Tag Archives: leo dillon

[April 16, 1968] Tripods and Others (April 1968 Galactoscope)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Chalk and Cheese

I recently read two new science fiction novels by British authors that are otherwise as different as they can be. One takes place in the very near future. The other is set centuries from now. One never leaves England. The other ventures into interstellar space. One uses an experimental narrative style. The other is told in a traditional manner. One is New Wave, the other Old Wave. Let's take a look at both.

Bedlam Planet, by John Brunner


Cover art by Jeff Jones.

Before the story starts, unmanned probes discovered a habitable planet orbiting Sigma Draconis. A team of four explorers went to check it out. Everything seemed hunky-dory, so three big starships carried a bunch of colonists there. They named the planet Asgard.

One ship was to be used for raw materials. Another was to be kept intact, in case the colonists needed to get out quick. The third was supposed to carry our hero, one of the original four explorers, back to Earth.

Disaster struck when an error in navigation caused one of the ships to crash into Asgard's moon. Our protagonist, a born wanderer, is stuck on Asgard, a reluctant colonist who doesn't fit in with the others. While off on his own, he is stung by a local critter and spends several days hallucinating.

Meanwhile, a microorganism native to the planet gets into the bodies of the colonists, leading to vitamin C deficiency and thus scurvy. For various reasons, the only permanent solution to this medical problem is for folks to start eating local foodstuffs, not yet known to be completely safe. Half a dozen colonists are selected at random to test native foods.

When our hero returns, he finds the six people locked up, apparently insane and guilty of sabotaging the colony. The other colonists are in a very bad state, barely able to take care of their basic needs and unwilling to make even very simple repairs. Can one man whip them into shape, solve the vitamin C problem, figure out what happened to the six insane folks, and save the colony?

I should mention that the hero's hallucinations, as well as those of the six colonists who eat local foods, take the form of folklore from their individual cultures. A Greek woman, for example, imagines scenes from Greek mythology. A detailed description of these hallucinations is probably the most interesting and original part of the book.

The explanation for what's going on didn't fully convince me; it got a bit mystical for my taste. What is otherwise a problem-solving SF story that wouldn't be out of place in the pages of Analog flirts with things like racial memory. I'll give the author credit for having major characters of both sexes and multiple ethnicities.

Three stars.

Synthajoy, by D. G. Compton


Cover art by Diane and Leo Dillon.

It's nearly impossible to provide you with a simple synopsis of this novel, because it's narrated in a nonlinear fashion. In addition to that, the narrator may be insane, spends most of the day in a sedated condition, and is subjected to a form of therapy/punishment that definitely messes up her mind.

The narrator is the wife of a obsessive scientist, now dead. With the help of a brilliant electronics engineer (later the wife's lover, and also dead), he came up with a way to record the sensations experienced by one person and to allow another to share them. Originally used as therapy, it becomes a form of entertainment as well.

We slowly learn that the narrator has been convicted of a crime, and that she is subjected to mental recordings designed to make her contrite. With multiple flashbacks, some going all the way to the narrator's childhood, we see how the device was invented, how it was used, and how it was corrupted. We also receive varying accounts of how the two men died.

Alternating with these memories, which may be distorted, the narrator also relates events happening to her in the present. Her relationship with the Nurse and the Doctor is a complex one, with hidden motives everywhere.

This is a difficult book. Besides jumping back and forth in time, often from one sentence to the next, the text frequently breaks off in the middle of a line. Events are not only narrated out of order, but also retold in a completely different way. It's impossible to discover the real truth.

Despite the effort required on the part of the reader, and the inherent ambiguity of the work, this is a fine novel. The author happens to be male, but he writes from the point of view of a woman in a completely convincing manner. If you're looking for light entertainment, seek elsewhere. If you want to discover that science fiction can be serious literature, you're in the right place.

Five stars.



by Mx. Kris Vyas-Myall

The Tripods (The White Mountains, The City of Gold and Lead, The Pool of Fire) by John Christopher

The Covers of the Original Three Tripods Novels

H. G. Wells’ War of the Worlds casts a long shadow over the science fictional world. Whether fans see it as using invasion literature as a satire on imperialism or just an atmospheric horror tale, know it from films, radio or magazines, it is one of the core works of SF.

War of Worlds book cover, magazine cover and film poster

But what if Wells’ Martians came not to exterminate but enslave?

Whilst not officially a sequel to War of the Worlds, it is hard not to read it as anything else. In this version, the Tripods came and conquered more than a century ago. After millions were killed in the war what remains of humanity lives in a feudal society under their tripod overlords. Once people reach the age of 13, a metal “cap” is put into their head which ensures their compliance with the alien commands.

Will Parker, from a Southern English village, meets a vagrant who tells him of the location of free humans. Together with his cousin Henry they journey to The White Mountains, to both learn more of The Tripods, and to fight against them.

At their heart these are juvenile adventure stories, a cross between Ian Serallier’s Silver Sword and Andre Norton’s SF tales. However, juvenile should not be taken to mean shallow or hollow. These are dark tales of children trying to survive in an oppressive society.

The highlight for me is the second book, where we get to see life in a Tripod city and Will is treated as a pet by one of the aliens. It is insightful, vivid and very disturbing.

These do have one flaw and that is found in the final book. Christopher wants to tie up the trilogy in these short books and the ending feels incredibly abrupt and light, given what we see in the others. However, there is still much to enjoy here and worth checking out.

I actually feel the limitations of having to write for a younger audience benefit Christopher. He is forced to remove his tendency for gratuitous shock scenes for the sake of it, nor did I notice any of his usual prejudices against the Celtic nations of the British Isles. If he sticks within this field, I will willingly pick up more of his books.

Four stars



by Blue Cathey-Thiele

Ace Double H-56

Pity About Earth, by Ernest Hill

Pity About Earth introduces us to Shale, a callous, ambitious, often downright cruel man. He and Phrix, his alien assistant, work for the god-like Publisher, in advertising. His ship is automated, as is the rest of the universe. A mistress of his plots with a competitor, and Shale is forced to escape into a labyrinth. There he encounters cages inhabited by humans who have been conditioned to prove concepts in torturous and deadly ways. Shale feels no sympathy, up until a human-ape hybrid named Marylin catches his attention. He is strangely compelled by her. She helps him to escape the maze, and later, the planet.

Despite being a Groil, Phrix has been promoted to Shale's old position. In one of many instances where Marylin tries to redirect Shale from violence, she protects Phrix by setting Shale to go to Asgard, fabled home of the Publisher.

Upon reaching Asgard, they find the long dead remains of the Publisher. In his place is Limsola, a woman who has been gaining the secrets of Asgard executives just before their deaths. Shale is distracted by her allure, breaking Marylin's heart as he was the first being to show her a shred of care. Limsola encourages Marylin to Publish, to change the rules. Marylin confers with Phrix about how change could happen, and she takes up post as the new Publisher. On his homeworld, Phrix follows her lead, and together they begin to breathe life back into a world that had become frozen.

The world of the Publisher is automated to the point of inaction. Life is casually thrown aside even while there are means to prevent suffering. Advertising is a key function yet items only exist to *be* advertised. Phrix tasks himself with upending an entire universe. It is not a matter of ethics to him, only what is and what could be. Marylin has only abstract knowledge, no personal experiences, and yet she has more compassion and care than any other character.

Shale is hardly unique in his views, unwilling or unable to look beyond himself and care for others prior to meeting Marylin, and even after he begins to have some sense of shared "humanity" it is brief and confuses him. There is a special horror in his blasé approach to the labyrinth of experiments, food made of humans, and sexual violence. He doles out death and the dead are simply out of luck. He is a deeply unlikable protagonist; Marylin and Phrix provide far more engaging points of view.

I can't say I enjoyed it, but it left me with thoughts to chew on.

3 stars

Space Chantey, by R.A. Lafferty

Captain Roadstrum plays the part of Odysseus in a loose adaptation of The Odyssey. Along with Captain Pucket, he and the crew of hornet-men visit planets that serve as analogs to the islands on the way home from Troy. Roadstrum is not some wise general, he survives via luck, sheer force of will, and the rare moment of inspiration. Margaret the houri and Deep John the "original hobo", myths in their own right, join the crew.

Roadstrum finds Valhalla, where his crew feast and fight and die, all to rise up ready to fight again the next morning. Upon leaving, the crew have their tongues cut out and grow themselves replacement organs- Roadstrum opts for a forked tongue, which grants him clever speech. They speed through twenty years while being sucked into a black hole, escaping via a recently installed button that reverses time.

Helios' cows are replaced by an asteroid belt orbiting a sun, though that doesn't stop the crew from capturing and *eating* one of these asteroids like a prize calf.

Roadstrum takes over for Atlas, not carrying the physical weight of the world but perceiving existence in its entirety, as anything he drops his attention from ceases to exist.

The crew complains about the size and quality of the hell planet they've been sentenced to for their crime against Aeaea, a version of the witch Circe, before breaking out.

Roadstrum is in no great hurry to get home, and we don't even get the name of his wife or son (Penny and Tele-Max) until the last 15 pages.

There is a degree of self-awareness to both the story and Roadstrum himself, moments when he recognizes that he is acting out a story that has happened before, or even actions he seems to remember. He makes a determined break from repeating actions at the close of the book, choosing not to settle peacefully with his wife and son as the former version of Odysseus did, but to fly off toward more adventure.

Although Space Chantey, like Pity, has characters eating other people, casual killing, and brutality, it's in the format of a tall-tale and with barely half the gritty detail as the first book of this Ace Double. Even the characters who are dying often take it as a bit of a joke. Indeed, this book reads more as a folk story with space-travel trappings than science fiction. Characters die and return with little or no explanation, survive impossibilities and contradict themselves and the narration. It is larger than life and at times quite silly. It also has plenty of dubious poetry in the form of verse interludes.

This would have been better suited as a series of stories around a campfire than a sci-fi novel.

2.5 stars



by Gideon Marcus

Sideslip!, by Ted White and Dave Van Arnam

If you've been following Dave Van Arnam's First Draft 'zine, you're probably rooting for this fan-turned-filthy-pro.  I didn't get a chance to read his Star Gladiator, and this newest book is co-written.  Still, Ted White's name is magic to me, and who could resist this lurid cover.  Therefore, it was with no hesitation that I plunked down my four bits plus a dime to read Sideslip!

I was even more excited to see that the book starred Ronnie Archer, outsized private eye, who starred in the excellent short story, Wednesday, Noon.  Turns out he's a false cognate, however.  Per a letter Ted sent me:

Same name, different characters.  Ron Archer was my penname as a cartoonist in the early '50s, and got applied to subsequent characters, usually private detectives.  Ron was the protagonist in my never-written mystery novel, "The Stainless Steal."

Ah well.  The rest of the book was similarly a disappointment.  In brief, Ron Archer finds himself zapped into an alternate New York in a set-up quite close to that of White's Jewels of Elsewhen.  But in this New York, alien invaders conquered the Earth in 1938, turning our world into a colonial source for raw materials.  The "Angels", who look like tall, luminous humans, are protected by force fields and human collaborators known as Yellow-Jackets.  This does not keep resistance groups from forming, which in the Untied States are represented by The Technocrats (led by Hugo Gernsback and employing Albert Einstein–these are the folks who warped Archer to this alternate world), the Communists, and the Nazis (led by none other than Hitler, himself).

The first half of the novel details Archer getting captured by and escaping from each of the various groups, ultimately ending up in the hands of the Angels.  Well, one particular Angel.  The one female Angel, who of course immediately falls in love with Archer.  At this point, the story practically grinds to a halt as Archer is taken off-world to meet the Angels and argue for Earth's sovereignty.  There are lots of pop-eyed descriptions of advanced technologies that feel better suited to SF from the 20s or 30s.  Archer and Sharna, his Angel lover, have a fraught relationship written with the subtlety and skill of a teenager writing his first fanfiction.  The end is a brief, action-filled segment.  In between, there's a lot more sex and nudity than I've seen in an American SF novel.  I found it a bit embarrassing.

In short, we have the bones of a Ted White novel, but none of the feel.  Missing is the deft, sensual touch that White lends his pieces, as well as any semblance of good pacing.  This actually makes perfect sense–in another letter, White explained that the story was largely executed by Van Arnam:

This was a book which started in a writer's group.  I wrote an opening hook and passed it out to the others.  Dave Van Arnam picked up on it and suggested we collaborate on a book.  Which we did. I was not happy with Dave's writing early on, and heavily rewrote his first drafts, but as I fed these back to him he picked up on what was needed, and the last quarter of the book is mostly his. Pyramid liked the book well enough to ask us to write their Lost in Space book…

The real problem with the book, beyond the technical issues, is that Archer doesn't do anything.  At every turn, he's simply along for the ride, noting his surroundings, occasionally running.  Archer, himself, notes as much at the end of the book.  I suppose that speaks to some authorial awareness, though it doesn't fix the problem.

Still, the book is readable, in a hackish sort of way, and the concepts are fine, if as hamfisted as the cover.  Based on quality, I should give this thing two stars, but I did make it through Sideslip!, and I wanted to know what happened, so I'll give it three.






[January 10, 1968] Saving the Best For Last (Dangerous Visions, Part Three)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Welcome to the last of our three discussions about an anthology of original fantasy and science fiction that's drawing a lot of attention. Love it or hate it, or maybe a little of both, it's impossible to ignore. I showed you the full wraparound cover the the first time, and offered a closer look at the front the second time, so here's the back cover. It gives you a convenient list of the authors.

As before, I'll give each story the usual star rating as well as using the colors of a traffic light to indicate how dangerous it might be.

Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison


Art by Leo and Diane Dillion.

Go, Go, Go, Said the Bird, by Sonya Dorman

A woman desperately tries to escape her pursuers. Flashbacks tell us more about this dystopian world.

Saying anything more would lessen the impact of this intense little story. Ellison's introduction compares it to the work of Shirley Jackson, and that's a fair analogy. It's deceptively quiet and matter-of-fact at times, but full of icy horror at its heart.

Four stars. YELLOW for unrelieved grimness.

The Happy Breed, by John T. Sladek

In the near future, machines take care of all our problems, leaving us to enjoy a life of leisure. Of course, what the machines think is best for us may not agree with our own ideas.

This dark satire on automation isn't exactly subtle. It makes its point clearly enough, and follows it to its logical conclusion. The details of the characters' degeneration make it worth reading.

Three stars. YELLOW for cynicism.

Encounter with a Hick, by Jonathan Brand

Our smart aleck narrator tells us how he met a fellow from a less sophisticated background and what happened when he told the man something about the origin of his planet.

You'll probably figure out the punchline of this extended joke. Despite its predictability, I enjoyed the story's wise guy style. Others may find the narrator annoyingly smug.

Three stars. YELLOW for a wry look at deeply held beliefs.

From the Government Printing Office, by Kris Neville

Set at a near future time when childrearing has changed in an eye-opening way, this yarn is told through the eyes of a kid who is only three and one-half years old. Adults are bewildering creatures indeed!

The quirky choice of viewpoint, with its combination of precocity and naiveté, is what makes this story worth a look. I'm not quite sure what the author is saying about parents and children, but it's provocative.

Three stars. YELLOW for an unflattering portrait of Mom and Dad.

Land of the Great Horses, by R. A. Lafferty

All over the world, people with Romany ancestors feel compelled to return to a place that vanished long ago. But what will disappear next?

This synopsis fails to capture the author's eccentric style and unusual combination of whimsy and oddball speculation. If you like Lafferty, you'll enjoy it. If not, you won't. Like many of his works, it's something of a tall tale and a shaggy dog story. I dug it.

Four stars. GREEN for kookiness.

The Recognition, by J. G. Ballard

The narrator witnesses a woman and a dwarf set up a strange menagerie at night, not far from where a carnival is in progress. The mystery of the cages deepens as visitors show up.

I find this story difficult to describe. It's quite a bit different from the author's jagged, chopped up pieces for New Worlds, and from his decadent tales of Vermillion Sands. It's very subtle, and there seems to be more than meets the eye. The premise evokes thoughts of Ray Bradbury, but only in an extremely subdued way. Maybe haunting is the word I'm looking for.

Four stars. GREEN for intriguing writing.

Judas, by John Brunner

A robot sets itself up as God. One of the people who created it sets out to destroy the false deity.

The plot is simple enough, and the analogy between the worship of the robot and Christianity is made crystal clear. You may predict the twist ending, given the story's title.

Three stars. YELLOW for religious themes.

Test to Destruction, by Keith Laumer

The leader of a group of rebels is captured by the forces of a dictator. They use a gizmo to retrieve information from his brain. Meanwhile, in what has to be the wildest coincidence of all time, aliens approaching Earth also probe his brain, in order to learn how to conquer humanity. The combination is explosive.

Looking at my synopsis, I get the feeling that this isn't the most plausible story in the world. Since it's by Laumer, you know it's a fast-moving adventure yarn. As a matter of fact, it's so lightning-paced that it makes his other stories look slow. The reader is left breathless. There's a serious point made at the end, but mostly it's just a thrill ride.

Three stars. GREEN for action, action, action.

Carcinoma Angels, by Norman Spinrad

The delightfully named Harrison Wintergreen is a guy who has always gotten what he wanted out of life. As a kid, baseball cards. As a young man, women. As an adult, tons of money. Now he's got terminal cancer. Can he triumph over the ultimate challenge?

As Ellison says in his introduction, this is a funny story about cancer. Sick humor, to be sure. Bad taste? Well, maybe, but I think you'll get a kick out of it.

Four stars. YELLOW for black comedy.

Auto-Da-Fé, by Roger Zelazny

Replace a bullfight with a battle between man and car, and you've got this tongue-in-cheek tale. All the details of a traditional corrida del toros are here, transformed to fit the automotive theme.

It's a one idea story, to be sure, but stylish.

Three stars. GREEN for elegant writing.

Aye, and Gomorrah . . ., by Samuel R. Delany

Space explorers are raised from childhood to be absolutely free of sexual characteristics. It's impossible to tell if they started off as female or male; they are completely neuter in every way. People known as frelks are attracted to them.

Amazingly, this is the first short story Delany ever sold, although others have already appeared in magazines. It's superbly written, as you'd expect, and explores sex and gender in completely new, profound ways.

Five stars. RED for unimagined forms of human sexuality.

20 20 Hindsight

Looking back at the book as a whole, it's clear that the level of stories is generally high, with a few clunkers. Not all the stories are dangerous, and they could have been published elsewhere. A few are truly groundbreaking. The Silverberg, Leiber, and Delany are the best. The Sturgeon is the biggest disappointment. The Farmer is going to start the most arguments. Put on your reading glasses, fasten your seat belt, and give it a try.





[December 6, 1967] Brotherly Love (Dangerous Visions, Part Two)


by Victoria Silverwolf

A couple of months ago we looked at the first third of a massive new anthology of original science fiction and fantasy stories, put together by one of the most colorful figures in the field of imaginative fiction. Let's jump into the middle of the book and see if it maintains the same level of quality and controversy. As before, I'll provide traffic signals to warn you how dangerous each story might be.

Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison


Front cover by Diane and Leo Dillon.

Gonna Roll the Bones, by Fritz Leiber

A fellow with the incredible ability to throw small objects with extreme accuracy goes out to shoot dice at a very strange and disturbing casino. But is he ready to risk the ultimate bet with the Big Gambler?

I have to admit up front that I can't be objective here. I am head-over-heels, madly in love with this story. Leiber blends science fiction, fantasy, tall tale, horror, and every other kind of imaginative fiction you can name into a perfectly crafted work of art. Just read it.

Five stars. GREEN for fine writing.

Lord Randy, My Son, by Joe L. Hensley

A man dying of cancer has a very strange young son with seemingly miraculous powers. The boy observes a cruel world outside. What will he grow up to be?

The premise reminds me a bit of Jerome Bixby's story It's a Good Life and the Twilight Zone episode adapted from it. That was an out-and-out horror story, however, and this one is more ambiguous. Randy is capable of great good and great evil, and it looks like the people of Earth are going to get what they deserve. In a way, that's more chilling than Bixby's monster.

Three stars. YELLOW for religious references.

Eutopia, by Poul Anderson

The protagonist is from a parallel world in which Alexander the Great lived to a ripe old age, and the Hellenistic culture is dominant. They've colonized other planets, and have even figured out a way to visit alternate realities. (There are hints that the main character explored our own world, and found it utterly repulsive.)

In a North America inhabited by a mixture of Norse, Magyar, and Native American cultures, he violates a taboo and is pursued by folks out to kill him. He makes a desperate attempt to escape, eager to rejoin his beloved in his own, much more civilized world.

Anderson has obviously done his homework. The various parallel realities we learn about seem very real. The plot follows the action/adventure/chase structure we're familiar with, and which Anderson can write in his sleep. The only dangerous part of the story comes at the very end, when we finally figure out what taboo the protagonist violated. The revelation is more of a punchline, really, and not a major part of the story.

Four stars. YELLOW for the last line.

Incident in Moderan, by David R. Bunch

Here's the first of two brief tales from one of the most debated authors of speculative fiction. As the title indicates, it's part of his series about the dystopian future world he calls Moderan, a hellish place where people who have replaced almost all of their flesh with metal and who live in heavily fortified strongholds wage endless wars with each other. In this story, one of these hate-filled semi-humans meets a more normal person, barely existing in the no-man's-land between fortresses. Typical of the series, it's a dark and bitter satire of humanity's evils.

Three stars. YELLOW for grimness.

The Escaping, by David R. Bunch

Here's the other one. The narrator is imprisoned, and spends time imagining the rolling and unrolling of the sky. Something like that, anyway.

Two stars. YELLOW for surrealism.

The Doll-House, by James Cross

A guy who is up to his eyebrows in debt goes to his father-in-law for help. The old man isn't very sympathetic, but he gives his son-in-law a miniature house that contains a tiny, immortal oracle, who can answer all questions. Can you guess that this won't work out well?

This is an efficient fantasy story of the be careful what you wish for school. There's nothing particularly distinguished about it, for good or bad. Worth reading, anyway.

Three stars. GREEN for being a decent, typical yarn of its type.

Sex and/or Mr. Morrison, by Carol Emshwiller

The narrator is a rather strange woman who is obsessed with a very fat man who lives in the same building. She hides in his room, watching him undress, in order to find out if he's a human being or an Other.

You can interpret the plot as science fiction or as the delusions of the narrator. In either case, what it's really about is the human body, particularly those parts we're not supposed to expose or talk about. It's the kind of thing you expect to find in New Worlds.

Three stars. RED for New Wave writing and sexual content.

Shall the Dust Praise Thee?, by Damon Knight

God and his angels show up at the end of the world, just like it says in the last book of the Bible. The only problem is that there aren't any people around to witness the Apocalypse. A little digging around reveals a final message from humanity.

Knight is thumbing his nose at traditional religion here. This tiny little story is basically a grim joke. Don't show it to your local cleric.

Three stars. YELLOW for blasphemy.

If All Men Were Brothers, Would You Let One Marry Your Sister?, by Theodore Sturgeon

A guy figures out that valuable stuff is coming from a planet that official records claim doesn't even exist. Folks who know it's real make it nearly impossible to get there. On another world where just about all activities are tolerated, somebody who shows up from that planet is instantly attacked and is likely to be killed. The guy finally reaches the place, and finds out what the big mystery is about.

It's hard to talk about this story without revealing too much about the premise, although the title gives you a clue. It breaks my heart to have to give a poor rating to a work by one of the true masters of speculative fiction, but this is really a lecture in lightly fictionalized form.

The climax is nothing but a long discussion as to why one of the strongest of cultural taboos should be broken. Sturgeon makes his point carefully and logically, to be sure, but forgets to engage the reader with an honest-to-gosh story. Inevitably, this work is going to compared to his groundbreaking tale The World Well Lost, but that one worked perfectly well as fiction, and not just as a debate.

Two stars. RED for advocating something most people would rather not think about.

What Happened to Auguste Clarot?, by Larry Eisenberg

This is a madcap farce in which the main character tracks down a missing scientist. There's a lot of slapstick and general silliness. It's really out of place in this anthology. Even Ellison's introduction jokingly says he was crazy to buy it. You may get a few chuckles out of it. With the French setting, I pictured Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau in The Pink Panther as the protagonist.

Two stars. GREEN for wacky hijinks.

Ersatz, by Henry Slesar

In a future world devastated by war, a weary soldier reaches one of the few places where he can rest for a while. All he can get there is fake food, fake tobacco, and something else that isn't real.

This very short story depends on its ending for its impact. It definitely creates a grim, dystopian mood.

Four stars. YELLOW for unrelieved gloom.

Middle of the Road

The central portion of this massive volume isn't quite as consistent as the first part, although Leiber's story is the best in the book so far. Sturgeon's polemic is a major disappointment, and there are some other pieces that don't really work for me. Maybe the last third of the anthology will be better. We'll see.





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


by Victoria Silverwolf

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

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

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

Dangerous Visions, edited by Harlan Ellison


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let's begin.

Evensong, by Lester del Rey

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

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

Flies, by Robert Silverberg

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

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

Five stars. YELLOW for scenes of extreme cruelty.

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

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

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

Riders of the Purple Wage, by Philip Jose Farmer

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

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

The Malley System, by Miriam Allen deFord

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

Three stars. YELLOW for violence.

A Toy for Juliette, by Robert Bloch

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

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

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

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

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

Four stars. RED for explicit violence.

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

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

Three stars. GREEN for whimsy.

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

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

Three stars. GREEN for wistful nostalgia.

Faith of Our Fathers, by Philip K. Dick

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

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

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

The Jigsaw Man, by Larry Niven

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

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

Three stars.  GREEN for futuristic adventure.

One Down, Two To Go

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






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[May 22, 1964] Not Fade Away (June 1964 Fantastic)


by Victoria Silverwolf

Hello, Satchmo (And Mary)

A certain British quartet, which shall remain unnamed here, finally toppled from the top of the American popular music charts this month after dominating it for most of the year.  Whether or not this means the end of their extraordinary career on this side of the Atlantic remains unknown.  Whatever their fate may be, I wish them a fond farewell, at least for the nonce, and extend an equally warm welcome to two vocal artists from the United States.

Along with the proverbial flowers brought by April showers, the early part of May offered a hit song from a jazz legend whose career stretches back four decades.  Taken from a hit Broadway musical of the same name, Louis Armstrong's rendition of Hello, Dolly! reached Number One, and is likely to send more people flocking to the St. James Theatre to see Carol Channing in the title role.


Have you purchased your tickets yet?


Gotta love that smile.

Just recently, a much younger singer achieved the same chart position with a romantic rhythm-and-blues ballad.  Mary Wells, currently the top female vocalist for the Motown label, has a smash hit with the catchy little number My Guy.


The juxtaposition of the two titles on this single amuses me.

I suppose it's too early to tell if we're witnessing the slow demise of rock 'n' roll in the USA in favor of other genres, but perhaps the popularity of these two songs indicates something of a trend.  In any case, it's encouraging to see that, in a time when racial animosity threatens to tear the nation apart, music can cross the color line.

The Prodigal Returneth


by Robert Adrasta

Just as American performers reappear in jukeboxes and on transistor radios after an extended absence, a multi-talented author who has been away from the field for a while returns to his roots in imaginative fiction in the latest issue of Fantastic, and even earns top place on the cover.

Paingod, by Harlan Ellison


by Leo and Diane Dillon

After some years spent publishing a large number of science fiction and fantasy stories, as well as crime fiction, mainstream fiction, and a nonfiction account of his experiences with juvenile delinquents, Ellison migrated to the greener pastures of Hollywood.  Writing for television definitely pays better than laboring for the magazines, and you may have seen his work on Ripcord and Burke's Law.  The lure of Tinseltown hasn't kept him completely away from the pages of the pulps where he got his start, however, nor has he lost his talent for creating tales of the fantastic.

Trente, the alien illustrated on the cover, serves the mysterious, all-powerful rulers of all the universes that exist, known as the Ethos, as their Paingod.  He dispenses suffering to all the sentient beings in all the worlds that exist throughout all possible dimensions.  After performing this duty without feeling for an unimaginably long time, Trente develops something completely unexpected: a sense of curiosity, even concern, about those to whom he sends misery and sorrow.  At random, he enters the body of one lifeform on an insignificant planet, which happens to be Earth.  In the form of an alcoholic derelict, he speaks to a sculptor, who is mourning over the loss of his talent.  They both learn something about the nature of suffering, and Trente discovers the motives of the Ethos, and why they selected him to be the Paingod.

This is a powerful story with an important theme, told in a way that holds the reader's attention throughout.  Particularly effective are the scenes in which Trente dispenses suffering to an extraordinary variety of entities, described in vivid and imaginative detail.  I also greatly enjoyed the life story of the man whose body Trente inhabits.  Although the character really plays no part in the plot – he's merely a shell for the alien to wear – the complete and compassionate biography of one who knew more than his share of unhappiness adds to the story's theme, and displays the author's skill at characterization.

The rationale offered for the existence of suffering is, almost inevitably, a familiar one, philosophers having debated this question for millennia.  Ellison has a slight tendency to write with more passion than clarity; the phrase centimetered centuries threw me for a loop.  Despite these quibbles, this is a fine story, likely to remain in memory for a long time to come.

Four stars.

Testing, by John J. McGuire


by Dan Adkins

With the exception of one story in a recent issue of Analog, McGuire is another author we haven't seen around for a while.  Unlike Ellison's success with screenwriting, the explanation for this absence is simply that McGuire isn't very prolific, his few stories mostly written in collaboration with H. Beam Piper.  Our Illustrious Host didn't like his previous solo effort at all, which doesn't bode well for this one, but let's give the fellow a chance.

The narrator is the pilot of a starship carrying a small team of experts whose mission is to determine if a planet is suitable for colonization, a premise that may seem overly familiar to many readers of science fiction these days.  Also unsurprising is the fact that only one of the members of the team is female, and it's obvious that her role in the story is to be the Girl.  They foolishly break with Standard Operating Procedure and step out onto the surface of the Earth-like world without taking full precautions.  Instantly teleported far away from their landing site, they find themselves under observation by a floating sphere with dangling tentacles.  An agonizingly long and dangerous journey begins, as the team makes their way back to the starship through lifeless deserts and snowy mountains, facing deadly alien creatures, constantly under the watch of the inscrutable sphere. 

The only suspense generated by the story is wondering who's going to get killed next, and by what, since the bodies pile up quickly once the sphere shows up.  The mystery of the sphere remains unsolved, although the narrator makes some educated guesses about its nature and motivation.  If the author's main intention is to make the reader feel the suffering of his characters, he does a fair job of acting as a Paingod.  Otherwise, I found it overly long and tedious, as I kept reading about one random, violent death after another.

Two stars.

Illusion, by Jack Sharkey

by Blair

Unlike the first two writers in this issue, Sharkey shows up in the genre magazines on a routine basis, which is sometimes a good thing, and sometimes not such a good thing.  His latest yarn is a variation on the old, old theme of a deal with the Devil.  (Well, technically, a demon, and not Satan himself, but you know what I mean.) The protagonist gets three wishes in exchange for his soul, which isn't the most original idea in the world, either.  The first is for a never-ending pack of self-lighting cigarettes; the second for complete invulnerability, unless he deliberately tries to harm himself; and the third is for the power to make illusions become reality.  If you've ever read one, or two, or a zillion of these stories, you know that things don't work out well, after some slapstick antics. 

Sharkey uses the word illusion in an odd way, meaning anything from tricks of perspective (objects looking smaller when they're far away) to whatever appears on a TV screen.  The whole thing is inoffensive, I suppose, but lacking the rigid logic this kind of story needs and not very amusing.

Two stars.

Body of Thought, by Albert Teichner


by Dan Adkins

Teichner, like Sharkey, also hasn't gone away, making an appearance in Fantastic or Amazing or If every few months or so.  This time he offers us a tale about a secret government project to collect the brains of outstanding intellectuals soon after they die, keep them alive, and attach them to a computer that will allow them to work together, producing results far beyond anything one mind could do alone.  The story moves at a very leisurely pace.  We follow the main character, an elderly physicist contacted by the folks behind the project, as he visits the lab where this is going to take place, and discusses it with a colleague who is also one of its subjects. 

I had no idea where the plot was going, or what point the author was trying to make, until near the end, when a group of potential brain donors argue about what use should be made of this symbiotic, semi-organic supercomputer, each one claiming that his (never her) field is the most important.  I can appreciate the statement Teichner is trying to make about the human ego, but he sure takes a long time getting around to it.

Two stars.

Genetic Coda, by Thomas M. Disch

Disch is another perennial of Cele Goldsmith's pair of publications, either as himself or as Dobbin Thorpe, a pseudonym that always makes me smile, just because it sounds so silly.  Under his own name Disch comes up with a sardonic vision of the future.  Sextus is a humpbacked freak, living with his equally deformed father, his physically normal but perpetually angry mother, and several tutoring robots.  After his mother dies and his father vanishes, he lives alone with the machines, hidden from a world that would force him to undergo castration because of his abnormal genes.  (His father managed to escape that fate through bribery and isolation.) Determined to father a child, Sextus invents a time machine, leading to the kinds of paradoxes you expect, as well as some very Freudian complications.

I have mixed feelings about this story, which some might see as nothing more than a dirty joke, and others as a razor-sharp satire on human aspirations and pretentions.  It's very clever, but you're always aware that the author knows exactly how clever he is — far more than the dolts he writes about.  I'm going to have to be wishy-washy about it and give it a barely passing grade.

Three stars.

From the Beginning, by Eando Binder


by Michael Arndt

We haven't seen that byline in the pages of a science fiction magazine for a long time.  That's not a surprise, since this Fantasy Classic is a reprint from the June 1938 issue of Weird Tales.

As many SF fans know, Eando Binder is actually a pen name for brothers Earl and Otto Binder; E and O Binder, get it?  The introduction by Sam Moskowitz explains that Earl stopped writing after a few years, and most stories under the name of Eando are the work of Otto alone.  The present example is one of those tales, old-fashioned even in the late 1930's, where one man invents or discovers something amazing, so his friend comes over and they talk about it. 


Cover art by Margaret Brundage, who drew a lot of scantily clad ladies for this publication.

The gizmo, in this case, is an incredibly ancient metal ball, found during a paleontological expedition.  When placed in an electrical field, it produces telepathic messages from the remote past.  These reveal that a race of robotic beings with radium-powered brains came to the solar system from another star in search of radium to replace their dwindling supply.  We get a blow-by-blow history of the planets, as the robots create things like the Great Red Spot of Jupiter and the canals of Mars in their quest for radium.  Eventually they come to Earth, after they have drained the outer planets of the vital substance.  They set out for yet another star system, allowing only a small number of the elite to escape (there is only enough room aboard their spaceship for a few, so of course the upper class gets to go). The others to perish at the metal hands of an executioner.  The source of the telepathic messages is a rebel, who chose to remain on Earth alone rather than die (which seems like a reasonable choice to me.) The climax of the story tells us about the origins of the human race. 

Although some of the events in the story create a Sense of Wonder, overall it's a creaky example of Gernsbackian, pre-Campbellian scientifiction, of historic interest only.  I had to look twice to make sure it came from 1938 and not 1928. 

Two stars

Many Happy Returns?

Other than Harlan Ellison's hard-hitting fable, this is a weak issue, full of disappointing stories.  It makes me hope that the author of Paingod won't be blinded by the bright lights of show business, and will stick around for a while.


The Chicago airport probably doesn't have Ellison in mind, but what the heck.


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