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[November 30, 1965] War is Swell (December 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Thrill of Combat

It was just twenty years ago that the second war to end all wars drew to an explosive close. Two titans of tyranny (and their little brother) were defeated by the Arsenal of Democracy.  Clearly, World War 2 was "the good war:" there's a reason it is now as popular on television and in wargames as the Western and the Civil War.

And just in time.  After the sloggish stalemate of Korea and the painful "escalatio" in Vietnam (credit to Tom Lehrer), war needs to be fun again.  I suppose it's no surprise that war is not only a common theme in science fiction, but the good and fun kind of war is the thread that ties together the December 1965 issue of Analog, notoriously the most conservative (reactionary?) of the outlets in our visionary genre.

One War after Another


by Kelly Freas

Beehive (Part 1 of 2), by Mack Reynolds

Ronny Bronston, forgettably faced but utterly competent agent for Earth's "Section G" is back.  Last we saw him, he'd been on the trail of interstellar troublemaker, Tommy Paine, spurring revolution on dozens of worlds.  Turned out that Paine was actually Section G, itself, skirting the non-interference clauses of the galactic charter to ensure that the colony worlds didn't stagnate.

In Beehive, we find out why: a century ago, the first sentient alien was found.  Well, actually, its corpse — it had been a casualty of a war of extermination.  And we still don't know who their enemy was, or if they'll soon be knocking on our doors.  That's why the super secret service has been surreptitiously trying to speed of progress on all of the colony worlds so that when the aliens do come, we'll be as ready as possible.

One of the more successful colonies, the putatively libertarian but actually authoritarian world of Phrygia appears to be making a play to turn the galactic society into an Empire, and Bronston is dispatched to get the facts on the ground.  But when he gets there, the agent discovers that the wheels have wheels within them, and the Phrygian dictator knows far more about the alien threat than Section G.


by Kelly Freas

While this serial has a definite hook of a cliffhanger, for the most part, it's not Reynolds' best…or even his middlin'.  There's a glib, breezy quality to it that is both smug and serves to reduce the tension.  The central idea is repugnant, too — that Earth knows best, and their underhanded means of stimulating progress are justified.  But then Campbell probably didn't watch that recent documentary on how the CIA messed up in Guatemala.

Anyway, I'll keep reading, but it's two stars right now.

Warrior, by Gordon R. Dickson


by Kelly Freas

Another sequel and another war.  In Dickson's Dorsai universe, humanity has spread to thirteen worlds, each focusing on an aspect of cultural development.  The Dorsai have made war their profession, turning it into a sublime art, and they are the most esteemed and feared mercenaries.

In the novella/novel, Soldier, Ask Not, we were introduced to twin brother generals, Kenzie and Ian Graeme.  The former is a charismatic leader, the latter a sullen but matchless strategician.

Ian Graeme returns in Warrior, traveling to Earth to seek justice for 32 of his men, slaughtered when their glory-hunting captain disobeyed orders to lead a hopeless charge.  The officer was court martialed and executed, but Graeme knows that the real culprit is his gangster brother.  Warrior tells the tale of Graeme and the brother's eventual and climactic confrontation.

There are a lot of inches in this story devoted to the obvious prowess of Mr. Graeme, his dark eminence, his barely suppressed strength, his intimidating military demeanor that requires no uniform, etc. etc.  Frankly, it all runs thin early on.

Still, it's a pretty good story (breathlessly recommended by my nephew David…but then so was Beehive), and the display of Dorsai tactics, trapping the brother within the trap being laid for Graeme, was effective.

Three stars.

Heavy Elements , by Edward C. Walterscheid

Ever wonder how the transuranium elements were fashioned?  Walterschied returns for a very comprehensive article on the subject.  There's a lot of good information here, and it's reasonably well delivered.  It's also very dense (no pun intended), certainly not in the Asimov style.  It took me a few sittings to get through.

Three stars.

Mission "Red Clash", by Joe Poyer


by Gray Morrow

Joe Poyer's first story is essentially the Analog version of the MacLean novel, Ice Station Zebra.  The pilot of a next-generation recon plane, the hypersonic X-17, is forced to bail out over Norway after being shot down by a Russian interceptor.  Now he, and the three men dispatched from the nuclear cruiser John F. Kennedy, must evade squads of Soviets and survive frigid conditions to get critical intelligence back to our side.

Told with technophiliac details so lurid that I felt it belonged under rather than on the counter, there's not much of a story here.  Mission lacks context, characterization, and conclusion, leaving a competently told middle section of an unfinished novel.  It's low budget Martin Caidin.

Two stars.

Countercommandment, by Patrick Meadows


by Domenic Iaia

Last up, a computer scientists is rushed to NORAD to find out why, three hours after World War 3 was declared by the Chinese, the Big Brain has not executed a countersrike.  And why, despite the efforts of the enemy, their missiles haven't launched either.

This is a two page story padded to ten with the gimmick that the computers, having access to our most sacred documents, which all speak to the sanctity of human life, could not in good conscience end humanity.

It might work in Heinlein's new serial currently running in IF.  It makes no sense for computers of 1970s vintage, and it comes off as mawkish.

One star.

One Million Deaths is a Statistic

This war-soaked issue of Analog scores a dismal 2.2, barely beating out the truly awful Amazing (1.8).

Above it, we have IF (2.6), New Writings #6 (2.9), Galaxy and New Worlds (3), Science Fantasy (3.1), and the superlative Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.9)

In keeping with the (not entirely accurate) notion that war is a "man's game", there were no entries by women this month.  Zero.  Goose egg.  Color me dismayed.

And on that note, we are done with all of the science fiction magazines with a 1965 cover date.  Rest assured, we have compiled all of the statistics from the past year, and our Journey-Vac will be spitting out a fine edition of the '65 Galactic Stars at the end of next month. 

You won't want to miss it!

And speaking of stars…

If you caught my review last year of Tom Purdom's I Want the Stars, then you know why I was so excited at the chance to reprint it. And now it can be yours! This new Journey Press edition also comes with a special 'making-of' section.

Get yourself a copy, and maybe one for a friend!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[October 31, 1965] Finished and Unfinished Business (November 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Spooks and SF

All Hallow's Eve is upon us, that annual moment when the barrier between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its weakest. The departed spirits of those with unfinished business return to fulfil their goals. And puckish souls, alive and passed, spread mischief.

And amidst all this, there is candy.

In this light, the November 1965 issue of Analog is the perfect companion for Halloween. There are familiar faces, a significant departed face, delicious trifles, and sad tricks.

Tricks and Treats


John Schoenherr

Down Styphon!, by H. Beam Piper

If you read H. Beam Piper's Gunpowder God this time last year, you're familiar with Calvin Morrison, a Pennsylvania cop who got whisked to an alternate world where Aryan tribes settled the Americas and the precursors to our Amerinds stayed in Asia.  Calvin encountered a feudal patchwork where the United States had been, and he quickly took advantage of his military prowess and knowledge to help break the gunpowder monopoly of the House of Styphon, becoming Lord Kalvan of the principality of Hostigo in the process.

If you haven't read Gunpowder God, you'll be rather lost reading Down Styphon!, which is a direct sequel.  After winning its first battle against its neighbors, Hostigo now finds itself about to be attacked by neighboring Nostor and a host of Styphon-funded mercenaries.  Only by developing a mobile force and the science of military cartography can Kalvan and Hostigo hope to repel the vastly superior forces of the invaders.

Down Styphon! is little more than a campaign log, chronicling the ebb and flow of the fight from the initial preparations, to the attempted Nostorian breakthrough, to their ultimate rout. It's clearly a middle third to a novel of Kalvan's story, started in Gunpowder God.  Indeed, the tale ends on a cliffhanger: it is clear that Styphon has one more trick up their sleeve and will not go down without a fight.

The problem, of course, is that readers of Analog may never get a conclusion to this tale.  Sadly, Mr. Piper took his own life last November, and Down Styphon! is touted as the author's last published story.

On the other hand, a novel of Lord Kalvan (Lord Kalvan of Otherwhen) came out recently, and it may well have the resolution to the story.  It's also possible that editor John Campbell will license the last part of the book to finish the saga in Analog.

One hopes so.  While Down Styphon! is clearly incomplete and focused primarily on a single battle, it is yet one of the best and most riveting recountings of a military campaign I've read.  There is such rich detail that I could easily see Avalon Hill making a wargame out of it.

So I give this tale four stars for what it accomplishes and in appreciation for what it could have been (and perhaps might be — fingers crossed).

Even Chance, by John Brunner


John Schoenherr

A young Kalang tribesman in the remote mountains of Java rushes to meet a party of foreign anthropologists.  He bears a shard of a crashed vehicle, one he's certain will convince the expedition to regale him with gifts, as had happened during the War when a pilot had set down his crate and had to be nursed back to health.

But the fragment is highly radioactive, and the craft it comes from is not of Earthly construction.

That's a great setup for a story, but in (the oddly titled) Even Chance, the setup is the whole story.  You know its outcome from the beginning, and the thing reads like something from the 1940s.

A high two — it's not offensive, but it could use finishing.

A Long Way to Go, by Robert Conquest


Kelly Freas

A Mr. Randall from modern day is transported 500 years into the future.  Unlike other contemporaries who had made the trip, Randall is allowed to keep his memories of the 20th Century even if it means he'll have trouble adjusting to the 26th, the better for anthropologists to study him.

At the end, however, it is decided that it is better for Randall to be acclimatized after all.  The time traveler takes the news philosophically, noting that the future seems to have solved all of today's problems. But, his future host sadly informs him, they have unique problems of their own.

Once more, we have a fine setup to a story that fails to go anywhere. Indeed, I'm not quite sure what the point of the tale was.

Another high two.

Some Preliminary Notes on FASEG, by Laurence M. Janifer and Frederick W. Kantor

Here's a cute quasi-scientific piece on the generation of fairy godmothers, done in the style of a short journal article.

Three stars.

Onward and Upward with Space Power, by J. Frank Coneybear

On the other hand, Coneybear's longwinded piece on steam power in space keenly suffers for want of an introduction, a conclusion, and subheadings.  I suppose it's better than pseudoscience, but Analog really needs a dedicated science writer like F&SF's Asimov and Galaxy's Ley.

Space Pioneer (Part 3 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


Kelly Freas

At last we come to something that does finish: Reynolds' latest serial.  When last we left Ender Castriota (who had assumed the identity of Rog Bock to join the roster of the colony ship Titov on its way to complete a blood feud against the last of the Peshkopi clan, rumored to be on the vessel), the colony of New Arizona had been attacked by natives.  As the first intelligent aliens encountered by humanity, their presence on the planet not only poses an existential threat to the new settlement, it also invalidates the colonial charter.

A war ensues, egged on by the Captain of the Titov, who, not wanting to see his lucrative opportunity fade away, insists the aliens are simple animals.  That these "animals" wield crossbows and religious totems makes no difference to him.

Curiously, the "kogs" (as the indigenes are derogatorily called) are extremely humanoid in appearance.  Stranger still, they appear to be confined to the island on which the Titov landed.  I'm sure you can guess, as I did, the true origin of the "aliens."

Space Pioneer's third part is, like Down Styphon!, primarily a chronicle of battle and, like the Piper story, a deftly executed one.  Reynolds is good at that kind of thing.  The Peshkopi feud issue is resolved, and not as I expected it to be, and there is some good development of the relationship between Castriota and Zorilla, the one member of the colonial board who seems to be a decent man.  I was disappointed that Cathy Bergman, advocate for the non-charter member colonists had a minimal role in the third segment, however.

All told, I'd give Part Three four stars, and the book as a whole three and a half.  Good stuff, but it likely won't make the nomination for this year's Galactic Stars.

Assorted Sweets

With all of its ups and downs, Analog clocks in at exactly three stars.  However, as with any Halloween grab bag, you can always skip the candy you don't like and concentrate on what you like.  There's certainly much to enjoy in this month's first and last thirds.

Analog is surpassed this month by Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.7), Science Fantasy (3.2), and New Worlds (3.1).

Campbell's magazine is better than this month's largely reprint Fantastic (2.8) and the perennially lackluster IF (2.6).

Only one story out of the 30 new pieces was written by a woman, which makes Science Fantasy the winner of this month's SF equal opportunity award without trying very hard. 

Sad as that statistic may be, there was far more worthy reading this month than usual.  One could easily fill two big magazines with nothing but 4-star stuff.

So grab yourself this month's digests, stuff them in your trick or treat bag, and have a swell spooky holiday of haunting.  I know I will!




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Magazine, Serial

[September 30, 1965] Big and Little Bangs (October 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Big One

Billions of years ago, the entire universe was smaller than the head of a pin.  For an endless eternity, or perhaps just an instant, it remained in this state – and then it exploded outward with the force of creation, ultimately becoming all that we see today.

Until this year, this "Big Bang" theory was as yet unconfirmed.  It had stiff competition in the "Steady State" hypothesis, which postulated that the universe is indeed expanding, but because of matter being constantly created.  This was fundamental to the plot of Pohl and Williamson's recent novels set in the reefs of space at the edges of our solar system.

But last year, Arno Penzias and Robert Wilson at the Bell Telephone Laboratories in Murray Hill, New Jersey noticed an excess of radio noise in the receiver they were building, an excess that closely resembled the Cosmic Microwave Background predicted by physicists Ralph Alpherin, Robert Herman, and George Gamow.  This extremely low level but pervasive energy is what's left of the heat of the primeval explosion, reduced to microwaves by the expansion of the universe.


The Murray Hill facility where the echoes of the Big Bang were discovered

Smaller Ones

Here on Earth, it seems our planet is anxious to imitate the violence of the universe at large.  On September 28, the Taan Volcano off the coast of the Philippine island of Luzon exploded, killing hundreds of Filipinos.

And less of a bang and more of a blaaat, we've just finished ringing in the Jewish new year with the traditional blowing of a ram's horn.

The Littlest One

Meanwhile, editor John W. Campbell, Jr. seems content to not rock the boat, providing a mixed bag of diverting fare and stale garbage in the latest issue of Analog, a combination that is unlikely to knock anyone off their feet.


by John Schoenherr

Overproof, by Johnathan Blake MacKenzie

On a planet two hundred light years from home, a husband and wife pair of anthropologists come across a horrifying discovery.  The native Darotha, an amphibian race resembling across between a cat and an octopus, are eating humans.  At least, it seems that way – the Yahoos, apelike herd animals on their planet, bear a striking resemblance to homo sapiens.  Are the Darothans really mass murderers?  Or are looks deceiving?


by John Schoenherr

This is an interesting piece that Randall Garrett (under a pseudonym) has offered up.  Unusually for an Analog story, the Darothans are a well-drawn alien race and not played for inferiority – indeed, they are treated with sensitivity not only by the author but by the Terran colonists on the planet, who see them as exciting as potential partners and as an example of non-human society.  In the end, the story is essentially an inverse of Piper's Fuzzy stories, where the question is not whether the humanoid Yahoos possess the spark of humanity, but whether they don't.

It's not a perfect story.  The conclusion is pretty obvious from the beginning, it meanders and repeats a bit, but it's more subtle than what I usually see in Analog, and it kept me interested.

Three stars.

The Veteran, by Robert Conquest

Humans from the future, who have forgotten the art of war, summon someone from the past to lead them in a war against alien nasties.  Unfortunately for them, the person they've found is a devout pacifist.  But luckily, the fellow discovers the battle lust within that he needs to fulfill his role.

Rather offensive, simplistic, and for some reason, the aliens conquer our solar system in reverse order of distance from the Sun even though it's unlikely that they'd all be lined up so obligingly.

Two stars.

Snakebite!, by Alexander W. Hulett, M.D. and William Hulett

For some reason, Campbell saw fit to include this high school science project discussing the use of snake venom to produce antivenom blood serum in rodents.  As an actual article, it might have been mildly interesting, but in its current form, it's pretty pointless.

Two stars.

The Mischief Maker, by Richard Olin


by John Schoenherr

A story told in epistolary, Maker describes how a crackpot professor with a grudge stumbles across the great power of the Law of Analogy, which he uses to destroy the leaders of America through various bits of voodoo and witchcraft.  Truth be told, my eyes glazed over when the author mentioned the Hieronymous Machine, that psychic amplifier requiring no power source that editor Campbell is so enamored of.

Two stars.

Space Pioneer (Part 2 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

Last but not least, we have the continuation of Reynolds' serial that began last month.  When last we'd seen the assassin impersonating Rog Bock, shareholder in the colonial venture on New Arizona, his masquerade had been discovered by at least one other shareholder.

Part 2 begins with the colony ship Titov landing on its virgin planet destination, so closely resembling Earth as to be a near twin.  The rapaciousness of the shareholders' goal becomes clear as the 2000 colonists find they have virtually no rights, that the shareholders plan to sell the valuable resource rights to outside entities almost immediately, and that the crew of the ship largely comprise ex-military personnel to make them a ready police force to keep the settlers in line.

Unrest threatens to boil over as the colony teeters on the brink of collapse, reeling from colonist indolence and sabotage by unknown persons – but by the end of this installment, they all have bigger concerns to worry about…

Again, Pioneer has only the barest trappings of science fiction.  Nevertheless, this is one of Reynolds' more deft tales, and I'm enjoying it a lot.

Four stars for this bit.

Seismographic Data

Where does this leave us for the month?  Well, Analog clocks in at just 2.7 stars, below Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.4), Science Fantasy (3.3), New Worlds (2.8), and Worlds of Tomorrow (2.8); it is just tied with the lackluster Galaxy.

It did manage to beat out the disappointing Amazing (2.6), IF (2.3), and the truly awful Gamma (1.5), however.

There were just two and a half pieces written by women (one was co-written) out of 58: 4.3%.  Surprisingly, the women-penned tales were all in the UK mags, which are usually all stag.  No women authors were included in either of the "All Star" Galaxy and F&SF issues this month, which is a real shame.  Where are Evelyn Smith and Margaret St. Clair?

Perhaps they are planning to return with a bang.  I certainly expect to herald their next stories with fireworks!

Looking for good science fiction by women?  Look no further than Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), the bestseller containing 14 of our favorite stories of the Journey era!




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[August 26, 1965] Stag Party (September 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Boys Only Club?

A very curious phenomenon has taken place over the last several years.  When I started writing the Journey, women were a rising force in professional science fiction. In 1959, three of the six "Best New Authors" were women (Rosel George Brown, Kit Reed, and Pauline Ashwell – all Journey favorites). About 10% of the stories (and 25% of what was worth reading) was produced by women. Both Amazing and Fantastic, two of the main science fiction monthly digests, were helmed by Cele Goldsmith.

Then…something happened. Over the last few years, the appearances of women in magazines has dwindled to a trickle. There are fewer appearing in novels, too (and since women tended to produce short fiction more often than long form, this change was particularly noticeable). As of this month, no single title across all of the published magazines was done under a sole female byline. Five of the last 45 novels this year were written by four women – two were by Andre Norton, who writes under a masculine byline.

Cele Goldsmith became Cele Lalli and left her editor position. This was probably not a result of her getting married but rather due to a change in her two magazines to a reprints-mostly format.

Though the loss of women in SF has not always hurt the quality of fiction produced, (indeed, this was one of the better months in a long time), I've no doubt that this development is bad for the genre in the long run. The fewer perspectives, the less diversity of viewpoints, the more our stories are going to fall into ruts. A wider pool of authors also creates better work as more talented folks get a chance to rise to the top. I don't know why the genre has become bereft of one half of the population, but I hope the situation changes soon.

Still Plugging Along

As I said, this month was, despite the alarming paucity of women SF contributors, surprisingly and refreshingly good. This month's Analog, so often a turgid relic, was a pleasant read from back to front. Let's take a look inside:


by Kelly Freas

Space Pioneer (Part 1 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by Kelly Freas

A nameless fellow wangles passage on the s/s Titov, a future-day Mayflower carrying 2000 colonists to New Arizona.  His goal is not exploring a new world, however – it's the assassination of the last of the Peshkopi clan. the would-be killer having gotten a tip that Peshkopi was slated to make the interstellar jaunt on the old freighter.

Inadvertently taking on the role of Roger Bock, holder of one of the mission's ten financial shares, the assassin quickly finds himself embroiled in a growing conflict between the mistreated passengers, little more than chattel in the holds, and the comparatively pampered crew and shareholders.  By the end of Part One, the identity of the Peshkopi is yet unknown to "Bock", but it is strongly implicated that it is actually Cathy Bergman, the elected representative of the colonists.  Of course, by the end of the serial's installment, Bock has much bigger things to worry about than his initial mission…

Pioneer is typically competent Reynolds stuff, even though the milieu is more Leinsterian.  If I have any complaint, it's that the science fiction trappings are virtually nonexistent.  This could be a story set in the 18th Century.

That said, I do enjoy the rather unflattering portrayal of colonist (and presumably planetary) exploitation, and the inclusion of developed female characters is nice.  Reynolds is usually good about that.

Four stars thus far.

The Life of Your Time, by Michael Karageorge


by Kelly Freas

On sublight but relativistic trip to Tau Ceti, the starship Emissary makes a shocking discovery: while time dilation affects the crew, slowing down the passage of time for their physical bodies and for the ship's systems, their minds remain at the speed of their original reference point – Earth.  Thus, to them, their bodies increasingly become prisons as their minds experience minutes, ultimately hours, for every second their bodies sense.  It's a story of tragedy, discovery, and triumph.

And a very unusual one for Analog.  It reminds me a bit of Niven's Wrong Way Street, featuring a gender-balanced and ethnically mixed crew (though they are all explicitly and deliberately Americans).  I don't know who Michael Karageorge is, but he definitely hit a triple on his first outing (and I dug the brand new concept of the hydrogen ramscoop ship).

Four stars.

LUT the Giant Mover, by Lyle R. Hamilton

The nonfiction article is both interesting and disappointing.  You can't fault the subject matter, which is the new launch facilities at Cape Kennedy.  But like most articles in Analog, it suffers for lack of subheadings and a coherent narrative.

So, three stars.  At least it's not about dowsing!

Computers Don't Argue, by Gordon R. Dickson


by John Schoenherr

Here is a dark cautionary tale about relying too heavily on computers, in which a fellow is sent a reader's club book by mistake, and is ultimately arrested and executed when he refuses to pay for it.

I get what they're trying to say, but the story takes place next year and while there is merit to avoiding overreliance on automated systems, there are just too many places where human involvement in the system would have broken the digital positive feedback loop. I hope. On the other hand, who knows?

A low three stars.

Test in Orbit, by Ben Bova


by Kelly Freas

Better is this story of a near-future conflict in space: Chet Kinsman, a USAF Captain with a week left to his hitch, is tasked to fly into space on an X-20 derivative and inspect an unknown satellite suspected of being an orbital bomb.  A mortal combat ensues.

I enjoyed all of this piece except the ending, which was both a little maudlin and should have had some falling action after the reveal.  Still, I think Ben Bova is a promising author, and I look forward to more of his stuff.

Three stars.

Psi for Sale, by Walter Bupp


by Kelly Freas

We've seen a lot of installments in the story of "Lefty" Walter Bupp, a telekinetic doctor with the grammar of a mook.  This time, John Berryman (the author's real name) offers us a look at Bupp's prehistory as well as the early history of the organization created for the benefit of American psychics.

I like the series, and this one was probably my favorite installment.  Perhaps a little superfluous, but still welcome (and it was neat to see a piece from the perspective of Maragon, the "Grand Master" of the "Lodge").

4 stars.

Say It with Flowers, by Winston P. Sanders


by Kelly Freas

Last up, we get another piece set in a future history in which the asteroid belt has won independence from the Earth.  Written under Poul Anderson's throwaway pen name, these are usually dry, technical stories of lesser appeal. 

This time, we get a fairly compelling tale about a Lieutenant in the "asterix" space service who is apprehended by North American forces on a courier mission.  It turns out that the message he is transmitting is carried on his person in an unique (but utterly telegraphed and unsurprising) way.

I liked the piece fine enough, though this line irked:

"The revolutionaries were so short of manpower that quite a few women held high rank."

An omission of that line would have gone a long way.  I don't need the suggestion that women are only able to succeed when there ain't enough men to do the work – especially when it's obvious that women can do the work.

Anyway, three stars.

Y marks the spot


Note, for the first time, the lack of women in the Journey round-up image – this one is of an IBM demonstration in Ethiopia.

Distressing lack of women authors aside, this was a good month for science fiction in magazines.  Analog clocked in at a respectable 3.5 stars, ahead of Fantasy and Science Fiction (3.2, largely thanks to its opening novella) and IF (2.9, dragged down by the Doc Smith serial).

Finishing roughly equivalent were Fantastic (3.5), New Worlds (3.5), and Science Fantasy (3.4).  If we include New Writings in SF #5 (3.5), which is a quarterly in book form but feels like a magazine, that makes the numbers even better.

So a mixed pleasure this month.  Let's hope this trend of female non-production reverses itself soon and results in even better times to come!




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Magazine, Serial

[July 31, 1965] A spoonful of sugar (August 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Good and bad medicine

Yesterday saw a major milestone in the journey toward President Johnson's "Great Society": Medicare is now a reality, though it won't take effect until July 1 of next year.  This offshoot of Social Security puts the U.S. government in the insurance business, ensuring health care for our nation's elderly.  It's a first step toward the universal health care endorsed so fervently by Harry Truman nearly twenty years ago.

Of course, the legislation has its detractors, most vocally the American Medical Association, which has been against medical insurance in general for decades and against government involvement therein specifically.  They certainly don't like the idea of their fee being in any way mandated from above.  Medicare currently has a provision that the fee a doctor charges the program must be “customary, prevailing and reasonable.” On the other hand, there is a loophole in that provision, put in to appease the AMA, that says doctors don't have to accept what Medicare pays them as payment in full.

I wonder if that provision will be abused…

It is perhaps only coincidence that this month's issue of Analog is fronted by pieces inspired by the health industry.  One can but admire editor John W. Campbell Jr. for his perspicacity in timing.  However, since Campbell is the editor, the conclusions his pieces arrive at aren't necessarily in concordance with my views.  You can let me know what you think:

Say Awwwww


by Kelly Freas

Half a Loaf, by R. C. FitzPatrick


by Kelly Freas

Children with severe mental disability beyond the possibility of treatment are being sent to Sunnyvale, a terminal home.  Comfort is the priority for the kids as their maladies appear incurable; they are to simply live out the rest of their lives being cared for.

This bleak outlook isn't good enough for Sylvia, a social worker who has become attached to Tommy Magee, an eight year old child with a fine mind but no control of his body.  When Tommy is sent to Sunnyvale, she heads there, too, to investigate.  It turns out that there is some kind of treatment going on after all, and children are being sent home, apparently in full command of their faculties.

Loaf is thus something of a detective story, with the reader following Sylvia along until she, with the help of her doctor friend, Morecai, learns Sunnyvale's secret.

FitzPatrick is a relatively new author with few titles to his credit.  There is no question but that he can write compellingly, and Loaf sucks you in immediately.  But the author waits too long to reveal the twist, reducing the piece to something of a gimmick story.  Moreover, the treatment process has, shall we say, profound moral implications that are left virtually unaddressed.  FitzPatrick could have cut to the chase much sooner and explored the ramifications of his tale more thoroughly, to the greater satisfaction to this reader, at least.  As is, the author ends with a conspiratorial wink as the curtain drops.  It's got Campbell's editorial fingerprints all over it.  By now, we all know his stance on eugenics, after all.

Anyway, three stars — an average of a four-star start and a two-star finish.

Positive Feedback, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Chris Anvil can write, honest.  I've seen it.  But never when he publishes in Analog.  Feedback is a tale in epistolary about the dangers of universal auto insurance.  It's really an indictment of medical insurance, arguing that 1) insurance just leads to folks getting unnecessary procedures and 2) people should eschew the experts and just learn a little more self care.

Never mind that insurance allows for preventative maintenance that can head off expensive procedures.  And never mind that, despite what Campbell may think, trained medical doctors…er…certified auto mechanics know a bit more about what they service than individuals.

I'm not saying that we might not benefit from learning to change our own oil (or moderate our diet) but the straw insurance man Anvil presents is a ludicrous way to try to make that point.

Two stars.

Microminiature Industry, by Carl A. Larson

Apparently, yeasts and other microorganisms have been and can be used to synthesize all sorts of useful chemicals.  I say "apparently" because this meandering, subheadingless article was pretty much unreadable.

Two stars for actually being science, at least.

Sleep No More, by James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

The prospect of a Telzey Amberdon story always fills me with mixed feelings.  On the one hand, tales of a 15-year old brilliant telepathic girl should be right up my alley.  On the other hand, Schmitz (who has written great stuff but often doesn't) has increasingly managed to leach any character or color from these stories. 

Last time we saw Telzey, she had psychically enfeebled the mind of the murderous Robane, a powerful telepath in a crippled body who lured people to his estate to be mauled by his pet beast.  When Telzey goes back to make sure Robane is truly harmless, she is set upon by a teleporting monster.

Telzey, in this story, has absolutely no personality.  She simply goes through the motions of evasion and planning to come out alive, and the reader will not know anything more about her by the end than they did at the beginning.  Schmitz also manages to never say in one word what he can say in two.

It's really a shame that I cannot give this tale more than two stars.

Fighting Division, by Randall Garrett


by Leo Summers

We have a slight uptick in this short Garrett piece, about a President who hoaxes an alien invasion to unite the normally hostile superpowers.  It's an old plot, but Garrett gives it a fresh twist. 

Three stars.  Probably the best story in the magazine; certainly the one sweet spot in a bitter brew.

Trader Team (Part 2 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

And finally, we conclude the adventures of Falkayn, the Terran assigned to the one-face world of Ikrananka (last issue) to try to establish trade relations.  While on the planet, the local human population, warrior descendants of a crashed starship, revolt and try to seize control.

Though this second half of the story is as long as the first half, virtually nothing of consequence happens in it.  There are attempts at a rollicking story with vignettes involving the foul-mouthed, monkey-like Chee, the centaur saurian Buddhist, Adzel, and the rather hapless but ultimately triumphant human, Falkayn.  But the whole thing falls flat, much more akin to the author's A Bicycle Built for Brew than his Three Hearts and Three Lions or his The High Crusade.

Sorry I don't have more to say about it; it's utterly forgettable.  Two stars for this installment, two and a half for the total.

Diagnosing the Patient

The medicine is good deal more castor oil than grape cough syrup this month, that's for certain.  Only Worlds of Tomorrow (3.3 stars) and Science Fantasy (3 stars) finished above the mediocre line.

New Worlds clocked in at 2.8 and Fantasy and Science Fiction scored 2.6.  IF was a dismal 2.3.

But the bottom of the month is reserved for Analog and Amazing (a tie at 2.1) and the putrescent Galaxy (1.8).

Out of 50 stories, just one (1) was written by a woman.  Not only does science fiction appear to be dying, but we are retrogressing in terms of demographic equality.

Do we pull the plug, or is there hope for resuscitation?

(come join us in Portal 55, Galactic Journey's virtual lounge!)




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Magazine

[June 30, 1965] Every Day has its Dog (July 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Hail the Sun God

Summer has officially begun.

On June 21, 1965, the northern hemisphere of Earth enjoyed its longest period of daylight (while in Australia, poor fellow traveler, Kaye Dee suffered through the longest night). The Summer Solstice is an event that once had great religious significance, but as the Mosaic religions spread across the globe, celebration of the day waned.

Today, with the rise of neo-druidism (the North American version of it having been related in articles by Erica Frank), the Solstice has once again become a holy day. And 1965's was particularly special: as the Fraternal Order of Druids gathered around Stonehenge, they were treated to the first uncloudy sunrise in 13 years.

With such an auspicious sign, one might expect that June (July cover date) would be a good one for science fiction magazines. Instead, what we got was a dreary muchness that was more akin to the overcast skies of prior Solstices. And no magazine more exemplifies this drabness than this month's Analog:

Noonday Overcast


by John Schoenherr

Trader Team (Part 1 of 2), by Poul Anderson


by John Schoenherr

Poul Anderson is the Cepheid variable of the science fiction genre: he pulses from brilliance to dullness with regularity. In the midpoints, he produces competent but longwinded stuff like the Van Rijn tales, which detail the exploits of a canny Terran trader trying to enhance his fortune in the Galactic "Polesotechnic League."

Trader Team features David Falkayn, a young cadet we last saw in the mediocre Three-Cornerned Wheel. Thanks to the ingenuity he displayed in that story, Falkayn has been tapped to be Van Rijn's apprentice, his first mission to open up trade on the backward planet of Ikrananka.

The story starts crackingly, introducing the four members of the crew of the Muddlin' Through: Falkayn, the young Captain; Chee, a furry, imprecation-throwing female from planet Cynthia; Adzel, the gentle saurian neo-Buddhist from Woden; and "Muddlehead", the ship's computer. The ship has been in virtual quarantine for several weeks as no representative of the planet's local feudal state will approach them.

Then, in the midst of an intense poker game, Falkayn espies a beautiful woman soldier fleeing from a troop of Ikranankan cavalry. He saves her and brings her aboard ship only to discover that he has given aid to a fugitive of the very polity he is trying to establish relations with!

So far so good, but the next thirty pages are a drag. There's some nice scientific worldbuilding, in which we learn Ikrananka is a one-face planet, that Stepha (the saved soldier) is one of the third generation of spacewrecked humans who now, as a race, hire themselves out as mercenaries, and that Ikrananka would make a nice planet for trade if only its disparate fiefdoms could be unified.

But the story itself meanders in that wordy, shaggy dog style that Poul defaults to when he's on autopilot. The scene in which Adzel gets roaringly drunk and then implicated in a human insurrection is played for laughs, but it's just tedious. When Chee is captured, too, the reaction it elicits is a yawn rather than concern.

And if I have to read another line about what Falkayn thinks of Stepha's physical form, I'll throw the book against the wall. It'd also be nice to see more non-romantic female characters in general (though I will concede that Chee being female is a step in the right direction).

A low three stars.

In the Light of Further Data, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

Data is an Anvil story in a Campbell-edited mag, so caveat emptor.

And your caution is justified. Data is a story in newspaper article excerpts of two intersecting threads. The first is the development of a miracle tissue regrowth process that quickly recruits millions of patients seeking replacements for lost teeth. The second is the battle between a professor who asserts that science is the foundation of truth, and the religious community who pushes back on the assertion.

In the end, said professor cheerfully gets a new mouth of choppers, just as it's determined that there is a fatal flaw in the regrowth technique. The punchline is he quits science and becomes a missionary.

The moral, I assume, is that those eggheads don't know everything. It's certainly a philosophy Campbell has flogged to death.

Anyway, it's a dumb story. Two stars.

Hands Full of Space, by Stephen A. Kallis, Jr.

We get a respite of sorts in the nonfiction article. It's about the difficulties of engineering for the intense harshness of space. Kallis tells us what happens to electronic components when exposed to zero pressure — they weld to each other, their surfaces vaporize and then coat other surfaces — and then there's the wear of hellish radiation and the danger from whizzing micrometeoroids.

It's all very informative and accessible, if a bit long and occasionally disjointed. When Analog's science piece is better than Ley's in Galaxy and Asimov's in F&SF, you know the world is truly inconstant!

Four stars.

Soupstone, by Gordon R. Dickson


by John Schoenherr

Here's another ingenue spaceman saves the day story. Soupstone is the sequel to Sleight of Wit, in which a clever human defeats an alien adversary largely by virtue of said alien being implausibly dim.

This time, Major Hank Shallo is sent to Crown World as a special trouble-shooter. The problem he must solve involves a crop of alien oversized grapes that would produce a most exquisite brandy in tremendous quantities if only they could keep them from rotting in the warehouses. It's all a matter of timing in the picking process, you see.

Shallo, an inept buffoon, is unable to solve the problem himself, but he is able to gather all the folks together who can solve the problem, and in doing so, sets them on their way to effecting the solution. And if you know the fable about making soup from a stone (I did) then you get the reference. And if you don't, don't worry — Dickson explains it for you.

Dickson is capable of much better than these "funny" stories, and once again, the ladies are included just for leering.

Two stars.

The Adventure of the Extraterrestrial, by Mack Reynolds


by John Schoenherr

It is rare that the science fiction and mystery genres overlap. Asimov's R. Daneel Olivaw tales and Garrett's Lord Darcy series pretty much round out the list. In Adventure, Reynolds crosses SF with The Detective, the one and only supersleuth of Baker Street (though neither Holmes nor Watson are ever mentioned by name).

An octogenarian Holmes is engaged by the spendthrift son of a rich gentleman. The son is putatively concerned for his father's mental health as he has engaged in a Fortean obsession with aliens, which have taken up residence in London, he maintains.

Reynolds is a good writer, and he executes a fair homage to the Doyle style. But while I enjoyed the story, I found Watson's constant and repetitive harping on Holmes to be offputting. And there are only so many times I need to be reminded of Holmes' age through note of his "senility," "chortling," "blathering," "dribbling," "inanity," etc. etc. Virtually every line includes a reference, and it's overmuch.

Also, and this is a small thing, Holmes' client talks of his father's obsession with "flying saucers." The story is indisputably set in the mid-to-late 1930s. Flying saucers did not become idiomatic vogue until after the war, in astonishing concert with the arrival of jet planes and rocketships. The anachronism vexed.

Still, it's the best story of the issue. A high three stars.

Though a Sparrow Fall, by Scott Nichols

One of those conversation pieces in which the story progresses in party dialogue. Turns out that the human genetic code has been written, or at least tampered with, such that a message has been buried within. By whom, and for whom, it is not known.

There's an interesting germ of a story here, almost something Theodore L. Thomas might address in his little column in F&SF. It doesn't really go anywhere, though.

Three stars.

Delivered with Feeling, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

At last, Mr. Perkins offers up another "lone man solves the problems of an alien world" story. This one deals with a planet whose disunion into dozens of profession-castes has made it easy prey for alien raiders. Because the invading planet and Earth are party to a mutual non-aggression pact, our protagonist can provide no material aid. Instead, he simply gives them a rallying slogan, which because of the unique qualities of the subjugated race, proves sufficient to throw off the alien onslaught.

The kicker, of course, is how the protagonist hatched his scheme. It's one of those technical puzzle stories that has been the stale bread and butter of the genre for decades. It's readable and forgettable.

Three stars.

A Dim Augury

Just one magazine cracked the three-star barrier this month: Fantasy and Science Fiction with 3.2 stars. IF and Science Fantasy were inoffensive three-star issues whilst (as Mark and Kris might say) New Worlds stumbled in at just 2.7. As this month's Analog scored a 2.8, it barely misses out on being the worst of the bunch.

And what a meager bunch it is! Without Galaxy and Worlds of Tomorrow (they're bimonthlies) and since the former Goldsmith mags, Amazing and Fantastic were on hiatus this month, there really wasn't much to read. Worse yet, there was just one woman-penned piece out of the 27 fiction stories published this month.

That the magazines were all fairly unremarkable, save perhaps for the unusually decent F&SF, just goes to show that even when the Sun God makes an appearance, it doesn't always herald good fortune.

Ah well. The Sun sets, but it also rises, and each day brings promise anew…


Sunrise, Roy Lichtenstein's latest masterpiece — see, this month wasn't all bad…




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Book, Magazine, Serial

[March 30, 1965] Suborbital Shots (April 1965 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Mission Failures

It's been a tremendous month for fans of the Space Race. I won't go into detail here, since we already published an article on Voskhod 2, Gemini 3, etc. just last week.

Thanks to Newton's Third Law, or perhaps the Second Law of Thermodynamics, or maybe Finagle/Murphy's First, the science fiction mags have been correspondingly lousy.  If we call the 3-star threshold making it into orbit, then virtually every SF digest this month was a suborbital dud. John Campbell's Analog, which led the pack last month, is among the damp squibs this month.

T Minus Zero


by John Schoenherr

Goblin Night, by James H. Schmitz


by John Schoenherr

15-year old telepath, Telzey Amberdon, is back.  On a camping trip with her class in Melno Park on the planet of Orado, she makes psychic contact with a handicapped, housebound fellow named Robane.  He seems an innocent and lonely man, but he seems somehow connected with a lurking, murderous presence that Telzey and her classmates have sensed.  Can the young ESPer, with the help of her mastiff, Chomir, defeat this menace?

Scmitz keeps Goblin Night's pages turning, and there's no question but that Schoenherr illustrated it beautifully for the issue's cover.  But the story is several pages too long (not in plot, but in execution) and Telzey has absolutely no personality at all — she could be Retief or DinAlt or Steve Duke for all we get of her character.

So, three stars.  Still, it's probably the best story of the issue.

Fad, by Mack Reynolds


by Alan Moyler

Sometime a few decades from now (slang use suggests Fad is set in Joe Mauser's timeline) a pair of conmen decide to sell the ultimate product.  Joan of Arc will be packaged and pitched to be the avatar of a sales empire featuring medieval styles, Joan-inspired games, Jeanne D'arc themed automobiles, etc. etc.  High jinks ensue, and high profits are threatened by those uppity women becoming inspired by The Maid of Orleans to take their rightful place on the political scene.

In the right hands, this could have been an interesting, satirical piece.  As is, it's about as sensitive and palatable as Reynolds' atrocious Good Indian.

Barely two stars, and that only because it reads fairly briskly.

No Throne of His Own, by Lawrence A. Perkins


by Kelly Freas

Worse is the second "funny" story of this issue, by a brand new author.  Something about a human Private on an alien world whose experience with the local booze leads him to understanding how a Terran invasion was at first thwarted and later welcomed.  I think.  Truth to tell, it was a confusing mess, and I skimmed it as a result.

One star.

The Space Technology of a Track Meet, by Robert S. Richardson

A saving grace of this issue is the nonfiction article by the reliable Richardson.  He apparently spent a few weeks doing some complicated math to see how athletes might really perform at sports on planets of different gravities.

Useful, interesting stuff — I just wish he'd included more equations for easier following along.

Four stars.

The Prophet of Dune (Part 4 of 5), by Frank Herbert


by John Schoenherr

Last up, we have the humorless, plodding fourth installment of Part Two of the Dune saga.  With no transition whatsoever, the setting changes to two years after the last installment.  Paul Muad'Dib, son of the late Duke Leto Atreides, is still hiding out with the desert-dwelling Fremen, harvesters of the geriatic melange spice of Arrakis.  A vassal of the nefarious Harkonnen Barony, who usurped the Atreides claim two years prior, is slowly losing control of the planet, and the Fremen are anxious to strike.  But before Paul can lead his ragtag army in revolt, he must become a full Fremen, which requires that he mount the titanic Makers — the sand worms of Arrakis.

Meanwhile, Paul's mother, Lady Jessica, now the Reverend Mother of the Fremen, deals with the fallout of her transforming spice poison into liquor in her system after ingestion during her induction ceremony two years prior.  For her unborn daughter, Alia, was imprinted with all of Jessica's experience, which also includes that of all the Reverend Mothers of the Fremen before her.  Alia is, thus, a toddler burdened with several lifetimes of knowledge…much like her brother, Paul, due to his spice-given precognitive skills.  This makes her a feared freak, though what role she has to play in the saga is yet unknown.

There are some interesting bits, but for the most part, a could-be fascinating epic is marred by amateur writing, some laughable errors ("A head popped up into the con-bubble beside Gurney — the factory commander, a one-eyed old pirate with full beard, the blue eyes [emphasis added] and milky teeth of a spice diet."), and the damnable constantly switching viewpoint.

A very low three, I guess.

After Action Report

In the end, dreary as it was, Analog was far from the worst SF mag this month.  Though it only scored 2.6 stars, it was surpassed in lousiness by Amazing, IF (2 stars), and Gamma (1.9 stars).  Galaxy was a little better (2.7), followed by Science Fantasy and Fantastic (2.8), and then Worlds of Tomorrow (2.9).  Only New Worlds Fantasy and Science Fiction made it to orbit, and only just — 3 and 3.1 stars, respectively.

As with the real Space Race, women are mostly (though not entirely) unrepresented; only Jane Beauclerk and the amazing Zenna Henderson were published this month.  Perhaps more women astronauts…er…writers can rescue us from this dark chapter in our genre.

One can but hope!

We had so much success with our first episode of The Journey Show (you can watch the kinescope rerun; check local listings for details) that we're going to have another one on April 11 at 1PM PDT with The Young Traveler as the special musical guest.  As the kids say, be there or be square!

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Magazine, Serial

[December 31, 1964] Lost in the Desert (January 1965 Analog)

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[Today is your last chance to get your Worldcon membership! Register here to be able to vote for the Hugos.]


by Gideon Marcus

Wandering

Setting: The Sinai, after the Exodus

Aaron: Hey, Moses! We've been walking a long time!

Moses: Nu?

Aaron: Haven't we seen that rock before? Are you sure you know the way to the Holy Land?

Moses: Who's the Moses here? I know the way to go. The Sinai is only 150 miles across. It'll only take us…

Narrator: FORTY YEARS!

I cite this absolutely accurate historical vignette for two reasons. One, my daughter has decided to give the Torah a deep dive and analysis over Winter (I believe the gentiles call it "Christmas") Break. The other is, well, the next installment of Frank Herbert's Dune World saga has been staring me in the face for weeks, ever since I bought the January 1965 issue of Analog. I found I really didn't want to read more of it, having found the first installment dreary, though who am I to argue with all the Hugo voters?

And yet, as the days rolled on, I came up with every excuse not to read the magazine. I cleaned the house, stem to stern. I lost myself in this year's Galactic Stars article. I did some deep research on 1964's space probes.

But the bleak desert sands of Arrakis were unavoidable. So this week, I plunged headfirst into Campbell's slick, hoping to make the trek to the end in fewer than two score years. Or at least before 1965. Join me; let's see if we can make it.

The Issue at Hand


by John Schoenherr

It's Done with Mirrors, by Ben Bova and William F. Dawson

Our first step into the desert is deceptively mild. Amazing's science guy and his friend offer up the suggestion that the universe really isn't so big — all the billions of galaxies we see are really the light from a few thousand going round and round a small universe.

It doesn't sound very plausible to me, but I enjoyed the cosmological review, and the picture included was drafted by my nephew's astronomy professor at UCLA!

Three stars.

The Prophet of Dune (Part 1 of 5), by Frank Herbert

And now we sink waist deep.

The Prophet of Dune is not just the sequel to Dune World; it picks up right at the cliffhanger where the other left off. Unlike most serials, but similar to how it was done with Cordwainer Smith's The Boy Who Bought Old Earth, the story begins without explanation. You simply have to have Dune World fresh in your mind.

Otherwise, you won't know why Paul Atreides and his mother, Lady Jessica, are refugees from Baron Harkonen in the deserts of Arrakis. You won't know who the Padisha Emperor is or why his Sardaukar elite forces are dressed in Harkonen House garb. You won't know who Duke Leto Atreides was, or why he's dead; who Yueh was and why he defected from House Atreides to the Harkonens; the significance of Hawat the mentat…or even what a mentat is. The significance of the melange spice, which is the desert planet's sole export.

I'm not sure why (editor) Campbell didn't include a summary at the beginning, but unless you've read Dune World, you will be lost.

If you have, you'll be bored.


by John Schoenherr

I won't go into great detail since this serial will cover a ridiculous five installments before it is done, but suffice it to say that includes all the features I came to dread in the first serial. That is to say:

  • Characters declaiming in exposition.
  • Endless fawning over wunderkind Paul Atreides, who has the gravitas of his father, the ability to see all futures, and no weaknesses (or character) that I can discern.
  • Every other line is an internal thought monologue, usually unnecessary, flitting from viewpoint to viewpoint according to author Herbert's fancy.
  • Lots of sand.

Dune presents an interesting, well-developed world populated by uninteresting plots and skeletal characters. And it looks like I'm suck in its deserts for at least another half year.

Two stars.

A Nice Day for Screaming, by James H. Schmitz


by Kelly Freas

A momentary respite as we trudge out of sand and onto more solid ground…

Schmitz shows us the maiden voyage of a new space vessel, jumping not into overspace but to the quantum beyond — Space Three! But upon its arrival, a terrifying entity appears and invades the ship, wreaking havoc with its systems.

The nature of the encounter is not what it seems. I like a story that turns a horror cliche on its head.

Three stars.

A Matter of Timing, by Hank Dempsey


by Robert Swanson

A tingling in our mind distract us, and suddenly we are again ankle deep in the dunes.

Until I read the byline (I've never heard of Dempsey), I thought A Matter of Timing was an inferior entry in Walter Bupp's psi series, in which a secret organization keeps a cadre of esper talents on hand to deal with weird events. While Dempsey's introduces a lot of potentially interesting characters (all apparently quacks; the organization that handles them is the Committee for Welfare, Administration, and Consumer Control — CWACC), the story doesn't do anything with them.

Droll setup and no resolution. Two stars.

Final Report, by Richard Grey Sipes

From out of nowhere, there is a blast of hot wind, and we are inundated with a spray of stinging sand and…paper?

Told in military report style, complete with typewriter font and army-esque jargon, Final Report pretends to be the results of the test of a psionic radio system. In the end, despite the set's fantastic capabilities, it is rejected as a prank, especially as it's too cheap to even be government pork.

Heavy handed, highly Campbellian, and utterly pointless. One star.

The New Boccaccio, by Christopher Anvil

As we reel from the last blow, the clackety clack of machinery assails our ears, but at least we're walking on stable rocks again.

In The New Boccaccio, Anvil covers the same ground as Harry Harrison did a couple of months ago in Portrait of the Artist — an automatic creator is brought into a publishing house to replace a human artist.

The prior story was serious and involved a comic maker. Anvil's is comedically satirical and involves a device that writes literate smut. It's a bit smarter, I think, but not worth more than the three stars I gave the other story.

Finnegan's Knack, by John T. Phillifent


by Kelly Freas

Look! Off in the distance…is that a line of trees? Or is it just a mirage? Our pace quickens, but our boots keep sinking in the shifting sands.

John Phillifent's Finnegan's Knack involves the arrival of an alien ambassador. His race is so far in advance of ours that there's nothing we can do to impress him. A demoralized Colonel joins his rather lackadaisical Major friend on a fishing expedition to relate his woes. Along with them is a certain Private Finnegan with a knack for accomplishing the darndest things (landing fish with a boat hook; making a hover car pop a wheelie; make a call to a private number). Maybe he can impress the aliens with his illogical prowess?

Maybe. Certainly nothing in the story made any particular impression on me, and as with so many of the other stories in the issue, the lack of a solid ending killed whatever competent writing came before.

Two stars. Oasis lost.

Does not Compute


"Rhoda" the robot…signed by Julie Newmar, herself!

How can it be that the one-proud magazine that Campbell built can pour forth little but a torrent of desert dust? All told, the magazine earns an dismally low 2.1 stars, This is significantly below the 2.5 star mags (Amazing) and (Fantasy and Science Fiction) and far below IF (2.9), Fantastic (3.3), and New Worlds (3.5).

Maybe SF is suffering in general, if this month's distribution is any indication. Certainly, it was a sad month for female representation (2 stories out of 37). On the other hand, it's not all bad news: you could fill three magazines with the superior stuff this month.

Every desert has an end, even if it's just the desert of the sea. Perhaps, if we keep trekking, we'll find out way back to verdant lands.

You know — after four more months of this fershlugginer Dune installment…

Happy New Year anyway! Thank you for following the Journey!




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Book, Magazine

[November 29, 1964] All-star (December 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

The Big Guns

Thanksgiving is over, and the holiday season will officially begin tonight with the lighting of the first of the Hannukah candles.  After that, it's just a short skip and a jump to that more widely celebrated holiday.

I am, of course, referring to the Winter Solstice.

It is an appropriate season, then, for science fiction's most-read magazine, Analog, to finish its year of publication with a bang.  Fantasy and Science Fiction is fond of issuing "All-Star" magazines, in which the majority of the authors are big names.  The December 1964 Analog isn't so dubbed, but nevertheless, it's chock full of heavy hitters.  Let's take a look!

Armed Assault


by Robert Swanson

Tempestuous Moon, by Joseph H. Jackson

It has been the subject of wives' tales and farmers' almanacs that the phases of the Moon have an effect on the weather.  In particular (they maintain), some points in the lunar cycle are likelier to be rainy than others.  And now Analog has got a breathless article confirming the folk wisdom.  Take that, doubting eggheads!

It's true that (editor) Campbell is notorious for printing the worst pseudoscience pieces, and Jackson's article is mostly blather.  However, if his data be accurate, they are compelling.  While the phases of the Moon should have no effect on the Earth, per se, they do correspond to geometries between the Sun and the Moon with respect to the Earth.  And both of those bodies do have a profound effect on our planet every day in the form of tides.  I can conceive that a strong tide, for instance when the Sun and Moon's forces combine to cause Spring Tides, might create lower atmospheric pressures, reducing the amount of moisture the air can hold, causing rains.  Neap Tides would have the opposite effect.

Or it could all be garbage.  Are there any pieces in reputable journals?

Plague on Kryder II, by Murray Leinster

Calhoun the interstellar Med Service man and his adorable pet/assisant, Murgatroyd, are back.  This time, they are investigating an impossible plague, one which seems to suppress the immune system rather than directly infecting the body.  Worse, this disease kills tormals, the monkey-like race that Murgatroyd belongs to.  Since this latter is an impossibility, tormals being immune to all diseases, Calhoun suspects foul play.


by Kelly Freas

I love the Med Service stories.  Sadly, they are suffering from the same malaise that has infected all of Leinster's writing to date.  It causes him to write only in short, declarative statements, often repeating himself for no reason.  Also, this tale's solution is given mostly in exposition, which kills the fun of the mystery.

Still, even substandard Calhoun and Murgatroyd is pretty fun, and the picture of the sick tormal is too cute for words.  Three stars.

Shortstack, by Leigh and Walt Richmond


by Kelly Freas

The latest vignette by the Richmonds is an odd one, more a dramatized advertisement for a unique power generator.  It uses the heat differential between the top and bottom of a plastic cylinder to drive an engine and also to distill water.

Harmless, kind of interesting.  Three stars.

Contrast, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

A man trapped out in a wilderness that would give Deathworld a run for its money gets buzzed by an obnoxious tourist.  When said sightseer falls out, the hermit takes his skimmer and rides to safety.  The moral of the story: don't take what you have for granted, and a stint in the muck might do you good.

Enjoyable, despite the smugness of the ending.  Three stars.

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Princes (Part 3 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by Robert Swanson

We return to the world of the early 21st Century, where society has stratified into stagnancy: in both East and West, the top 1% rule everything, the bottom 90% are jobless and tranquilized, and only the middle 9% have any real agency.  Last time, Estruscan professor and gladiator-extreme, Denny Land, had just won a tripartite contest over custody of a Belgian scientist who had invented anti-missile missiles, something with the potential to destabilize the world.

But when the Americans go to pick up the scientist, he has disappeared!  And rather than express disconcertment, Land's boss, Joe Mauser seems almost unsurprised…

Land goes back to his old school with a promotion and bump in caste, but he can't hide his frustration and disenchantment.  Reenter Bette Yarborough, who recruits Land into the Sons of Liberty to try to upend the whole rotten world order.  And then comes an even unlikelier ally in the cause — former foe and Sov-world agent, Yuri Malshev.  Together, can the three create a revolution?

And what if the revolution has already happened, and nobody knows?

This installment was the most engaging, well-paced and thoughtful, though there may have been one too many wheels within the wheels.  Perhaps a Part IV would not have been amiss.  I was grateful that Bette turned out not to just be a love interest (though more than one female in the universe would have been nice).  If anything, Denny and Yuri had more chemistry…

Anyway, four stars for this segment.  Call it three and a half for the novel as a whole.  I appreciate that Reynolds is willing to make "if this goes on" predictions.  I wonder how right he will prove to be…

Rescue Operation, by Harry Harrison


by Adolph Brotman

An alien astronaut crash lands on the shore of an Adriatic village.  Injured and barely conscious, he is taken to a local scientist for help.  But can an effective treatment be developed in time?

This simple story is given depth and emotion by the unusually talented Harrison, who will probably get my nomination for one of the year's best authors.  Four stars.

The Equalizer, by Norman Spinrad


by Adolph Brotman

In Israeli's Negev desert, a scientist wrestles with his conscience — and his superior — over the the new bomb he's invented.  On the one hand, it will give the little Jewish state inordinate power; on the other hand, power never remains exclusively owned for long. 

An interesting think piece whose title has a double meaning.  Three stars.

High Marks

Well, color me surprised!  Analog, normally a disappointing performer, scored a respectable 3.2 stars — second only this month to the superlative Galaxy (3.6).  Science Fantasy and Worlds of Tomorrow both scored an even 3 stars, largely thanks to better-than-average long pieces balancing out less impressive small ones.

And on the negative side of the ledger, we have a lackluster IF (2.8), a still-Davidson weighted Fantasy and Science Fiction (2.6), and Cele G. Lalli's mags did worst of all: Fantastic got just 2.3 stars, and Amazing broke the two barrier, scoring a jaw-dropping 1.9.  What happened?

Women published just 5 and a half of all the stories in magazines this month, all of them very short.  Betty Friedan would be rolling in her grave, and she's not even dead!

Ah well.  1965 approaches, a chance to wipe the slate and start anew.  But before then, you will want to see our Galactic Stars awards when they come out in a few short weeks!  Then you won't have to wade through the dross to get the gems — we'll have done the work for you.

Happy Holidays!

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Book, Magazine

[October 30, 1964] The Deadly Barrier (November 1964 Analog)

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by Gideon Marcus

Trapped on the wrong side

In the 1940s, the sound barrier was as mighty a wall as the Maginot line.  Planes approaching Mach One lost control of their wings, heat built up and melted vital components — the demon living in this wall refused to let any pass.

It wasn't until 1947, when Captain Chuck Yeager took to the skies in his rocket-propelled X-1, that the barrier was first breached.

Our genre has its own deadly wall. If left unpierced, it leaves a reader like those poor, challenging planes and pilots of yore: broken and dispirited. It is the Three Star barrier, the divide between fine and feh — and this month, five of the six science fiction magazines that came out in the English-speaking world failed to break through it.

Sure, some issues made brave attempts.  Both New Worlds and IF came right to the edge, the latter with some memorable stories, and the former maintaining bog-standard mediocrity down the line. 

But timidity breaks no records.  Playing it safe pierces no barriers.

Cele Goldsmith's mags, Amazing and Fantastic, both fell well short of the mark, managing only 2.6 stars.  Perhaps if she'd lassoed the best parts of both of this month's issues together, she might have managed a breach.

And the less said about the struggling Fantasy and Science Fiction (also 2.6 stars), the better.  Pour one out for a faded glory, folks.

An Analog to failure

That leaves the November 1964 Analog.  Can Campbell's mag, once the undisputed leader of the genre, succeed where all its compatriots have failed?  Read on…


by John Schoenherr

Invasion by Washing Water, by D.R. Barber

But, first, this message.

Are you a British astronomer?  Are you tired of having your photographic negatives eaten by bacteria?  Do you want to know why your shots of celestial bodies get ruined periodically by fuzz and rot?  Well never fear!  D.R. Barber has the answer:

Invaders from Venus.

Yes, Mr. Barber has determined that, when the Earth and Venus are aligned just right, and a major geomagnetic storm is raging, that the conditions are perfect for Venusian microbes to land in England to destroy our film.  Of course, this only seems to happen in England because of vagaries of our atmospheric currents.  And it's impossible for there to be a terrestrial origin for the bugs.  Oh no.

Sigh.  Only in Analog.  One star.

Gunpowder God, by H. Beam Piper


by John Schoenherr

Our first attempt to break the Three Star barrier involves a sideways leap.  Veteran SFictioneer Piper writes of Calvin Morrison, Corporal in the Pennsylvania State Police of Earth — our Earth. Through a freak accident, caused by careless activities of the universe-traveling Paratime authority, Morrison is warped to another Earth.

In this timeline, Indo-Europeans went east instead of west, crossing the Siberian land bridge, and colonizing the Americas.  Come this world's 1964, the eastern seaboard is a patchwork of feudal kingdoms on the brink of a gunpowder revolution.  Calvin Morrison, a Korean war veteran and all-around man of action, is perfectly placed to become a big wheel, the titular "Gunpowder God".  Very soon, he is "Kalvan", organizing the troops of Hostigos against the Nostori Hordes and their tepid allies, the Principality of Sask. 

But the agents of the Level One timeline, sole possessors of the secret of timeline travel, are rushing to stop Kalvan before he gives away Paratime's game…

Piper has basically recycled the plot to L. Sprague de Camp's lovely Lest Darkness Fall, in which a 20th Century man goes back to 6th Century Rome to save it from the Byzantines.  And what Piper does well, he does quite well.  There are fine tactics, good war depictions, the bones of an interesting plot.

But only the bones.  I was expecting a novel; instead I got a short novella.  Everything suffers as a result.  Kalvan is welcomed all too eagerly and learns the local lingo (akin to Greek, it seems) in no time.  His romance with Skylla, a princess who dresses and is treated as a man, is perfunctory — to say nothing of the wasted opportunity to develop such an interesting character!

Plus, there's this weird assumption that Aryans are the catalyst of culture, even though the geography and environment of North America are wildly different from that of Europe — and Europe's technological preeminence was never assured (and largely based on developments in other parts of the world!)

So Gunpowder God skates to the edge of the Three Star barrier but progresses no further.  Strike One.

Gallagher's Glacier, by Leigh Richmond and Walt Richmond


by Kelly Freas

In the future, corporations have a stranglehold on the solar system's shipping lanes.  One crazy man hatches a plan to install a fusion drive into an ice asteroid and become the first independent trader.  But since the corporations have the monopoly on drive-making equipment, no one can join him in his independence…unless some plucky captain is willing to take his company ship and defect.

Wow.  As written, that sounds like a pretty good yarn!  But when the Richmond's tell it, they give you nothing more than the above paragraph and a lot of padding. 

Glacier barely hits Star Two, much less Three.  And that's Strike Two.

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Princes (Part 2 of 3), by Mack Reynolds


by Robert Swanson

Our third attempt comes with the second installment of Mack Reynold's latest serial.  When last we left Denny Land, erstwhile Professor of Etruscan Studies and now national gladiatorial champion, he was headed to Spain.  His top secret mission: to meet up with Auguste Bazaine, inventor of the anti-anti-missile technology that could destabilize the world, plunging it into atomic fire.  But though he does manage to find Bazaine at a cocktail party, Denny is sapped on the neck, and Bazaine is kidnapped.  The Sov-world, the West-world, and Common Europe all blame each other.

There is only one resolution: trial by combat.  All three regions will send a three-man team into a one-hectare arena.  Whomever comes out alive will be privy to the anti-anti-missile secrets…if Bazaine is ever found.

I find it ironic that the characters spend so much time lambasting the gladiatorial games, the reliance on bread and circuses of the world's idle masses. Yet this series of books is really just an excuse for some riproaring modern fight fiction.  Is this a subtle message?

Less subtle is the writing, which is competent, but not up to what Reynolds can deliver when he tries.  Bette Yardborough, "the girl" on Denny's spy team, gets the worst of it.  To wit, this immortal dialogue:

Bette said softly, "Between your accomplishments as a scholar, and a . . . a man of violence, I would assume you have had little time for women, Dennis Land."

Was she joshing him?  Denny shot a quick scowl at her.  He growled, "I'm no eunuch."

She laughed again, even as she turned away to go below.  "After seeing you dispatch those two trained Security lads, I'm sure you're not, Dennis."

Sweet Dreams is never going to break the Three Star Barrier with this kind of stuff, even if the fighting scenes and the world Reynolds' created are pretty interesting.  And I don't have high hopes for the conclusion next month, either.

Strike Three!  Oh wait.  The umpire has run onto the field and called FOUL BALL.  Apparently, we can't count an unfinished serial.  All right.  Onwards and…someway-wards.

Guttersnipe, by Rick Raphael


by John Schoenherr

Here's an oddly technical story involving sanitation and water workers… OF THE FUTURE!  Their tremendously complex operation is threatened when radioactivity is found seeping into the drinking supply of one of the cities.  After many loving descriptions of apparatus and mechanisms, the source is found and eliminated.

If anyone could have broken the Three Star Barrier, it'd be the fellow who brought us 400 mph cars in the Code Three series.  Sadly, the piece reads like a science article on water reclamation rather than an sf story.

Mind you, I like articles on water reclamation, but I don't buy Analog to read them.

And so, Rafael's piece falls short of the barrier, somewhere beyond the Star Two line. 

Strike Thr… Oh.  Another foul against the line.  Apparently science factish stories don't count either.  Fine.  One more piece to go.

Bill for Delivery, by Christopher Anvil


by Kelly Freas

About a decade ago, Bob Sheckley wrote a great little story called Milk Run.  It's about the AAA Ace duo trying to form a livestock shipping company.  Each of the animals on board their one transport had its own foibles, and dealing with one species exacerbated things with the others. 

Chris Anvil's piece is much the same plot except less interesting and more saddening.

Another Star Two piece and (looks around for the umpire) STEEEERIIIIIIKE THREEEEE!

You're Out

In the end, I can't imagine Analog's dismal 2.2 star ranking really surprises anyone.  Still, it would have been nice for at least one of this month's mags to break the Three Star Barrier.  I tell you, it's times like these that I wonder about turning in my quill.

On the other hand, if I may mix my metaphors further, no single panning returns a nugget.  The quest for gold is a diligent process that accumulates the stuff grain by grain.  As bad as this month was in aggregate, it still gave us a decent number of good stories. 

And that's why we keep doing this.  Because without us, you'd be stuck slogging through all the dreck.  Now, you can enjoy the gold without dealing with the dross.

You're welcome.  I need a drink…

[Come join us at Portal 55, Galactic Journey's real-time lounge! Talk about your favorite SFF, chat with the Traveler and co., relax, sit a spell…]




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