the Vorster religion arise, a spiritualist cult of the atom worshiping the blue flame of a cobalt reactor.  We've watched as the cult schismed and the green-robed Harmonists made their sect more overtly religious and converted the colonists of toxic Venus.  Last installment, the Harmonist martyr, Lazarus, was ressurected by Vorst for purposes unknown.

Now we know why: on Venus, the genetically modified human espers have developed faster than light teleportation.  Vorst wants to use them to power the first interstellar starship.  To do this, he needs to reunite the religions — and Lazarus owes him a favor.  Luckily, Vorster knows this will all work out: he is a precog, after all…

The writing of this final installment is as good as ever, and it's nice to see all of the pieces fall into place.  However, the story as a whole suffers from the common failing of all stories involving precognition.  When you know how a story will, nay, must end, the tension is gone.  All that's left is the exposition.

By itself, Open the Sky will be confusing and unengaging to the new reader.  As the capstone to an epic, it serves its purpose adequately but not stunningly. Thus, I award three stars for the section, and four stars for the work as a whole, treating it as the serialization of a novel whose publication is as inevitable as Vorster's trip to the stars.

Journeys' End

All in all, it's been a good weekend, both in the real world and within the world of fiction.  While Pohl's magazine could not quite consistently offer the spectacle that Jean-Paul of Joshua Tree treated us to, nevertheless, it did end up on the positive end of the ledger.

In any event, two trips for the price of one is a good deal!  Why don't you take the June Galaxy along with you on your next jaunt and enjoy the same experience?

And while you're on your journey, tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest hits!




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Fashion, music, politics, sports

[May 4, 1966] Pushing the Envelope (The State of Music: 1964-66)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's been three years since our last survey of the American music scene. When last we took the pulse of Top 40, music was in a weird in-between stage with a dozen different genres and influences competing for ascendance. What we didn't see back then was the great tidal wave of musical influence that was about to crash on our shores from across the Pond. I think it's safe to say that 1964 was a watershed year, and the pop scene at least can be divided into the eras BBI and ABI…

The British Invasion

The tip of the spear was, of course, The Beatles. The right combination of talent, variety, and infectious tunes, all in a slick gray-suited, mop-topped package, the Fab Four were a hit in the U.S. from the moment they appeared on the Ed Sullivan Show in February '64.

What made The Beatles so compelling was that they had so much to offer. From their surprisingly diverse debut album, to their rocking second album, and on through their movie soundtracks, A Hard Day's Night and Help!, the British quartet had three score songs to enjoy, almost all of them hit-worthy.

And shoulder to shoulder with the boys from Liverpool was a host of other bands: The Dave Clark Five with their hard-hitting Glad All Over and Bits and Pieces, the delightfully varied and somewhat cynical The Kinks with hits ranging from All Day and All of the Night to the wistful Sunny Afternoon, the bluesy The Who with their anthemic My Generation, and The Rolling Stones, who certainly provide Satisfaction, Eric Burdom's soulful The Animals, the unusual The Zombies. More recently, The Hollies have impressed with I'm Alive and especially Look through any Window.


I enjoyed the sardonic A Well Respected Man quite a lot.


There are many Animals songs to choose from, but We Gotta Get Out of This Place is relentless!


Look Through Any Window blew us away!

Plus all the lighter Merseybeat gang, from Gerry and the Pacemakers to the goofy Freddy and the Dreamers, Peter and Gordon to Chad and Jeremy. The utterly gormless yet inexplicably popular Herman's Hermits. Not to mention the more musical theater-type stars like Petula Clark, Dusty Springfield, and Lulu.


Downtown is both upbeat and melancholy at the same time.

All in all, it's been a musical smorgasbord, so delightful that you almost don't mind how many former musical greats got cut off midcareer: who listens to Neil Sedaka or Rick Nelson anymore? And Elvis is barely hanging on.

Domestic Resistance

Nevertheless, the Yanks have both resisted and embraced the invasion. The Beach Boys have kept on plugging away since their 1962 debut with album after album, and they don't seem at all fazed by the foreign influx.

Motown remains King (Queen?) too: Acts like The Supremes, Martha and the Vandellas, The Four Tops, The Impressions, Dionne Warwick, etc. fill the Top 10 as often as any English band.


Stop in the Name of Love — we got Tony Randall, too!.


Sadly, Martha and the Vandellas were shortchanged to promote The Supremes — their Nowhere to Run To is a modern classic.


Walk on By is one of the loveliest songs ever recorded.

If there's anything that marks this era of music, it's how quickly it's changed. As doors open, they also close. 1964 saw the acme and crash of the surf guitar craze. Acts like The Ventures still steadily produce albums, but the rest of the scene has evaporated, again evolving into garage-y endeavors. The Chiffons, The Shirelles, The Ronettes, and many other girl bands have mostly dropped off the radar, Phil Spector's "Wall of Sound" being supplanted by the new raw aesthetic.

Folk to Folk Rock

Since the last wrap-up, folk music swelled to a crescendo and spawned a hybrid child with rock. In 1963, Bob Dylan hit it out of the park with his magnum opus, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan. Though he continued in acoustic vein through 1964, by last year he had picked up an electric guitar, rasped his voice a bit more (yes, it was possible), and completely changed his sound. From Like a Rolling Stone to widely covered It's All Over Now Baby Blue, Dylan's harmonica-fused electrica has transformed the radio (whether you like it or not.)

Sure, there are still straight folk acts out there, including Joan Baez, Judy Collins, the superlative Donovan, and the recent Gordon Lightfoot, but rocking folk is where it's at.

To wit, The Byrds released two of the more exciting records last year, featuring the hits Mr. Tamborine Man and Turn, Turn, Turn. Those are good songs, although they have lots of others that I like as well or better. For instance: It's No Use, I'll Feel a Whole Lot Better, and It Won't be Wrong. The group's jangle and close harmony are really appealing, though their Dylan covers tend to be limp.

Then there's the appropriately named We Five whose You Were on My Mind was everywhere (and deservedly so).


We saw a great performance of it on Hollywood Palace last year!

Simon and Garfunkel released an acoustic folk album at the end of 1964 that was pretty good but went nowhere. Lorelei and I liked the song, The Sound of Silence, so much that we played it at coffee shops and gigs for a while. Apparently others shared our taste because the song got air play on a lot of college stations, and a Byrds-ified version came out in September, dominating the charts. The duo, which apparently had broken up, got back together to release a new album: The Sounds of Silence (natch). It's quite good, though a bit downbeat, and more than half the songs incorporate electric guitar.

And in the same realm are The Mamas and the Papas and the closely associated Barry McGuire, evolved from the purely folkishy New Christy Minstrels. The M & Ps' California Dreamin' is destined to be an anthem for the decade, and McGuire's controversal Eve of Destruction and his even more goose-bump inducing This Precious Time mark two of the absolute highlights for 1965.


And we got to see BOTH of them on Hullabaloo late last year!

Given the success of the folk-rock genre, one can expect that the remaining "pure" folk acts may go in a rockish direction. But not necessarily…

Psychedelic

There's a new kind of music surfacing, filled with unusual effects, exotic instruments, and the impact of recreational drug use. For want of a better word, and because this is what several outlets and bands are calling it, the genre is "Psychedelic Rock."

Of all the bands I listen to regularly, probably the one that emblemizes this new style is the London-based The Yardbirds. Originally an uninteresting blues band, with the departure of guitarist Eric Clapton (who left because they stopped playing blues — don't let the door hit you in the a…mplifier on the way out) the band became something really far out. For Your Love, Heart Full of Soul, Still I'm Sad, and especially the latest single, Shapes of Things, are filled with atypical movements, eerie vocals, and just plain weirdness (but good weirdness) that indicates music has long since departed Kansas.

Other bands have begun experimenting with psychedelica, for instance, the formerly folk-rockish The Byrds with their brand new single, Eight Miles High. The frenetic, almost unfocused guitar work, the Indian inspired riffs, and the haunting vocals spell a huge departure from last year's output. The Beatles haven't whole-hog embraced the new style (yet), but the use of sitar on their last album, particularly on Norwegian Wood, is definitely part and parcel with it. I understand even The Beach Boys and The Rolling Stones are flirting with psychelica.

Next you'll tell me these bands are actually partaking! Le gasp!

Where to?

I don't think it's as hard to guess where things will be in 1968 or 1969 compared to how incomprehensible 1966 would have been to 1963 me. I'm guessing music will get weirder and heavier on one side, along a concurrent thread of smoother, poppish stuff. We might see two different radio formats arise by the end of the decade: one devoted to the experimental rock sound and one emphasizing smooth crooning and harmonies.

I sometimes marvel at how much I'm enjoying all of these new sounds. Many folks of my generation still cling to their jazz or even their classical albums and look at the new music as so much junk.

But to my ears, this is what I've been waiting for my whole life. Bring it on!

If you want to hear all of this great music, then tune in to KGJ, our radio station!  Nothing but the newest hits!




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[April 30, 1966] Ormazd and Ahriman (May 1966 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Good News and Bad News

The ancient Persians believed in two roughly co-equal deities: Ormazd, the God of Creation and Light, and Ahriman, the God of Destruction and Darkness.  Unlike, say, the dual concept of the Chinese Yin and Yang, one was decidedly good and the other bad.  Indeed, these twin deities may have inspired the near parity of the Christian God and Satan.

Apparently, these forces hold sway even today.  This month's Analog started off so well, it bid fair to be a contender for best magazine of the month.  Then about half way, the influence of Ahriman took ascendance, and the issue faded away to a truly dreadful ending.  Ah well.  I come not to bury John Campbell but to review him.  At least we start with the good stuff…

Mixed Bag


by John Schoenherr

The Wings of a Bat, by Paul Ash

Anyone who's anyone knows that Paul Ash is really Pauline Ashwell, one of 1958's Hugo nominated Best New Writers — and boy, she's still just great.

Her latest tale stars a middle-aged doctor cum veterinarian stationed at Indication One on the shores of Lake Possible.  Cycads and dinosaurs dominate the landscape, and with good reason: Indication One is based sometime in the Cretaceous!  Against all of his instincts and inclinations, said doctor is tasked with raising a baby pteranadon named Fiona. 

Part country vet story, part mining camp adventure, this tale is by turns and sometimes simultaneously witty and exciting.  I loved it so much, I immediately read it a gain, this time aloud to the family as their bedtime story on two consecutive nights.

If this doesn't get nominated for the Hugo and/or the new SFWA Nebula awards, there's something wrong with the universe.  Five stars!

Call Him Lord, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Kelly Freas

Centuries from now, when Earth is just one of many hundreds of human planets, the crown prince of the Empire is dispatched to humanity's cradle for a tour.  One man is tasked to be his bodyguard, escorting the arrogant man-child as he rides, wenches, and bullies his way across the countryside.  But is this a mere sight-seeing tour…or a test?

While the story is slightly overdrenched in testerone and stoic manliness, Dickson is an excellent writer and his tale compels.  I dug it.  Four stars.

The Meteorite Miners , by Ralph A. Hall, M.D.

Earth has been the site of countless meteor impacts, many of them secondary strikes of ejecta loosed from prior events.  What we learn from the mineral concentrations at these craters can tell us a lot about the primordial history of our planet…and even the universe.

It's a fascinating topic, and it should have gripped me, but the presentation was a bit too abstruse and disjointed to hold my attention.  It took me several sessions to finish.

Three stars.

Titanium – The Wonder Metal (uncredited, but probably John W. Campbell, jr.

The piece is followed by another non-fiction article, this time a more lay-oriented essay on titanium, what makes it great, and what made it so hard to use economically. 

It's fine.  Three stars.

Two-Way Communication, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

When an inventor develops a universal receiver that allows the owner to transmit right into an announcer's microphone, chaos ensues.  Is it the ultimate democracy or a recipe for anarchy?

In this cute story, Anvil argues the former.  With constant and immediate input (and censure) the vast wastelands of radio and television are made verdant with quality programming.  The author forgets two important factors: 1) most TV and much radio isn't live these days, so interruptions at the source wouldn't have as much effect as depicted — this isn't 1951 after all; 2) people are jerks — interruptions would be constant and annoying.

Still, it was not unpleasant reading.  Call it a low 3 stars.  Ormazd and Ahriman are wrestling, but neither has ascendance.  Yet.

Under the Wide and Starry Sky…, by Joe Poyer


by Leo Summers

In this edge-of-the-future story (indeed, the depicted Gemini 9 mission is scheduled to occur less than three weeks from now), one astronaut is lost during an extravehicular jaunt.  His partner must use all of his wits to rescue him before their oxygen and fuel run out.

Joe Poyer has written a couple of other stories for Analog, both of which showed a fair ability when it came to depicting technology but little talent for characterization or detailed plot.  Starry Sky plays to the author's strengths, presenting a nice little Marooned-esque tale in a vivid fashion.  It ends quickly enough that you don't mind where it's undeveloped.

Three stars.  There are stars of light among the black sky.

The Alchemist, by Charles L. Harness


by Kelly Freas

Ah, here's where it all goes to Hell.  This long, flip, utterly unengaging tale manages to combine alchemy, psionics, making the Russians look stupid, and making scientists look stupid, all in one sure-to-please-the-editor package. 

This is truly an example of Ahrimanic possession as the last story by the author was one I liked very much.  But The Alchemist?  One star.  Feh.

Doing the math


Geraldine "Gerry" Myers, mathematician at the Mission Planning and Analysis Division at the Manned Space Craft Center in Houston

As might be expected from such a violent collision of positive and negative forces, the whole thing ends up about a wash: 3.1 stars.  This puts it above IF and New Worlds (3 stars) as well as Worlds of Tomorrow (2.6)

The May 1966 Analog finishes below Impulse (3.2), Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.5), and the astonishing, but mostly reprints, Fantastic (4).  Thus, Analog is the dead median for this month!

Nevertheless, it has contributed two stories to one of the best months for 4 and 5 star material since the Journey began.  You could fill three big magazines with nothing but excellent stuff.

Women did so-so in April, only writing ~6% of new material, though Judy Merril had a good reprint in Impulse.

And so, the battle between good and bad (quality) continues.  Will Ormazd be ascendant next month?  Or will Ahriman have the final laugh?  Stay tuned…

[Don't miss the next (and FINAL) episode of The Journey Show:

1966 and the Law — smut, marriage, voting rights, justice, and more. With Erica Frank and Ethan Marcus! With special musical guest, Nanami!

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[April 16, 1966] Non-taxing (May 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Three certainties

They say you can only be sure of two things in life: death and taxes.  I can't offer any personal assurances on the former, but I can say a thing or two about the latter.  Yesterday was, as it has been since my second year on the Journey (1955), tax day.  That special time of the year when Uncle Sam gets his due so that the potholes can be filled, the guns can be loaded, and (more recently and most welcomely) the poor can be relieved.

As you know, LBJ got his predecessor's big tax cut passed a couple of years back, a move that outraged the conservatives.  Of course, the benefits of that have largely passed me by — I make enough from running Journey Press to buy a cup of coffee, second-hand.  (Feel free to help change this state of affairs by buying more of our books!) On the other hand, a penurious existence means I don't have to cough up much dough come April 15.

Nevertheless, I did part with some shekels.  It was fortunate indeed that the latest issue of F&SF was at hand to balm the wound.  As has been the case for several months now, the mag was decidedly non-taxing.  Thank you, Ed Ferman, for giving us a third certainty in our lives!

The Issue at Hand


by Mel Hunter

And Madly Teach, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

With the advent of TV has arisen the notion of educational television, augmenting the classroom with studio-produced classes.  They have the advantage of combining nearly universal reach as well as the possibility of securing the best professionals.

But what if, in the interests both of frugality and inflicting the least bother on children, the traditional classroom is completely eschewed for the new format?  One might get Lloyd Biggle's newest novelette, detailing the culture shift a spinster English teacher from Mars encounters when she tries to adapt to the new Terran ways.

It's about as realistic as Harrison Bergeron and perhaps not as important, but I think there are some good subtle messages layered beneath the obvious ones, and Biggle is a very good writer.

Four stars.

Three for Carnival, by John Shepley

It's carnival time in near-future New York.  Old Mother Gimp (young, clear-eyed Barbara), the Harlequin (henpecked merchant, Saul Cooperman), and Lloyd (just Lloyd) take turns being themselves and someones else through the increasing chaos overtaking the Five Roses.

A difficult, abstract story, and not really science fiction or fantasy, I nevertheless found it engaging.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Colony, by Miriam Allen deFord

Humans found a colony light years from home.  After twenty promising years, they are overrun by rapacious half-men, who abduct a settler and generally make mayhem.  Though the abductee is recovered, the presence of alien intelligence means the colonists must leave, which they do with sadness.  But not before it is learned that the half-men are actually a variety of human.

The kicker?  The events of the story took place 30,000 years ago, and the savages were Neanderthals.

This kind of gotcha story might have flown back in the 40s, but it creaks in the 60s.  Moreover, it doesn't make a lick of sense.  It is, however, decently written.  No one can fault deFord for not knowing her craft; she just needs to take a refresher course in plot ideas.

Two stars.

Breakaway House, by Ron Goulart

Pete Goodwin scratched at his short blond hair and said, "Gretchen exaggerates, Max. We're still on our shakedown cruise with this house and little things are going to show up."

Max watched the sherry in his glass. "Of course, Jillian and I are apartment types so far. But maple syrup in the closets and bobcats in the shower. That stuff sounds unusual, Pete."

"Life is different in the suburbs, Max."

Yes, amateur occult detective Max Kearney is out of retirement for another droll tale of investigation.  This time, he and his new wife, Jillian the witch, are helping out a neighbor in the new tract housing subdivision.  It must be haunted, but Pete seems strangely reluctant to deal with it.  Is he possessed?  Has he made a deal with the Devil?  Or is it really not a very big matter after all?

It wraps up a little quickly, but it's great fun along the way.  Four stars.

Beamed Power, by Theodore L. Thomas

Someday Tesla will be proven right, and we won't need wires to transmit energy.  But will the result be a utopia or a terrorist's playground?  It's a subject worthy of a full-length article, perhaps in Analog.  As is, this is an unsatisfying appertif.

Three stars.

Flattop, by Gregory Benford

New author Benford offers up a Nivenesque tale of first contact between a human astronaut and a mobile Martian bath rug.  Except this creature has explosive capabilities for growth, and a single sample threatens an entire expedition.

Very crunchy stuff.  I liked it.  Four stars.

H. P. Lovecraft: The House and the Shadows, by J. Vernon Shea

Apparently, the Weirdest of the Weird Tales bunch wasn't quite the weirdo his stories would lead us to believe.  Racist and anti-semitic, sure (though he was buddies with Robert Bloch and he married a Jew).  Anti-social, absolutely (and yet generous to a fault despite his poverty; he wrote his fans lavish and helpful letters, even at the expense of his own writing time).  Sexless and haunted?  Arguably, but if one looks for Lovecraft in his stories, they're not going to find him.

I'm neither a lover of Lovecraft not a detractor.  I feel he had three good stories in him, and he kept writing them throughout his career until he got them right.  Along the way, he evaded critical praise but amassed a fandom that really only came to the fore after his death at 47 (ouch! That's my age!)

Shea's biography is interesting, poetic, and enlightening.  Four stars.

The Third Dragon, by Ed M. Clinton, Jr.

A lovely tale of three dragons and a girl that underscores that nice guys can finish first.  Four stars.

Time and Tide, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor offers up a good, if slightly padded, piece on the mechanism of tides with a brief look at tides around the solar system.  Good stuff.  Four stars.

Man of Parts, by H. L. Gold

Lastly, a story you know has to be a reprint since the former editor of Galaxy isn't doing much of anything these days.  In brief: Major Hugh Savold of the Fourth Terran Expedition against Vega, crashes onto the peaceful planet of Dorfel.  With very little salvageable but two arms and much of a brain, he is fused with the similarly mangled Dorfellow Gam Nex Biad.

Now a living rock-borer and legally no longer human, can the Major make it back to his ship and leave the living nightmare he finds himself trapped in?

Pleasant enough, but it shows its age.  Three stars.

Summing Up

Tallying the numbers on my form 1040-GJ, I find the May 1965 F&SF scores a respectable 3.5 stars.  I wouldn't say any of the stories will be up for this year's Galactic Stars, but all of them are readable and several are memorable.

I can almost forget how light my pocketbook has become… at least until the next time I have to buy a month's worth of science fiction!




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[March 31, 1966] Shapes of Things (April 1966 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Change

Out in the world of music, there's a change brewing. One can hear it in the experimentation of the Beatles' Rubber Soul album or the otherworldly tinge of The Yardbirds' latest hit, Shapes of Things. I've been long planning to write an article on the musical scene, and I'd best get it done quickly before the landscape changes entirely!

My friend and associate, Cora Buhlert, has noted that although the Stones and Beatles are popular in Germany, the number one hit right now is the syrupy Schlager tune by Roy Black, "Ganz in Weiß" (All in white). In other words, even in times of great flux, conservative forces remain steadfast, like stubborn boulders in a stream.

Oh look — it's time to review the latest issue of Analog.

Stagnation


by Kelly Freas

Moon Prospector, by William B. Ellern

It would be hard to find a more emblematic story of the reactionary SF outlet that is Analog than this, the lead story in the April issue. Set early in E.E. Smith's Lensman series, it apparently got the full blessing of "Doc" Smith just a few days before he died! That's pretty remarkable.

The story, however, isn't. A lunar prospector in is semi-sentient "creeper" gets a distress call. Turns out an old buddy has been buried in the aftereffects of a meteor shower, and ol' Pete has to dig him out. But what was the fellow doing out in that quadrant of the Moon to begin with, and does it have anything to do with a centuries-old missile base abandoned around there?


by Kelly Freas

There's no water on the Moon, so I suppose it's appropriate that the story, itself, is dry as a bone. Perhaps it would have been more exciting if I'd had some stake in the universe. Maybe I'd have thrilled at the mention of the Solar Patrol being evolved into a Galactic Patrol. The fact is, I didn't care for Doc Smith's stories much when I was a kid, so they evoke no nostalgia for me now.

Two stars.

Rat Race, by Raymond F. Jones


by Kelly Freas

A century and a half in the future, when a completely computer-planned economy has resulted in plenty for all of humanity, a fellow decides to recreate the hobby of model train running (though not in the destructive manner of the Addams family, more's the pity).

This hobby runs the fellow afoul of the Computer, for when he tries to make his own trains, he is accused of attempting his own production, which will upset the finely balanced economy and lead to scarcity. Our protagonist must find a way to satisfy the human urge to create while not upsetting the economic apple cart. The story ends with the suggestion that do-it-yourselfism will spread and eventually topple the current order.

It's a pleasant-enough story, and I suppose the "stick-it-to-communism" sentiment appealed to editor Campbell. On the other hand, while I appreciate that some folks really like to build things even when they could just be bought (and I have to think that hobbyist building would not break a planned economy), the notion that we've become too centralized and folks should all be able to be self-sufficient, making a living from the land, is unworkable.

The fact is, we've long since populated the Earth beyond its ability to sustain a society of independent farmers. The great island cities, the vast modern nations, they only support their teeming millions through coordinated and interconnected systems. The writer in the air-conditioned apartment, who bangs out a paean to independent living before catching a television show and then popping off to the deli for dinner, is a dreamer, not a visionary.

Three stars.

The Easy Way Out, by Lee Correy


by John Schoenherr

Aliens conduct a survey of planet Earth, evaluating its species for aggressive tendencies. After coming across a grizzly bear and a wolverine, and then the human family that has adopted the latter, they decide Earth is more trouble than it's worth.

Typical Campbellian Earth-firsterism. Two stars.

Drifting Continents, by Robert S. Dietz


by John Holden

If it's a crackpot theory that flies in the face of the scientific establishment, chances are you'll read about it in Analog. But sometimes a theory is crackpot, flies in the face of the scientific establishment, and is probably right. As someone born in earthquake country, I've probably heard more about "continental drift" than many. It's the idea that the continents very slowly move around the globe. It's why the coasts of South America and Africa seem like edges of the same torn newspaper. It explains why there are similar fossils at similar depths across continents that are nowhere near each other…today.

It's a theory I found little reference to in my science books of the 50s, including Rachel Carson's seminal The Sea Around Us. But damned if Dietz doesn't make some very compelling arguments. I would not be surprised if continental drift, as has happened recently with the Big Bang Theory and global warming, did not become thoroughly accepted this decade.

Five stars.

Who Needs Insurance?, by Robin S. Scott


by Kelly Freas

Pete "Lucky Pierre" Albers has always been blessed with good fortune. Twenty years a pilot, he has always managed to avoid even the slightest injury, despite 8500 hours of flying time. He first suspected that his lucky streak was not completely due to chance after a harrowing mission over Ploesti left his B-24 with just one working engine. That tortured device not only held together all the way back to Libya, but it spun with the 800 horsepower needed to keep the plane in the air. After the crash landing, Albers found a little gray box attached to the driveshaft.

Twenty years later, over Vietnam, Colonel Albers was in a bullet-riddled Huey whose engine somehow held together long enough to get him and his charges back to base. Sure enough, a little box was installed on the engine.

Clearly someone, or something, has taken an interest in Albers' survival. It's up to Albers and his closest friends to discover the secret.

I really enjoyed this story, told in narrative fashion. It's a fun mystery, the details are evocative, and I like when a piece includes a competent woman scientist (in this case, Marty the programmer, with her pet 2706).

Four stars.

A Sun Invisible, by Poul Anderson


by Domenic Iaia

With this latest installation in the adventures of David Falkayn, the momentum gained by the magazine comes to a shuddering halt. Anderson's writing is of widely varying quality, and the adventures of this troubleshooting young protogé of Nicholas van Rijn are among the worst.

The plot takes forever to develop, but it's something about a planet of Germanics looking to take on the Polesotechnic League by working with the belligerent Kroaka. The trick is that Falkayn has to figure out where the would-be enemies make their home. By getting the female leader of Neuheim drunk and talkative, Falkayn learns enough astronomical clues to deduce the star around which the insurgents' planet revolves. Falkayn stops the threat and gets the girl.

I do like the astronomy Anderson weaves into these stories and I also appreciated the seamless way he introduced a new pronoun for an alien race with three sexes. Other than that, it's a deadly dull story, and smug to boot. Falkayn is like a boring, Sexist Retief.

Two stars.

Computation

After all that, the conservative reef that is Analog finishes near the bottom of the pack, though that is as much due to the relative excellence of the other mags that came out this month. Campbell's mag clocks in at a reasonable 3 stars, beating out the truly bad, all-reprint Amazing (2.3).

Above Analog, starting at the top, are Impulse (3.5), Galaxy (3.4), IF (3.3), New Worlds (3.1), and Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.1).

It was something of a banner month for SF mags, actually. Enough worthy stuff was printed to fill two full-size mags (and if you take out Amazing, that means a full third of everything printed was four stars and up). Also, women produced 11.5% of the new fiction published this month, the highest proportion I've seen in a long time. We'll see if this trend holds out.

That's it for March! April is a whole new ballgame, starting with the next issue of IF. I'm very keen to see how that magazine does now that the excellent Heinlein serial has ended (I've high hopes for the Laumer/Brown novel.)

Until then, all we can to is keep trying to discern the pattern of Shapes of Things to Come…

Don't miss the next exciting Adventure-themed episode of The Journey Show, taking you to the highest peaks, the deepest wildernesses, the coldest extremes, the vacuum of space, and the depths of the sea. April 3 at 1PM — book your (free) ticket for adventure now!)




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Magazine

[March 22, 1966] Summer in the sun, winter in the shade (April 1966 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Time of (no) change

Seasons don't mean a whole lot in San Diego.  As I like to say, here we have Spring, Summer, Backwards Spring, and Rain.  All of these are pretty mild, and folks from parts beyond often grumble over the lack of seasonality here.

I grew up in the Imperal Valley where we had a full four seasons: Hot, Stink, Bug, and Wind.  San Diego is a step up.

Judith Merril, who writes the books column for F&SF these days asserts that there is a seasonality to science fiction as well, with December and January being the peak time of year in terms of story quality.  If it be the case that the solstice marks the SF's annual zenith, then one might expect the equinoxes to exhibit a mixed bag.

And so that is the case with the latest issue of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, which contains stories both sublime and mediocre.  Trip with me through the flowers?

Spring is here


by Jack Gaughan

We Can Remember It for You Wholesale, by Philip K. Dick

Given the prolificity with which Dick produces SF these days, one can hardly believe there was a long time when he'd taken a hiatus from the genre.  This latest story fuses his recent penchant for mind-expanding weirdness with the more straight science fiction characteristic of his work in the 50s. 

To wit, Douglas Quail is a humdrum prole who dreams big.  Specifically, he really wants to go to Mars, but such privilege is reserved to astronauts and high grade politicians.  Luckily, there is an organization whose business is literally making dreams come true…or perhaps I should say Rekal Incorporated makes true come dreams.  They inject their clients with artificial memories, lard them with convincing physical ephemera, and so a dream becomes reality — at least for the customer.

But when Quail is put under for the procedure, it turns out that he already has memories of a trip to Mars, which have been imperfectly wiped.  In short order, Quail becomes the center of a spy thriller, pursued by countless government agents.

On the surface, this is a fun gimmick story, but knowing Dick, I'm pretty sure there's a deeper thread running through the plot.  Indeed, clues are laid that make the reader wonder if the entire story is not the phantom adventure, deepening turns and all.  As with many recent Dick stories, the question one is left with is "What is reality?"

Four stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Appoggiatura, by A. M. Marple

A flea with an amazing tenor and the music-loving but otherwise talentless cat on which he resides, get swept into the world of urban opera.  Can their friendship withstand sudden fame?

This silly story by newcomer Anne Marple shouldn't be any good, but the whimsy of it all and the utter lack of explanatory justification keeps you going for a vignette's length.

Three stars.

But Soft, What Light …, by Carol Emshwiller

Spring is the time for romance, and so a fitting season for this piece, a love story between a computer with the soul of a poet, and the young woman who wins its heart.

Lyrically told, avante garde in the extreme, and just a bit naughtier than the usual, But Soft makes me even more delighted to see Carol Emshwiller return to the pages of this magazine.

Five stars.

The Sudden Silence, by J. T. McIntosh

The city of New Bergen on the planet of Severna goes silent, and a rescue team is dispatched from a nearby world to find out what could suddenly quiet the voices of half a million souls.

This novelette would be a lot more tolerable if 1) the culprit were more plausible and 2) McIntosh didn't have two of the male members of the team more interested in seducing their crewmates than saving lives. 

It's a pity.  McIntosh used to be one of my more favored authors.  These days, his stuff is both disappointing and difficult to read for its shabby treatment of women (though at least he includes them in his futures, which is uncommon).

Two stars.

Injected Memory, by Theodore L. Thomas

The latest mini-article from Mr. Thomas is about the promise of skills and experiences induced with genetic infusions.  It's a neat idea, lacking the usual stupid execution the author includes at the end of these. I don't know if the article's inclusion in this issue alongside the Philip K. Dick story mentioned above was serendipitous or deliberate, but I suspect the latter.

Three stars.

The Octopus, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Time is an octopus, tearing us in both directions.

Decent poem.  Three stars.

The Face Is Familiar, by Gilbert Thomas

I had to look this story up twice to remember it, which should tell you something.  A Lovecraftian tale of terror recounted by one man to another in Saigon.  The latter has seen real horror.  The former saw his wife preserved after death in an…unorthodox manner…which just isn't as shocking or interesting as is it's supposed to be.

Some nice if overwrought storytelling, but not much of a story.  Two stars.

The Space Twins, by James Pulley

There was a hypothesis going around for a while that long term exposure to weightlessness would have not just adverse physical but psychological impacts.  In this piece, two astronauts on their way around Mars revert to their time in the womb and have trouble returning.

Clearly written before Gemini 6, it comes off as both quaint and facile.

Two stars.

The Sorcerer Pharesm, by Jack Vance

Continuing the adventures of Cugel the Clever in his quest to bring back a magic item to the wizard Iucounu, this latest chapter sees the luckless thief happen across an enormous carved edifice.  Its goal is to entice the TOTALITY of space-time into the presence of the great sorcerer, Pharesm.

Of course, nothing goes as planned for Pharesm or Cugel.  Clever byplay, some good fortune, lots of bad fortune, and a bit of time travel ensue.

Vance strings nonsense words and scenes together with enviable talent, but the shtick is honestly running a bit thin.

Three stars.

The Nobelmen of Science, by Isaac Asimov

Instead of a science article, the Good Doctor offers up a comprehensive list of Nobel Prize winners by nationality.  Seems a bit of a copout, though I imagine it'll be useful to someone.

Three stars.

Bordered in Black, by Larry Niven

Lastly, Niven returns with an effective story of two astronauts who head to Sirius and encounter a clearly artificially seeded world.  Is it merely an algae farm planet, or is there something more sinister going on, associated with one of the continents, fringed with an ominous black ring?

Niven is great at building a compelling world, and the revelation at the end is pretty good.  It's a bit overwrought, though.  Also, I'm not sure why Niven would think Sirius A and B are both white giants when Sirius B is famously a dwarf star.

Anyway, four stars, and a good way to end an otherwise unimpressive section of the magazine.

Spring comes finally

And with the equinox, I turn the last page of the issue.  In the end, the April F&SF is a touch more good than bad, which is appropriate given the now-longer days.  Will the magazine obey the seasonal cycle and turn out its best issue in June (at odds with Ms. Merril's predictions)?

Only time will tell!


Spring is also the time for new beginnings — a fitting season to release its new daughter magazine, P.S.!

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