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[October 2, 1964] Terrestrial Adventures (October 1964 Analog)

[Don't miss your chance to get your copy of Rediscovery: Science Fiction by Women (1958-1963), some of the best science fiction of the Silver Age.  If you like the Journey, you'll love this book (and you'll be helping us out, too!)



by Gideon Marcus

Close to Home

Time was, science fiction meant space adventure.  As far back as Burroughs, trips to Venus and Mars were commonplace, and by the '50s, authors routinely took us to the stars.

But while each week sees a new satellite launched toward the heavens, tremendous advances are taking place here on Earth, too.  In just the last week, the news has been filled with some stunning achievements in the field of travel.

In the Air

For instance, the YF-12A interceptor, a Mach 3+ interceptor capable of flying at 100,000 feet, was just publicly unveiled.  It's a beautiful, wicked-looking machine, and unlike the X-15 rocketplane, it's about to be an operational part of the Air Force's inventory.

With planes like the F-12, it's no wonder that this Mach 3 bomber, the B-70 Valkyrie, has been restricted to just two prototypes — fast as it is, it's not fast enough to evade modern interceptors!  Still, it's a beautiful bird, and I think engineers will get useful data from flying it — if for nothing else, lessons to be learned for the upcoming Concorde trans-Atlantic passenger jet!

On Land

The new "Shinkansen" train, linking the cities of Tokyo and Osaka, may not be jet-propelled; nevertheless, the speed with which it whizzes across the Japanese countryside is certainly Jet Age.  Now, one can travel between Japan's two principal cities in less than three hours. 

I can't wait for Governor Brown to build one of these babies between Los Angeles and San Francisco!

At Sea

Operation Sea Orbit is coming to an end: the three nuclear-powered ships, CVAN Enterprise, CGN Long Beach, and DLGN Bainbridge circled the Earth without refueling, the first global showing of the flag since Teddy Roosevelt's "Great White Fleet". 

Between the Navy's nuclear ships, the Air Force's atomic space drives, and the proliferation of nuclear power plants around the county, the latter 20th Century will definitely be the Age of the Atom!

And on Paper

With all this big news of Earthbound traveling, it's perhaps no surprise that Analog, the most read science fiction magazine has most of the stories of its October 1964 issue set on our planet. 


by Robert Swanson

Inconstant Moon, by Joseph H. Jackson

Or, in the case of the science article, the Earth's closest neighbor.  It has been speculated for some time that there may be some kind of vulcanism going on under the dead-seeming crust of the Moon.  In support of that are the occasional observations by astronomers of new craters, of colored puffs of smoke, and other oddities.

There is something of a breathless quality to Jackson's piece, and the fact that it appears in Campbell's Analog makes it more suspect.  In any event, it sure would have been nice if there were color pictures of these phenomena instead of the black and whites included in the article.

Three meteorites.

Sweet Dreams, Sweet Princes (Part 1 of 3), by Mack Reynolds

Author Reynolds is no stranger to the Eastern Bloc, having extensively traveled through it in the '50s (as well as many other parts of the world).  It's no surprise, then, that his stories set in the nearish future, in which the Soviet Union has reached parity with the West, smack of plausibility if not inevitability.

Mack first projected the future with his African series starring Black American Homer Crawford, who goes to the continent to unify its northern portions.  It's a flawed pair of books, but the political scene is well developed.

The subsequent series starring Joe Mauser, in which everyone is on the dole and corporate disputes are resolved by division-level mercenary engagements, is better.  It may well be in the same universe, just further along in time. 

The background is that the North America has evolved into a stratified society, employing "People's Capitalism" wherein all get a basic income and a supply of tranquilizers and television entertainment.  Maybe a quarter of the populace is employed.  Behind the Iron Curtain, the "Sov-World" has developed similarly, though the external trappings remain Marxist-Leninist.

Between them lie Common Europe, led by the ambitious French under The Gaulle, and the "Neut World", the underdeveloped fourth corner of the power square.


by Robert Swanson

Unlike the previous stories in this universe, we get a new protagonist, Etruscan Studies professor Denny Land, of the "Middle Middle" class.  His enthusiasm for researching ancient combats gets him embroiled in the new gladiatorial games, which to his great surprise, he ends up winning.  But when he tries to go back to teaching, he finds that his superior, a member of the 1% "Upper" caste, resents Land's fame and sends him on indefinite leave.

This leaves Land ripe to be recruited by the American government as a spy, providing cover for a mission to Spain to turn, kidnap, or eliminate a French professor whose recent invention could break the decades-long balance of power of the early 21st Century.

There is something compelling yet mechanical about Reynolds' writing — it always makes you want to turn the page, but it is never flashy or inspiring.  His world building is fascinating, however. 

I think, in the end, it merits four stars.  I suspect the latter parts will fall into the standard three star zone, but we'll see.

The Mary Celeste Move, by Frank Herbert


by John Schoenherr

Do you remember that sense of trepidation when you first got on Ike's superhighway system?  The panic you felt when you realized you had to navigate four lanes of traffic to get around?

Frank Herbert offers up this minor piece in which the freeway system has become something like the jet-speed expressways of Rick Raphael's Code Three universe.  The problem at hand is that people are getting on, panicking, and deciding it's easier to resettle at the other end of the country than to risk the nerve racking trip home.

Two cars.

Flying Fish, by John T. Phillifent


by John Schoenherr

On a distant planet (this is the one off-planet story), humanity meets an alien race that tells us we are limited and incapable of advancing to their lofty level.  This being an Analog story, of course it's the alien that's wrong — and limited, to boot — and anyway, if humanity has limits, those only make us better.

It's not a great story, and I rolled my eyes at the pivotal character, Captain Beefcake, being infinitely selfless and flawless (as proven mathematically by the protagonist!) Still, it's not poorly written, and I was about to give it three stars until I wrote the above and convinced myself out of it.

Two ubermenschen.

Professional Dilemma, by Leonard Lockhard


by Leo Summers

Lockhard (really attorney Thedore L. Thomas) has penned some interesting stories of the intersection of patent law and science fiction.  This one is of the same subject matter but not the same quality — it rambles, it's not really SF, and it's conclusion is a ho hum.

Two trademarks.

Situation Unbearable, by Herbert Pembroke


by Michael Arndt

Our last story, by a brand-new author, begins with the premise of Brian Aldiss' recent novel, Greybeard.  To wit, humanity's birth rate has declined to almost nothing, and nobody seems to know why.  Well, almost nobody, but the one geneticist who might have a clue seems to have gone catatonic after encountering some horrific truth.

Can he be snapped out of it before it's too late?

This one takes a long time to get going, and the ending is a bit silly (the story is presented as a mystery, but the embedded hints aren't strong enough — did any of you guess what was going on?) I think Pembroke has the makings of a decent thriller writer, but he whiffed on this one.

Two baby bottles.

Summing up

All told, this was not a stellar issue of Analog, clocking in at just 2.6 stars.  I don't think it has anything to do with where the stories took place, though — this is just becoming a tired mag whose heyday was two decades ago.  Still, I am interested to see where the Reynolds goes.

As for the other mags, Science Fantasy was the clear winner, garnering an impress 3.5 stars with its first issue under new management.  Worlds of Tomorrow was also worthy, scoring 3.1 stars. 

Everything else was pretty dismal.  Amazing is tentatively a 2.7 (jury remaining out on the Brunner serial), Fantasy and Science Fiction got 2.7 stars, Galaxy was an unusually low 2.6, as was IF (also a Pohl mag), and Fantastic finished at 2.4.

Women writers got extremely short shrift.  We only saw a 6% participation; "Partners in Wonder" indeed.

As dreary as those numbers are, most magazines had at least one piece to recommend them, often their longest.  You could take all the better than average stuff from this month's crop and fill two magazines.  Thin ones.

Which gives me hope for next month, on or off the planet.  Come space travel with me?


[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…]




[December 21, 1960] Short and Long Term (the January 1961 Analog)

There's a big difference between weather and climate.  Weather is immediate; climate is gradual.  50 years from now, when the Earth's average temperature has climbed a half a degree or more, thanks to the warming effects of human-caused pollution, people will still point to a cold day in January as proof that nothing has changed.

That's because, just as for the proverbial frog in the slowly boiling pot of water, gradual change is difficult to perceive.  Only by assiduous collection of data, and by the subsequent analysis of that data, can we detect long-term trends.

Thus, it is too early to tell whether or not Analog is ever going to pull itself out of its literary doldrums.  I had such high hopes after December's issue; January's has dashed them.

It doesn't help that Randall Garrett is still one of Campbell's favorite writers.  I'm not sure if Garrett's stories are lousy because Campbell tells Garrett what he should write, or if they're lousy because Garrett writes what he knows Campbell will take.  Or maybe Garrett and Campbell independently share awful taste.  In any event, the long long lead novella, The Highest Treason, is a one-star drek-fest if ever there was one. 

In brief: In the far future, humanity has been reduced to mediocrity after the triumph of bleeding-heart liberal, Commie-pinko sentiments.  Job seniority is determined solely by time in service.  Decisions are made by group-think.  Innovation is scorned as antisocial.  There being no classes, there is no motivation to excel. 

This strawman of a culture is threatened by a Sparta-esque race of bald humans with pointy ears..I mean, complete aliens.  Earth's defeat is only a matter of time.  One brilliant man dares to reverse the trend by defecting to the enemy with a cunning plan.  He becomes the conquering race's greatest general, winning battle after battle, becoming the most vile traitor to humanity.  Then he orders the utter decimation of a populous Terran colony. 

This goads the Terrans into activity.  It would not have stirred us to action to have our colonies reduced and their people enslaved.  No.  Only a canny traitor could motivate our rennaissance.  Humans quickly develop superweapons that tilt the advantage Earth's way.  The war is over in no time, and the era of stifling complacency is over.  Hurrah.

The moral: No alien will ever threaten mankind unless we let them.  And if we let them, only a human can horrify us out of out lethargy—because humans are better than aliens in every way, even being worse. 

Dumb story, dumb premise.  It's also poorly written and overpadded.  True to Garrett form, only passing mention is made of the existence of women.  Three times to be exact–they are offered as a prize to the traitor, hanged from lampposts by the traitor, and disparaged as fickle philanderers by the traitor.  All excused by the context of course.

Bleah.

The issue only improves from there; how could it not?  Tom Purdom has a weird blood and guts piece called The Green Beret, about a young Black American who joins the UN peacekeeping forces to enforce anti nuclear proliferation rules.  I'm not sure what the point is, but I give Purdom points for giving us an atypical protagonist.  I don't understand why the UN forces wear green berets, though—they have been wearing blue ones since the Suez Crisis four years ago.  Two stars.

Onward and upward.  Walter Bupp (John Berryman) gives us Card Trick a sequel of sorts to Vigorish.  In the universe portrayed, psi powers exist, and gambling parlors take great pains to ensure they are not used to sway odds.  In this story, a fellow is accused of possessing and abusing psionic abilities to win at cards; then he is strong-armed into joining a union of psionic gamblers.  He's certain he is a "Normal," however.  Is it a frame-up?  Or does he have a new kind of power?  Three stars. 

G. Harry Stine provides the non-fiction article for the month, Time for Tom Swift.  It starts off well enough, contending that our current methods for getting into space will never result in a sustainable off-planet presence.  They fail the "grandma test," he says.  No little old lady can withstand the rigors of rocket take-off..much less afford the ticket!  But then he goes on to describe some cockamaimee futuristic designs that are clearly in the same camp as the Dean Drive and electrostatic boosters.  Two stars.

That leaves "Leonard Lockhard's" interesting legal study, The Lagging Profession, likely inspired by actual events: In the story, Arthur C. Clarke (the real guy) retains a law firm to investigate the possibility of patenting his idea for geosynchronous (24-hour orbit) communications satellites.  It turns out the idea can't be patented because it was described in an article 15 years ago.  Moreover, it couldn't even have been patented at the time because the rockets and miniaturized components required for the concept did not exist.  We are left with the conclusion that high concepts related to space travel are unpatentable under the laws in their current state.

This may well be true.  On the other hand, patents are not the only motivation for invention.  Space travel is such an expensive proposition that the sheer cost will provide the protection from competition normally provided by patents.  I suspect Clarke's synchronous satellites will be with us well before the decade is out, if our current pace of space development is any indication—you can bet they'll all have Ma Bell's name on them, too.  Four stars.

Part Three of "Mark Phillips'" Occasion for Disaster makes up the rest of the issue.  I'll hold comment until next month.  Giving the serial a three-star placeholder, the January 1961 issue of Analog garners a disappointing 2.5 star rating.

Weather or climate?  Only time will tell.

Par for the course (February 1959 Astounding; 1-19-1959)

It is still truly a man's world, at least between the covers of Astounding magazine.  I recognize that we live in a culture where men aren't allowed to take cooking or shorthand classes (these are women's topics, after all), but I'd like to think that science fiction writers are more progressive.

Perhaps I'm the one who's wrong, however.  Maybe women will remain "separate but equal" into the foreseeable future…

Ahem.  Where was I?  Ah, yes.  The rest of February 1959's Astounding.  To be fair, the remaining four stories actually range from decent to good.  They are typical in their construction: an interesting set-up, a presented conundrum, and then a "gotcha" ending, but the execution is generally competent.  Each had an interesting tidbit that stood out to me, a place where the writer dared to dream–or failed to do so.  I'll point each one out as I go.

Hi Diddle Diddle is by Calvin M. Knox (Robert Silverberg–why he needed a pseudonym, I'm not sure; perhaps Campbell wants us to think more than one person writes for his magazine).  I think Campbell would call it a "funny" story, but it's pretty decent stuff about the crew of a small moonbase trying to come up with a way to synthesize food for provisions on the moon.  There are no women in the small crew, of course, though there is a line to suggest that is not always the case.  And, of course, everybody smokes.  Even on the moon, where air is (presumably) at a premium.

What I found compelling was Silverberg's conjecture that, by 1995, there would be eight moon bases: three American, three Soviet, one Chinese, and one Indian.  Moreover, by then, the Cold War will have thawed considerably.  I'm happy when any writer remembers there is more to the world than the Eagle and Bear, and I think the timeline is quite plausible.  As for the story, well, as I said above, it's pretty formulaic, but competently written.  Like all of Silverberg's stuff.

So far as I can tell, Peter Baily, author of the next story, Accidental Death, has not written anything else.  That would set up alarm bells that he is someone's pseudonym, but none of my reliable sources can tell me if that truly be the case.  In any event, Baily's tale is of Earth's first interstellar ship, and the first contact it makes with a race of creatures that possesses the ability to adversely affect probability.  A "Jinx" race, if you will.  Not a bad story, but the part that stuck out to me is when the protagonist, dictating his last thoughts for posterity, suggests that his memoir would make big news if someone could get it to a radio station or a newspaper office.  Baily's story takes place in a future with starships, but media is stuck in 1940.  It just goes to show that science fiction writers need be careful to avoid the intrusion of current (or even latter)-day items and technologies lest they kill the verisimilitude.

Frank Herbert is a newish writer.  His Missing Link is nothing special.  A Terran spacer is involved in first contact with an alien race with delusions of superiority.  The Earther soon puts the alien in its place with go ol' Terran ingenuity.  Lest I forget what magazine I'm reading.

Finally, The Professional Touch by "Leonard Lockhard" (actually the duo, Charles L. Harness and Theodore L. Thomas) is a fascinating, satirical piece on patent law, and its many current deficiencies.  It's worth reading just as a treatise on the subject, particularly on the topics of "obviousness" and "flash of genius," and just how arbitrary are those tests that determine the worthiness of a patent. 

All told, 3 stars.  Nothing terribly offensive.  Nothing strikingly original.  I'm looking forward to further installments of the Leinster series, though.



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