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[January 8, 1964] A Taste of Homely (February 1964 Galaxy)

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by Gideon Marcus

Lost that Zing

It's tough to get out of a rut.  After all, you went through all the trouble of digging the trench in the first place — why expend extra effort getting out of it?

But the fact is, the house that H.L. Gold built in 1950, the superlative Galaxy Science Fiction digest, has gotten pretty stale lately.  Sure, the authors are still household names, but the works aren't their best.  Maybe Editor Pohl, who succeeded Gold a couple of years ago, is starved for material given that he maintains an industry record of three simultanteous mags.  Or perhaps Galaxy just doesn't have the cachet (or the budget to pay authors) of F&SF or Fantastic.

Maybe it's just a slow patch.  Anyway, take a gander at the February 1964 Galaxy and see what I mean:

The Issue at Hand

Grandmother Earth, by J. T. McIntosh

It was just a couple of months ago, in Poul Anderson's Conversation in Arcady, that we last saw the a decadent, paradisical Earth visited by more vigorous colonists.  McIntosh's variation on the theme features a less happy homeworld, one on which humans have given up for lack of challenge, and the sum population of Earth is reduced to a few tens of thousands stretched along France's idyllic Mediterranean coast.  When the last efforts at changing the status quo from within founder, it us up to a pair of extraterrestrial Terrans to come up with a solution.


(I have to wonder if this picture is the main reason the story was accepted…

McIntosh is a pretty good writer, though his best days seem far behind him.  The pacing and execution are engaging even if the plot is hackneyed.  What really tips the balance from four to three stars is the utterly unnecessary exposition at the end.

Hence: Three stars.

A Bad Day for Vermin, by Keith Laumer

A wormlike alien lands in a small Arkansan town, but before it can open discussions with the citizens, a ramshackle exterminator shoots it dead.  A trial ensues to determine whether or not the extraterrestrial counts as a person such that the killer can be tried with murder.  Ultimately, the alien is classified as a person and the exterminator, excluded from the definition, is labeled vermin — and exterminated.

Summarized like that, it sounds like a pretty good story.  It's not.  Unpleasant and preposterous, Laumer must have dashed this one off for a quick buck.  Two stars (if that).

Shamar's War, by Kris Neville

When the completely humanoid inhabitants of a another planet refuse Earth's entreaties to formally ally, humanity sends a spy to foment rebellion and install a more friendly government.  The aliens are under a dictatorship, you see, and Earth deems them ripe for a bit of Democracy.  When efforts to install a formal voting system fail, the aliens come up with a more brute force option: selective boycotting of goods nonessential to life but essential to the economy.

It's hard to believe this piece was written by a veteran author, one who has produced several excellent stories over a career lasting more than a decade.  This piece is filled with short, unncompelling sentences; the characterization is nonexistent; and the exposition is endless.  The aliens aren't at all, and the solution to the story's puzzle is laughably simplistic.  I have to wonder if this wasn't an early piece of work that Neville had stuffed in a desk somewhere and which Pohl accepted out of desperation.

In any event, two stars.

The Early Days of the Metric System, by Willy Ley

Our favorite German rocket scientist had been going through a lackluster period, but this non-fiction article on the origin of standard weights and measures, though in some ways overlapping an old F&SF article by Dr. Asimov, is entertaining and informative.  This is the Willy that compelled me to start my subscription to Galaxy umpteen years ago.  5 stars.

Oh, to Be a Blobel!, by Philip K. Dick

Here's another human-sent-to-spy-on-aliens story, except this one takes place after the espionage.  It features a young man whose physical form was altered to match that of the invading amorphous Blobels.  Though promised to be reconditioned back to human physiognomy, the fellow finds himself reverting to Blobel form half the day, making his life thoroughly miserable.

Luckily for him, the other side had spies, too, and some of them are having similar readjustment trouble.  Our hero marries a young female Blobel spy, and all is well…for a while.  But feelings of inadequacy (she is smarter and more successful than he) and the hybrid nature of their children cause rifts.  Ultimately, the couple must choose between love and individual fortune.

This is a story that shouldn't work, ludicrous as it is in its premise.  But it's Dick, and it does. 

Four stars.

The Awakening, by Jack Sharkey

Imagine being one of hundreds preserved in suspended animation against a global catastrophe, only to wake up countless ages after the planned date.  Your machines are rusted, your elders rotted, and the world you knew has drastically changed.  How would you feel?  What would you do?

This story belongs in the "Color Me Surprised" department.  While the plot of the story is not particularly innovative, the execution is perfect — a sharp increase in quality from Jack Sharkey's usual output.

Four stars.

The Star King, by Jack Vance

In the last installment of The Star King, a fellow named Gersen was tracking down the "Demon Prince," Grendel, one of the Galaxy's most notorious crime bosses.  The trail had led Gersen to a university on the civilized world of Alphanor in search of the patron who had commissioned a survey of an Eden-like world far Beyond the edge of civilization.  For Gersen had every reason to believe that this patron was Grendel, especially after he killed his surveyor for refusing to reveal the location of the planet.

Part 2 opens Gersen facing several obstacles.  Foremost is that Grendel could be any of three professors at the school, all of whom profess ignorance of the murdered surveyor.  Then there are Grendel's three lieutenants, all of whom are deadly assassins who want Gersen out of the way.  Finally, there is the issue of Pallis Atwrode, an employee of the university who is the first to touch Gersen's heart after a life of nothing but revenge-seeking.

The conclusion to this novel ties all the threads together, throwing all of the characters onto one ship where Gersen can declaim the solution to the mystery, Poirot-style.

The Star King's problem isn't the plot, it's the execution.  After a rather gripping first half of the first half, the novel becomes a plodding bore, particularly with the unnecessary encyclopedic inserts every few pages.  Vance did such a good job of building a fresh new world in The Dragon Masters (also a Galaxy novel), but he rather flubs it here.  Moreover, Vance completely missed his opportunity to give us a real surprise ending, instead deciding on Grendel's identity almost at random, it seems.

Two stars, two and a half for the whole thing.

Summing Up

When I transfer the story data to punch card and run it through my Star-o-Vac, I get a roll of tape with the computation: 3 stars.  That doesn't sound so bad, right?  Thoroughly adequate compared to some of the other mags we've suffered through lately.  But it's the cavalcade of blandness that saps the will over time.  It's like a steady diet of matzah.  Sure, it gets you out of Egypt, but where's the milk and honey, man? 

Cordwainer Smith's in the next issue.  Maybe we'll make it to the Holy Land in March…

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[October 18, 1963] Points of View (December 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

Philosophers have long debated the nature of reality.  Are things what they seem to be, or do our senses deceive us?  Do you and I perceive the world in the same way, and is there any way to know?  Although there will never be a final answer to such questions, speculation about these matters can lead to intriguing works of fiction.  The latest issue of Worlds of Tomorrow features many stories dealing with different perceptions of the universe: biased, distorted, ambiguous.

The Trouble with Truth, by Julian F. Grow

In the middle of the next century, Earth is united under a government run by computer.  News is restricted to the listing of confirmed data, with no human-interest stories allowed.  The narrator works for the world news agency.  His job is to prevent advertisers from planting misleading articles, and to ensure that only verifiable facts are presented in the media.  This leads to conflict with his fiancée, who runs a small monthly publication (barely tolerated by the authorities) which is not so restricted in its contents.  One of the odd things about this society is that marriage is not the same as matrimony.  The two main characters have gone through the first, but not the latter.  Another notable fact is that the woman is pregnant, and the couple will be able to choose the sex of their unborn child.  When a little girl and her father report a strange happening to the news agency, it leads to a change in the way the ruling computer views reality.

This story reminds me of Ray Bradbury in the way it promotes the importance of imagination over cold, hard facts.  The world it creates is an interesting one, but many of the futuristic details are irrelevant to the plot.  There's also a lot of expository dialogue.  How you feel about the ending, which makes use of a very famous essay from the past, depends on your tolerance for sentimentality.  It exceeded mine.  Two stars.

The Creature Inside, by Jack Sharkey

This is the newest entry in the author's Contact series, previously published in Galaxy, in which the protagonist's consciousness enters the bodies of aliens.  In this adventure, he has a very different assignment.  A man is placed in a room that allows him to experience his fantasies as if they were real.  The room also has a device that can manufacture whatever he wants from any raw material.  The intent is to treat the man's inferiority complex.  Unfortunately, he actually suffers from delusions of grandeur.  The problem is to get him out of his imaginary world, where he would be able to survive indefinitely.  The hero enters the room, where he encounters various illusions, as well as dangers that are all too real.

Although nothing very surprising happens, the hallucinations are vividly described and the story holds the reader's interest.  The protagonist learns something about his own desires, adding a nice touch of characterization to an otherwise unmemorable hero.  Three stars.

The God-Plllnk, by Jerome Bixby

Two alien beings witness a strange object land on Phobos.  They assume it is a god, because it resembles a gigantic version of themselves.  They presume that the creatures emerging from it are similar to the parasites that plague their own bodies.  Unfortunate consequences follow.

This is a brief story about what can happen when events are misinterpreted.  The outcome is predictable.  The author's use of unpronounceable alien words doesn't help.  Two stars.

Goodlife, by Fred Saberhagen

This is a sequel to Fortress Ship, which recently appeared in the pages of If.  Three people survive an attack on their spaceship by a gigantic warship known as a berserker.  One is near death from his injuries.  The computer brain of the berserker orders them to come aboard so it can study humans.  They agree, desperately hoping for an opportunity to destroy the relentless machine.  Living alone on the berserker is a man, conceived from cells taken from human prisoners.  He has never known anything but a life of slavery, with severe punishment for failure to obey the berserker.  At first, he is terrified by the arrival of other people.  The berserker commands him to co-operate with them, knowing it has already deactivated the bomb they brought with them.  What follows is a tense cat-and-mouse game, with the humans learning something new about the origin of the berserkers.

This is a suspenseful tale, with a great deal of insight into the psychology of the berserker's slave.  His distorted view of humanity provides much pathos.  The journey through the interior of the enormous machine is awe-inspiring.  The ending is sudden, but otherwise satisfying.  Four stars.

Science and Science Fiction: Who Borrows What?, by Michael Girsdansky

This is an informal article, which makes the obvious point that SF writers are inspired by the discoveries of science, and vice versa.  It wanders all over the place, from legends of Atlantis to Project Ozma.  The most interesting detail, discussed in a single paragraph, is the fact that MIT students were required to design products for an imaginary alien species.  Two stars.

Far Avanal, by J. T. McIntosh

For reasons not entirely clear, the population of future Earth consists of three times as many men as women.  This leads to a society in which women pick their husbands as they please, and many men go without wives.  The protagonist loses his intended to another man, an event that is all too common.  He receives an offer to journey to a colony planet, where the sexes are evenly matched.  The drawback is that he will have to travel through space in suspended animation while decades go by.  If he decides to return to Earth, an option he insists upon when he accepts the offer, he will be an anachronism, half a century out of date.  Things don't turn out as expected, and he must change his assumptions about his new world and the people who inhabit it.

I have mixed feelings about this story.  The premise is contrived, but the author presents the consequences of it in a convincing way.  Although some of the women are selfish and vain, another is by far the most intelligent, competent, and sympathetic character in the piece.  At the start, the main character is suspicious to the point of paranoia; he eventually learns to overcome his distorted view of others.  This touch of psychological depth makes the story worth reading.  Three stars.

The Great Slow Kings, by Roger Zelazny

Two aliens rule over their planet as monarchs, although their only subject is a robot.  The sole remaining members of their species, they think, speak, and act extremely slowly.  A single conversation lasts for centuries.  They decide to send the robot on a spaceship in order to bring back members of another species as subjects.  The relative swiftness of their captives leads to complications.  The way in which the aliens have a completely different view of time than their new subjects, possibly supposed to be human beings, made this a droll little story.  Three stars.

When You Giffle . . ., by L. J. Stecher, Jr.

This is the third tall tale from the captain of the starship Delta Crucis, previously seen transporting an elephant, then a cargo of valuable plants.  In his wildest adventure yet, he winds up lost, in an unknown part of space.  Two little boys, calmly swimming in the vacuum between the stars, help him find his way, as well as enabling him to carry a whale that is much too big to fit inside his spaceship.  The children, with their god-like telekinetic abilities, may be intended as a parody of the kind of psionic supermen found in Analog.  In any case, this is a silly story, providing only broad comedy.  Two stars.

All We Marsmen (Part 3 of 3), by Philip K. Dick

The latest work from an author who recently won the Hugo for his novel, The Man in the High Castle concludes.  This installment falls somewhere between the realistic narrative style of the first third and the jarring surrealism of the middle portion.  A meeting between a schizophrenic repairman and an avaricious head of the Martian water union, which was previewed in multiple, distorted ways in Part Two, takes place.  The repairman has no memory of it at all.  The union leader vows to take revenge on the repairman, whom he believes failed and betrayed him.  Following the advice of his Martian servant, he sets out on a pilgrimage with an autistic boy to a sacred site of the natives.  His goal is to use the boy's ability to perceive and manipulate time to change the past, so he can claim ownership of a seemingly worthless piece of land, which will be valuable in times to come.  The boy has a terrifying vision of his future as an old man, trapped in a nursing home, most of his body missing, kept barely alive by machines.  The novel returns to its opening scene, as the union leader relives his first encounter with the repairman, and the characters meet their fates.

The climax of this complex, difficult novel is dramatic.  The ambiguous nature of reality, shown through the union leader's mental journey through time, is vividly portrayed.  Readers who have been patient with its downbeat mood will be pleased with a touch of hope at the end.  The characters have the complicated personalities of real people.  (Even the union leader, who is definitely the novel's villain, is sometimes sympathetic.) I recommend reading all three parts together.  Waiting two months between installments weakens the impact of the circular structure of the plot.  (If it is published in book form, perhaps the title will be changed to something more appropriate.) Four stars.

As these stories show, science fiction can help us appreciate the way that others might see reality.  Perhaps, by looking through the eyes (or other sense organs) of different people (or other lifeforms) through the pages of our favorite magazines, we may come to have a empathy for those with other viewpoints, to be more tolerant of beliefs that don't match our own. 




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[June 16, 1963] Blues for a Red Planet (August 1963 Worlds of Tomorrow)

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by Victoria Silverwolf

The planet Mars and its inhabitants have long been favorite themes for science fiction writers, from The War of the Worlds to The Martian Chronicles.  Will the age of space travel put an end to our wildest fancies about that alluring world?

The Soviet spacecraft intended to study Mars have all failed.  NASA's Mariner program, so successful in studying Venus, is not scheduled to turn its attention to Mars until next year.  Because the red planet is still something of a mystery, authors are free to use their imagination for a while yet. They may create a world where humans can live, or depict Martian canals and the civilization that created them.

The third issue of Worlds of Tomorrow upholds this tradition, with the first section of a major new novel set on Mars.

All We Marsmen (Part 1 of 3), by Philip K. Dick

The latest work from the author of last year's critically acclaimed alternate history novel The Man in the High Castle (which got only a mixed review from our esteemed host) is set on a traditional version of Mars.  There are humanoid Martians (called Bleekmen), although they are a dying people.  There are canals, although they are in a poor state of repair.  Humans can survive on the planet, but only under harsh conditions.

By the end of this century, human colonies exist on Mars.  Founded by Earth countries, businesses, or labor unions, they are under the control of the United Nations.  Against this background, the reader is introduced to several characters.

Silvia Bohlen is a housewife and mother.  She takes barbiturates to sleep and amphetamines to wake up.  Her husband Jack is a repairman.  While flying out on an assignment to fix a refrigeration unit, he gets a call from the UN to aid a group of Bleekmen dying of thirst.  During this errand of mercy he meets Arnie Kott, head of an important union, whose own helicopter flight has been interrupted by the emergency.  Kott despises the Bleekmen, and argues with Jack about the need to help them.  Despite this disagreement, he comes to respect Jack's skill, and hires him for an important repair.  In a flashback sequence, we learn that Jack came to Mars after an episode of schizophrenia.

Norbert Steiner and his family live next to the Bohlens.  He works as a health food manufacturer, and secretly imports forbidden luxury foods from Earth.  His son Manfred is severely autistic, and lives at a special facility for children with mental or physical disabilities.  A shocking event involving Steiner leads to a crisis for his family and his neighbors.

There are many other characters I haven't mentioned and multiple subplots.  It's not yet clear what direction this novel is going.  There are hints that schizophrenics and autistics have precognitive abilities, and I believe this will be a major theme.

Some readers may be dismayed by the lack of a simple, linear plot.  Others will find the novel depressing, as so many of its characters are unhappy with their lives.  The picture it paints of a Mars inhabited by a large number of humans by the 1990's is likely to seem unrealistic.  However, the author appears to have created a complex, serious work of literature, worthy of careful reading.  Four stars.

A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber

In a distant solar system, two men are aboard a spaceship on a routine mission.  One of the men develops a bizarre psychosis.  He imagines that his partner, the narrator, is really two people.  When he's around, he calls him Joe, and thinks of him as a hero.  When he's gone, he speaks to the imaginary Joseph, and insults him.  The narrator puts up with this weird delusion, but when he goes outside the ship, the situation becomes dangerous.

This story combines psychological drama with a technological puzzle that could have appeared in the pages of Analog.  As you'd expect from this author, it's very well written.  The situation is interesting, if somewhat artificial.  Three stars.

To the Stars, by J. T. McIntosh

A manufacturer of starships is blackmailed, on the basis that his ships are more dangerous than others.  He disposes of this threat easily enough, with evidence that they cause no more deaths than any other ships.  What is kept secret, however, is the fact that his ships are vulnerable at a particular moment during their time of use.  When his daughter leaves on her honeymoon aboard one of his ships during this hazardous time, he takes measures to prevent a possible disaster.

I found the plot of this story contrived and inconsistent.  The female characters are more fully realized than usual for this author.  Unfortunately, the effect is ruined by an irrelevant paragraph explaining that women will never be equal to men in the business world, even two centuries from now.  The reasons given are "women never trusted women" and "women didn't really want equality."  Two stars.

The New Science of Space Speech, by Vincent H. Gaddis

This article discusses research into ways to communicate with extraterrestrials.  It covers a lot of ground, from radio telescopes to dolphins, and from artificial languages based on mathematics to unexplained radio echoes.  Some of this material is interesting, but the author covers too many subjects in a short space to do more than offer a taste of them.  Two stars.

A Jury of Its Peers, by Daniel Keyes

A professor of physics invents a small computer that has consciousness.  During a lecture he tells the students that the computer can think, forgetting that the state has passed a law against making such a claim in the classroom.  A trial follows, with the computer itself called as a witness.

This scenario is clearly based on the famous Scopes Trial of 1925, which tested the law against teaching human evolution in Tennessee schools.  Ironically, the law against teaching machine intelligence is in New Jersey, and the lawyer defending the professor is from Tennessee.

If this were merely an allegory for academic freedom, the story would be only moderately effective.  However, the author has more in mind.  The professor must face his own limitations, as well as those of the computer, when it gives its testimony.  Although not the masterpiece one might expect from the creator of Flowers for Algernon [If he had a nickel for every time a reviewer said this…(Ed.)], this is a fine story with depth of characterization.  Four stars.

The Impossible Star, by Brian W. Aldiss

Four astronauts explore the region of space beyond the Crab Nebula.  A problem with their spaceship strands them on a small, rocky planetoid near a star of such immense mass that not even light can escape from it.  (This may seem fantastic, but in recent years physicists have speculated that an object of sufficient size could produce a gravitation pull so strong that this could happen.) The men struggle with the bizarre effects of the black star.  The stress of their situation soon has them at each other's throats.  The concept is an interesting one.  Even in an issue full of downbeat stories, this is a particularly bleak tale.  Three stars.

Until the Mariner project takes away our dreams of glittering Martian cities, rising from ruby sands along emerald canals, let's keep reading about that fascinating world in the pages of our Earthling magazines.

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[May 30, 1963] Held back? (June 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Graduation day is rapidly approaching.  Around the world, high school seniors are about to don cap and gown and emerge from their academic cocoons.  They will be transformed creatures, highly improved in comparison to their state upon entering school.  They'll go on to be the next Picasso, Wright, Salk, or Meitner.  Such are our hopes, anyway.

Science fiction is in the midst of a similar transition.  Gestated in the womb of Mary Shelley's mind, SF was born in the late 19th Century, Mssrs. Verne and Wells serving as midwives.  In the 20s, it entered grammar school under the tutelage of Hugo Gernsback, editor of Amazing Stories.  At the time, SF was an undistinguished pupil, little different from its fellows at Pulp Elementary.  But in 1937, SF entered Astounding Middle School, which had a most extraordinary principal, John W. Campbell, aided by a student council led by Heinlein, Asimov, and Leinster.  It was a Boys' School, of course, though a few females snuck or fought their way in.  This was the period in which SF began to shine, displaying a characteristic intelligence, innovation, and devotion to scientific principles.

The genre entered Galaxy High School in 1950 after taking a few preparatory classes at F&SF School for the Gifted.  Galaxy High was (and to a limited degree still is) a co-ed school, and it was here that SF fully flowered, displaying hitherto unseen nuance, breadth, and passion.  Its vista spread beyond the solar system to the stars.  Having mastered the subjects of math, physics, and engineering in Middle School, it now turned to the subtler arts: psychology and sociology.  It achieved high marks in English such that some of its compositions were included in literary anthologies alongside the works of other, older genres.

After 12 years of High School, SF is approaching its own time of graduation.  Where will it head from here?  There is some indication that the genre will head to New Wave University, possibly at its British campus, where it can major in philosophy and advanced writing techniques.  Or it may elect to go to the twin Goldsmith Universities.  The opportunities there include exciting placement in the worlds of both science and fantasy.  Plus, that's where the women are…


(Accurate depiction of the SF genre — note the demographic ratio)

But there are also signs that SF may not be ready to graduate at all.  Its output isn't what it used to be, and in many cases, it seems to be just going through the motions.  Lately, the genre has been visiting its old stomping grounds, Astounding Elementary (recently renamed to Analog School for the Psychically Inclined).  Each time, the result is a regression in the quality of its work.

Just take a look at SF's latest exam results, the June 1963 Analog.  Outwardly, it reflects the work of a mature student.  After all, it's a full 8.5" by 11" in dimensions and printed on slick paper.  But note the content — if you were on a college (or army) recruiting board, would you take this as a sign of promise?

The Big Fuel Feud (Part 1 of 2), by Harry B. Porter

There is a war being waged inside the United States (or perhaps it is merely a spirited competition) between the factions that favor liquid-fueled rockets and those that like the solid-fueled kind.  In other words, does your propellant splash or crumble?  There are advantages and disadvantages to both methods, and they are of differing importance depending on whether your application is putting people in space or blowing up people in Russia.  The author lays out, comprehensively and legibly (if a bit disorganizedly, particularly at the end) the history and current state of the art in solid fuels.

I found it interesting, but then, it's also my pigeon.  Three stars. 

The Trouble with Telstar, by John Berryman

Some science fiction takes place in the far future against an as yet dimly conceivable tableau of advanced technologies and galactic locales.  Other SF is taken right out of tomorrow's headlines.  This is, perhaps, the easier to write.  On the other hand, it is also the most readily accessible.

Berryman, who normally writes competent psi-related stuff for Analog, turns in this competent (if annoyingly male-chauvinist) straight engineering piece on in situ satellite repair.  In it, the nationalized space telcom has discovered a fatal flaw in its new Telstar line of communications satellites.  Unfortunately, six of the constellation of eighteen have already been launched, and the problem cannot be duplicated precisely on the ground.  A technician advances the idea of diagnosing and repairing the issue in space, arguing that it's cheaper and quicker than starting all over on the ground.  Not only is the proposal accepted, but (to his dismay) the technician is drafted for the job.

Trouble is set in or around 1966 and features the real-world Saturn rocket and Air Force "Dyna-Soar" spaceplane.  The details of the repair trip are incredibly authentic, down to the manufacture of specialized tools for disassembly of the Telstars in orbit, and the depiction of the tech's several spacewalks.  I found myself utterly riveted by this snapshot of the near future, convinced of its reality.  Four stars.

Hermit, by J. T. McIntosh

A lone male officer at a remote military outpost has orders to destroy any incoming human vessel.  But when a lifeboat appears with one beautiful young woman aboard, he must decide between following his instructions or following his heart.

This is a setup that, when done well, can be quite compelling.  My favorite example is Hallunication Orbit, in which the solitary caretaker of a far-off observatory must determine whether his visitors are real or not.  Interestingly, that fine example was written more than a decade ago by none other than…J.T. McIntosh!

Hermit compares poorly with McIntosh's earlier tale.  Not only is it clear from the beginning that the "castaway" is a spy, but the sentry's actions are illogical, treasonous, and only explained by exposition in the last few paragraphs.  Two stars, and an admonition — don't plagiarize, especially from your own work!

Territory, by Poul Anderson

The trouble with do-gooding is that it's a contract with no consideration.  If the people you're helping don't understand your motivations, they don't appreciate the help.  At least, that's Anderson's assertion in Territory, in which human scientists were trying to avert an impending Ice Age are slaughtered by the aliens they were trying to help.

The project is salvaged by Nicholas van Rijn, a recurring Anderson character whose key traits include girth, malaprops, obnoxiousness, and the pursuit of profit.  He determines that the aliens won't take assistance, but they will jump into a mutually lucrative trade deal that accomplishes the same goal.  Win-win-win.

Well, wins for the characters — not for the reader.  Van Rijn is barely tolerable at his best, and when Anderson has the sole surviving scientist, a young woman, fall for the lout, it took great restraint to not throw the issue into a nearby toilet.  Two stars.

Ham Sandwich, by James H. Schmitz

Last up is an inconsequential story that is nowhere more at home than in the pages of Analog.  An oily character, specializing in the desires of the rich, offers True Insight to those who can afford it.  Such Insight is marked by the cultivation and demonstration of psychic powers, which can be greatly aided through the purchase of certain tools, available for just $1200 a-piece.

One reads the story waiting for the other shoe to drop, and when it does, it is with a dull thud.  The flim-flammer is brought in on bunko charges — turns out he really is con artist.  But he's then let free to continue his scheme in another city because, it turns out, he is effective at discovering latent psychic talents, who can then be recruited by the government.

It's just not very good.  Two stars.

Pencils down everyone.  It's time to grade the last test results before graduation day.  Oh my…  This month's Analog scored a dismal 2.6 stars.  That's as bad as June's Galaxy (our High School is failing our pupil, too, it seems).  But let's not judge out of hand, shall we?  Amazing clocked in at 2.8, New Worlds at 2.9.  Mediocre, but not entirely damning.  Fantastic scored 3.2 stars, and F&SF garnered an impressive 3.5 star grade.

In the end, I wouldn't say this is a set of failing marks.  Rather, they indicate that the genre has spent more than enough time in school and must strike out on its own to new vistas to reach the next level.  Let us allow SF to graduate

We might also consider replacing the Principal at Analog — his methods are highly outdated, and we don't want to unduly burden any new pupils, now do we?

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[April 1, 1963] Stuck in the Past (April 1963 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The world is a topsy-turvy place.  Whether it's a coup in Guatemala, or pro-Peronista unrest in Argentina, or a slow-motion civil war in Indochina, one can't open the newspaper without seeing evidence of disorder.  Even at home, it's clear that the battle for Civil Rights is just getting started, with the Southern Christian Leadership Conference planning a sit-in campaign in Birmingham, Alabama, the most segregated city in the country.  It's been a long time coming, but there's no question that many folks (on the wrong side of history) are upset at the changing order of things. 

So it's no wonder that some turn to the old familiar pleasures to escape from reality.  And while most science fiction magazines are now flirting with a new, literary style (particularly F&SF), a direction the British are starting to call "The New Wave," Analog Science Fact – Science Fiction sticks stolidly to the same recipe it's employed since the early 1950s: Psi, Hokum, and Conservatism. 

I suppose some might find the April 1963 Analog comforting, but I just found it a slog.  What do you think?

Which Stars Have Planets?, by Stanley Leinwoll

You'd think an article with a name like this would be right up my alley, but it turns out to be some metaphysics about planets causing sunspots.  Because, you see, Jupiter's orbital period of 12 years is close to the solar sunspot cycle of 11 years.  And if you add up the orbital periods of Earth, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, and divide by four, you get 11 years. 

WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!?

Nothing.  Not a damned thing.  The latter observation is numerological folderol, and the former is meaningless given that sunspots don't only show up on the side facing Jupiter.

Two stars for the pretty pictures.

"What'll You Give?", by Winston Sanders

Last month, Editor Campbell wrote a piece about how the gas giants of our solar system were untapped reservoirs of chemical wealth just waiting to be exploited.  "Winston Sanders" (a frequent pseudonym of Poul Anderson) has obliged Campbell by writing about a Jupiter mining mission in which a deep-diving spacecraft encounters trouble while scooping the ammonia and methane from the giant planet's atmosphere. 

By all rights, it should be an exciting piece, and yet, it almost completely fails to be.  A tidbit the Young Traveler taught me as I was writing my latest novel: don't assume your audience will find the technical details fascinating.  You have to make them relevant to the characters, described through their reactions. 

I could have done without the hackneyed nationality depictions, too.  Three stars, because the topic is good.  The execution is less so.

Sonny, by Rick Raphael

Hayseed army recruit plays havoc with local electrical systems when he telepaths home instead of writing like everyone else.  The military sends him to Russia to send mental postcards.

It's as dumb and smug as it sounds — the most Campbellian piece of the issue.  It is in English, however.

Two stars.

Last Resort, by Stephen Bartholomew

Things start well-enough in this story about an astronaut slowly but fatally losing air from his capsule.  I liked the bit about using a balloon to find the leak (it drifts to the hole, you see), but all trace of verisimilitude is lost when the spaceman lights not one but two cigarettes during the crisis!  Maybe smokes of the future don't burn oxygen. 

And, of course, the story is "solved" with psi.  Because this is Analog.

Two stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 2 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

After Middle Middle class mercenary, Major Joe Mauser, utterly louses up his chance at joining the ranks of the Uppers through military daring, he signs up with the underground movement whose aim is to tear the class system down altogether.  He is dispatched to the Sov-world capital of Budapest with the cover of being a liaison, but he's really an agent to see if the Workers' Paradise is similarly inclined to revolution.

This, the fourth installment in this particular future history, is rich on color but poor in credibility, and there's a lot more talking than doing.  It's not as disappointing as Reynolds' recent "Africa" series, but I expected a better conclusion to a promising saga.

Three stars.

Iceberg From Earth, by J. T. McIntosh

Iceberg is an espionage potboiler whose setting is a trio of colonized planets that, blessedly, isn't Earth, Mars, and Venus.  I did appreciate that the hero agent was a woman (the iceberg); I was sad that she wasn't the viewpoint character — instead, it was a rather lackluster and anti-woman fellow spy.  I did like the solar system McIntosh created, though.  Three stars.

A Slight Case of Limbo, by Lloyd Biggle, Jr.

Lastly, if not quite leastly, is this tale about a stout-hearted guy with a weak heart who gives his life to save another.  Except that the other is an alien who swaps the human's ticker with a machine, which turns out to be a mixed blessing.  The story meanders all over the place, and the ending is right out of a mediocre episode of Twilight Zone.  Still, it's not bad — I think I was just disappointed that the Simakian beginning had a Serlingian end.  Three stars.

And so we've come to the end of the April digests (though technically, Analog is now a slick).  Campbell's mag clocks in at a sad 2.6 stars.  Galaxy is the clear champion, at 3.5 stars.  Fantasy and Science Fiction, Fantastic, and New Worlds are all pleasantly above water at 3.2, and Amazing trails badly at 2.1.

Four of 41 fiction pieces were by women — par for the course.  There were enough 4 and 5-star stories to fill two good digests, my favorite of which was On the Fourth Planet, by Jesse Bone.

Speaking of quality, I am proud to announce that Galactic Journey is a finalist for the Best Fanzine Hugo!  Thanks to all who of you who nominated us, and I hope we'll have your continued support come Labor Day.  Either way, we're just happy to have you along for the ride. 

What have you enjoyed the most about the Journey?

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Magazine

[March 2, 1963] Bucking the System (March 1963 Analog)

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[While you're reading this article, why not tune in to KGJ, Radio Galactic Journey, playing all the current hits: pop, rock, soul, folk, jazz, country — it's the tops, pops…]


by Gideon Marcus

February has been a busy month for the Journey in terms of fanac (Fan Activity for you normal folks), including a presentation at the Mysterious Galaxy bookstore in San Diego and a panel at a small Los Angeles convention last weekend.  And the pace hasn't slackened: tonight, I'll be giving a talk on the Space Race at, of all places, a space-themed pub.  (And if I met you at the event, be sure to drop me a line.  I love meeting folks from all eras…)

This month's Analog Science Fiction, that great faded lady of the genre, has also been lively.  Not only has it recently grown from digest to slick-sized (so as to take shelf space next to other respectable mags like Time and Scientific American), but it features a host of stories whose common theme seems to be rebellion against a stultifying system. 

So let's check out the March 1963 Analog, shall we?

Natural Resources in Space, by John W. Campbell, Jr.

Apparently Editor Campbell couldn't find anyone to write a science article for him this month…or nothing he got met his exacting standards (i.e. didn't involve quack science like psychics, dowsing, or reactionless drives).  On the other hand, what we got in the way of nonfiction this month is a pleasantly crunchy piece on the location and accessibility of valuable materials in the solar system — from the iron of the asteroids to the helium of the gas giants.  Now we just need to get there!  Three stars.

Frigid Fracas (Part 1 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

Joe Mauser, Mercenary supreme, is back.  Last time we saw him, he was wending his way up through the rigid caste system of 21st Century "Industrial Feudalism," his only opportunity for social climbing being to fight in live-fire corporate disputes.  These "fracases," broadcast on Telly to a largely unemployed, tranquilized populace, are a modern-day Bread and Circuses.  And they're tightly regulated.  No weapons beyond those available in 1900 are allowed; this produces just enough slaughter to entertain, but the weapons pose no threat to a civilized, otherwise peaceful world. 

This time around, the ambitious Major stakes everything on a repeat of his last performance, flying an unmotored sailplane on a reconnaissance patrol.  But this time, he goes armed with a machine gun…because the opposing team has also discovered the benefits of taking the high ground.  Though this is just Part 1 of a two-parter, and despite featuring a fair bit of exposition, this installment makes a decent stand-alone story — and the world Reynold paints is vivid, if not particularly plausible.  Four stars.

All Day Wednesday, by Richard Olin

Ernie, a working stiff in a union factory, dreams of the day when he can finally stop worrying about it all.  That day will never come, because the day he's in won't ever end.  It's a weird, Twilight Zoney piece that doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's nicely rendered.  Three stars.

The Happy Man, by Gerald W. Page

Centuries from now, humanity has left for the stars, leaving behind the placid stay-behinds, content to spend their time in suspended animation, dreaming their own private Heavens.  But one fellow won't accept an artificial paradise and becomes a rebel, raiding the remaining settlements for food and other plunder.  To each their own poison, right?  A decent tale with a surprising ending.  Three stars.

Not in the Literature, by Christopher Anvil

Chris Anvil is an Analog perennial whose work tends toward the satirical.  When he publishes elsewhere, his work can be quite good, but when he writes for Campbell, it tends to take on a self-satisfied tone.  Literature is one of his better efforts in Analog, about an alternate timeline (or another planet) where the history of science differs from our own.  They have experimental rocketships, airships, advanced metallurgy and chemistry, yet no conception of electricity.  When a failed chemist offers a wild plan to conduct heat down a wire (Dig it — current flows!), he is met with derision and dismissal.  Cute, and my nephew, David, liked it.  Three stars.

Spanner in the Works, by J. T. McIntosh

Finally, we have a Spy vs. Spy tale…except the other Spy is not only supposed to be a good guy, it's not a guy at all!  Rather, a capable counter espionage agent must discover why the Bureau's hotshot computer has suddenly started giving useless advice.  A pleasant potboiler, although it's very much in the "Problem; Solution," category of stories, sort of the SF equivalent of the locked room mystery.  Good stuff…for the early 1950s.  Three stars.

This being the end of the month, it's time to see how the monthly sci-fi magazines fared in comparison with each other.  This time around, we had seven, more than the Journey has ever reviewed at a time.  Thank goodness we have the writers to cover it (ten at last count…) If you added up all the four and five-star stories, the stuff worth reading, you'd have enough to fill two whole magazines.  That's pretty good.  Only three out of forty eight stories were by women, continuing the dismal trend of the last several months.  That's not so good.

For you baseball fans, here are the actual numbers: IF secured the top spot with 3.3 stars, followed by Analog (3.2), Worlds of Tomorrow (3), Fantasy and Science Fiction (just 2.7, but featuring the month's best story), Fantastic (2.7), New Worlds (2.6), and finally, Amazing (2.3).  But all of them have something to recommend them, regardless of the score.

Be sure to stay tuned.  Next up, Jason Sacks is back with a look at National Comics…because you knew he couldn't let my recent praise of Marvel go unanswered.  See you then!

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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Magazine

[February 6, 1963] Up and Coming (March 1963 IF Science Fiction)

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[If you live in Southern California, you can see the Journey LIVE at Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore in San Diego, 2 p.m. on February 17!]


by Gideon Marcus

I've complained from time to time about the general decline in quality of some of the science fiction digests, namely Analog and Fantasy and Science Fiction.  On the other hand, Cele Goldsmith's mags, Amazing and (particularly) Fantastic have become pretty good reads.  And IF is often a delight.  Witness the March 1963 issue.  Not only does it have a lot of excellent stories, but the new color titles and illustrations really pop. 

Speaking of which, Virgil Finlay provides most of the pictures in this issue.  While I think he's one of the most talented artists in our genre (I gave him a Galactic Star last year), I find his subject matter increasingly dated.  His pieces would better fit a magazine from the 40s. 

The Time-Tombs, by J. G. Ballard

The Egyptians entombed their notables such that they might enjoy a rich and comfortable afterlife.  But what if they had preserved them with the intention of eventual resurrection?  Ballard's tale features a trio of grave robbers — pirate-archaeologists who plunder tombs containing the digitized remains of the long-dead.  Each has their own motivations: scholarship, profit, romance.  Taken too far, they lead to ruin.  Ballard's tales tend to be heavy, even plodding.  There's no question but that he's popular these days, and his stuff is worth reading.  It's just not strictly to my taste.  Three stars.

Saline Solution, by Keith Laumer

My correspondence with the Laumer clan (currently based in London) continues, but I'd enjoy his work regardless.  The cleverly titled Saline Solution is one of my favorite stories involving Retief, that incredibly talented yet much put-upon diplomat/superspy of the future.  It's also the first one that takes place in the Solar System.  Four stars.

The Abandoned of Yan, by Donald F. Daley

Daley's first publication stars an abandoned wife on an autocratic world.  It's a bleak situation in a dark setting, and I wasn't sure if I liked it when I was done.  But it stayed with me, and that's worth something.  Three stars.

The Wishbooks, by Theodore Sturgeon

Sturgeon's non-fiction piece this month is essentially a better, shorter version of the article on technical ads in last month's Analog.  Three stars.

The Ten-Point Princess, by J. T. McIntosh

A conquered people deprived of their weapons still find clever ways to resist.  When a Terran soldier kills his superior over an indigenous girl, is it justifiable homicide?  Self defense?  Or something much more subtle?  It's up to an Earthborn military lawyer to find the truth.  This is a script right out of Perry Mason with lots of twists and turns.  Four stars (and I could see someone giving it five).

Countdown, by Julian F. Grow

Someday, our nuclear arsenals will be refined to computerized precision and hair-trigger accuracy.  When that happens, will our humanity be sufficient to stop worldwide destruction?  The beauty of this story is in the presentation.  I read it twice.  Four stars.

Podkayne of Mars (Part 3 of 3), by Robert A. Heinlein

At last, Heinlein's serial has come to an end.  It only took five months and three issues.  Sadly, the plot was saved for the last third, and it wasn't worth waiting for.  Turns out Poddy's trip to Venus wasn't a pleasure cruise, but rather served as cover for her Uncle's ambassadorial trip.  Two unnamed factions don't want this trip to happen, and they pull out all the stops to foil his mission.  Overwritten, somewhat unpleasant, and just not particularly interesting.  Two stars for this segment, and 2.67 for the aggregate. 

Between this and Stranger in a Strange Land, has the master stumbled?

I, Executioner, by Ted White and Terry Carr

Last up is a haunting piece involving a mass…but intensely personal execution.  Justice in the future combines juror and deathdealer into one role.  Excellent development in this short tale.  Four stars (and, again, perhaps worthy of five).

That comes out to eight pieces, one of which is kind of a dud, and four of which are fine.  I know I plan to keep my subscription up.

Speaking of subscriptions, drift your eyes to the upper right of this article and note that KGJ is now broadcasting.  Playing the latest pop, rock, mo-town, country, jazz, folk, and surf — and with not a single advertisement — I expect it to be a big hit from Coast to Coast… and beyond.  Tune in!

[P.S. If you registered for WorldCon this year, please consider nominating Galactic Journey for the "Best Fanzine" Hugo.  Your ballot should have arrived by now…]




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Magazine

[July 18, 1962] It Gets Better? (August 1962 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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[if you’re new to the Journey, read this to see what we’re all about!]


by Gideon Marcus

There's a war going on in our nation, a war for our souls.

No, I'm not referring to the battle of Democracy versus Communism or Protestants against Catholics.  Not even the struggle between squares and beatniks.  This is a deeper strife than even these.


(from Fanac)

I refer, of course, to the schism that divides science fiction fans.  In particular, I mean the mainstream fans and the literary crowd.  The former far outnumber the latter, at least if the circulation numbers for Analog compared to that of Fantasy and Science Fiction are any indication. 

Devotees of editor Campbell's Analog, though they occasionally chide the editor's obsession with things psychic, appreciate the "hard" sf, the focus on adventure, and the magazine's orthodox style it has maintained since the 1940s.  They have nothing but sneering disdain for the more literary F&SF, and they hate it when its fluffy "feminine" verbosity creeps into "their" magazines.

F&SF, on the other hand, has pretentions of respectability.  You can tell because the back page has a bunch of portraits of arty types singing the magazine's praises.  Unfortunately for the golden mag (my nickname – cover art seems to favor the color yellow), many of the writers who've distinguished themselves have made the jump to the more profitable "slicks" (maintstream magazines) and novels market.  This means that editor Davidson's mag tends to be both unbearably literate and not very good.

This is a shame because right up to last year, I'd sided with the eggheads.  F&SF was my favorite digest.  On the other hand, I'm not really at home with the hoi polloi Campbell crowd.  Luckily, there is the middle ground of Pohl's magazines, Galaxy and IF. 

Nevertheless, there is still usually something to recommend F&SF, particularly Dr. Asimov's non-fiction articles, and the frequency with which F&SF publishes women ("feminine" isn't a derogatory epithet for me.)

And in fact, if you can get past the awful awful beginning, there's good stuff in the August 1962 F&SF:

The Secret Songs, by Fritz Leiber

Leiber is an established figure in the genre, having written some truly great stuff going back to the old Unknown days of the 30s.  He even won the Hugo for The Big Time.  However, Secret Songs, a tale of a drug addled Jack Sprat and wife with countering addictions, won't win any awards.  It's not sf, nor is it very interesting.  I give it two stars for creative execution and nothing else.

The Golden Flask, by Kendell Foster Crossen

Boy, is this one a stinker.  Not only does Davidson ruin it with his prefatory comments (I've stopped reading them – they are too long by half, inevitably spoil the story, and are never fun to read), but the gotcha of this bloody tale is puerile.  One star.

Salmanazar, by Gordon R. Dickson

Some obtuse tale of the macabre involving magic, Orientalism, and a sinister cat.  Gordy Dickson is one of the better writers…when he wants to be.  He didn't this time.  One star.

The Voyage Which Is Ended, by Dean McLaughlin

When the century-long trip of a colony ship is over, crew and passengers must struggle with the dramatic change in role and responsibilities.  This somber piece reads like the first chapter of a promising novel that we'll never get to read.  I did appreciate the theme: a ship's captain isn't necessarily best suited to lead a polity beyond a vessel's metal walls.  Three stars.

Mumbwe Jones, by Fred Benton

A vignette of undying friendship between a White trader and an African witch-doctor…and the vibrant world of sentient creatures, animate and otherwise, with which they interact.  An interesting piece of magic realism a little too insubstantial to garner more than three stars.

The Top, by George Sumner Albee (a reprint from 1953)

Career ad-man receives the promotion he's always desired, allowing him at last to meet the President of the sprawling industrial combine of which the copywriter is just a valuable cog.  But does the Big Boss run the machine, or are they one and the same?  Another piece that isn't science fiction, nor really worth your time.  Two stars.

The Light Fantastic, by Isaac Asimov

The good Doctor's piece on electromagnetic radiation is worth your time.  He devotes a few inches to the brand new "LASERS," artificially pure light beams that stick to a single wavelength and don't degrade with distance.  I've already seen several articles on this wonder invention, and I suspect they will make them into a clutch of sf stories in the near future.

By the way, the cantankerous has-been Alfred Bester has finally turned in his shingle, resigning from the helm of the book review department.  In an ironic departing screed, he lamented the lack of quality of new sf (not that he's contributed to that body of work in years), and states that people shouldn't have been so sensitive to his criticisms.  To illustrate, he closes with the kind of anti-womanism we've come to expect from Bester:

"A guy complained to a girl that the problem with women was the fact that they took everything that was said personally.  She answered, 'Well, I sure don't.'"

Good riddance, Alfred.  Don't let the turnstile bruise your posterior.

Fruiting Body, by Rosel George Brown

I always look forward to Ms. Brown's whimsical works, and this outing does not disappoint.  When mycology and the pursuit of women intersect, the result is at once ridiculous, a little chilling, and highly entertaining.  That's all I'll give you, save for a four-star rating.

The Roper, by Theodore R. Cogswell and John Jacob Niles

Some pointless doggerel whose meaning and significance escapes this boor of a reader.  One star.

Spatial Relationship, by Randall Garrett

Ugh.  How to keep two space pilots cramped in a little spaceship for years from killing each other?  Give them phantom lovers, of course.  I liked the story much better when it was called Hallucination Orbit (by J.T.McIntosh), and could well have done without the offensive, anti-queer ending.  You'll know it when you see it.  Two stars.

The Stupid General, by J. T. McIntosh

Speaking of J.T.McIntosh…  The literature is filled with if-only stories where peace-loving aliens are provoked to violence by the hasty actions of a narrow-minded general.  But what if the fellow's instincts are right?  A good, if not brilliant, story.  Three stars.

What Price Wings?, by H. L. Gold

This is the first I've heard from Galaxy's former editor in a couple of years – I have to wonder if this is something that was pulled from an old drawer.  Anyway, a classic tale of virtue being its own punishment.  It ends predictably, but it gets there pleasantly.  Three stars.

Paulie Charmed the Sleeping Woman, by Harlan Ellison

Many years ago, on a lark, I translated the classic story of Orpheus and Eurydice from an Old English rendition.  Now, in his first appearance in F&SF, Mr. Ellison presents a translation of the tale into hepcat jive.  It's an effective piece, though heavier on atmosphere than consequence.  Three stars.

The Gumdrop King, by Will Stanton

The issue ends with a fizzle: a youth meets an alien, and incomprehensibility ensues.  I'm not sure that was the result Stanton was aiming for.  Two stars.

Through Time and Space with Ferdinand Feghoot: LIII, by Grendal Briarton

Oh, and the Feghoot pun this time is just dreadful.  Not in a good way.

Good grief.  Doing the calculations, we find this issue only got 2.4 stars.  It's definitely a favorite for worst mag of the month, and indicative of momentum toward worst mag of the year.  Those philistines who subscribe to Analog are going to win after all…

(P.S. Don't miss the second Galactic Journey Tele-Conference, July 29th at 11 a.m.!  You'll have a chance to win a copy of F&SF – not this issue, I promise!)

—




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Magazine

[January 27, 1962] Bumps in Road (February 1962 Fantasy and Science Fiction)

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by Gideon Marcus

It's been a topsy turvy month: Snow is falling in coastal Los Angeles.  Castro's Cuba has been kicked out of the Organization of American States.  Elvis is playing a Hawaiian beach bum.  So it's in keeping that the latest issue of Fantasy and Science Fiction is, well, uneven.

Luckily, the February 1962 F&SF front-loaded the bad stuff (though it's a bumpy ride clear to the end), so if you can make it through the beginning, you're in for a treat – particularly at the end.  But first…

The Garden of Time is the latest from Englishman J. G. Ballard.  This tale of an enchanted chateau on the brink of ransack is long on imagery but short on substance (like many pieces in F&SF).  You may find it lovely; I found it superfluous.  Two stars.

The latest Ferdinand Feghoot (XLVIII) is slightly less worthy than the mean, for what that's worth.  A pun that fails to elicit a groan, but merely a tired sigh, is hardly a pun at all.

Avram Davidson has completed his descent into impenetrability.  Once a reliable author, somber and profound, his work has been increasingly odd.  His latest (The Singular Events Which Occurred in the Hovel on the Alley Off Eye Street) is a parallel universe magical send-up of our present day.  I think.  He manages to pack more nonsense per square word than ever before, and even Street's paltry 2000 or so words are too many.  One star.

One Into Two, by J. T. McIntosh, is something of an improvement: quick and pleasant reading.  However, if the best story you can make of a matter transmitter/duplicator is a "perfect crime" piece, you're not thinking too hard.  Three stars.

I'd call Walter H. Kerr's Gruesome Discovery at the 242nd St. Feeding Station the least kind of doggerel, but I happen to like canines.  I'll just give it one star and leave it at that.

Pirate Island, by Czech Josef Nesvadba, is a reprint from behind the Iron Curtain.  I rather enjoyed this bitter tale of a frustrated privateer in the era of Morgan.  Something about its lyrical irony appealed.  Nothing at all of the stodginess I rather expected from the Eastern Bloc.  Four stars. 

Jesus Christ seems to be a popular topic this month, He having also made an appearance in Amazing's …And it was Good.  In Richard Matheson's The Traveller, a professor journeys back to Golgotha with the intention of simply taking notes, but becomes compelled to save the hapless martyr.  It grew on me in retrospect, as much Matheson does.  Four stars.

We take a bit of a plunge then, quality-wise.  Ward Moore is a long-time veteran of F&SF, and his last story, The Fellow who married the Maxill Girl was a poetic masterpiece.  Rebel, a twist on the newly minted "Generation Gap," but with the roles reversed, isn't.  Two stars.

Barry Stevens' Window to the Whirled, like Ballard's lead piece, is overwrought and underrealized.  It's a hybrid of Clifton's Star Bright (geniuses will themselves cross-wise across time and space) and Jones' The Great Gray Plague (only by leaving boring ol' science behind can one be free), and I really wanted to like it…but I didn't.  Two stars.

Even Isaac Asimov's science fact article, Superficially Speaking, about the comparative surface areas of the solar system's celestial bodies, is lackluster this month.  Of course, even bland Asimov is pretty good reading.  Three stars.

Lewis Turco has a few poetic snippets ostensibly from the mouths of robots in Excerpts from the Latterday Chronicle.  They are in English; they are not long.  And this ends what I have to say about them.  Two stars.

Novice Matthew Grass offers up The Snake in the Closet, a story that presents exactly what's on the tin, and yet is clearly a metaphor for…something, I'm sure.  Not a bad first effort, and some may find it poignantly relevant.  Three stars.

All of this is but frivolous preamble to the jewel of this issue.  Edgar Pangborn is a fellow who has been too long away from the sff digests, and his The Golden Horn is one of those perfect stories, at once gritty and beautiful.  Set in post-WW3 America. It is a tale of friendship and betrayal, love and lost innocence, lusterless life and sublime sonority.  It's just that good, okay?  Five stars.

So went February 1962, and F&SF, with its final score of 2.8 stars, ends up tied with Fantastic and Galaxy (though it gets distinction for having the best story).  Analog, at 2.1 stars, was the worst.  Amazingly, Amazing was the best with 3.3 stars.  Some of you may disagree with this judgment (I know Pawn of the Black Fleet was not to everyone's taste) but I stand by John Boston's judgment, both because I must, and because our tastes have proven not to be too different.

Of 33 fiction pieces, just one was woman-penned.  A sad state that no doubt contributed to this month's comparative dip on the star-o-meter.  However, it looks like Zenna Henderson and Mildred Clingerman will publish next month, so that's something to look forward to. 

Stay tuned for the next Ace Double and January's space race round-up!

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Book

[December 15, 1961] Double Trouble (Ace Double F-113)

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by Gideon Marcus

God help me, I've found a new medium for my science fiction addiction.

Before 1950, I was strictly a toe-dipper in the scientifiction sea.  I'd read a few books, perused a pulp now and then.  Then Galaxy came out, and I quickly secured a regular subscription to the monthly magazine.  After I got turned onto the genre, I began picking up books at the stores, occasionally grabbing copies of F&SF, Imagination, Astounding, and Satellite, too.  By 1957, my dance card was pretty full.  I was reading up to seven magazines a month, and I'd already filled a small bookcase with novels.

Then I started this column.

Well, I couldn't very well leave magazines or books unbought.  How then could I give an honest appraisal of the genre as a whole?  By 1960, I was up to two large bookcases – one for magazines, and one for books.  For me, the magazine bust of the late 50's was something of a blessing: fewer digests to collect!

I might have been all right with this load, juggling work, family, books and magazines.  But then I discovered Ace Doubles.

Occupying that niche between single novels and story collections, Ace Doubles are two short novels bound back to back.  It's a format that's been around since 1952, but I generally ignored them.  I figured the material was either rehashes of magazine serials, or stuff too mediocre to warrant its own release. 

I wasn't far off the mark, but at the same time, after plowing through a few of them, I determined that there was often solid entertainment to be had amongst the pages of these two-headed beasts.  And so I start on my third set of bookshelves…and my first review of an Ace Double: serial number F-113.

Let's call Charles Fontenay's Rebels of the Red Planet the headliner.  It is, after all, the longer of the two books.  The set-up is interesting: the spaceline Marscorp has a stranglehold on the Martian colonies, controlling all imports of food and other needed supplies.  The Terran government, in complicity with Marscorp, has forbidden any attempts to develop alternatives to Earth-supplied goods.  Nevertheless, two movements have continued in a clandestine fashion.  One seeks to cultivate humanity's latent psychic powers to teleport supplies from Earth.  Another conducts ghastly genetic experiments on unwilling subjects, attempting to create a race of humans that can survive in Mars' frigid, scarcely atmosphered environment.

Enter Maya Cara Nome, an Earth agent dispatched to infiltrate the Martian rebellion and spike their works.  She's a most engaging heroine, clever and strong, and I am always thrilled to read a female protagonist – they are so rare, you see.  Rebels is the story of Nome's attempts to assess the progress of the rebellion's efforts.  Is her fiancee, the ambitious and intolerant Nuwell Eli, help or peril?  And just who is this mysterious Dark Kensington, a rebel scientist with startling powers and a 25-year hole in his memory?  Are the ugly Martian natives truly degenerate?  Or have they shunned their ancestors' civilization for a reason?

You'll have to read it to find out.  It's quite competently done, a curious mix of pulp and modern styles, though the "science" rather strains the credulity.  I tend to be bored by Mars as a setting, but Fontenay brings the red planet vividly to life.

Three stars.

Now flip the book, and what do we have?  Definitely not a novel, clocking in at just 80 pages.  However, J.T. McIntosh's 200 Years to Christmas is not a bad novella.  In fact, I'd even consider it as a contender for the 1961 Galactic Star (the competition is thin), but it was actually first published in a British magazine (Science Fantasy) back in 1959.  Perhaps Journey writer, Ashley Pollard can set me straight on this.

In any event, McIntosh is a pretty reliable writer of pretty decent stuff.  Christmas involves one of my favorite set-ups: it takes place on a slower-than-light colony ship whose trip time is several centuries.  I would expect that society on such a closed community would become stagnant and stultified in short order. 

McIntosh has a different take.  On the colony ship, culture cycles in wild shifts from repressive to liberal in intervals of considerably less than a generation.  Christmas opens up as a libertine era is just beginning to wane.  Orgies and hedonism slowly give way to religious puritanism.  At the peak of that conservative era, shipboard life resembles Salem Massachusetts in its severity.  It is only after things go too far that the pendulum shifts back toward personal freedom.  But will the events of that repressive period be remembered in ten years?

Christmas is a timely piece.  America has just gone though eight years of relative stability, an era of prosperous conservatism.  Now, the tides have shifted.  We have a hawkish, ambitious new President as well as a restive populace straining at the shackles imposed by precedent.  Will the 1960s be as tumultuous as the 1950s were calm?  Will they show that McIntosh's fast tempo for societal change isn't implausible? 

As for the actually quality of the novella, it is not a classic for the ages; but it is well-crafted and characterized.  It certainly garners three stars.

Thus, in sum, Ace Double F-133 provides 240+ pages of good entertainment.  These are stories at least as good as what I'm finding in my monthly magazine subscriptions, and in an attractive package to boot. 

And that means the amount of time before my house comprises nothing but floor-to-ceiling bookshelves has just been reduced yet again…

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