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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[November 22, 1967] Being #3… (December 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Loser of the Pack

According to the very latest Science Fiction Weekly (formerly Degler), F&SF has failed to gain readership in the last several years.  Contrast this to the steady gains (and 2x readership in general) that Analog has enjoyed.

Van Arnam ascribes this stagnation not to the inherent superiority of Campbell's mag, but the fact that F&SF just can't get the same kind of distribution that the other mags enjoy.  The owners of Fantastic and Amazing benefit from having two mags to use as leverage.  Fred Pohl has three, sort of.  And Analog is put out by Condé Nast, which means newsstands get Analog as part of a larger package including big deal pubs like Vogue.

So the question becomes this: would F&SF score better with the fans if distribution was no longer a factor?  In other words, is F&SF a better mag than the rest?  Let's look at this month's issue and find out!

Random sample


by Jack Gaughan

Sundown, by David Redd

I always enjoy stories that mix magic with technology, and this piece by David Redd does so quite well.  The setting is distant world with a steep axial tilt and a long orbit.  Thus, for decades of its solar sojourn, whole swaths of the planet are in perpetual day or night.

Humans came to this world and drove away, enslaved, or slaughtered the natives of the northern polar continent when it was in sunlight.  They built cities, exploited the land, and in general behaved like the expansionistic menace we so often are.  Then the night came again…

As of the beginning of the tale, the dryads, gnomes, fur spirits, oreads, elves, and trolls, have lived in peace for some time, mining the abandoned human colony for metallic treasures under the endless starry night.  But the serpent is returning to paradise: Josef Somes, a human from the southern lands, is trudging north in search of valuable "life-rock", and he doesn't care who he has to kill to get it.

The hero of our story is a the White Lady, a dryad.  Her companions, a stolid, axe-wielding gnome, two fur spirits, and a cronish oread, form a squad whose mission is to dispatch the human before he can defile the fairy Homeground.

There is a lovely world here, and an unusual storytelling perspective.  If the story has any fault, it is the rather prosaic language and somewhat shallow treatment.  I feel Thomas Burnett Swann could have raised the material up to five stars.

It's still a fine piece, though, and an excellent opening to the issue.  Four stars.

The Saga of DMM, by Larry Eisenberg

The synthetic drug, DMM, is not only the tastiest substance in existence, it is the richest food imaginable.  And it's a powerful aphrodesiac.  It soon proves more popular than pot, acid, reds, whites, and heroin comined.  A wave of fornicative obesity sweeps the world, with catastrophic results.

Pretty frivolous satire.  Not really worth your time.  Two stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Brain Wave, by Jennifer Palmer and Stuart Palmer

A male college student is mentally contacted by a comely alien woman from from Alpha Centauri.  A friendly correspondence ensues.

I find I have very little to say about this up-front story, which reads like some kind of wish-fulfillment fantasy until the end, whereupon it has a rather silly twist conclusion (that I suppose is meant to be horrific, but it's really not).

"Mildly diverting fluff" covers it.  It straddles the 2/3 star barrier, but I think it ends up on the poorer end of the spectrum.

Cerberus, by Algis Budrys

Marty McCay is an amiable ad man, legendary for his mildness.  His method for coping with his wife's flagrant infidelities is to tell shaggy dog tales with a punning punchline.  In the end, we see that the butt of his jokes was always himself.

There's no science fiction in this tale.  What there is, however, is some excellent writing.  Four stars.

Noise, by Ted Thomas

In this month's science fact vignette, I thought Thomas was going to propose a sonic weapon.  Instead, he outlines the invention of selective ear-plugs that would blot out the bad noise, but admit desired sounds.

One of his better pieces, which is to say, it doesn't stink.

Three stars.

To Behold the Sun, by Dean R. Koontz

The first expedition to the sun is about to take off, crewed by three regular humans and a cybernetic ship-master.  Unfortunately, said cyborg is still shellshocked from losing his beloved in a fire several years prior.  And what is the sun if not a big ball of fire?

Behold feels as if Koontz read a bunch of Zelazny tales and thought, "I can do this too!"  Well, he can't.  His writing is hamfisted, the science is silly, and the situation is contrived.

Besides, if they wanted a safe trip to the sun, they should have waited until nighttime…

Two stars.

The Power of the Mandarin, by Gahan Wilson

Wilson not only provides the cartoons for each issue of F&SF, he is also an author.  Mandarin is the story of a pulp villain increasingly taking control of his creator's work, ultimately departing from the printed page into reality.

Reasonably well done, and arguably more successful than his drawings.  Three stars.

The First Metal, by Isaac Asimov

I rate an Asimov article by its memorability and quotability.  The good Doctor's discussion of the earliest knowledge of metals was pretty interesting, and I ended up summarizing the piece to my family on one of our morning walks.  The only real fault with the piece is that it would have been well served by a couple more pages.

Four stars.

The Chelmlins, by Leonard Tushnet

A droll piece about how the Jewish version of the Leprechauns helps keep the schlemiels of the Polish city of Chelm from becoming schlimazels.  It's the kind of story Avram Davidson might write, though had he done so, it may well have been funnier.  Chelmlins isn't bad, but it doesn't quite hit the mark hard enough.

Three stars.

The Cloud-Sculptors of Coral D, by J. G. Ballard

Finally, the latest story in the Vermillion Sands setting.  These tales of the rather surreal artists colony tend to be my favorite by Ballard.  This particular one involves a troupe of cloud-sculptors: glider pilots who use silver iodide and custom aircraft to create ephemeral images in the sky.  They are hired by a bitter widow possessed of extreme vanity, with deadly results.

If you've read one story, you've read them all.  They universally involve desolate landscapes, a dreamy sense of time, and have a sour undertone.  This was dramatic stuff when Ballard first came on the scene early in the decade, but it's getting a bit played out.

Three stars.

Hung jury

This issue turned out to be a bit of a mixed bag.  There are some stand-out pieces and some duds.  Most interestingly, we have a several stories that would have been well served by being written by greater talents.  On the other hand, rawer authors have to start somewhere, so I'd hate to deny them their chance to improve.

All in all, this issue would probably keep me subscribing, particularly at the discounted holiday rates.  I don't know if the quality demonstrated in the December 1967 F&SF would be sufficient to displace other mags for the Best Magazine Hugo, however, even if distribution were not an issue.

It's all academic, in the end.  As long as you order directly from the company, it doesn't really matter how many newsstands the magazine ends up on.  So tell your friends and get a subscription today.  You just might help F&SF outlast all of its competitiors!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 22, 1967] Equal Opportunity Employer (November 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

It is the Policy of the United States Government

Say what you will about LBJ's unfortunate Vietnam policy, there's no question but that his last four years in office have seen more progress on the Civil Rights front than any four decades since the 15th Amendment.

Case in point: just over a week ago, on October 13, 1967, the President signed Executive Order 11375. 

It is desirable that the equal employment opportunity programs provided for in Executive Order No. 11246 expressly embrace discrimination on account of sex.

Hencefoth, in the federal government, and in any federally contracted organization, there must be no discrimination on the basis of sex.


Dorothy Hudson Jacobson, USDA Assistant Secretary for International Affairs


Evelyn Brown; starting in 1963, she was the first woman since WW2 to deliver mail in the nation's capital

It does not immediately solve the rampant inequality and sexist structure in our society, but it is the first step.  An important one.  Not just for justice and quality of life, but for the prosperity of our nation.  For when half the population is allowed to participate without fetter, the fruits in terms of production and innovation, must necessarily more than double, but perhaps even quadruple.

It is the Policy of F&SF

This is something the editorial staff at The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction has always known.  While women have only produced 10% of all published science fiction stories, F&SF has always printed a disproportionate number of them.  When there were thirty monthly magazines, F&SF alone published half of the stories by women.  I daresay its a big reason why F&SF has both managed to remain in the top tiers of the SF digests, and also why F&SF seems to have the highest readership of women.

Nearly half the text in this month's issue (including the only book column penned by a woman) is female-made.  It is perhaps not a surprise that this is one of the better issues of the magazine this year.  After all, when one opens up the lists to all comers rather than just half of them, there's more quality to choose from.


by Gray Morrow

The Sword Swallower, Ron Goulart

But first, a slight misstep.  Ron Goulart is pretty good at witty stories with an element of earthiness.  In particular, his stories about his occult detective, Max Kearney, and the tales of the shapechanging agent, Ben Jolson, are generally something to look forward to.


Ron Goulart

Swallower is a story of the latter, but sadly, it is not up to Goulart's usual standard.  In this piece, Ben is sent to a planet that specializes in sanatoria and funerals–life and death in one package–to investigate the disappearances (and presumed kidnappings) of several government officials.  It reads like someone ghost wrote a Goulart story, containing all the requisite elements, but failing to deliver on humor or interest.

Two stars.

Ballet Nègre, Charles Birkin

The next story is something of a failure, too, about an investigative reporter who must interview the star duo of dancers in a Haitian troupe.  Their ability to walk in flames, their complete silence, and their ghostly pallor intrigue him.

Well, of course they're zombies, and bog standard zombies of the type we've seen in fiction and on teevee for decades.  It's all sort of breathless and lurid, and entirely unsurprising.

Two stars.


Gahan Wilson

Ah, but beginning with the book column (in which Judy Merril promises she will soon have another volume of her controversial but always genre-broadening "Year's Best" anthologies soon), the magazine takes a decided turn for the better.

The Vine, Kit Reed

In a rustic somewhere and somewhen, the vine grows.  It produces the most sumptuous grapes, the most viridian foliage.  But the vine is not for use by humans.  Quite the opposite.  For generations, the Baskin family has cared for the vine, maintaining its elaborate greenhouse, keeping the pests off, ensuring its propagation, in a way becoming intertwined with it.  The other town-dwellers at first resented this unnaturally demanding growth, but in time, it became a tourist attraction.  Soon, the entire economy was based around the now-sprawling vegetable.

However, the vine hungers, and one family can no longer sate it…

Kit Reed has always delivered a large dose of atmosphere with her writing.  This one stays with you.

Four stars.

Nothing Much to Relate, Josephine Saxton

I think this is Saxton's second story; she first appeared in Science Fantasy, so I assume she is from Britain.  It's a cute tale involving a new mother with a talent for automatic writing, and a would-be-yogi who bites off more than he can chew.

It's a rather frivolous piece, but fun all the same.  Three stars.

When the Birds Die, Eduardo Goligorsky (translated by Vernor Vinge)

Here's a rather straightforward and simple after-the-bomb piece about a hobo who, for a little while, lives like a king thanks to his stockpile of vital supplies.  This one's all in the telling, which is particularly remarkable given that it's a story in translation (so, good job Vernor).

Three stars.

The Little Victims, Hilary Bailey

Bailey is another import from the UK, known for her many appearances in New Worlds.  This novella is easily the highlight of the issue.  Rose Dalby is a pregnant young woman who flees a drug den only to be swept into and confined in some sort of weird maternity hospital.  Each of the many mothers gives birth to some kind of monster, either idiotic or preternaturally advanced.  Something sinister is afoot, and Rose is determined to be no part of it.  Fortunately, the world is not entirely composed of evil men.

Not only is the story quite excellent, but the format is rather novel, told as multiple transcripts in an official inquiry document.  The only failing is the rather talky ending.  Still, good stuff, and more please.

Four stars.

Knock Plastic!, Isaac Asimov

Doc A seemed to have fallen into a rut recently.  His articles were either about the most inconsequential and trivial of things ("What latitude can the cities of St. John and Paris be found at?") or, worse, long lists that one could find in the back of any good atlas.

This month, he breaks the mold, detailing the six primary superstitious fallacies.  I enjoyed this piece enough to read it aloud to the Young Traveler.

Five stars.

A Message from Charity, William M. Lee

Finally, the story of a long communication across the centuries.  The telepathic penpals: young Charity Paynes of 18th Century Annes Town, and slightly less young Peter Wood of a 20th Century suburb occupying the same space.  Brought upon by a bout of summer typhoid (in both eras), the two slowly form a bond that goes beyond the sending of messages, including even the exchange of sensations.

Of course, a girl who speaks to unseen things in 1700 New England tends to arouse suspicion.

I first expected this story to be routine (even cliché); then I feared it might become unpleasantly dark.  Lee adroitly manages both outcomes.  I'm not sure if I would give it a fourth star, but it certainly lands in the high threes.

By Virtue of the Authority

Excluding the first two stories, one has a cracking good read for four bits.  Even including them, the November 1967 issue of F&SF clocks in at 3.25 stars.  Given that even Analog is getting into the equal opportunity act, I think we may be headed for a new golden era of science fiction.

Or should that be "Rose Golden"?

Speaking of which, I think you'll very much enjoy Journey Press' newest release:

You've probably heard of Marie Vibbert, one of the biggest names in SFF magazines in the far off 21st Century.  Her book, The Gods Awoke, is what I've been calling "a new New Wave masterpiece".

Do check it out.  You'll not only be getting a great book, but you'll be supporting the Journey!




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Book, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[October 10, 1967] Jack the Ripper and Company (Dangerous Visions,Part One)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

There's a new anthology of original science fiction and fantasy stories in bookstores this month. It's certain to be the topic of a lot of discussion among SF buffs, and maybe even some arguments.

It's also big; more than five hundred pages, and it'll set you back a whopping seven bucks. It's so big, in fact, that Galactic Journey is going to slice it into three pieces and discuss it in a trio of articles. (Why three? Because it's got thirty-three stories in it, and eleven articles would be silly.)

Let's dig into the first part of this mammoth collection and see if it's destined to be the Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band of speculative fiction, or just another dud.

Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison


Wraparound cover art by the husband-and-wife team of Leo and Diane Dillon, who also provide an interior illustration for each story.

Before we get to the nitty-gritty of fiction, we've got no less than two forewords by Isaac Asimov and a lengthy introduction by the editor.

In The Second Revolution, the Good Doctor outlines the history of modern science fiction from Gernsback through Campbell, and into the New Wave. Astounding was the first revolution, you see, and now we're in the second one. That may be a little simplistic, but it gets the point across.

Harlan and I, on the other hand, is a personal essay about Asimov's relationship with the editor, ending with a teasing anecdote. Ellison adds a long footnote offering a different version of their first encounter.

More substantial is Thirty-Two Soothsayers, the editor's longwinded but endlessly entertaining and informative account of what this book is supposed to accomplish, and how it came to be. Ellison wanders all over the place in this piece, and it's a fun ride. In brief, the stories he chose are supposed to be both enjoyable and provocative, with new ideas that might not appear in the usual SF markets. We'll see.

(If you're wondering why thirty-two and not thirty-three, it's because one writer supplies two stories; but that's for another time.)

I should mention that each story comes with an introduction by the editor and an afterword by the author, except for the one case when those roles are reversed. You'll see what I mean in a while.

I'm going to do something a little different here. I'll rate the quality of each story with the usual one to five stars, but I'll also add an indication for how dangerous each one is. This will be determined by sexual content, violence, profanity, experimental narrative style, taboo subject matter, etc. GREEN = safe to proceed, YELLOW = caution indicated, RED = hazardous conditions.

Let's begin.

Evensong, by Lester del Rey

An unnamed character flees through the universe in an attempt to escape those who have overthrown his reign. To say anything else would give away the point of the story, which is an allegory.

Three stars. YELLOW for questioning the deeply held beliefs of some readers.

Flies, by Robert Silverberg

In a premise similar to his excellent novel Thorns, the author presents a severely injured astronaut who has been put back together by aliens. In this case, however, his body has been restored to normal, but his mind has been made more sensitive to the emotions of others. That doesn't work out well.

Silverberg has become a fine writer, one of the best now working. Like Thorns, this is an uncompromising look at human suffering.

Five stars. YELLOW for scenes of extreme cruelty.

The Day After the Day the Martians Came, by Frederik Pohl

Set in the very near future, this tale deals with humanity's reaction to the discovery of ugly, semi-intelligent lifeforms on the red planet. Mostly, people make nasty jokes about them. The intent of the story is to expose human prejudices, in a way that's about as subtle as a brick thrown through a window.

Three stars. YELLOW for dealing with a major social problem in the USA today.

Riders of the Purple Wage, by Philip Jose Farmer

This is, by far, the longest story in the book. It is also incredibly dense and fast-paced, so any attempt to describe the plot would be a miserable failure. That said, I'll just mention that it takes place in a very strange future, involves an artist and his tax-dodging ancestor, and contains a ton of wordplay. There are scenes of slapstick violence that are simultaneously hilarious and offensive. It's a wild rollercoaster ride, so keep your seatbelt tightly secured.

Five stars. RED for a Joycean narrative style and Rabelaisian humor.

The Malley System, by Miriam Allen deFord

In the future, the worst criminals receive a very unusual punishment. This is a grim story, that doesn't shy away from the horrors perpetuated by human monsters.

Three stars. YELLOW for violence.

A Toy for Juliette, by Robert Bloch

In a decadent future, a man uses the only time machine in existence to kidnap people from the past, in order to satisfy the whims of his sadistic granddaughter. He picks the wrong potential victim. This is a spine-chilling little science fiction horror story with a twist in its tail.

Three stars. YELLOW for sex, torture, and murder.

The Prowler in the City at the Edge of the World, by Harlan Ellison

This is a direct sequel to the previous story, with an introduction by Bloch and an afterword by Ellison. An infamous murderer finds himself in the far future, where the inhabitants enter his mind in order to enjoy his sensations as he kills.

Written in an experimental, almost cinematic style, this is an unrelenting look at the evil that lurks inside all of us. Not for weak stomachs.

Four stars. RED for explicit violence.

The Night That All Time Broke Out, by Brian W. Aldiss

People get so-called time gas supplied to their homes through pipes. It allows them to enjoy better times in the past. As with any form of technology, things can go wrong. This is a light comedy with a unique premise.

Three stars. GREEN for whimsy.

The Man Who Went to the Moon – Twice, by Howard Rodman

A young boy takes a trip to the Moon by holding on to a balloon, becoming a local celebrity. Many years later, as a very old man, his only claim to fame is not as valued as it once was. Reminiscent of Ray Bradbury, this is a gentle, quietly melancholy tale.

Three stars. GREEN for wistful nostalgia.

Faith of Our Fathers, by Philip K. Dick

The Communist East has won a hot war with the Capitalist West. The protagonist is a bureaucrat given the task to determine which of two term papers truly represents the Party line. Meanwhile, a seemingly harmless substance allows him to perceive what appear to be multiple and contradictory truths about the Mao-like Party leader.

That's a vague synopsis, because this is one of the author's stories in which you've never quite sure what is real and what is illusory. Ellison strongly hints that it was written under the influence of hallucinatory drugs. Be that as it may, it's a provocative and disturbing look at the possible nature of reality.

Four stars. YELLOW for politics, drug use, and existential terror.

The Jigsaw Man, by Larry Niven

A man is sentenced to death for his crime. His organs will be harvested for transplant. Through a series of unusual circumstances, he manages to escape from prison, but his troubles aren't over yet.

The full impact of this story doesn't hit the reader until the very end, when we find out the nature of the man's offense.  Other than that, it's an ordinary enough science fiction action/suspense story.

Three stars.  GREEN for futuristic adventure.

One Down, Two To Go

So far, this is a fine collection of stories, without a bad one in the bunch.  Sensitive readers might want to stay away from the more dangerous ones, but most mature SF fans will enjoy it.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[September 18, 1967] Skål! (October 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Vicious Varangians

Reliving the Middle Ages "as they ought to have been" is all the rage now, from Renaissance Pleasure Faires to The Society for Creative Anachronism to The Byrd's song, "Renaissance Faire".  Not to be left out, our corner of San Diego has decided to put on its own Viking Fest, featuring axe-throwing, mead-drinking, and general revelry.

Of course, the seasoned time-traveling Journey crowd attended!

Something to cheer about

It's been a while since I've been able to report on a issue that's good from bow to stern (recognizing that such things are rare, of course–Sturgeon's Law ensures much of what anyone reads must not be the best).  I'm happy to report that this month's issue of Fantasy of Science Fiction was quite enjoyable.


by Chesley Bonestell; as usual, it doesn't illustrate any of the stories inside

Home the Hard Way, by Richard McKenna

Chief Biotech Skinner Webb of the Galactic Patrol Ship Carlyle is determined to jump ship.  The why: planet Conover is the loveliest world Webb has ever espied, and its richest denizens have offered him the moon…and a chance at love with a plump and gorgeous scion.

Sadly for Skinner, he's got a seven year hitch.  And so, he does his damndest to get out of it, going AWOL, starting fights, even consorting with a criminal element.  All it does it lose him stripes and put him under Vry Chalmers, his former adjutant and long-suffering friend.  Will Webb ever get to paradise?

Author Richard McKenna seems to write more now that he's dead than he did when he was alive.  I quite enjoyed this space-based yarn, and I particularly appreciated the frequent appearance of women in the navy–as high rated enlisted men, no less.  I don't think I've ever seen that particular touch in a story.  We've had women officers (q.v. Star Trek and Starship Troopers), but no women grunts.  Certainly, it's a rare thing.

Of course, as my wife notes, why anyone would fall for Skinner Webb, when he's something of a lummox, is a bit of a mystery.  But perhaps we just have an unsympathetic narrator.  In any event, this story gets an unreserved four stars.

The Inner Circles, by Fritz Leiber

The artful Leiber offers up this tale of a family that seems to create its own reality.  The father molds ebony companions out of shadow, with whom he converses over watered-down martinis.  The mother sketches fanciful worlds and imagines that the machines of the house talk to her.  And the son is an interstellar rocket jockey, aided by just a few toys as visual aids.

Notable for including the second use of the word "shit" in as many months in F&SF (will the mails stop carrying this trashy publication?) and for a surprising but welcome happy ending, this is another good piece.  Leiber, a veteran stage actor, has mastered the art of rendering the theatrical in his prose.  Four stars.


Speaking of Leiber…

Camels and Dromedaries, Clem, by R. A. Lafferty

Cleminger is a big man, one of the hottest traveling salesmen in the country.  In fact, he's a little too big: one day, he falls asleep in a hotel and splits into two beings–externally identical, but somehow each half a man.  The two go on to live separate lives, until their desirable and desiring wife, Veronica, demands an end to the intolerable situation.

Lafferty is always whimsical, but this piece feels a bit more grounded than most–more Ellison than Lafferty.  Once again, it's enjoyable from beginning to end.  That's three four-star stories in a row!

The Power of Every Root, by Avram Davidson

Now off to sunny Mexico, where Carlos Rodriguez Nunez, police officer of the municipality of Santo Tomas, finds himself increasingly afflicted with physical maladies, as well as furtively derided by his townsfolk.  Is it a disease?  A hex?  The doctor cannot help, and the witch doctor's advice seems spurious.  Surely his luscious wife, Lupe, is above suspicion…

Davidson, once editor of F&SF, fled to Mexico for a while after abandoning the helm of this magazine.  He clearly absorbed enough of the local color to vividly paint this tale.  While ably told and a beautiful travelogue, the plot itself is rather slight, so I'm afraid three stars is my limit for this one.

Corona, by Samuel R. Delany

I've often complained that everybody else gets to review Chip Delany's work but me.  Well, I got what's coming to me.  This story involves a troublemaking hulk of a blue collar man named Buddy, who forms a rapport with "the prettiest little colored girl" named Lee, afflicted with uncontrollable telepathy.  Said nine-year old has seen too much to want to live any longer.  But her love for the popular music of Bryan Faust, particularly sharing it with Buddy, may give her a new lease on life.

If it weren't for the sentimentality, I'd say this is more Analog than F&SF.  That said, despite the obvious attempts to be moving, I found myself curiously unmoved by this tale.

Three stars.

Music to My Ears, by Isaac Asimov

Speaking of music, Dr. A manages to take a potentially interesting topic–namely, the mathematical relationships between wave frequencies that underlie the fundamental scales of music–and make it not only dull as dishwater, but also virtually impenetrable.

And I have both a math and a music degree!

Two stars.

Alas, Poor Yorick! I Knew Him Well Enuff, by Joan Patricia Basch

Equity's a great gig.  It's virtually impossible to get canned from a show when you're equity, even if you're dead!  But what if you really need that not-dead skull who's a member of the guild to shut up so you can finish the damned play?

Basch has written a cute story, and it's likely to wring a grin or two from you, if nothing else.

Three stars.

Time, by L. Sprague de Camp

Poetry by a regular contributor of same, this time lamenting over the greats he'll never meet, and the fans he'll never know.

Three stars, I guess.

Cry Hope, Cry Fury!, by J. G. Ballard

We return to the crystalline seas of Vermillion Sands.  A yachter by the name of Melville is stranded when his sand boat blows a tire.  A wraith-like vision of a woman named Hope offers succor, but her obsession with an old flame (whom she may or may not have killed) belies the pleasant qualities of her namesake.

I tend to prefer Vermillion Sands stories to the more kaleidoscopic stuff Ballard has been turning in of late.  There's more of a through-line.  I also like the idea of photographic paints that depict ever-changing portraits of their subjects.

I don't think I'd give it four stars, but it's definitely interesting.

Praise be to Odin!

With no bad fiction and some solid hits in the first half of the mag, this issue of F&SF is definitely something to foray from home for (it's not as if the Vikings got home delivery of their sf mags.) That's something to toast to!

Here's looking forward to more of the same in the issues to come.


by Gahan Wilson

If you're here, you're obviously a big fan of classic fantasy and science fiction.  As you know, I founded Journey Press to revive lost classics and to bring into bring new works that evoke that same timeless quality.

I think you'll very much enjoy our newest release.  You've probably heard of Marie Vibbert, one of the biggest names in SFF magazines these days.  Her book, The Gods Awoke, is what I've been calling "a new New Wave masterpiece":

Do check it out.  You'll not only be getting a great book, but you'll be supporting the Journey!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[August 18, 1967] The Best and the Brightest? (September 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Inside baseball

In the latest issue of Science Fiction Times, author Norman Spinrad complains that with just four science fiction magazines left, under the helm of three editors, it is impossible for the 250 members of the newly formed Science Fiction Writers of America to make a living at short story writing.  Spinrad also says that the editors have their chosen pet authors (Spinrad calls them "whores"), and because they are gauranteed slots, other writers are left in the cold. This, Spinrad maintains, is why so many folks are turning to novels or TV to make ends meet.  He feels this is a shame since you can do things with short stories and novelettes you can't do with novel-length pieces.  Spinrad notes that we'll never get another Sturgeon, Bradbury, or Cordwainer Smith under the current situation (I note with some amusement that Cordwainer Smith was one of Pohl's so-called "pets", which I guess makes him a brilliant "whore", according to Spinrad's definition).

Spinrad ends his piece urging that writers demand that Amazing and Fantastic end their mainly-reprint policy (they don't pay for them, which has provoked an SFWA boycott) and that Pohl be fired from at least one of his magazines.  This, Spinrad asserts, will create more slots, which will encourage more writers, which will generate audience demand, which will promote the creation of more short length outlets, whether magazines or paperbacks.

A name Spinrad does not specifically mention as having a pet policy is Ed Ferman, editor of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  Ferman is fairly new to the job, and F&SF has typically cast a wider net to gather its stories.  There are also more slots per issue, as F&SF tends toward shorter pieces.

I would thus conclude that, if any place in science fiction would still offer a quality selection of stories, it would be F&SF.  They can, after all, print the best of the best that the 250 SFWAers can offer.

Let's open up this month's F&SF and see if that be the case.

Off the slush pile


by Richard Corben

Out of Time, Out of Place, by George Collyn

The lead piece is by a fellow we normally see in mags on the other side of the pond (Spinrad did not mention the UK mags as potential markets, but to be fair, there's only one left).  Collyn's tale features a spaceman returned from a fifty year voyage to find the world completely changed.  He is but ten years aged thanks to relativity, and so he is a young, lonely man utterly divorced from society.

But one day, he finds the most extraordinary woman, and they marry and live in bliss.  Until he discovers what she does for a living, and how it relates to an advance in mass media technology called "altrigo"…

The problem with this story, aside from the disturbing ending, is that it's just been done by Kate Wilhem in her piece, Baby, you were great!, which just appeared in Orbit 2.  Thus, I knew what was coming miles early.  Very distracting.

Three stars.

The Cyclops Juju, by I. Shamus Frazer

The next two stories involve African magic clashing with Westerners.  I'm always leery of such tales.  They smack of parochialism and usually hinge on a pretty narrow idea of what goes on in the vast continent that straddles the equator.  Neither of these pieces disabused me of this view.

Juju takes place in an English boarding school.  One of the students has brought a wooden statue of a cyclops, apparently modeled on the prow of an old slaver ship and worshiped as a totem by an African tribe.  All of the students who sleep in the same room with it begin experiencing a sequential dream, that they are captive slaves on the ship who break free and land on an island with the slaver crew as captives.  Over time, the totem exerts greater and greater control over the students until it is uncertain what is dream and what is reality.

Of course, stories like this depend on willful ignorance on the part of the authority figures so things can get sufficiently out of hand.  In the end, this is a reasonably well told horror/fantasy that feels like it would have done well in a prior decade.  It feels out of touch here.

Three stars.

Night of the Leopard, by William Sambrot

Faring worse is this piece, involving missionaries sent to Sierra Leone on a peace-corps-esque endeavor.  Opposing them is a witch doctor with a draconian control over a starving village and the putative ability to turn into a leopard.  The linchpin to defeating him is Eunice Gantly, an American of African extraction (specifically Masai).  The witch doctor's attempts to seduce and subvert Eunice end up backlashing.  The result is pure Twilight Zone corn.

The problems with this story are several-fold.  For one, it was done before, and better, by Richard Matheson in 1960.  For this same magazine.  Moreover, I take umbrage at the idea that people have these racial memories that can be unlocked.  And even then, Eunice and the witch doctor are as related as me (Eastern European Jew) and my wife (Western European mutt).  That is to say, we might be the same color, but I doubt our genetics have been within a thousand miles of each other.  The idea that all Africans, or even all Sub-Saharan Africans, belong to a single society is laughable and a bit offensive.

Two stars.


by Gahan Wilson — I think his feature does not better this magazine

The Saw and the Carpenter, by J. T. McIntosh

SF veteran McIntosh offers up this serviceable murder mystery: the son of a space station commander is murdered by a robot.  Since robots must be programmed, the culprit must be human.  A robot expert is sent to investigate.

The story is reasonably executed, even if the characters all have exotic names like "Bob" and "John" and "Lucy" (one wonders if they were placeholders the author forgot to modify).  The ending is…interesting.  Apparently, Asimov's Three "Laws" don't always apply.

Anyway, three stars.

A Thousand Deaths, by Jack London

Because there are so many writers submitting pieces to F&SF, it follows that the editor would run…a 70 year old reprint.  This early London tale is about a seaman who is subject to a hideous series of experiments in resurrection.  Captive of a mad scientist, said sailor is murdered again and again, only to be brought back by a wonder process.  But is a life of dying really what you'd call living?

It's all very breathless and pre-pulp, and while fun to an extent, and valuable historically, I'm not sure I'd rather have it than a new story.

Three stars.

Donny Baby, by Susan Trott

A married couple, part of the avocado tree crowd, have a baby the same day their seed finally sprouts.  The sapling and the infant seem to have intertwined lives.

Had I read this as I was putting together Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1953-1957), I might have given it three stars.  Ten years after the fact, I'm afraid it merits just two.

The Great Borning, by Isaac Asimov

The science article by Dr. A is something of a highlight.  I had grown up with all of the names of the geological eras, periods, epochs, etc., but I'd never grasped their meaning.  This is an informative etymological piece.

Four stars.

A Secret from Hellas, by I. Yefremov

Finally, another reprint, though it is probably more accurate to call it an import.  A sculptor feels compelled to make a particular kind of statue, though he is hampered by an injury to his hand sustained in the war.  This piece bears some kinship with the African duo earlier in the piece, although the dreamscape and racial memories in this tale are of Greek origin rather than African.

It is the definition of forgettable but inoffensive.  Three stars.

Throw it back

One of Spinrad's points was not only that writers can't find enough short story slots to make a living, but that writers are so discouraged that they aren't even trying to write SF short stories anymore.  I suppose that could be the explanation why the once proud Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction is reduced to publishing tired clichés and reprints.

But it's a chicken and egg thing, right?  If there's no supply of good stories, demand wanes.  Once demand wanes, how do you build it back up?  Maybe Damon Knight has found the answer with his Orbit series.  It may well be time to think about new media for shorter pieces.  I think I'd rather have several paperbacks of excellent stuff than a dozen issues of mediocrity.  Sure, I'll miss the attendant quirks of each publication — the science articles, the lettercols, the editorial comments, etc., but I think I'd rather just have the good stories and save the auxilary stuff for fanzines and Scientific American.

What do you think?

Better stories from the heyday of science fiction magazines can be found in the two Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women volumes.  Highly recommended!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[July 20, 1967] An Analog of Analog (August 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

Imitation is…

I think it's safe to say that, for almost twenty years there have been three Big Science Fiction Magazines.  Each aims at a specific branch of the scientification fandom.  For instance, John Campbell's Analog (formerly Astounding) is at once the hardest of the Big Mags, focusing on near-future gizmo tech or sweeping galactic epics with a scientific core, and also one of the softest, given John's weakness for psi stories.

The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction covers the literary end of the STF spectrum, and it also veers into the outright fantastical (q.v. the masthead).  Galaxy navigates a sort of middle path between the two.

But the most recent issue of FS&F had me wondering exactly which magazine I was reading again, for this month, Ed Ferman's publication feels a lot like Campbell's.  Perhaps writers have finally answered FS&F's plea for harder works, or maybe Ferman finally had a sufficient number of such pieces to fill (most of) an issue.  Either way, it's an interesting departure, especially with the increased art throughout.  Does it work?  Let's find out!


by Ronald Walotsky

Nuts, Bolts, and Dragons

Reduction in Arms, by Tom Purdom

My good friend Tom Purdom offers up this fascinating piece set in the early '80s.  The superpowers have bound themselves by the Treaty of Peking to curtail the development and implementation of terrible weapons.  But there is always the suspicion that one side or another is working on some version of a "ninety-five plus virus"–one that will wipe out most of a non-incoluated population.

Sure enough, American agents are tipped off when a Soviet biologist, supposed to be a patient in a specialized "role-play" treatment center, is found cavorting with ladies at a bar 30 miles away.  A raid is authorized.  Between hostile Soviets and rogue team members, the investigation quickly becomes fraught with peril.

Tom himself has this to say about the tale:

After I got out of the army in 1961 I became very interested in arms control and disarmament.  I did a lot of reading on the subject and ended up writing two articles for the Kiwanis magazine (a good middle market for a new writer).  An opportunity to write an article for Playboy didn't work out but I got to interview some of the people I'd been reading.

Fred Pohl suggested I write a story on the subject for Galaxy.  I didn't think I could handle the technical stuff needed for a story about detecting nuclear weapons so I decided to write about biological weapons which seemed like they might be the next big threat.  Microbiology labs, in addition, can be hidden in all sorts of small spaces.  I decided to focus on a treaty banning secret research because I had come to the conclusion we tended to run the arms race against ourselves.  Our people thought up a possibility and we had to work on it because the Russians might be working on it.  If we could determine they weren't, both sides could avoid another cycle in the arms race.

I picked a mental health facility as the hiding place because it raised interesting human and moral issues.  The story revolves around ethical and political issues instead of a duel between inspection technologies and evasion technologies.  The programmed environment therapy seemed like a natural extension of Pavlovian conditioning.

Fred Pohl rejected the story.  My agent, Scott Meredith, tried it on Redbook and Esquire with near misses at both places.  The fiction editor at Esquire said he wanted to buy it but he was overruled by higher ups.

The story was a novelette, about ten thousand words.  Playboy said they'd buy it if I could cut it in half.  I did but they rejected it.  Ed Ferman at F&SF liked the short version but felt it needed to be longer.  So I expanded it to its original length.  He bought it and now it's the August cover story.  One of the peak moments in my writing career, so far.

The story grew out of intense, solid research and some deep thinking on the whole problem of arms control.  When I finished it, I felt I had summarized and dramatized the key issues and dilemmas.  Perhaps the sweeping treaty in the story isn't very plausible.  We live in a time when the advance of technology makes serious arms control seem a necessity–so necessary even the politicians will have to see it.  Science fiction explores What might happen if?  The If may seem unlikely, but is still worth exploring.

I originally called the story "1980".  Ed Ferman asked for a change and I thought Reduction in Arms had a nice military clatter.  I also suggested War and Peace and A Farewell to Arms but he preferred Reduction in Arms.

There's no question that Tom has gotten a feather in his cap for the placement of this tale.  I will say that, although I found the concept interesting, it suffers for being an action piece told in third-person by a largely uninvolved party.  Visceral immediacy would have given the story more punch.

Still, it was interesting to see a Reynolds-esque thriller outside of Analog— and without the nardy slang Reynolds employs.

Three stars.


by Gahan Wilson

The Conflict, by Ilya Varshavsky

Here is an import from the Soviet Union, about the large and small scale strife between humans and their increasingly sapient "servants".

I think it loses something in translation.  Two stars.

The Baron's Dog, by L. J. T. Biese

When an unemployed governess in Italy is offered 25,000 lira a month to walk a Transylvanian wolfhound, what's a girl to think?  Especially when the employer is tall, dark, handsome…and strictly enjoins against photography of his pet?

I found this tale delightful, such a nice contrast from all the creeping horror that such a setup normally would have entailed.  It's not quite Analogian, but it is good.  And if L.J.T. Biese isn't a woman, I'll eat my hat.

Four stars.

Soft Come the Dragons, by Dean R. Koontz

Koontz is a brand new author, and he offers up the tale of a far-off world, the miners who live in fear upon it, and the gossamer dragons that turn beholders to stone.  It's all rather metaphorical and lyrical and not quite sensical, rather as if Koontz spent the night reading Zelazny's works and then tried his hand at it.

I'd say it works more than it doesn't, but Koontz' rawness definitely shows through.  Three stars.

Earthwoman, by Reginald Bretnor

Will Adamson, born on a distant world, is human in all qualities save one: he and his race are possessed of telepathy, knit into a consciousness collective.  He is sent to Earth to discern how it is that we can love without the possibility of true connection.  And if we truly be human, is there an innate telepathic skill just waiting to be awakened?

Bretnor usually write silly stories or bad puns, so this more serious piece is a welcome change.  I found it a touch too affected, but otherwise enjoyable.  And definitely something that could have appeared in Analog.

Three stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

Mosquito, by Theodore L. Thomas

F&SF's story seeder suggests mosquitos might be laden with vitamins and inoculants such that their bite becomes a beneficial distribution method.  As usual, he misses some important aspects of his invention.  To wit, mosquito bites are not controllable in distribution or quantity.  And even if they provide needed drugs and nutrients, they still aren't pleasant to receive.

Two stars.

Bugs, by Charles L. Harness

Speaking of bugs, Charles L. Harness (who used to team up with Thomas under the pen name Leonard Lockhard) has authored this story of living bugs employed as espionage bugs.

There's a lot of "as you know" explanations, and the smugness with which the Americans subvert their KGB counterparts is pure Analog.

Mildly interesting, but just a bit too glib as well as prolix.  Two stars.

The Bubble, by J. W. Schutz

The destruction of humanity's first and only space station has spooked the government, and now they've decided to pull the plug on space investment.  Deane Aircraft, the largest space contractor, is faced with a pivotal decision: retool back to making conventional vehicles, or become the first private space presence.  The linchpin to the success of the operation isn't Theodor Deane, President of the company, nor the thousands of engineers he employs.  It's certainly not Theodor's greedy wife, Lillian, nor her paramour, Briggs, who is also Theodor's financial wiz.

It's Georgia Lighton, Theodor's secretary, who comes up with all the brilliant, cost-saving ideas.

The whole thing reads like a cross between Silverberg's Regan's Planet and a soap opera.  Again, very Analog.

Not great, but Analog.  Three stars.

Moondust, the Smell of Hay, and Dialectical Materialism, by Thomas M. Disch

The first man on the Moon, Mikhail Andreivich Karkhov, is dying.  Does he die for science?  For love?  For the state?  Or something else entirely?

A beautiful, moving piece, made all the more poignant by the recent twin tragedies that claimed the lives of three astronauts and one cosmonaut.

Five stars.


by Ed Emshwiller

Argent Blood, by Joe L. Hensley

A man is being treated in a ward for the incurably insane.  Between fits of "disturbance" he begins to mistrust the charitable nature of his doctor and nurse.  But he has a plan…

A good, atmospheric piece.  Three stars.

Kaleidoscope in the Sky, by Isaac Asimov

In a rare return to topics astronomical, Dr. A. submits a nonfiction piece on the moons of Mars, and how these extremely low flying rocks would appear to a surface observer.  If, indeed, they are even suitably placed to see them, for unlike our Moon, Phobos and Deimos orbit so close to their planet that Martian pole-dweller could not see them.

Good stuff.  Four stars.

Quick with His Hands, by Avram Davidson

Capping things off, this vignette of sibling rivalry on Mars, ably told and with a tearjerking finale.

Four stars.

Doing the math

So, did F&SF's experiment in apery succeed?  Well, there were high points and low points, but the overall impression I was left with was favorable.  We'll just have to compare it to the real thing in just over a week to see if Brand X beat the competition!

(Speaking of kooky stunts, it looks like F&SF is joining forces with several other organizations to hold a writing contest.  I wish them the best of luck, although the last time a magazine (Galaxy in that case) did this, in the early '50s, they got bupkis, and Fred Pohl had to write as a novice under a pseudonym to give them anything worth publishing.)



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Magazine

[June 20, 1967] Yours sincerely, wasting away (July 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

When I get older, losing my hair

Age afflicts us all.  I remember once having a beautiful mop of curly hair with a line that was two inches from my brows.  Now, the front is racing toward the back, and my only compsensation is the flourishing stuff coming out my ears.

Of course, people age in different ways.  Robert Preston sang in last year's musical hit, I do! I do!–"Men of forty go to town. Women go to pot," but in my experience, it's quite the opposite. I'd like to think that I'm "entering my prime," but who knows?

Science fiction magazines are going through a midlife crisis, too.  The oldest of them, Amazing, turned 41 this year.  But is it "delightfully witty" and "wise"? Has it "stood the test of time"?  In fact, the magazine that Gernsback built is consistently the lowest rated of the SF digests, packed mostly with cheap reprints.  How about Analog, neé Astounding, rapidly approaching its Jack Benny birthday (he's eternally 39, you see)?  Well, I suppose it depends on whom you ask, but I think it's safe to say that Campbell's mag is definitely in a rut, fossilized into the features it had some fifteen years ago.

Even the newer crop has had a stormy adolescence.  Galaxy is 17.  Once a brilliant child, it is now an often insipid teenager.  If it stays this staid, it may not make it to voting age.  And how about Fantasy and Science Fiction, which just left its minority this year?  The venerable mag, the most literary of its kind, has had an unstable family life, with revolving editors through its teen years.  As a result, the wrinkles are already showing in this 18 year old.

Ed Ferman seems to be aware of his institution's aging.  Indeed, this month's issue, which begins and ends with (and devotes half its words to) the subject of growing old, seems a deliberate acknowledgement of the predicament.


by Jack Gaughan

The Day Before Forever, by Keith Laumer

Steve Dravek, late a denizen of the 20th Century, finds himself on a street near the end of the 21st.  Only shreds of memory remain, enough to give him a sense of identity, but no idea how he arrived in the future (young again, when he had been middle aged) nor why the black uniformed mooks of Eternity Incorporated (ETORP) are after him.

After being beset by "the lowest of the low" in a park, he is apprehended by "Jess", self-proclaimed "highest of the low", for purposes unknown.  Dravek uses force and wit to turn the situation around, making Jess take him to the heart of ETORP's facility on Long Island in pursuit of the truth…and himself.

Forever uses the latest gimmick everyone seems to have latched onto lately: cryonics.  That's the idea that one can be flash frozen before death in the hopes that any malady one is suffering from can be cured in the future.  Fred Pohl, editor of Galaxy and IF has gone into it in a big way, but now it's showing up here, too.

Anyway, there are more twists and turns than a new Los Angeles freeway interchange, and a lot of it gets explained in the end rather than shown as the story goes, but it's a readable potboiler, the kind Laumer can crank out in his sleep.

Three stars.

Balgrummo's Hell, by Russell Kirk

60+ years ago, Laird Balgrummo was sealed in his decaying manor house after committing an unspeakable crime against humanity and nature.  Now the world is waiting for him to shuffle off this mortal coil…save for Horgan, a greedy thief who would rob Balgrummo of his fortune of paintings while he sleeps.

Except Balgrummo sleeps not.  He lurks.

There are no surprises in this story, which reads like something out of Weird Tales' early days.  But the telling is delicious. 

My favorite story of the issue: four stars.

Alter Ego, by Hugo Correa

If you could make an identical new you, one unhindered by all of your life's wrong choices, who would be the better person?  You, or the android duplicate?

More a philosophical piece than science fiction, I found it stayed with me.  Three stars.

Encounter in the Past, by Robert Nathan

On the other hand, Nathan's story of the rediscovery of a Mesozoic human civilization doesn't make a lot of sense.  I reread the short piece a few times, and I still can't make heads or tails of it.

Two stars.

The Master's Thesis, by David Madden

Worse still is this pointless piece about a Professor Swinnard and the young man who insists on afflicting him with his master's thesis.  The story goes 'round in circles as Swinnard is increasingly disarmed and discomfited by the student's rudeness and the haste with which he finishes his project…yet I am at a loss to understand whence stems the horror, nor what the final thesis is actually about.

Am I stupid?  Is the point obvious to anyone else?

One star.

Flight Between Realities, by Doris Pitkin Buck

Buck's poem from the standpoint of an omniscient being sipping her sherry is a bit hard to parse, but seems to be of great moment.

Three stars.

The Sea Monster and the Mayor of New York City, by Gahan Wilson

On the perils to a monster's digestion due to the consumption of a fraught metropolis. 

Frivolous.  Two stars.

Twelve Point Three Six Nine, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor explains the foolishness of associating significance to chance juxtapositions of numbers by creating his own, tying together the relation of the lunar and solar calendars to the Bible.

It's cute, and I found some of the historical bits interesting.  Three stars.

The Vitanuls, by John Brunner

In the early 21st Century, the birthrate has slackened.  But new births are not unknown, and as a kind of medical immortality is introduced, more and more babies are born healthy but vacant.  Void of intellect or animus.  Could there be a connection?

This story has a lot of problems.  Not only is the piece structurally flawed, telegraphing its ending from the beginning but taking forever to get there, but it also doesn't seem to understand how souls work.  Set in India, there is much reference to Hindu reincarnation and such.  But the story suggests that there is a limited number of human souls, and by cheating death, we're robbing the young of life. 

I'd always understood that, per Hinduism, animals and plants and…everything…had souls, all of which could serve in a human form.  Even if that were not the case, I think Brunner's math is off.  Yes, it's true that half of the people who've ever lived are alive today, but if the living outnumber the dead, it won't be because of immortality, but simple birthrate.  And does the store of human souls grow over time, or was it fixed, like the memory store of a mainframe, at a specific number deemed sufficient a million years ago, but now inadequate?

Two stars for this poorly thought out shock tale.

Will you still need me?  Will you still read me?

I understand summer is when magazines put out all their inferior stuff since readership is at its lowest ebbs during the dog days.  Still, if this latest issue (which scores just 2.7 on the Starometer) be any indication of where the magazine is headed, quality-wise, I have distinct concerns that it may never make it to the ripe old age of 64…


by Gahan Wilson



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 20, 1967] Field trips (June 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

A peach of a visit

Here we are again in Atlanta, Gateway to the South.  Our last visit to the Dogwood City was at the invitation of Georgia Tech, who asked me, as a science fiction writer, to discuss predictions of the future.  Particularly, they wanted my opinion on the dangers of overpopulation, pollution, and nuclear annihilation–and what might be done to avoid catastrophe.

The talk went off rather well, and so now I'm at a conference addressing a bevy of biologists on the nascent science of exobiology, or more accurately, how aliens have figured in science fiction, both in our solar system and without. 

I must confess, there is a great feeling of accomplishment in being paid good money to talk about the things I love.  And the pastries are free, too!

A peach of an issue

Accompanying me on this trip is the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction.  It has made a most pleasant companion (for the most part).  Let's take a tour, shall we?


by Bert Tanner

Death and the Executioner, by Roger Zelazny

First up, we have the sequel to Dawn in what is clearly a serial by another name (like Poul Anderson's The Star Fox).  As such, I will try to judge each piece as part of a great whole.

And what an excellent part!  Zelazny returns us to an unnamed world that is nevertheless explicitly not Earth (betrayed by its two moons).  Millennia ago, its colonists split into two castes: The Firsts, blessed with psychic powers, have effective immortality by swapping consciousnesses into other bodies.  Everyone else lives in enforced medieval squalor patterned after Hindu tradition.  The Firsts are, of course, associated with the Indian pantheon.

One rebel First, name of Sam, has styled himself the Buddha and is reintroducing Gautama's creed.  In this installment, the First who has made himself Yama, God of Death, arrives at Sam's purple grove to deliver a fatal message from Kali, head of the Firsts.

Just last article, Jessica Dickinson Goodman lamented that there were precious few f&sf stories that didn't derive their settings from a strongly European tradition.  Zelazny has shown that the subcontinent is as fertile a source for inspiration as any other.  And where Herbert's Persia-as-SF (Dune) fell flat for me, mostly due to Herbert's inexpertise as an author, in the hands of Zelazny, ancient India-turned-scientifiction sparkles.  Plus, there's lots of mighty thews-type combat for those who are into that sort of thing (paging Ms. Buhlert.)

Five stars for this segment.

The Royal Road to There, by Robert M. Green, Jr.

The Jackson family is on a seemingly endless freeway, headed for the unveiling of their uncle's will.  Said uncle was an eccentric who kept a horse-and-buggy factory going long after the automobile had become ascendant.

In a Twilight Zone-ish bit, the freeway ensnares the family, depositing them in the town his uncle built, where they are presented with a most unique offer, which may just require them to give up their gas-guzzling beast. 

Is the story anti-progress?  Or does it simply advocate smarter progress?  My brother, Lou, still laments the removal of the little red trains that used to knit Los Angeles together.  Now, the San Gabriel Valley is a basin of smog and a snarl of endless traffic.  If there had been more sensible city planning and incorporation of public transit and rail, perhaps it wouldn't be this way.

Three stars.

Gentlemen, Be Seated, by Charles Beaumont

In the future, comedy is dead.  It seems the progressive types who were offended by racial humor and violent slapstick inadvertently caused the extinction of laughter.  It's up to a secret society, armed with bad puns and blackface, to restore hope to mankind.

I hate to speak ill of the dead (Beaumont died on my 48th birthday this year), but this story is as bad as it sounds.

One star.

"…But for the Grace of God", by Gilbert Thomas

A predator of the masculine variety comes across a much more capable predator of the feminine variety.  A bit too long-winded and predictable to be truly effective, but I appreciate what the author is doing, nevertheless.

Three stars.

Non-Time Travel, by Isaac Asimov

Every so often, the Good Doctor finds himself so at a loss for ideas, that he picks a pointless subject to expound upon.  His piece on the International Date Line is pleasant enough, but it could just as easily have been a paragraph long.

Three stars.

The First Postulate, by Gerald Jonas

On a remote Mexican island, where the Mayan tradition still runs strong, the first two deaths due to natural causes in over forty years of worldwide immortality have been reported.  The scientific team dispatched there encounters increasing resistance from the locals, who ultimately fire their base to retrieve the corpses.  Is it a kind of insanity that drives the indios?  Or is it a natural reaction to an unnatural situation?

Readable, vivid, if not particularly memorable.  Three stars.

A Discovery in the Woods, by Graham Greene

Lastly, another after-the-bomb tale, told from the perspective of a band of bandy youths who encounter a house of the giants.  This one is all in the telling, a lovely tale that reminds me of Edgar Pangborn's Davy.

Four stars.

Miles to go before I sleep

So ends a perfectly suitable (with one small exception) issue.  My only real complaint is that I finished it on the flight out!  Luckily, I've got another book reserved for the flight back, which you'll hear about next month.

In the meantime, please wish me luck for tonight's speech!


by Gahan Wilson



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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy

[April 18, 1967] Bright Lights (May 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction

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by Gideon Marcus

Tinsel Town

Last weekend, the world's greatest stars and movie-makers assembled in Santa Monica for the annual celebration of the best the silver screen has to offer.  It was a cavalcade of prominent names, from Sidney Poitier to Lee Remick to Julie Christie to Omar Sharif.  Some of the contestants were unfamiliar (Herb Alpert has a short animated film?) Some were surprising but welcome in their inclusion (like The Wargame for best documentary).  Some were inevitable (If Grand Prix hadn't won Best Sound and Best Editing, I'd have written letters…) Two titans towered all the rest (Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf and A Man for All Seasons–both of which I still haven't seen yet).

And throughout it all, Bob Hope was host, narrator, and satirist.  Lorelei observed that this time, the jokes about recognition still eluding the aging comedian seemed more pointed and bitter than usual.  Maybe it's time he got some kind of lifetime achievement award, as did Isaac Asimov at a recent Worldcon…

Print City

The latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction features a similar assemblage of luminaries–and it's not even an "All-Star Issue"!  Presented in a format that has been standard and familiar since 1949, this month's read was as comforting and entertaining as two primetime hours at the Oscars.

With the added benefit that one can reread favorite stories!


by Ronald Walotsky

Planetoid Idiot, by Phyllis Gotlieb

Our first star is Phyllis Gotlieb, a woman writer who joined the SF ranks one year after Mses. Rosel George Brown, Kit Reed, and Pauline Ashwell.  Her latest is a fine novella in the Analog tradition–indeed, it reads like something Katherine MacLean might have penned.

A mutli-species spaceship has landed on the ocean planed of Xirifor.  Their goal is to save the indigenous race from a pandemic of gill rot such that they can better represent themselves when representatives of the Galactic Federation come to negotiate for the pearls the aliens harvest.

The crew of the contact ship are a beautifully heterogenous group: Hrufa, an eight foot telepathic amphibian is their leader, keeping the rest of the team in order, if not harmony.  Thlyrrh is a protoplasmic being with a shape-shifting carapace; it can do almost anything…except compose an original thought.  And then there are the two humans, or "solthrees" (I really like that phrase): Olivia the exobiologists, and Berringer, the generalist.

Despite their vast collective knowledge, they are hindered in their task by politics, internal and external.  But in the end, working together, they deduce a solution that is completely scientific and plausible.

It's all very satisfactory, and if I have any complaint, it is only the title, which I found misleading (I thought "planetoid idiot" would be a play on "village idiot").  Definitely a candidate for the next volume of Rediscovery.

Four stars.

Sleeping Beauty, by Terry Carr

It's nice to see Ace Books publisher, Terry Carr, slinging the pen again.  His latest story is a beautifully written if rather inconsequential tale of a landless prince, galloping across Europe looking for that most endangered of modern creatures: the single (and wealthy) princess.  There is, of course, a sting in the story's tale.

You'll forget it soon after you read it, but you'll enjoy the journey.  Three stars.

Safe at Any Speed, by Larry Niven

If Ralph Nader has his way, all cars of the future will be like the one presented in this, the latest tale to take place in Niven's "Known Space".  It's his most humorous piece, almost Sheckleyesque, and it accomplishes a lot in a brief space.

Four stars.

Fifteen Miles, by Ben Bova

Two years ago, Air Force astronaut Chet Kinsman was tested in orbit when he had to go mano-a-mano with a Communist spacewoman.  Now Kinsman is on the moon, haunted by the memory of the lady he had to slay.  Will his guilt get in the way of his rescuing a fellow astronaut trapped in a lunar crevice?

This is another grounded SF tale I'm surprised (but pleased) to find in F&SF.  I've not yet found Bova brilliant (though Victoria Silverwolf has), but I always enjoy him.

Three stars.

The Red Shift, by Theodore L. Thomas

Thomas explains in his nonfiction vignette how quasars, which must be extragalactic yet near objects, give lie to the Doppler shift, and thus rewrite physics. Specifically, he says that the redshift of quasars indicates that they are far away, but that radio astronomy locates them much closer to Earth.

I do not know how he makes this assertion, as it is radio astronomy that detects these quasars at all–including their red shift.  According to the article I read in Britannica's 1966 year book of knowledge, quasars are very interesting in that they point up an asymmetry between the young universe (quasar-rich) and the curent universe (quaser-poor).  But there's nothing that suggests quasars exist close by, or that there's anything wrong with Doppler.

There does seem to be something wrong, however, with Thomas.

One star.

Cyprian's Room, by Frances Oliver

Onward to the second woman-penned story, by an author about whom our editor knows virtually nothing.  A pity, because her first story is a good one.  Romantic Hilda Wendel takes a room in the big city hoping to meet someone interesting in her boarding house.  She finds a tubercular artist whose views on art are maddeningly contradictory, yet irresistably compelling.

Is he just an avante-garde…or something otherworldly?

A high three.

Interview with a Lemming, by James Thurber

This putative dialogue between man and lemming, to indulge in adjectives solely beginning with "i" is inconsequential, irritating, and inspid–particularly the thinks-itself-clever ending.

Two stars.

Where is Thy Sting, by Emil Petaja

One of the last fertile men in a post-atomized Earth, racked with suicidal desires, must be kept alive at all costs, even if it means subverting his reality.

I'd have liked this story more had I not read one so similar to it (The Best is Yet to Be) in the pages of this same magazine not many months before.

Two stars.

Times of Our Lives, by Isaac Asimov

All about time zones.  I actually found this atlas-derived article educational and interesting.

Four stars.

Fill in the Blank, by Ron Goulart

Finally, the return of a perennial star with a series with more installments than James Bond.  Max Kearney is dragooned into investigating what appears to be an infestation of poltergeists.  The culprits are all-too-temporal…but it doesn't mean magic's not involved!

It's funnier in the latter half.  Three stars.

House Lights Return

By strict mathematical computation, the latest F&SF only scores an average three star rating.  Nevertheless, the brilliance of the first piece, the general competence of most of the rest, and the edification provided by the Good Doctor leaves a most pleasant impression.

Let's keep our stars around for a while.  They make good illumination.


by Gahan Wilson



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Magazine, Science / Space Race, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 20, 1967] Vistas near and far (April 1967 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

I see you!

We have now entered a phase of the Space Race where there's enough stuff in orbit that other stuff in orbit can take pictures of it.  Not just deliberate rendeszvous' like dual missions of Gemini 6 and 7, but snapshots of opportunity, like Gemini 11's photo of the Soviet Proton 3.

Last week, NASA released perhaps the most extraordinary example of this nature: the first snapshot of a spacecraft sent to the Moon…by a spacecraft sent to the Moon!  Lunar Orbiter 3, launched early last month, has been busily mapping our celestial neighbor, searching for the choicest landing spots for Apollo (whose first manned mission, I've just learned, has been delayed until next year due to the Apollo 1 fire.) In the course of its surveying, Lunar Orbiter 3 caught a glimpse of Surveyor 1, the first American soft-lander.  It all makes the Moon feel that much closer.

While the newspaper brings us tales of science fiction-made-fact, the stf mags continue to provide the visions of science-to-be.  The latest edition of The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction offers several visions of the future: some poetic, some bleak, and some not really worth reading.  Good thing I'm here to tell you which is which, huh?

A pail of tomorrows


by Gray Morrow

Dawn, by Roger Zelazny

Lord Siddhartha, the Buddha, arrives as the capital for a bit of revelry.  There, he is greeted with honors, for he is a prince of this land, redolent with the smells of spice, the bustle of medieval commerce, the prayers of the devoted.  At first glance, Dawn seems as if it will be a pure fantasy in a richly drawn world.  But there are signs that underneath the veneer of ancient India lies a strictly scientific core.

Indeed, we learn quite soon that Siddhartha is actually Sam, one of the original colonists on this world, a planet whose technology has been deliberately restrained by the cabal of the Firsts and their lackeys, the Masters.  Their firm grip lies in their stranglehold on immortality, facilitated by their ability to transmigrate souls from body to body at will.

Sam wants to bring progress to the world.  Can he and his band of rebels undo the work of centuries?

Zelazny's latest novella is reportedly the first part of a longer work, to be titled "Lord of Light".  If it is as expertly rendered as this fine start, then it'll be a good read, indeed!

Four stars.

The Two Lives of Ben Coulter, by Larry Eisenberg

"The greatest disappointment of Ben Coulter's life was his inability to play the violin well."

So begins the tale of a fellow who turned instead to engineering for the purpose, failing to find it there until he co-developed a technique for the remote control of a living being.  Perhaps, at last, he could program mastery into himself.

Most science fiction authors take inspiration from the science news of the day.  Some, like Doc Smith, are actually scientists.  Larry Eisenberg is perhaps unique in the SF community for extrapolating a scientifiction application of his own invention, the remote controlled pacemaker.

His story, if not quite as personally affecting as his crowning scientific achievement, is a pleasant little piece, nonetheless.

Three stars.

Cloud Seeding, by Theodore L. Thomas

In this fictionless vignette, Thomas suggests combining cloud seeding with chemical distribution.  After all, if you're putting stuff in the sky to make rain, why not use fertilizer or poison of what have you.

Thomas forgets that the seeds for the raindrops are necessarily uselessly tiny.  I almost feel as though these little exercises are not to present interesting ideas, but are puzzles for the reader: spot the fallacy and win a hundred dollars!

Two stars.


by Gahan Wilson

Problems of Creativeness, by Thomas M. Disch

The 21st Century is an overcrowded, socialist paradise.  Everyone is on the childless dole, unless they can prove themselves exceptional, finish college, or join the guerrila forces.  Birdie Ludd, the least exceptional of young men, doesn't want to do any of these things.  But for the love of Milly, pretty enough almost to be a movie star, he was willing to endure almost anything.

Less a story and more a slice-of-life from the perspective of an indolent youth, Problems relies mostly on a vivid stream-of-consciousness style and copious use of the first profanity I've read within F&SF's pages.

Three stars, I guess.

The Sword of Pell the Idiot, by Julian F. Grow

Farquhar Orpington-Pell, late a subaltern in Her Majesty's Own Midlothian Dragoons, falls in with a Western doctor on the late 19th Century range.  Their crooked path takes them to a subterranean complex inhabited by aliens.  Things Happen.  Supposed-to-be-funny-but-just-tedious things, capped off by the rather insulting punchline that the transpirings inspired a much better, well known set of books.

Feh.  One star.

"Virtue. 'Tis A Fugue!", by Patrick Meadows

An advanced world refuses the entreaties of humanity to join a terran federation.  Professor Thomas Gunn, a musicologist, provides the key to reaching the hearts of the aliens.  Their language is the culmination of tonality, you see, each sentence its own song.  Our hyper-efficient, sound-codified speak was too declassé to appeal.

It's all a lot of "mun, mun" to me, and in any event, the revelation came out of nowhere.  Indeed, Gunn's story and that of the contact team are completely unrelated until he suddenly appears on the planet in the story's last scenes.

Two stars.

A Matter of Scale, by Isaac Asimov

The Good Doctor goes way out with his latest article.  You know those "the sun is a beachball, and the planets are various small fruit several hundred feet away" models you read in all the science books for kids?  He's decided to go one better, substituting atomic analogs so the distances can be more relatable.

I'm sure it was a fun exercise for him.

Three stars.

Randy's Syndrome, by Brian W. Aldiss

Lastly, another tale of the next, shoulder-to-shoulder, anti-utopian 21st Century.  The foetuses of the world go on strike, refusing to be born into such an awful place.  But is it really a mass strike of the unborn, happy in their womb world of racial memory and distorted, second-hand sensory inputs?  Or is it some kind of planetary neurosis of the mothers?

Whatever it is, it's not science fiction, more a modern myth.  Some might find it clever.

Two stars.

Under the Moon

After such a bright beginning, the April 1967 F&SF stumbles to a finish.  I recognize that science fiction is cautionary as well as aspirational, but I feel one needs to say more than "this future we're heading toward is gonna stink..and by the way, the future is now." 

The Zelazny is worth your time, however.

And, hey, at least the newspaper brings us pretty pictures!



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