Tag Archives: gideon marcus

Magazine

[September 9, 1963] Great Expectations (October 1963 Galaxy)

3 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, is a time of renewal and new beginnings.  This year, it falls on September 18, and it can't be coincidence that the Fall TV season starts around then.  After all, this year is going to see a bumper crop of science fiction television, including the debuts of the anthology show The Outer Limits, My Favorite Martian, and the Japanese import Astro Boy.

In fact, the first episode of the last show premiered just the day before yesterday and, to all accounts, it'll be a big hit.  That was certainly the reaction I observed at the preview showing during this year's Worldcon.  Look out for an article on Astro Boy next month!

In the meantime, you've got plenty of good stuff to occupy your attention.  For instance, Margaret St. Clair has an exciting new book out called Sign of the Labrys — expect a review soon.  There is also the October 1963 issue of Galaxy, an extra-thick pile of fiction that'll give you good company for a day or two.  I've just finished the mag, so let's take a look, shall we?

The Men in the Walls, by William Tenn

Imagine an alien conquest so terrible and comprehensive that humanity is reduced to living in the walls of the extraterrestrials' homes like rats.  Civilization shattered back to the Stone Age, forced to survive on the leavings of the aliens.  The world before has disappeared into legend, and artifacts from the before-time are like magic, their original purpose unknown.

This is the setting veteran author, William Tenn, gives us in the short novel, The Men in the Walls.  Our protagonist is "Eric the Only," a youth on the edge of manhood, who embarks on his first Theft in alien territory.  Originally intending to play it safe and just steal food, he is persuaded by his ambitious uncle to try for the hardest of targets: alien technology.

The components may sound familiar: Tenn's creation shares a great deal of feel with Galouye's Dark Universe (burrow-dwelling humans turned savage) as well as Aldiss' Hot House (humans are tiny in comparative scale, and they commonly give birth to "litters" rather than individuals.) Nevertheless, Tenn delivers his story in a fresh, page-turning manner, and it's a worthy read.

That said, The Men in the Walls is only half a story, ending just as it gets really interesting.  One has to wonder if a sequel or an expanded novel is planned.  Moreover, the writing gets a little repetitive in points; the story could probably have been ten pages shorter.

Three and a half stars. 

For Your Information: King of the Rats

Willy Ley brings us a discussion of the Rat King, a near-mythical phenomenon in which a dozen or more rats are found with their tails spontaneously fused.  It's a weird topic and an oddly short piece.  I wonder if Willy's getting tired of doing these.  Three stars. 

On the Gem Planet, by Cordwainer Smith

On a world composed solely of precious stones, a lone horse wanders masterless through a crystal valley.  The Dictator of the planet and his beautiful heir entreat a young visitor, a crusading exile whose sole goal is to regain the throne of his home planet, for an explanation of how the horse came to his current condition.

Nothing more need be said of this piece save that it is another tale of the Instrumentality by the inimitable Smith, and it does not injure the reputation of the series or its writer.  Four stars.

A Day on Death Highway, by Chandler Elliott

On the other hand, Elliott's would-be whimsical tale of bad drivers in the future is a clunker.  Rendering a piece in artificial slang is always a dicey prospect, and there isn't enough of interest in this story to make it worth the slog.  One star.

Sweet Tooth, by Robert F. Young

Two giant aliens, all head and no body (or all body and no head) terrorize a rural part of the country with their insatiable taste for chrome-plated automobiles.  Are they the vanguard of an invasion…or just a couple of kids in the candy shop?

Robert F. Young has produced some of the most sublime pieces of fiction as well as some of the worst pieces of hackneyed crud I've ever read.  This tale is neither.  Three stars.

Med Ship Man, by Murray Leinster

Calhoun, intrepid healer to the stars, encounters an ominously empty colony.  Why did the entire population flee their homes in a mad rush, often mid-meal?  And is there a connection with the coincident arrival of Allison, a ruthless businessman from the cattle planet of Texia?

I was trepidatious about this story because the previous Med Ship story had been a disappointment.  Thankfully, Leinster is back to form.  Sure, he still writes in that slightly plodding, repetitive fashion that shouldn't work, but it does as the voice of Calhoun, a man I perceive to be fastidious, peevish, and utterly competent.  Four stars. 

In short, this month's Galaxy gives you plenty to look forward to.  Take in the Tenn, the Leinster, and especially, the Smith.  And then pick up the St. Clair.  That should hold you through to the new year!

3 Comments Leave A Comment
Conventions/Performances

[September 5, 1963] Oh Brave New World (the 1963 Worldcon)

10 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

This has been a year of many firsts.  My first year as a full-time writer, my first published fiction story, and now, my first Worldcon.  Ever since I became a science fiction fan back in 1950, Worldcons have been mysterious, half-magic events that happened to other people.  I'd read reports in Fanac or Science Fiction Times or heard summaries from attendees, but they were never real for me.

Until now.

On August 31, 1963, I walked through the doors of the Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C. and attended Discon I, August 31 – September 2, 1963.


The Statler-Hilton in Washington D.C.

It was a weekend of panels, shopping, heated debate, raucous partying, fantastic costumes, and writers.  There, in the flesh, I saw some of the titans of a field I am just entering.  Most of them were somehow apart from me, beyond my ability to connect with at more than a perfunctory level.  Others were more than happy to mingle.  For instance, rising star Bob Silverberg, shared banter and contact information. 

Of course, Silverberg is the fellow who wrote the second-most offensive story I've ever read, the one that turned me off of the magazine Venture forever.  One can only hope he's grown out of his reactionary mindset.


Silverbob, himself! (from fanac)

But in addition to the cavalcade of celebrities, there were, of course, the hundreds of fans, and boy did we have fun together.  The names of a few with whom I connected: Denise Head, Al Jackson, Myriam Warren, Larry Niven, Joe Haldeman.  I even spent a little time palling around with young Astrid Anderson (daughter of Karen and Poul — I never quite managed to cross their path).  Precocious kid.  She's going places.

As usual, Galactic Journey presented a panel on the current state of fandom.  The room was packed, and the questions were excellent.  There was just one moment of heat: an attendee took umbrage at our less-than-flattering comments regarding Barry Goldwater.  Well, it's a free country.


Leiber, Emsh, Ley, Scithers, Brackett, Asimov, De Camp (from locus)

On the last day, we crammed into the main hall for the award ceremony.  The highlight of the luncheon was, without a doubt, the final award for "Dramatic Presentation."  You see, Isaac Asimov was presenting, as he usually does (a rumor that it would be Ted Sturgeon turned out to be unfounded — he wasn't there).  He made his little introductions for each of the winners, with increasing irritation as the night wore on. 

You see, he really wanted a Hugo, and he was upset that he had never gotten one in his 25 years of writing.  And now that he'd transitioned to mostly writing science articles, it was becoming clear (to him) that he never would. 

Once he reached the last envelope, he took a moment to treat us all to a tirade.  He knew, he said, why he had never gotten the golden rocketship.  It had nothing to do with merit.  It was anti-semitism, plain and simple.  We were all Nazis.  Yes, even me.

And with a snarl, he ripped open the final envelope and called out, "The award goes to I…" and froze, his tongue tripping on his own name.  It turned out that there was no Dramatic Presentation award this year.  Instead, Asimov was given a Hugo for his F&SF science articles — "putting the science in science fiction," the award read.

The laughter lasted quite a long time. 

As for the rest of the Hugos, well, here's how they went:

Best Novel

The Man in the High Castle by Philip K. Dick [Putnam, 1962]

Nominees

Sword of Aldones by Marion Zimmer Bradley [Ace, 1961]
A Fall of Moondust by Arthur C. Clarke [Harcourt, Brace & World, 1962]
Little Fuzzy by H. Beam Piper [Avon, 1962]
Sylva by Vercors [Putnam, 1961]


H. Beam Piper in tie at the convention (from zarthani)

This selection is truly remarkable.  Not a single one of these books made our Galactic Stars list this year (though, to be fair, A Fall of Moondust was on our list the prior year).  The Dick is decent, but not Hugo-worthy; ditto the Piper.  The Bradley is just awful.  None of us read Sylva, a French novel about a woman who turns into a fox, so we can't judge that one.

Short Fiction

The The Dragon Masters by Jack Vance [Galaxy Aug 1962]

Nominees

Myrrha by Gary Jennings [F&SF Sep 1962]
The Unholy Grail by Fritz Leiber [Fantastic October 1962]
When You Care, When You Love by Theodore Sturgeon [F&SF Sep 1962]
Where Is the Bird of Fire? by Thomas Burnett Swann [Science Fantasy Apr 1962]


Costumes of Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser at the convention (from fanac)

Here, we're on more common ground.  Of course, the WorldCon committee only picks five sub-novel length stories to award while the Journey gives out fifteen, which allows more opportunities for overlap between the two sets of awards.

The Vance is really an excellent novella, and I understand a sequel may be in the works.  The Leiber is definitely deserving, and its warm reception appears to have spurred a host of new Fahfrd and Mouser stories.  The Sturgeon is a reasonable choice, though it was not one of ours. 

We were not so taken by the Jennings, and we missed out on the Swann.  Would any of our fellow travelers like to clue us in?

Best Dramatic Presentation

No Winner

Nominees

Burn, Witch, Burn (1962) (alt: Night of the Eagle) [Anglo-Amalgamated/Independent Artists] Directed by Sidney Hayers; Screenplay by Charles Beaumont & Richard Matheson and George Baxt; based on the novel Conjure Wife by Fritz Leiber

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961) [British Lion/Pax] Directed by Val Guest; Written by Wolf Mankowitz & Val Guest

Last Year at Marienbad (1962) [Argos Films] Directed by Alain Resnais; Screenplay by Alain Resnais and Alain Robbe-Grillet; based on the novel The Invention of Morel by Adolfo Bioy Casares

The Twilight Zone (TV series) by Rod Serling [CBS]


From The Twilight Zone episode Little Girl Lost

As described above, no program managed to secure the gold rocket ship this year.  In any event, I am dismayed that we only covered two of the finalists.  We will endeavor to Do Better!

Best Professional Magazine

The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction ed. by Robert P. Mills and Avram Davidson

Nominees

Analog Science Fiction and Fact ed. by John W. Campbell, Jr.
Galaxy ed. by H. L. Gold
Fantastic ed. by Cele Goldsmith
Science Fantasy ed. by John Carnell

Once again, the names are the same but the order changes.  There just aren't that many magazines around these days, though there has been a resurgence lately (and I just read that Wonder Stories may be back!)

I wonder if we should start covering Science Fantasy…

Best Professional Artist

Roy G. Krenkel

Nominees

Ed Emshwiller
Virgil Finlay
Jack Gaughan
John Schoenherr

Krenkel's is a name I was unfamiliar with until recently.  He's the one responsible for the beautiful cover work on the Edgar Rice Burroughs reprints.  The others are, of course, staples of the magazine world.

Best Fanzine

Xero ed. by Richard A. Lupoff and Pat Lupoff

Nominees

Warhoon ed. by Richard Bergeron
Mirage ed. by Jack L. Chalker
Yandro ed. by Robert Coulson and Juanita Coulson
Shangri L’Affaires ed. by Fred Patten, Albert Lewis, Bjo Trimble and John Trimble

"Where is Galactic Journey?" you cry.  After all, it was widely reported that our beloved journal would be on the ballot this year.  Sadly, due to some arcane rule I don't quite understand, Galactic Journey was not eligible for the Hugo in 1963.  Maybe next year…

Despite our not having officially been on the ballot, the Journey was invited to the Sunday night reveling that is traditional for Hugo losers.  We sent a representative; however, the Traveler and Editor decided to get some much-needed rest.  It had been a roller-coaster of a week, and we wanted to be fresh for the return to San Diego. 

Nevertheless, Worldcon was a blast.  We loved the venue, the friends, and the programming.  We will definitely attend next year.  Hope to see you there!

[We'll be discussing the Hugo winners, losers, and shoulda-beens all week, starting now, at Portal 55! Come join us!]

—

10 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[Sep. 1, 1963] How to Fail at Writing by not Really Trying (September 1963 Analog)

3 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

A few years ago, I began trying to write fiction.  I'd been reading science fiction regularly for eight years at that point.  I figured if all those other guys and gals could do it, surely I, with hundreds of published pieces under my belt would find the transition an easy one.  So long as I came up with some clever twist, maybe showcased some unique visions of technology, that'd be enough.

I quickly found, as I collected rejection after rejection, that it wasn't.  I started running my stories past my wife and my daughter, both talented and discerning individuals.  It became clear that I was missing the things that make any story good, regardless of genre: pacing, compelling characters, dramatic tension.  A science fiction story must be, first and foremost, a story.

I took that lesson to heart, rewriting all of my salvageable pieces.  The end result?  Last month, I got published, and the future looks bright for my other works.  Now people want to read my stuff.  Heck, even I like my stuff now.


Sadly, this month's issue of Analog, with one notable exception, is chock full of the type of stories I know now not to write.  They are a series of technological travelogues with the barest attempt at fictioneering.  This kind of thing might tickle editor John Campbell's fancy, but it won't win any Hugos.  Moreover, this isn't the first time this has happened.  If this trend keeps up, at some point it's got to impact subscription numbers.  Right?

Take a look and tell me if you agree:



Which Polaris Do You Mean? by Robert S. Richardson

Every planet has got a north pole — that place where you can stand and watch the world rotate counter-clockwise below you.  But do other planets have a "North Star," a bright star like our Polaris that lies directly in line that pole and always points north?  And do Earth and other planets have South Stars?  Robert Richardson offers up an article that answers these questions.  I found it pretty interesting, but astronomy's my bag.  Three stars.

Industrial Revolution, by Winston P. Sanders

A few months back, Sanders wrote a story about planet-divers who plunged into the atmosphere of Jupiter to retrieve valuable industrial gasses.  I don't know how the author managed to turn such an interesting premise into a dull piece, but he did. 

In Revolution, he does it again, butchering the tale of a small venture that tries to turn an asteroid into a profitable fuel trans-shipping concern.  Earth's government sends a battleship out to stop the attempt at space capitalism, but doughty Jimmy Chung (the Chinese guy) and Michael Blades (the Irish guy, and hero) outsmart those evil bureaucrats.

Along the way, we are treated to excruciatingly long explanations of technology, pages of trite dialogue, and that perennial Analog specialty: lousy portrayals of women.  All told in a smug, self-satisfied manner that is also typical of the magazine. 

Those with any knowledge of our genre know that "Winston P. Sanders" is a pen name for old hand, Poul Anderson.  Perhaps he knew that this tale was a stinker and didn't want his name attached to it.  One star.

The Last Straw, by William J. Smith

Months after a deadly plane crash that took the lives of more than seventy passengers, Inspector Kessler still can't give up the investigation.  Was it sabotage?  A drunk passenger?  Or perhaps some kind of conspiracy?  All of the leads come up short…until a final clue puts the mystery in focus.

Straw is just three separate dialogues, and yet, the writing is so deft that we learn everything we need to know just from conversation.  The rule is generally "show, don't tell," but an experienced author can "show by telling" without it feeling expository.  I'm impressed.

As for the story, it's a fine, short "who-dunnit."  Or perhaps "what-dunnit" is a better description.  Four stars.

i>Chrono-Control, by Frank A. Javor

In the future, incorrigible prisoners are stuffed into one-person satellites and subjected to a life of privation and strict time-management.  One such convict decides he can't take it anymore and hatches a plan to break his mechanical warden.  But is Heaven in a pod better than Hell?

Aside from the utter implausibility of the setup, the pages upon pages explaining the prisoner's plot are incomprehensible.  The ending is silly, too.  In other words, Javor commits all of the sins described in my preamble. 

Two stars.

The Thirst Quenchers, by Rick Raphael

A hundred years from now, science has transformed every profession but one — that of the hydrologist.  These intrepid measurers must still manually plant sensors in remote locations to ensure an accurate picture of our water budget.  And in the 21st Century, water is such a precious commodity that no drop can be spared.

A fellow reviewer described this tale as "A cross between a railway timetable and a mail-order catalogue," which I find hard to improve upon.  It reads like an educational film views, and when the "action" starts, half-way through, it is stripped of all excitement. 

Some points that stood out, though:

1.  In the future, won't satellites be able to monitor our water supplies? 

2.  If water is in such short supply, and power so abundant (nuclear fission is ubiquitous, and dams have been abandoned), why aren't there large-scale desalination operations?

3.  Analog is a particularly masculine magazine with few/no female characters or writers.  Sometimes this quality approaches self-satiric levels, as with this sentence spoken by a ranger who is rebuffed when he offers a hydrologist a cup of substandard coffee:

"Man's drink for a real man," the ranger grinned.  "Us forestry men learn to make coffee from pine pitch.  Makes a man outta you."

One star.

Am I Still There?, by James R. Hall

This year saw the first successful lung transplant, easily the most significant organ transfer operation to date.  One can easily foresee a future in which every part of the body can be exchanged, granting a kind of immortality.  But what happens when your brain starts to wear out?  Can a new one be regrown, imprinted with your memories, and implanted?  Are you still you after such an operation?

It's a fascinating concept, but you won't find it well-explored in this story.  After a competent setup, Hall simply leaves the central question unanswered.  Two stars.

We are left with the question: Do Analog's stories stink because the writers can't write, or do Analog's contributors write poorly because that's what Campbell wants?  The fact that Anderson, at least, often turns in good efforts suggests the latter — or at least, they just don't try as hard for Campbell's mag. 

Anyway, here are the numbers for this month: Analog garnered a dismal 2.2 stars, beaten to the bottom only by Amazing, which got 2.1 stars.  F&SF was also a disappointment this month, though its sins tend to go in the opposite direction of Analog.  It got 2.6 stars.  Fantastic rounds out the losers with a 2.9 average.

On the winning side, Worlds of Tomorrow features solid works by Laumer and Dick, though the balance of the issue drags things to just 3 stars.  Experimental IF, which featured two woman authors (F&SF had one, the others, none), clocked in at 3.3 stars and had my favorite story.  And New Worlds scored a surprising 3.4 stars and the top spot, in large part due to its continuing serial by John Brunner.

All in all, August wasn't a great month for science fiction, but as usual, there was enough quality to see us through.  Speaking of which, Worldcon 21 has begun, and we will soon learn what the fans thought was the best of SF published last year.  There will be a full report when it's over…

[Want to discuss the Hugo winners in real-time?  Come join us at Portal 55! (Ed.)]

3 Comments Leave A Comment
Science / Space Race

[August 29, 1963] Why we fly (August Space Round-up)

1 Comment


by Gideon Marcus

We've become a bit spoiled of late, what with space spectaculars occurring on a fairly regular basis.  So, I was not too surprised when a friend buttonholed me the other day and exclaimed, "When is the Space Race gonna get interesting again?"  After all, it's been a whole two months since the Vostok missions, three since the last Mercury mission, and even satellite launches have been few lately.

Oh ye of little faith.  The real work doesn't happen when the rockets go up, but after their payloads are aloft.  A lot happened in the arena of space this month — you just have to dig a little to learn about it.  Here are the exciting tidbits I gleaned (and the journos missed) in NASA's recent bulletins and broadcasts:

Bridging the Continents

Communication satellites continue to make our world a smaller place.  Syncom, built by Hughes and launched by NASA late last month, is the first comsat to have a 24-hour orbit.  From our perspective on the Earth's surface, it appears to do figure eights around one spot in the sky rather than circling the Earth.  This means Syncom can be a permanent relay station between the hemispheres.

It's already being used.  On August 4 the satellite allowed Nigerian journalists and folks from two U.S. services to exchange news stories as well as pictures of President Kennedy and Nigerian Governor General Dr. Nnamdi Zikiwe.  Five days later, voice and teletype was exchanged between Paso Robles, California and Lagos, Nigeria.  This 7,700 mile conversation represents the longest range real-time communication ever made.

And, on the 23rd, Syncom carried its first live telephone conversation — between President Kennedy and Nigerian Prime Minister Sir Abubaker Tafawa Balewa, as well as several other official conversations.  One has to wonder if the whole scheme wasn't hatched just so Jack could expand his pen pal list to West Africa…

More comsat news: RCA's Relay 1 is still alive and kicking, having been used in 930 wideband experiments, 409 narrowband transmissions, and 95 demos of TV and narrowband broadcasts.  And in a stunning imitation of Lazarus, AT&T's Telstar 2 came back on-line after having been silent since July 16.  I understand there will be an unprecedented experiment next month: NASA is going to use Relay and Syncom to bounce a message from Brazil to Africa.  Expect that kind of satellite ping-pong to become common in the future.

Finally, NASA's passive comsat, Echo 1, continues to be used for tests.  Come winter, it will be joined by Echo 2.  Because if there's anything space needs, it's more balloons.


First pass of Echo 1 satellite over the Goldstone

Predicting the Weather

Mariner 2, the Venus probe that encountered the Planet of Love last December, went silent early this year.  Yet its reams of data are still yielding discoveries.  During the spacecraft's long flight toward the sun, it took continuous measurements of the solar wind — that endless stream of charged particles cast off from the roiling fusion reactor of our nearest star.  These measurements were then compared to readings made on Earth and in orbit.  Scientists have now determined that the sun's radioactive breeze blows in gusts from 500 to 1350 kilometers per second, the bursts correlated with expansions in the solar corona.  When a particularly strong stream of electrons and protons, sizzling at a temperature of 500,000 degrees F., slams into the Earth's magnetic field, it causes disruptions in broadcasts and communications.

Closer to home, Explorer 12 soared far from Earth in its highly eccentric orbit, charting long-lived solar plasma streams in interplanetary space.  The satellite determined that these gouts of plasma caused geophysical disturbances more than twenty days after their creation.

One can imagine a constellation of satellites being deployed to provide solar system-wide space weather reports.  Not only would they help keep astronauts safe as they journeyed from planet to planet, but they'd also let radio operators on Earth know when to expect static in their broadcasts.

And speaking of weather forecasts, Tiros 6 and 7 continue to be our eyes in the sky, tirelessly shooting TV of Earth's weather.  They've already tracked the first hurricane of the season, Arlene.  Who knows how many lives and dollars they will save with their early warnings?

Previews of Coming Attractions

The ill-starred lunar probe, Ranger, has failed in all five of its missions.  In fact, NASA is 0 for 8 when it comes to moon shots since 1959.  Perhaps Ranger 6, set for launch around Thanksgiving, will break this losing streak.  It will be the first of the Block 3 Rangers, lacking the sky science experiments that flew on Rangers 1 and 2, and the big seismic impactors carried on Rangers 3-5.  The new Rangers will just shoot TV pictures of potential Apollo landing sites.  This sacrifice of science in deference to the human mission has not gone without protest, but given the dismal track record of the program, the labcoat crowd will have to take what they can get.

A full year after Ranger (hopefully) reaches the Moon, a pair of Mariners will set sail for Mars.  Unlike last year's Mariner 2, Mariners 3 and 4 will carry cameras to provide our first close-up view of the Red Planet.  Let's just hope neither of these upcoming probes meet the same fate as Russia's Mars 1, which died last March.

At some point in the mid-60s, even bigger Mariners will fly to the planets, carried by the big liquid oxygen "Centaur" second-stage.  The first successful test fire took place on August 17 just down the way from my house — at General Dynamics/Astronautics San Diego

And finally, another 271 space candidates applied to NASA this year.  They have been screened to 30, and out of them, 10-15 will be selected in late October to comprise the third group of astronauts.  None of them are women yet, but perhaps there will be some in time for Group Four.


Pilots Jerrie Cobb and Jane Hart testify before the Subcommittee of the House Committee on Science and Astronautics, July 1962.  That's an Atlas Centaur model next to them.

Who knows?  Maybe you'll be one of them!

[Want to talk to the Journey crew and fellow fans in real-time?  Come join us at Portal 55! (Ed.)]

1 Comment Leave A Comment
Magazine

[August 21, 1963] Forgettable (September 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

9 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

This weekend, floating on air with the news of the publication of my first piece of fiction (the lead in an anthology of Sidewise in Time stories — do please pick up a copy!) I took a trip to San Jose with my wife.  This was strictly a vacation, you see, a last restful spell before taking on the school year and redoubling our writing efforts.  There was no other reason for visiting this peaceful city south of the Bay.

After all, Worldcon isn't for another two weeks.

The trip wasn't entirely science fiction free.  I took a recent Ace Double with me, particularly exciting because one half of it, Captives of the Flame, is one of the rare novels written by a Black person (Sam Delany, a newcomer to the scene). 

I also finished the September 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction — a less exciting experience.

I knew even before cracking the covers that it'd be something of a lost cause.  Robert Heinlein's latest serial, Glory Road, concludes in this issue, and I'd already given up on the book in its second installment.  Thus, a huge chunk of the magazine is so much ballast.  The rest is varying shades of acceptable.  Were Nat King Cole to write a song about them, well, it'd be a sharp contrast to his 1951 hit…

There Is Another Shore, You Know, Upon the Other Side, by Joanna Russ

A wisp of a girl, British by extraction, flutters at the edge of Roman nightlife.  Irresistibly beautiful, she remains frustratingly out of reach of all but the most persistent of would-be lovers.  When Giovanni does manage to catch the butterfly, she crumbles to dust in his arms.  Some things are better left alone.

Joanna Russ appears to have finished graduate school and is turning her pen to writing full-time.  This is her third story in F&SF, and her appearances are always welcome.  That said, this is the least of the works from this "young and nice" possessor of "very blue eyes."  It's vividly written, but it goes on twice as long as it needs to, and the ending is obvious from the beginning.  I also found Giovanni maddening in his pushiness.  Three stars, but with a hopeful suspicion that this is the author's lowest ebb.

Glory Road (Part 3 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

I know I'm not alone in my disappointment with this serial.  That said, I am already seeing fans salute each other with calls of "Are you a coward?" (a reference to the ad that starts the story's adventure) so I imagine this book will sell reasonably well.  You're welcome to tell me how it ends and what you thought.

The Man Who Feared Robots, by Herbert W. Franke

F&SF has been at the vanguard in its offering of foreign science fiction, with stories from French, German, Czech, and even Japanese authors.  This month, we get our first taste of SF from an Austrian pen, about a fellow undergoing psychotherapy to treat his irrational(?) fear that everyone he knows is actually a robot.  An interesting theme with not particularly noteworthy presentation.  I'd love to see a book on this topic some time.  Three stars.

Collector's Item, by Jack Sharkey

Readers of this column know that Jack Sharkey is my favorite authorial whipping boy.  He just comes out with so much drek so often.  That said, he has written stories I have enjoyed, particularly the ones involving the scout service fellow who swaps minds with extraterrestrial fauna.  Item features a fellow who delights in subverting hoary similes with physical objects.  For instance, he owns loose drums, lazy bees, dirty pins, and so on.

In fact, the so on goes on for a long time, the list of items in the protagonist's collection being nearly as long as the catalog of ships from the Iliad.  All to set up a final pair of puns that I found worth my time.  It made me smile.  Three stars — four if you're a big fan of Feghoot.

Who's Out There?, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor fairly gushes over The Young Doctor, a Dr. Carl Sagan who, at just 27, has already made a big name for himself in planetary science.  I understand that this article is the expurgated version, and that the original one was even more praising of the astronomer. 

In any wise, this particular piece, inspired by a conversation with Sagan, is on the likely number of extraterrestrial civilizations currently extant in the galaxy.  It's an unusually tedious and tentative piece, not up to Doctor A's normal capabilities.  Maybe Avram is crimping his style.  Three stars.

Unholy Hybrid, by William Bankier

A renowned horticulturalist finds a way to grow a champion squash and do away with an unwanted house guest at the same time.  However, he soon finds that the seed of his evil act bears revenge-seeking fruit. 

If the anti-woman sentiment doesn't give you pause, the staleness of the subject matter will.  And yet, there are moments of crystalline writing here that save the piece from oblivion.  Three stars verging on two (or vice versa).

Attrition, by Walter H. Kerr

A poem on the near-immortals who Walk Among Us, their youthful faces just beginning to fray.  Worth a read.  Three stars.

237 Talking Statues, Etc., by Fritz Leiber

And, at last, a screenplay about a young man and his conversation with his satyric dead father, the latter narcissistically preserved in several hundred paintings and statues.  A cute diversion, right in the middle of the great Leiber's range of production.  Three stars.

I was once told that my star rating system was flawed because it didn't account for story length.  I explained that, in fact, it does.  So I shall now pull the curtain back and show you how I calculate my magazine ratings:

There were eight pieces in this issue, seven of which scored 3 stars, and one of which scored 1.  The average is, thus, 2.875.

However, if one weights for page length, Glory Road takes up most of the magazine and drags things down.  That said, I don't have a direct ratio of pages to impact.  In other words, a piece that takes up two thirds of an issue doesn't comprise two thirds of the ultimate rating.  Here's my scale:

1-8 pages: 1 length point
9-19 pages: 2 length points
20-40 pages: 3 length points
41-70 pages: 4 length points
71+ pages: 5 length points

Arbitrary, but it keeps the calculations simple.  It also means I somewhat equalize the credit between a brilliant vignette and a brilliant novella. 

Using this method, this issue gets just 2.286 stars.

I then further flatten things out by averaging the two and rounding the result.  Thus, I get a final score 2.6 stars. 

In short, my system is about 3/4 based on the quality of pieces and 1/4 based on the length.  Agree or disagree, that's the system I've used for years so I now have to stick with it for consistency's sake.

And we all know what foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of…

9 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[August 8, 1963] Great Escapes (September 1963 IF)

8 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

In the United States, the Fourth of July is perhaps our biggest holiday, celebrating our declaration of independence from our former motherland, Great Britain.  It was our escape from taxation without representation, from capricious colonial government, and from forced tea-drinking. 

This latest Independence Day saw the premiere of one of the biggest and best summer blockbusters ever made, the appropriately themed The Great Escape.  Directed by John Sturges, and starring James Garner, Richard Attenborough, and Steve McQueen, it is the vaguely true-to-life story of a prison break from a Nazi Stalag.  Exciting, moving, and beautifully done, it's sure to be a contender for an Oscar or three.  Watch it.

The September 1963 Worlds of IF Science Fiction continues the escape motif.  Not just in the normal sense in that it provides an escape from reality, but rather, each of its stories involves an escape of some kind. 

Was this a deliberate editorial choice by Fred Pohl or simply a happy circumstance?  Either way, it makes for an enjoyable issue that is better than the sum of its parts.

The Expendables, by A. E. van Vogt

Van Vogt, one of space opera's most prominent lights, has been away from the SF scene for fourteen years.  So it's quite a scoop for Pohl to have gotten this latest piece, depicting the final stages of a generation ship's journey.  A mutiny against the authoritarian captaincy is brewing as the ship nears its destination, and when it turns out the planet intended for colonization is already inhabited, all-out rebellion ensues.

This is a tale that combines two of my favorite topics, first contact and generation ships, and I'm a big fan of Van Vogt.  However, I am disappointed to report that Expendables just doesn't hang well together.  The science is shaky, the dialogue rather implausible, and the characters a bit too gullible.  There is also a queer, slapdash quality to the writing.  I suspect this was written in a hurry; a do-over could turn it into a fine story, indeed.  Two stars as is.

The Time of Cold, by Mary Carlson

Curt, a spacewrecked man trapped without water on a parched world has little hope of surviving long enough to be rescued.  Xen is an amorphous hot-blooded being, native to the planet, desperate for more warmth.  Both are menaced by liquid scorpions, beasts who kill in an instant and don't care what world you come from.  Are the two aliens the key to each other's survival?

There is an art to telling a story from alternating perspectives such that each scene moves the story forward without repetition.  Mary Carlson, a young lady from South Dakota, mastered that art in her first published piece.  It's a beautiful, uplifting tale.  Bravo.  Five stars.

Manners and Customs of the Thrid, by Murray Leinster

In Thrid culture, the Governor can never be wrong, and woe be to one who disputes him.  Jorgenson, a representative of the Rim Star Trading Corp., dares to stand up for his native business partner, Ganti, whose wife the Governor would have for his own.  Both are exiled for life to a barren rock in the middle of the ocean, escape from which would daunt even the fellows who broke out of Alcatraz. 

But, escape they do, and the method is quite ingenious — and logical given the central tenet of Thrid society.  Writing-wise, it's a rather workmanlike piece, but the thrilling bits more than compensate.  Three stars.

Science on a Shoestring – Or Less , by Theodore Sturgeon

In this month's science column, Sturgeon extols the merits of UNESCO's book, Sourcebook for Science Teaching.  I love Ted Sturgeon, don't get me wrong, but sometimes his article topics just don't merit the space they take up.  Two stars.

The Reefs of Space (Part 2 of 3), by Jack Williamson, and Frederik Pohl

In the future, Earth is a dystopia under the stifling computerized control of the Machine and its inscrutable Plan.  Those who resist the Plan, or for whom the Machine can make no use, are condemned to the Body Bank for reclamation.  The last installment, in which state criminal Steve Ryeland was forced by the Machine to develop a reactionless drive, only mentioned the Body Banks in passing.  Part 2 deals almost exclusively with them.

In the midst of his work, Ryeland, accused of plotting a wave of disasters around the world, is exiled to Cuba.  The tropical paradise has been turned into a kind of leper colony, except limbs and organs are not lost to disease, but instead, according to the demands of the citizens for whom parts are harvested.  Over time, the residents lose more and more of themselves until there is not enough to sustain life.  One might survive as long as six years, if you can call a limbless, mouthless existence survival.  Of course, the tranquilizing drugs they put in the food and water keep you from minding too much…

Fred Pohl already proved he could write compelling horror in A Plague of Pythons.  This latest installment of The Reefs of Space would do fine as a stand-alone story (and I have to wonder if it was originally intended as such).  The tale of Ryeland's attempt to escape an escape-proof prison is gripping, even if the trappings of the greater story aren't so much.  Four stars.

The Course of Logic, by Lester del Rey

A mated pair of parasitic aliens, who use other creatures as their hosts, have been trapped on a bleak world for eons.  Their home galaxy has been destroyed, and the only compatible beasts they've found lack the fine motor skills to construct spaceships for escape — or any other kind of technology.  So they are delighted when they come across a pair of humans, for our form is absolutely perfect for their needs.  Will these puppet masters, once ensconced in our guise, escape their planetary prison and become unstoppable conquerors?

Lester has been too long from our ranks, but it looks like he's back to stay, given his recent record of publication.  This is a grim piece but with a splendid sting in its tail.  I also particularly enjoyed this bit of evolutionary teleology, said by the dominant female to her mate:

"The larger, stronger and more intelligent form is always female.  How else could it care for its young?  It needs ability for a whole family, while the male needs only enough for itself.  The laws of evolution are logical or we wouldn't have evolved at all."

And before you scoff, recall the hyenas and the bees.  Four stars.

The Customs Lounge, by E. A. Proulx

This vignette appears to be a Tale from the White Hart, but it's really a story of human cleverness under alien domination.  It is apparently the first piece by Proulx, "a folk singing star-gazing man from upstate New York," and while it's nothing special, it's also not bad.  Three stars.

Threlkeld's Daughter, by James Bell

Last up, we have a tale not of escape, but of entrapment.  A six-legged, tailed tree-creature from Alpha Centauri takes on comely human female form and travels to Earth to secure a male homo sapiens specimen for study.  But with the human body comes human hormones and emotions, and love creates its own entrapments. 

It's a cute little piece, more like something I'd find in F&SF.  Three stars.

Thus ends a fine issue of an improving magazine.  If you ever find yourself imprisoned, in gaol real or virtual, one of these stories might give you the inspiration to break out.  Or, at the very least, make a few hours of your sentence more pleasant.

8 Comments Leave A Comment
Comics

[Aug. 6, 1963] X marks the comic (X-Men, Avengers, Sgt. Fury, and more from Marvel)

9 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

The 30s and 40s are remembered as a kind of comics Golden Age.  They featured the birth of so many familiar faces including National Comics' iconic line-up: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman.  We also saw the creation of big names like Captain America, the Human Torch, and the Sub-Mariner, the last two of which have been recently resurrected.

In fact, if the prior age be gilded, then our current era of comics resurgence must be some kind of Silver Age.  Just look at performance of the successor to Atlas Comics, that titan of the industry that had died back in 1957.  Leaping from obscurity just a few short years ago, Marvel Comics has doubled down on its suite of superheroes, launching three new comic books in just the last few months. 

The most exciting of them is The X-Men, featuring a team of teenage mutants under the tutelage of Professor Charles Xavier, at once the most powerful telepath in the world, and also the first handicapped superhero (that I know of). 

Let's meet the cast, shall we?  We've got Slim Summers ("Cyclops"), who projects ruby blasts from his eyes; Bobby Drake ("Ice Man"), the kid of the group, who creates ice at will; Hank McCoy ("Beast"), possessed of tremendous agility and oversized hands and feet; Warren Worthington III ("Angel"), a winged member of the upper crust (financially and evolutionarily); and Jean Grey ("Marvel Girl"), a telekinetic.  Why Bobby is a Man and the older Jean is a Girl, I haven't quite figured out. 

Of course, they immediately develop a nemesis, the bombastic Magneto, master of magnetism.

The X-Men is a development of two Marvel themes: you've got the quirky, imperfect teenager motif that has proven so successful with Spiderman, and the fun team dynamic of The Fantastic Four.  I have to say, this new comic has really bowled me over, and I'm looking forward to more of the same.

Speaking of teams, Marvel has lumped together several of its heavy hitters into a single superhero mag, The Avengers.  Another four guys and a gal combo, it features Thor, Iron Man, the Hulk, Ant-Man, and Wasp.  It's an unlikely group — without a father figure like Professor X or the family dynamic of the Fantastic Four, I have to wonder how stable this phenomenon will be.

The third new mag features another team of heroes, neither mutated or otherwise superpowered.  But there's nothing mundane about Sgt. Fury and his Howling Commandoes, Marvel's answer to the TV show, Combat!.

As with the television production, Fury depicts a squad fighting on the Western Front on the eve of and after D-Day.  Sgt. Nick Fury is a bit more one-note than the nuanced Sgt. Saunders on TV, but this is a comic book, after all…

Here's the gang, and here's what they do:

In other Marvel news, it looks like Spiderman has got a new enemy, The Sandman:

And it's not all expansion for Marvel.  Its venerable line of girls' comics lost a member a few months ago.  Love Romances ended with its 106th issue.

On the other hand, the two Milly the Model mags continue, as well as Kathy, and the two Patsy books (Patsy and Patsy and Hedy)

I wonder if the superhero mags will ever take a clue from the girl mags and start soliciting for fashion designs.  Hulk could use a new pair of pants, after all.

Thanks to this deluge of new comics, my subscription list now includes a half dozen titles.  So for the foreseeable future (or, at least until Jason Sacks convinces me that I'm all wet), you can be sure that I'll "Make Mine Marvel!"

9 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 18, 1963] Several bad apples (August Fantasy and Science Fiction)

10 Comments

[Did you meet us at Comic Con?  Read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

I've discussed recently how this appears to be a revival period for science fiction what with two new magazines having been launched and the paperback industry on the rise.  I've also noted that, with the advent of Avram Davidson at the helm of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, the editorial course of that digest has…changed.  That venerable outlet has definitely doubled down on its commitment to the esoteric and the literary.

Has Davidson determined that success relies on making his magazine as distinct from all the others as possible?  Or do I have things backwards?  Perhaps the profusion of new magazines is a reaction to F&SF's new tack, sticking more closely to the mainstream of our genre.

All I can tell you is that the latest edition ain't that great, though, to be fair, a lot of that is due to the absolutely awful Heinlein dross that fills half of the August 1963 Fantasy and Science Fiction.  See for yourself:

Turn Off the Sky, by Ray Nelson

Things start off strong with a tale of love and loss in a future of abundance, unemployment, and political apathy.  Abelard Rosenburg, a blue-painted, black-skinned, bearded Beatnik is unswervingly committed to the cause of pacifistic anarchy, "sharing his burden" of leaflets to whomever will read them.  Then he meets the beautiful Eurasian, Reva, last of the capitalists, who plies the oldest profession in a virtually moneyless society.  Passion and polemics ensue.

Beautifully illustrated by EMSH, Turn Off the Sky was apparently written in 1958.  Davidson held it in reserve for just the right moment.  In fact, the story has that broodingly whimsical quality that marked the work of Avram Davidson at his finest – if I didn't know Ray Nelson was a real person (something of a superfan), I'd suspect this was an old work Davidson snuck in under a pseudonym.  It certainly feels like something from the last decade, albeit a progressive work from that era.  I liked it a lot.  Four stars.

[Walter Breen of Berkeley tells me that this version is expurgated.  That means they took the sex out.  So much for F&SF being combined with the old Venture mag…]

Fred, by Calvin Demmon

This joke vignette is something you might enjoy telling at your next dinner party.  I smiled.  Four stars.

T-Formation, by Isaac Asimov

Things start to go downhill at the third-way mark.  The Good Doctor has been floundering a bit lately, and his latest piece on very big numbers is both abstruse and not particularly exciting.  I did appreciate his discussion of Mersenne numbers and the Fibonacci sequence, however.  Three stars.

Ubi Sunt? by R. H. Reis and Kathleen P. Reis

A couple of months back, Brian Aldiss wrote a poem about how modern astronomy has killed the Mars of Burroughs.  This new poem by the Reis' covers the same ground.  Three stars.

Glory Road (Part 2 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

Last month, I covered the beginning of a promising though uneven new Heinlein serial.  It began with a compelling account of one of the first veterans of our newest war (the one in Vietnam) and then declined (with some bright spots) into a fantasy novel that was a pale shadow of Poul Anderson's Three Hearts and Three Lions.  It ended with our hero and his heroine, both having pledged their love for each other, tilting lances at their former benefactor, who had thrown them out for not having sex with his family. 

Yes, you read that right.

How does this exciting lead-up resolve?  With a disappointing, "After resolving the situation, our heroes hung out in their benefactor's steam bath and chatted."  I'm not leaving anything out.  That is pretty much how Part 2 begins.  Then it meanders into a dialogue between the protagonists that reads as if Heinlein had a conversation with himself in the shower (before he'd entirely woken up), and someone transcribed the result.

It's bad.  It's unreadable.  It's the worst Heinlein I've ever read, and I'm a fan (though Podkayne of Mars and Stranger in a Strange Land sorely tested that status).  Truth be told, I gave up ten pages in.  Let me know if it gets better, but having skimmed some of the later pages out of morbid curiosity, it didn't look like it.

One star.

The Censors: A Sad Allegory, by T. P. Caravan

Another half-page joke piece.  Not as good as the first one.  Three stars.

Sweets to the Sweet, by Paul Jay Robbins

Undistinguished, middle-aged man in a loveless marriage resorts to the occult to make his mark.  In the course of his studies, he discovers he's really a fantastic creature of unknown lineage, requiring just the right spell to express his true form.

This first piece by newcomer Robbins is at once half-baked and overdone, very much a freshman work, and you'll see the conclusion a mile away.  Two stars.

So, once again, F&SF has oscillated into the negative end of the spectrum, and I can't help being tempted to echo the actions of a fellow reader, whose letter Davidson had the bravery to publish:

Lately, I and my friends have been somewhat disappointed with F&SF.  Mr. Davidson leaves something to be desired as an editor.  Therefore, I am declining your kind offer to renew my subscription to your magazine.

E. Gary Gygax, Chicago, Ill.

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

10 Comments Leave A Comment
Book

[July 16, 1963] New old hand (Harlan Ellison's Ellison Wonderland)

6 Comments

[A printing error in the first few paragraphs of this article led to some embarrassing apparent mis-statements as to who Mr. Ellison's English professor was.  If you read this article before 4:30PM Pacific Time, I recommend trying again!]


by Gideon Marcus

Until last month, I'd hardly known of Harlan Ellison.  Oh sure, his outsized personality and less-sized stature made him (in)famous in the fan community in the early '50s, but when he went pro in a big way around 1956, he mostly got published in SF mags I didn't read.  So I was delighted at the opportunity to catch up on what I'd missed with his latest book, a collection of science fiction work from his first eight years, amusingly titled Ellison Wonderland.


(at Worldcon in '55 [courtesy of Fanac])

This is what I know about the fellow: He went to Ohio State for a few semesters, where taught English professor Doris Pitkin Buck, one of the few members of academia who has managed to also have a thriving career in our genre (under her own name, at least).  Unfortunately, the English professor he got was a Robert Shedd, who told Harlan that he had no talent for writing. 

So Harlan dropped out of school and moved to New York in '55 to become a writer (I have a similar story — that's how I became a writer).  NYC adopted him, and he adopted it, and the two are now inextricably linked.  Over the next few years, he sold a raft of stories and not just to the SF mags.  In fact, the bulk of his work went into the mainstream and under-the-counter venues. 

He served in the Army for one hitch, came back, kept writing, and last year, he moved to Los Angeles to make it in Hollywood.  I understand Charles Beaumont helped get him on his feet by connecting him with the TV folks he knew. 

Ellison reminds me a bit of Robert Sheckley.  Both were in the military, both are Jewish, both were and are no longer married.  Their format of choice is the short story, often cynically humorous.  But Ellison's got more of a literary touch to his stuff, more affinity for the macabre.  It'll stand him in good stead as a screenplay composer, I think.

Anyway, his first collection is quite good, particularly in the latter half (the stories are not arranged chronologically, so I suspect he saved his better stuff for last).  You may have seen his stories when they were first published, but it's worth picking up the book for the introductions.  Here's what there is:

Commuter's Problem
from Fantastic Universe, June 1957

The longest piece deals with a salary man who takes the wrong train during his morning commute — and ends up across the galaxy.  A fair flight of fancy, but it never got in the groove for me.  Three stars.

Do-It-Yourself
from Rogue, February 1961

It seems you can get a kit for anything these days, including murder.  See all the ways Madge Rubichek tries to rid herself of her deteriorating husband.  Dark and sly, it's perhaps the Sheckleyist of the stories.  Four stars.

The Silver Corridor
from Infinity, October 1956

Dueling returns in the future, enabled by a fantastic machine that allows two opponents to fight in an unlimited variety of virtual settings.  But in a pure test of mental will, best make sure your convictions are strong!  A neat story, a bit like The Dueling Machine in a recent Analog — but Ellison does it better.  Four stars.

All the Sounds of Fear
from The Saint Detective Magazine, July 1962

The latest story published by Ellison (at least, at the time of the book's compilation) is a mature piece about an actor who really gets into his role.  Such is the danger of being a schizoid — latch onto the wrong model, and you're in for a world of pain.  Four stars.

Gnomebody
from Amazing Stories, October 1956

High school slacker makes a deal with a gnome, but his request is taken a bit too literally.  This is the most trivial piece in the collection, which fits given its early date of creation.  Three stars, barely.

The Sky Is Burning
from IF Science Fiction, August 1958

Why did the aliens fling themselves against our planet, committing suicide by immolation like so many cosmic lemmings?  And what terrible meaning does this have for humanity?  A bit overdone for my tastes — it just doesn't mean as much as it means to.  Three stars.

Mealtime
from Space Travel, September 1958

A trio of spacemen, representing all that is distasteful about our planet, are eaten by a sentient planet.  Indigestion results.  Three stars.

The Very Last Day of a Good Woman
from Rogue, November 1958

Arthur Fullbright is cursed with clairvoyance on the eve of the Earth's destruction.  Worse yet, he's never gotten laid.  That's a set-up for a wacky, slight piece.  This isn't either of those.  Five stars.


(also from Worldcon '55 [courtesy of Fanac])

Battlefield
from Space Travel, November 1958

Some people are career military.  That's all well and good, but what happens when war becomes just another profession, its soldiers a bunch of apathetic commuters doing pitched battle nine-to-five on the Moon (where civilians don't have to see or endure any of that messy killing business)?  If ever there was an argument for conflict to be well televised, this is it.  Three stars.

Deal from the Bottom (written with Joe L. Hensley)
from Rogue, January 1960

A stupid man makes an even dumber deal with the Devil…or at least, one of his understudies.  Cute.  Three stars.

The Wind Beyond the Mountains
from Amazing Stories, January 1957

Harlan Ellison found that, despite having schlepped from one end of the country to the other in his early life, New York was the town for him.  So strongly did he come to this conclusion that he wondered how he survived before he got there…and how he might fare upon having to leave.  Some can handle the disruption.  Others may find it fatal.  This moving story, about a band of interstellar explorers and the aliens they discover, explores that pain of dislocation.  Four stars.

The Forces That Crush
from Amazing Stories, December 1958

Some nebishes amount to too little to be noticed by the world.  One fellow, name of Winsocki, disappears from the ken of humanity altogether, to his chagrin.  I don't know why, but I love this story.  Five stars.

Nothing for My Noon Meal
from Nebula Science Fiction, September 1958

A spacewrecked astronaut finds salvation but tragic disfigurement upon encountering the fluhs, one of the few lifeforms on a barren planet.  But is the change such a curse?  Another story with staying power.  Five stars.

Hadj
from Science Fiction Adventures, December 1956

It's easy to think our species is pretty hot stuff, particularly once we develop space travel and all that jazz.  But it's entirely possible that the reaction we get from the galactic citizenry will be some variant of (as my nephew is fond of saying) "Siss on you, pister — you ain't so muckin' fuch."  Cute, but clearly an early story.  Three stars.

Rain, Rain, Go Away
from Science-Fantasy, December 1956

The third story Ellison ever wrote, it was inspired by the torrential rain storm that accompanied the first week of his arrival in New York.  It seems you can wish for the rain to leave…but it's a loan, not a gift.  Too fantastic for American magazines, it was eventually published across The Pond.  Three stars.

In Lonely Lands
from Fantastic Universe, January 1959

Last up, appropriately, is the story of a dying man and the alien who joins him for his final years as manservant and companion.  It's a lovely, haunting piece.  Four stars.


(a recent pic, from Westercon, with Poul Anderson [courtesy of Fanac])

There you have it — not a clunker in Ellison's first collection, and some instant classics, to boot.  Based on these and the few works of his I've managed to catch elsewhere, I think it's safe to conclude that here is a talent of the first rank, one who will go far no matter which coast he ends up on. 

Buy his book!

[P.S.  Did you take our super short survey yet?  There could be free beer/coffee in it for you!]

6 Comments Leave A Comment
Magazine

[July 10, 1963] (August 1963 Galaxy)

8 Comments


by Gideon Marcus

Last week, we marked the 187th birthday of the United States in traditional fashion.  We launched fireworks, marched in parades, read the Declaration of Independence, and otherwise honored the creation of the world's oldest extant constitutional democracy.  There is a lot to be proud of in the last two centuries of progress, which has seen our nation elevated to the status of first among equals.

At the same time, we still have a long way to go, as evidenced by the numerous Civil Rights protests that have occurred and are occurring around the country every day.  In them, one can see echoes of the original revolution, the one sparked by the land-holding, enfranchised WASPs of the colonies.  Let us hope that the benefits secured by that small group will one day extend to everyone.


Protesters of segregation at Gwynn Oak Park, just outside Baltimore, including Allison Turaj, who had a rock thrown at her.

Speaking of revolutions, every two months, we get to take the pulse of the one started by H.L. Gold, who threw down the gauntlet at the feet of pulp sci-fi in 1950 when he started his scientifiction magazine, Galaxy.  It was once a monthly magazine, but since 1959 it has been a half-again-sized bi-monthly.  This was a cost-saving measure, as was the reduction of writers' rates.  The latter caused a tangible (if not fatal) drop in quality, and it is my understanding that it either has recently been or will soon be reversed.

Thus, the August 1963 Galaxy is a mixed bag, with standout stories by lesser authors and lesser stories by standout authors.  Take a look:

Hot Planet, by Hal Clement

The once great Hugo-winner, Hal Clement, again brings us a scientifically rigorous but largely unreadable tale of an alien planet.  Last time, it was The Green World, about a young planet with paradoxically old features.  This time, the subject is closer to home.  Mercury, as we have described previously, orbits closest to the sun of all the planets, and the sun's gravity likely has frozen the planet's rotation such that it always presents one face to its parent. 

Clement posits that Mercury is so close to the sun, in fact, that the tides (the differential of gravity between the near and far sides of the planet) are strong enough to melt the planet's insides.  This, in turn, causes tremendous vulcanism such that giant cones belch forth internal gasses and give the little world an atmosphere (albeit a scalding and unbreathable one).  This is the Mercury portrayed in The Hot Planet.

It's a fascinating idea, one I've not seen advanced in any of the scientific literature.  It's also highly plausible, and I suspect similar tidal heating is underway in some of the close-in moons of the giant planets. 

Unfortunately, the characters are cardboard, the plot is threadbare, and the writing soporific.  Perhaps Analog can pick Clement up to be their regular science writer, a role for which he is likely better suited.  Two stars.

The Great Nebraska Sea, by Allan Danzig

I've got a friend whose bag is disaster stories.  The bigger, the better.  Climatological events, nuclear wars, flashy alien invasions — he imagines them in the backdrop of his daily life to make it more exciting.  He'd really dig this new "history" written by newcomer, Allan Danzig. 

It's a simple, straightforward recounting of the great crustal shift of '73 that caused the Great Plains to sink dozens of feet and a great rift at the Gulf Coast to form, causing the ocean to permanently flood the central United States.  The event that caused the deaths of 14 million Americans is spun positively, seen through the lens of a far future that has used the Great Nebraska sea to great economic advantage.  Lyric in its matter-of-factness, it's a fun read.  Four stars.

Earthbound, by Lester del Rey

A tiny vignette which asks the question, "At one point does a prison the size of the world become intolerable confinement?"  It punches.  Four stars.

The Problem Makers, by Robert Hoskins

A covert agency of the Terran Empire is tasked with "advancing" the other planets of the galaxy.  Their philosophy is essentially Utilitarianism — if it benefits the most people, it is worthy…no matter how many people must suffer along the way.  Decently written, but it's a smug story, the kind I'd expect in Analog.  If Hoskins meant it as satire, it was too subtle for me.  It offended.  Two stars.

The Pain Peddlers, by Robert Silverberg

This is one of those truly unpleasant tales that I can't help admiring.  In the future, the medical credo has evolved to, "First, do no harm — unless you can make a buck by televising it."  And future television lets you feel as well as watch.  So a nation of sado-masochists gets to viscerally participate from the viewpoint of the patient, who undergoes surgery without anesthesia!  The Pain Peddlers is a dark tale of the production of such hospital shows.

It's good, feeling like it might have come from the pen of Robert Sheckley (where are you these days, Bob?) Four stars…but skip it if you're squeamish.

Here Gather the Stars (Part 2 of 2), by Clifford D. Simak

Last month, Cliff Simak introduced us to Enoch Wallace, a Civil War soldier who retired to rural Wisconsin, ultimately to become the immortal operator of a cosmic way-station.  There, he facilitates the teleportation of aliens across the galaxy.  This issue concludes Wallace's tale.

I mentioned in the first article that the work seemed strangely unpolished.  It meandered, and there was much duplication, as if the novel had not been strongly edited.  That feeling is even stronger in this second half, in which new concepts are introduced in an ad hoc matter. 

There are many several-page sequences which are cul-de-sacs, adding little to the story, and not particularly engaging in and of themselves (for instance, when Wallace goes into his virtual shooting gallery and fights a sequence of imaginary beasts).  We get a parade of alien visitors and gifts and Wallace's somber musing upon them, and sprinkled among them are plot points quickly introduced and resolved:

One of Wallace's actions, done at the request of an alien visitor, nearly causes Earth to be barred from admission to the interstellar group.  There is a Talisman that ties the universe together, but its keeper is unworthy, and so the galactic community is falling apart.  Then it turns out the Talisman has been stolen, and its thief chooses Earth to hide out on.  He is thwarted in his plans by Wallace as well as Lucy, the psychic healer, who it turns out is perfectly suited to be the new keeper.  All of this happens in Part 2 — none of it is hinted at in Part 1!

This all could have made for an interesting story, but the pacing is jagged.  In the end, Simak presents a dozen components but fails to unify or develop them in a satisfying manner.  It saddens me, for Simak is a great author, and there is the germ of a great story here.  As is, it's a three star novel badly in need of a complete rewrite. 

The Birds of Lorrane, by Bill Doede

Last up, Doede brings us the story of an Earther who plunges far beyond the pale of humanity to a desert world on which (it has been told) live a pair of sentient, talking birds.  He finds them, but at such cost that he is left at death's door.  Are the birds his salvation or his ruin?  Interesting, if a bit underdeveloped.  Three stars.

All in all, the revolution seems to have hit a rough patch.  Perhaps Galaxy's new editor, Fred Pohl, can weather this literary Valley Forge such that his ragtag army of new recruits can yet prevail…

8 Comments Leave A Comment