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[June 24, 1966] Increments: World's Best Science Fiction: 1966, edited by Donald A. Wollheim and Terry Carr

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by John Boston

Donald A. Wollheim’s and Terry Carr’s World’s Best Science Fiction: 1966—second in this series—is here, so it’s time for the usual pontificating, hand-wringing, viewing with alarm, etc., as one prefers.  This one comes with not one but two blurbs from Judith Merril, their competitor, though the editors say nothing about her anthology series, the next volume of which is due at the end of the year.

The editors have regrettably pulled in their horns a little on the “World” front.  There are no translated stories in this volume, unlike the first; the editors claim that they read plenty of them, but them furriners just don’t cut the mustard.  More precisely, if not more plausibly, “what they have lacked is the advanced sophistication now to be found in the American and British s-f magazines.” Suffice it to say that there are virtues other than “advanced sophistication” and they may often be found outside one’s own culture. 


by Cosimo Scianna

Nor is there anything here from any of the non-specialist markets that have been publishing progressively more SF in recent years.  The only item here that did not originate in the US or UK SF magazines is Arthur C. Clarke’s Sunjammer, originally in Boys’ Life but quickly reprinted last year by New Worlds, and then by Amazing early this year.

So it’s a rather insular party.  But my main complaint last year was that too much of the material was too pedestrian, and the book excluded writers who are pushing the envelope of the genre, like Lafferty, Zelazny, Ellison, and Cordwainer Smith.  The editors seem to have been listening.  This year they’ve got Ellison and Lafferty, though they seem to have missed their chance at Smith, and Zelazny is still among the missing.  More importantly, the book as a whole is livelier than its predecessor.

This is not to say the pedestrian has been entirely banished.  Witness Christopher Anvil’s The Captive Djinn, the only selection from that rotten borough Analog, yet another story about the clever Earthman outwitting cartoonishly stupid aliens.  Anvil has written this story so often he could do it in his sleep, and most likely that is exactly what happened. 

There is a lot more of the standard used furniture of the genre here, but at least it’s mostly done more cleverly and skillfully than dreamed of by Anvil.  In Joseph Green’s The Decision Makers (from Galaxy), Terrestrials covet the watery world Capella G Eight, but it’s already occupied by seal-like amphibians with group intelligence though not much material culture.  Is this the sort of intelligence that should ordinarily bar colonization outright? The “Conscience”—a bureaucrat in charge of making these decisions—thinks so, but proposes to split the baby, allowing colonization but providing that the humans will alter the climate to provide more dry land for the amphibians.  Of course, behind the bien-pensant speechifying, a still small voice says, “We’re just now starting to get rid of colonialism here, and you want to start it up again?” And another: “Ask the American Indians about the promises of colonists.”

Less weighty thoughts are on offer in James H. Schmitz’s Planet of Forgetting (from Galaxy), involving a fairly standard space war scenario with chase on unknown planet, with the wrinkle that some of the local fauna seem to be able to make people briefly forget where they are and what they are doing.  At the end of this smoothly rendered entertainment, suddenly the wrinkle becomes a mountain range. 

Similar cleverness-as-usual is displayed in Fred Saberhagen’s Masque of the Red Shift (from If), one of his popular Berserker series, in which a disguised Berserker robot appears and wreaks havoc on a spaceship occupied by the Emperor of the galaxy and his celebrating sycophants.  But it is promptly outsmarted and done in by the Emperor’s brother, who is resurrected from suspended animation and lures the Berserker into the clutches of a “hypermass,” which seems to be what scientists are starting to call a “black hole.” (Though on second thought, I’m not sure that “cleverness” is quite le mot juste for a story that falls back on the dreary cliche that a galaxy-spanning human civilization will find no better way to govern itself than an Emperor.) Jonathan Brand’s Vanishing Point (If) is an alien semi-contact story, in which the functionaries of the Galactic Federation have created an artificial habitat, a sort of Earth-like theme park complete with human curator, for the human emissaries to wait in and wonder what is really going on.

Engineering fiction is represented by Clarke’s slightly pedantic Sunjammer (as noted, Boys’ Life by way of New Worlds), concerning a yacht race in space, and by Larry Niven’s livelier Becalmed in Hell (F&SF), whose characters—one of them a brain and spinal column in a box, with vehicle controlled by his nervous system—get stuck on the surface of Venus (updated with current science) and have to improvise a primitive solution to get home.

There are a couple of near-future satires representing very different styles and targets of the sardonic.  Ron Goulart’s Calling Dr. Clockwork (Amazing) is a lampoon of the medical system; protagonist visits someone in the hospital, faints at something he sees there, wakes up in a hospital bed himself attended by the eponymous robot doctor, and can’t get out as his diagnosis shifts and things seem to be falling apart in the institution.  Fritz Leiber’s The Good New Days (Galaxy) is a more densely populated slice-of-slapstick extrapolating the welfare state, with a family living in futuristic but cheaply made housing (“They don’t build slums like they used to,” complains one character), with the TV on every minute, and Ma trying to avoid the demands of the medical statistician who wants her vitals, and everyone struggling to get and keep multiple make-work jobs (the protagonist just lost his job as a street-smiler), and things are all falling apart here, too, and a lot of the sentences are almost as long as this one.  The two stories are about equally amusing, which means above standard for Goulart and a little below standard for Leiber.

So that’s the ordinary, and a higher quality of ordinary than last year. 

A few items are unusual if not extraordinary.  R.A. Lafferty’s In Our Block (If) is an amusing tall tale about various odd characters with unusual talents residing in the shacks on a neglected dead-end block, like the woman who will type your letters but doesn’t need a typewriter (she makes the sound effects orally), and the man who ships tons of merchandise out of a seven-foot shack without benefit of warehouse.  It has lots of slapstick but not much edge, unlike the best by this idiosyncratic writer.  Newish writer Lin Carter (two prior appearances in the SF magazines, a lot in the higher reaches of amateur publications), in Uncollected Works (F&SF), extrapolates the old saw about monkeys on typewriters reproducing the works of Shakespeare, in the direction of Clarke’s The Nine Billion Names of God, leading to an unexpected and subtle conclusion.

In Vernor Vinge’s Apartness, from the UK’s New Worlds, the Northern War has destroyed the Northern Hemisphere, and generations later, an expedition from Argentina discovers people encamped in Antarctica, living in primitive conditions, who prove to be the descendants of white South Africans who fled from the uprising that followed the war and eliminated whites from the continent.  (Interesting that this American writer didn’t find a market for it at home.) They are not pleased to be discovered by darker-skinned explorers and try to drive them off.  The well-sketched background makes this more than an exercise in irony or just revenge.

On to the extraordinary—three of them, not a bad showing.  Traveler’s Rest, by David I. Masson, also from New Worlds, depicts a world where time varies with latitude, passing slowly at the North Pole (though subjectively very fast), where a furious—and possibly futile—high-tech war is in progress with an unknown and unseeable enemy.  Life proceeds more mundanely in the southern latitudes.  Protagonist H is relieved from duty, travels south, reorients himself to current society, establishes a career, marries and procreates over the years. He's known now as Hadolarisondamo, since names are longer in the slower latitudes.  Then, middle-aged, he is called back to duty, and arrives 22 minutes after he left.  This world’s nightmarish quality is highlighted by the dense mundane detail of the normal life of the lower latitudes; the result is a tour de force of strangeness.

Harlan Ellison’s “Repent, Harlequin!” said the Ticktockman (from Galaxy) is a sort of dystopian unreduced fraction.  In outline, it’s a simple story of a future world where punctuality is all; if you’re late, your life can be docked.  One man can’t take it any more and dresses up in a clown suit and goes around disrupting things until he gets caught by the Master Timekeeper (the Ticktockman), brainwashed, and forced to recant publicly—though the end hints that his legacy lives on.  In substance, it’s business as usual; in style, it’s a sort of garrulous stand-up routine, and quite a good one.  It’s best read as a purposeful affront to the usual plain functional (or worse) prose of the genre (a reading consistent with the story’s theme) and a persuasive argument for opening up the field a bit stylistically.

The other outstanding item here—best in the book to my taste—is Clifford D. Simak’s Over the River and Through the Woods (Amazing), in which a couple of strange kids appear at a farmhouse in 1896 and address the older woman working in the kitchen as their grandma.  The gist: Ordinary decent person confronted with the extraordinary responds with ordinary decency.  It’s plainly written without a wasted word, deftly developed, asserting its homely credo with quiet restraint—a small masterpiece amounting to a summary of Simak’s career.  Simak is one writer who should ignore Ellison’s advice—and vice versa, no doubt.

The upshot: Not bad.  Better than not bad.  The field is taking small steps away from business as usual, and the usual seems to be getting a little better.  The kid may amount to something some day.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[June 2, 1966] Bad Decisions (July 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

Trouble at the Cactus Curtain

It may surprise many of you to learn that there is a United States military presence in Cuba. Since 1903, the U. S. has maintained a naval base at Guantanamo Bay, near the south-eastern end of the island. Originally, it was a coaling station and then served as a shipping center during the War. Now it’s largely the base for American operations in the Caribbean.

Naturally, the Castro regime is none too happy about the situation, even though the base employs a large number of Cubans, pumping money into the local economy. Along with the perimeter fence, patrols and watch towers, the U. S. began emplacing mines “as a precaution” following the 1959 revolution, and the Cubans soon followed suit. At least 10 people have been killed, either by blundering into the minefields or through engineering accidents. In 1961, the Cubans also began planting a cordon of prickly pear cactus, quickly dubbed the Cactus Curtain.

On May 21st, a Cuban sentry by the name of Luis Ramirez Lopez was shot and killed by a Marine guard. According to the Department of Defense, Lopez was inside the fence and ignored a warning shot. The Marine then fired again, wounding the Cuban, who was able to climb back over the fence and leave. Two days later, six Cuban soldiers may or may not (depending on which side you believe) have crossed the fence and definitely exchanged fire with several Marines. No one on either side was injured.

Secretary of State Dean Rusk announced his intention to send a diplomatic note via the Swiss, insisting that Cuba cease these provocations and respect the boundary. Castro reportedly said not to bother, and then gave a fiery speech declaring that Rusk had practically threatened war and warned the Cuban people to be ready for an invasion. Tens of thousands of Cuban reservists have apparently been recalled to active duty. Now, Castro’s been pounding the drums lately, probably trying to bolster his support among his people in the face of the struggling economy, but daring the United States to attack seems more foolish than bold. Maybe he feels that with the U. S. tied up in Viet Nam, there’s no chance of them taking up his dare.


A Marine patrols the perimeter at Guantanamo Bay.

Doing the wrong thing

Nobody always does the right thing. Authors often derive interesting situations from their characters acting on bad ideas. Sometimes, though, they go too far and rely on those characters acting like absolute idiots. Boy, is that the case in this month’s IF. From super-genius teenagers to drunken conmen to high-ranking politicians, it seems like everybody left their brain at home.


This supposedly illustrates The Hour Before Earthrise. Maybe a later installment. Art by Morrow

The Hour Before Earthrise (Part 1 of 3), by James Blish

Sometime in the 1980s, the Apollo program has yet to have a manned flight and no human has been beyond Earth orbit, though automated probes have been to Mars and returned with samples. Teenager Dolph Haertel has invented anti-gravity. Rather than sensibly applying for a patent and demonstrating his invention to someone other than his almost girlfriend Nanette, he decides to go to Mars and bring back proof he’s been there. So he space-proofs a packing crate as best he can, kits it out for a round-trip and sets off. Arriving at Mars, he lands in a deep crater and finds some plant life. Unfortunately, he is unable to leave, because a vacuum tube, the one thing he didn’t bring a replacement for, has burned out. He’s stranded on Mars and is going to have a hard time staying alive.

Meanwhile, back on Earth, Nanette has figured out what Dolph is up to. She gets her hands on all of his plans, cobbles together her own ship and sets out after Dolph, taking all the plans with her. At least she leaves a note explaining what’s going on. All of this, mostly Dolph’s sections, are interspersed with lots of science. As the installment ends, Dolph is surprised to see another packing crate crash not far from his own. To be continued.


Dolph demonstrates his invention to Nanette. Art by Morrow

I admit that this story and I got off on the wrong foot, with all that stuff about the space program being a boondoggle. But with all of the science interspersed through the action, I finally came to the conclusion that the only way this thing makes sense is as a parody of juvenile SF in the Danny Dunn or Tom Swift vein. It takes itself too seriously to be parody, though. There’s undoubtedly a good story to be told about someone stranded on Mars having to do tons of science to stay alive. This ain’t it.

Two stars.

Feodar’s Box, by Robert E. Lory

When a non-descript man carrying a black box suddenly appears in the secret office of chief secret agent Chlebnik, the number three man in the Soviet Union orders the stranger seized and rushes off to the even more secret office of Palakov, the number two man. To his great consternation, the odd man and his box are already there. The little man proves to be Feodar Rodumetoff, who has been living in isolation, working on a project assigned him by Stalin. Official records state he was executed during the purges following Stalin’s death. His box allows its bearer to become invisible and insubstantial. Palakov sees opportunities in the box. There will be consequences.

Robert Lory has turned out a handful of mostly decent little tales, usually with a bit of a sting in the tail. Here, he does much the same, though striking one line from the antepenultimate paragraph might improve it slightly.

Three stars.

Bircher, by A. A. Walde

In a society tightly controlled by computers, the police tend to solve murders in a matter of minutes. When the naked body of a male in his late teens is found dead in an alley, it should be no problem for our unnamed narrator. But when the boy appears nowhere in any records, our protagonist must do lots of old-fashioned legwork while facing tremendous pressure from the press and a reporter who hates him.


Victim and detective prove to be bound by more than just the case. Art by Gaughan

Walde is this month’s first time author, and this is an ambitious undertaking, both in length and content. The author makes a strong showing – this is probably my favorite story this month – but there are a few neophyte flaws that deny the story a fourth star. Most importantly, the resolution of the mystery could have used a lot more foreshadowing. Also, the title doesn’t refer to that group of extreme conservatives who called Eisenhower a communist and voted for Goldwater despite his left-wing tendencies, but to a gang that took its name from them. So the story isn’t what you’d expect going in. Finally, the noir-ish wordplay, while often good (I heard Bogart’s voice in my head about half the time), is also a bit overdone. Still, a good story and I hope to see more from this author.

A very high three stars.

The Man from When, by Dannie Plachta

Mr. Smith is mixing a martini when there is a tremendous explosion. Investigating, he finds a time traveler, who made his journey in spite of a certain risk. Was it worth it?

Another vignette from Plachta with an attempt at an ironic ending. Possibly one of his better efforts. It’s short and not a joke this time.

A low three stars.

Cybernia, by H. H. Hollis

Gallegher is back. This time, he finds himself stranded on Mars. He falls in with a carnival mind-reading outfit and gets back to Earth with them. There, they all set up an elaborate money-making scheme that borders on a con. Eventually, Galeg’s past catches up with him.


Not sure this has anything to do with the story. Maybe some files were mislabeled. Art by Lutjens

It’s rambling. It’s tedious. Gallegher is an unpleasant character. At best, this story is marginally less offensive than Gallegher's first outing. Hollis appears to be creating a series. That’s unfortunate.

Two stars.

Science Fiction’s Holiday, by Lin Carter

This month, Our Man in Fandom looks at the Annual World Science Fiction Convention. He talks about the history of the con and what goes on at one, and then explains how the locations are chosen. Finally, he tells us about what to expect at this year’s convention in Cleveland. The best part of the article is his description of this year’s Guest of Honor, L. Sprague de Camp.

Three stars.

Earthblood (Part 4 of 4), by Keith Laumer and Rosel G. Brown

Having escaped arrest at Imperial Terran Navy headquarters, Roan sets out with his men to prevent the assassination of Admiral Starbird. Alas, a stray shot kills the admiral and one of Roan’s men is killed. Briefly arrested, they escape again, and Roan stays behind to cover his men’s retreat. Eventually, they return and rescue him. Then it’s on to Earth.

The Niss fleet proves to be as dead as the Niss ship at the beginning of the last installment. Down on the planet, Roan finds Earth ruled by the decadent Uppers, served by their intelligent dogs (less anthropomorphic than Cordwainer Smith’s Underpeople, more so than Cliff Simak’s dogs in City), while the Lowers live in squalor. After learning the final truth about his origins, Roan falls out with the Uppers. In the end, he must once again rely on his men to come to his aid.


The Lady of Shallot… no, wait. That’s Roan’s new love interest, Desiranne. The art is so bad. Art by Adkins

And so it all comes to a satisfactory conclusion, much different from what I expected after all that human superiority stuff in the first installment. I noted last month that Roan had matured and become more thoughtful and introspective, which led to me giving that piece four stars. Unfortunately, it all goes out the window this month. Roan is as rash and impetuous as he was as a teen. The redeeming factor is that he’s less selfish and has learned to rely on others. But it weakens the story as a whole for me.

A high three stars for this installment and the novel as a whole

Summing Up

There we have it. About the only people who do anything smart in the whole magazine are Feodar and the unnamed detective. Roan manages to do a couple of smart things, but only after doing something spectacularly stupid that far outweighs the smart thing. In his editorial, Fred Pohl calls on science fiction authors to stop writing about doomsday and the day after and start turning out more optimistic stuff. I fully support this, but to do that, Fred, they’re going to have to stop giving us characters who do dumb things just to make the plot more interesting.


Hal Clement. That’s a good start.

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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[May 2, 1966] By Any Other Name (June 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

That which we call a purge

Successful revolutions often seem to devolve into vicious internal fighting as various factions turn on each other. Many of us are old enough to remember Stalin’s purges in 1937, and I’m sure we all remember learning about the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution when we were in school. Now it looks as though China may be gearing up for some purges of its own.

The five year plan of 1958, dubbed the Great Leap Forward, proved to be a disaster. The plan’s policies produced three years of famine, killing an untold number of people. As a result, Communist Party Chairman Mao Tse-tung stepped back and left the day-to-day running of the country to Liu Shao-ch’i and Teng Hsiao-ping. But Mao may be attempting to seize the reins of power once again.

Last November, an opera by a playwright named Wu Han was attacked as being subversive and critical of Mao’s leadership. On April 10th, the Communist Party issued a directive that condemned almost all literature written since the end of the revolution as “anti-party and anti-socialist.” Every author and poet is now considered suspect. Six days later, poet and journalist Teng T’o was chastised as counterrevolutionary in the official government newspaper. On the 18th, the new movement was given a name in the army’s daily newspaper: the Great Socialist Cultural Revolution. Now, President Liu Shao-ch’i, Mao’s chosen successor, has been publicly criticized as a capitalist and insufficiently supportive of Mao. I’d say the purges are about to begin. It remains to be seen just how bad they will be.


Chairman Mao Tse-tung (r.) and President Liu Shao-ch’i (l.) meet last year with Prince Sihanouk of Cambodia (in the dark jacket).

Smells, sweet and otherwise

This month’s IF offers a mixed bouquet. Overall, it’s visually disappointing, and a couple of the blossoms really could have used a different name.


This allegedly illustrates “The Weapons That Walked”. It doesn’t. Art by McKenna

Mandroid, by Piers Anthony, Robert E. Margroff and Andrew J. Offutt

In the forests of Oregon, the last two humans left alive, Bill Jackson and Tony Baker, finish killing the last android. The androids were created as servants, but were made to be stronger, faster and maybe smarter. Eventually, a war of extinction broke out when the androids asked for equality. Suddenly, the narrative is interrupted by a click, and strange voices which speak in the present/past/future ponder their failure in getting Man and Android to mate. And the story begins again from a little earlier. And so it goes, each time getting a little closer to success, but ending in failure. Finally, one of the strange voices concocts a dangerous plan. If it fails the fabric of TimeSpace will be/is/was ripped beyond repair.


Bill and Tony are observed from outside of time and space. Art by Gaughan

Mandroid sounds like a B-movie from a decade ago. And with three authors, you wouldn’t be at all surprised by something that schlocky. While Margroff only has the sub-par “Monster Tracks” to his credit, and I’ve not read either of the stories credited to Andy Offutt, Anthony (a Cele Lalli discovery) has produced some good work. Maybe it’s his hand that keeps all these cooks from spoiling the broth. This is a good story with a couple of flaws that keep it from reaching four stars. The first is the heavy-handed Biblical allusions at the end; the second, unless I’m reading something that isn’t there, is the veiled hints at Bill’s sexuality that promote some unpleasant stereotypes.

Three stars.

Fandom U. S. A., by Lin Carter

This month, Our Man in Fandom takes a look at fan clubs. Carter takes a quick look at some of the better known clubs on the east and west coasts and in the mid-west, and then talks about what happens at meetings, whether they be formal or informal. It’s a handy resource that could help a lot of people in the States to find a club near them and maybe encourage others to start a club. Plus, Carter finally has a handle on his voice.

Three stars.

The Weapons That Walked, by D. M. Melton

Explorer Joe Hanley’s landing craft fails on the way down to Kast III, and he’s forced to bail out. Unfortunately for Joe, the scouting group on Kast IV is in even worse shape, and the main ship has to go to their aid first. Joe is going to have to make do on his own for several days. Fortunately for Joe, he grew up among the redwoods of northern California and he’s one of the few nature-lovers left. He’s got a plan and this planet might be just what he’s looking for. But then the animals in the area start acting as though they’re being directed by some greater intelligence.


Joe encounters a local predator. Art by Adkins

From the title, you’d expect something from 1926, illustrated by Frank R. Paul, that Joe Ross would think twice about before reprinting it in Amazing. It’s better than that. This is Melton’s second story, following “The Fur People”. Like that story, it’s fairly unobjectionable and shows promise. Better, the female character actually has a name. Showing promise is all well and good, but Melton needs to improve if he wants to stick around.

A low three stars.

The Dream Machine, by Carol Easton

Harry Carver invents a machine that allows users to have extraordinarily real dreams of the things they want. There are consequences.

Easton is this month’s first-time author. I’m not impressed. There are one or two decently written passages, but that’s it. There aren’t really any characters, there’s no actual story (just a recounting of events) and it’s painfully obvious where things are going.

Two stars.

Sweet Reason, by Christopher Anvil

Dr. Garvin, a human psychologist, has come to observe the work of Centran military psychologist Major Poffis. The Centrans have astonishingly high success rates, achieved quickly. Garvin observes the Major treating a patient and the two discuss the theory and practice of psychology. Are human and Centran approaches compatible?


The Centran patient, prior to his treatment. Art by Nodel

Why wasn’t this in Analog? I’m sure I’ve read most of the criticisms of psychology as a science in Campbell’s editorial rants, and the quality is about what Campbell usually gets out of Anvil. A couple more stories like this and we can officially say that Campbell has ruined Anvil as a writer.

Two stars.

Earthblood (Part 3 of 4), by Keith Laumer and Rosel G. Brown

When last we left our hero, Roan’s ship had been disabled by a Niss warship, he had shot his mentor and now had to leave behind his only friend, Iron Robert, who can’t fit into a lifeboat. Under Roan’s leadership, the crew is able to board the Niss ship, only to find it uninhabited. It was the automatic defenses that destroyed Henry Dread’s ship. Fortunately, there is another Terran ship aboard for Roan and his crew to commandeer.

Roan’s first stop is his homeworld. He learns of his mother’s death, but is able to track down his family’s Yill servant. He makes his way to the shop where his parents bought his embryo and learns he was the only viable embryo out of several. He also finds out he came from an ITN experimental station on Alpha Centauri. That means a very long run through backwater territory to find out where he came from.

Nearly a decade later, he and his crew reach his destination. Roan would like to go on alone, but his three most loyal crewmen insist on accompanying him. Eventually, they reach naval headquarters on Nyurth. It turns out that the Imperial Terran Navy has grown decadent and is riven by factions. Most notably, Captain Trishinist believes Roan to be part of a large conspiracy to assassinate Admiral Starbird and seize control of the navy. The Admiral has grown old in service, but still has a plan and a hidden fleet to retake Earth. Time and politics have kept him from ever carrying it out. Now he places it all in Roan’s hands. That evening, Commodore Quex tries to arrest Roan, but Roan and his crew escape easily. To be concluded.


Roan leads with his left. I picked this one as representative of how bad the art is. Art by Wood

Well, this is a big improvement over the last two installments. It’s not without its flaws. When Roan learns that the family servant was originally part of the group sent to acquire his embryo, he fails to ask who hired them. There is also some confusion about time. The run to Alpha Centauri is nearly ten years, but Roan says it’s been four years since Dread’s death. In addition, there are inconsistencies in the relationships and communications between Naval HQ at the end and Rim HQ, which Dread worked for. Hopefully, those things will be cleared up by an editor before book publication.

Despite those flaws, this is a very good installment and gives me hope for the story as a whole. Laumer is much more present this time, in the various military plans and action sequences. But what makes it better is all Rosel Brown. Roan is greatly matured here, more introspective, and the story is improved for it.

Four stars.

By Mind Alone, by Larry Niven

In 1972, a group of UCLA students who have learned the mental power of teleportation and the professor who taught them are having a weekend party in Lake Arrowhead, up in the San Bernardino mountains. When the cigarettes run out, they can’t get more, because it’s Sunday and the stores are all closed, so their hostess teleports back to her parent’s home in Hermosa Beach. But when she arrives, she is stricken by an almost fatally high fever, which quickly diminishes. The professor puts a halt on all teleportation until they can figure out what happened. Have they violated some heretofore unknown law of the universe, or are they being punished for hubris?

Niven has given us a decent little problem story. He’s clearly inspired by Alfred Bester’s The Stars My Destination and, not to give too much away, if he’s right, then Gully Foyle would be nothing more than some soot and a thin smear of organic matter after his first jaunt. I think the “magic” method of teleportation weakens the story somewhat, but it’s still a fun read. I’d like to see how someone using a more scientific approach would solve the problem revealed here.

Three stars.

Summing Up

A rose, Shakespeare says, by any other name would smell as sweet. But if it were called a dungflower, might those who stopped to smell it find the scent sweeter, because of low expectations, or maybe not as sweet, since something with that name can’t possibly smell good? I find myself wondering how much my opinions of the first two stories are influenced by their B-movie and Gernsbackian titles. What we call a thing can make a difference, and boy do those stories need to be called something else.

On the art front, Galaxy Publishing needs some new blood. The sub-par comic book stylings of Wally Wood and Dan Adkins are a waste of space and ink. Jack Gaughan’s abstract elements and heavy blocks of black are often oppressive and rarely fit the mood of the story they illustrate. When Norman Nodel produces the best illustrations in your magazine, it’s time for a change.


Been a while since we’ve seen something from Blish.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[April 2, 1966] Hidden Truths (May 1966 IF)

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Don't miss tomorrow's exciting Adventure-themed episode of The Journey Show, taking you to the highest peaks, the deepest wildernesses, the coldest extremes, the vacuum of space, and the depths of the sea.  April 3 at 1PM — book your (free) ticket for adventure now!)


by David Levinson

They’re on our side (I believe)

There’s no question that French President Charles de Gaulle has a larger-than-life, albeit rather prickly, personality. It stood him in good stead through the War and in midwifing the Fifth Republic a few years ago. It’s also a big part of what underlies his “politics of grandeur”. Alas, it also makes him a sometimes troublesome partner on the world stage. As early as 1958, he was urging a greater role for France in NATO, kicking against the traces of the Anglo-American “special relationship”. In 1959, he pulled the French Mediterranean fleet and air defenses from NATO command and banned the United States from positioning nuclear weapons in France. A year later, he even tried to renegotiate the NATO treaty, but no other member nation supported him. He was fairly quiet during the Kennedy administration and showed great solidarity during the Cuban Missile Crisis, but he’s up to his old tricks again.


French President Charles de Gaulle announcing that France will go her own way.

In February, de Gaulle declared that the changed world order has “stripped NATO of its justification” and demanded French control of all foreign troops and bases in France when the current NATO agreement ends in 1969. Apparently, he decided that was too far in the future. On March 7th, he ordered all foreign troops and equipment removed from France by next year. Two days later, France formally withdrew its officers from the NATO unified command, assumed full control of the 70,000 French troops in Germany and announced that they will close all allied bases that don’t surrender to French control. President Johnson appears to have taken all this with the poise of a matador performing a verónica, with the faith that de Gaulle can be brought around in a time of need, though there is a rumor he instructed Secretary of State Dean Rusk to ask if that withdrawal includes the thousands of American war dead in French cemeteries. “De l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace.”

Unearthing the past

Oftentimes, what we think we know about the past and how we got where we are is simply wrong. Learning the truth may make us change our course, shatter our identity or turn the whole world upside down. Quite a lot of this month’s IF features characters facing the consequences of just such a revelation.


Supposedly from Silkies in Space. Silkies don’t need spacesuits. Art by Schelling

Silkies in Space, by A. E. van Vogt

Nat Cemp is a Silkie, a genetically engineered human who can adapt his body so that he can live underwater or in space as easily as he can on land. While walking down the street, he encounters a man who appears to be his twin and delivers an ultimatum to Nat. All Silkies are to end their association with humans and return to the nation of Silkies or be deemed traitors. Around one fifth of all Silkies have had a similar experience at roughly the same time. The Silkie nation is traced to a planetoid that travels from outside the orbit of Neptune to inside that of Mercury, and Nat is sent to investigate. What he discovers will have enormous consequences, not only for the 2,000 Silkies of Earth, but for the entire planet.


Gregor Samsa… er, Nat in spacegoing form enters the mysterious planetoid. Art by Gaughan

This is a direct sequel to “The Silkie” from a couple of years ago. While this story largely stands alone, it might make more sense if the first story is fresh in your mind. Parts of it are quite good, other parts (mostly when Nat starts using his mental powers) rather confused and nonsensical. As we’ve discussed many times here at the Journey, van Vogt is a polarizing writer. Oddly, I find myself in both camps. There are stories I like a lot, but I’m also put off by his long fascination with supermen and his strong association with dianetics. There are bits here, like the “logic of levels” where I wonder if I’m being spoonfed Hubbard’s nonsense, and it detracts from the whole. The story goes completely off the rails at the end, as well. I’m waffling on the score, but I think I liked it just enough. Barely three stars.

The Historian, by Carroll J. Clem

We open with a chapter from a history book telling us that as humanity spread to the stars, no intelligence was found to equal man’s own. A few vignettes of humans engaging in the worst forms of colonization and oppression follow. The story concludes with the historian discussing his work with the people who commissioned it.

Clem is this month’s new writer. Stylistically, it’s decent and it’s short, but it’s also fairly obvious. Again, I find myself wavering on the score, but the fact that the author felt compelled to spell out the ironic twist is a mark against it. A high two stars.

The Hide Hunters, by Robert Moore Williams

Ed Grayson is exploring the Amazon, looking for the next big psychedelic drug. When the old chief of the tribe he is staying with begs the use of Ed’s rifle to kill the hide of his dead grandson, Ed is appalled. Later, he finds the chief skinning his grandson and horrified by the strange white filaments connecting the skin to what is inside it. His partner McPherson returns by helicopter and is worried by Ed’s behavior. Ed is going to return to civilization with the helicopter, but a poison dart attacks and kills the pilot. McPherson tries to fly them out and instead crashes near some ancient ruins, where they find Egyptian hieroglyphs and something much more disturbing.


An injured Grayson waits for his partner’s return. Art by Adkins

If Weird Tales were still publishing, this would have fit right in. The story clearly shows Williams’ roots in the pulp days, but is reasonably well updated for today, apart from the Egyptian hieroglyphs. Why not something Incan? One the whole, this is a decent representative of stories of this kind. Too bad the attack on the pilot makes absolutely no sense. Still, it’s three stars.

An APA For Everyone, by Lin Carter

Building on his look at fanzines last month, Carter takes a look at amateur press associations, an idea that goes back nearly a century. Unlike fanzines, which will send a copy to anybody willing to pay the postage, APAs limit circulation to a limited group of contributors who must submit a certain number of pages every month. There are even waiting lists for people to join. Carter examines some of the bigger APAs in fantasy and science fiction, as well as what drives someone to contribute to them. His breezy style is slightly tempered from last time, but it still grates. Three stars.

Mountains Like Mice, by Gene Wolfe

Dirk is being prepared for his Retreat by Otho the Captive. If he can avoid being found for the two months it will take for the dye to wear off, he will become a Master. That night, Otho leads him to the spot where his Retreat will begin at sunrise. Later, he sees what he thinks is Otho being captured by the gyrda, a race of people half the height of a normal person. He tracks them into the mountains with the plan of rescuing Otho. In the end, things known to Dirk are revealed to the reader, and he gains deeper insight.


A captive of the gyrda. Art by Lutjens

Wolfe is unknown to me, but after some digging I see that he had one previous sale to the “gentlemen’s” magazine Sir!. If he can write like this so early in his career, I foresee big things. He’s clearly in love with language and words, and every sentence is beautifully crafted. I don’t claim to really understand the metaphor of the title or the implications of the final paragraph, but the journey there is incredibly beautiful. Four stars.

Golden Trabant, by R. A. Lafferty

A man enters Patrick T. K.’s store to sell a huge lump of greenish gold, clearly of extraterrestrial origin. We then learn of the unscrupulous men seeking the legendary golden asteroid and the consequences of their success.

This is an unusually traditional story for Lafferty, but it still has his unique touch. Of course, it’s largely a retelling of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Diamond as Big as the Ritz without the romance and with a few Lafferty-esque bits. This might be a good starting point for someone who has never read Lafferty and is concerned about some of the things they’ve heard. Three stars.

Earthblood (Part Two of Four), by Keith Laumer and Rosel G. Brown

Last time, Roan, a purebred Terran who grew up among aliens, was forced to join an interstellar circus. There he met the beautiful Stellaraire and rescued her from the villainous Ithc. Now he has hatched a plan for the two of them to escape so that he can make his way back to his mother and then find lost Terra. Those plans are thwarted when Iron Robert, the rock creature who was Stellaraire’s only friend, is grievously injured in a fight. At Roan’s insistence, Robert is brought aboard the ship and nursed back to health, rather than being left behind to die.

En route to another stop, the ship is attacked by the pirate Henry Dread. Many are killed when the ship enters emergency acceleration, and the rest are gunned down by Dread’s crew. Roan is spared, because he is fully human, as is Iron Robert again at Roan’s insistence. But Stellaraire was killed, crushed by a falling beam. Dread views the world divided into three groups: Terrans, Gooks, who are humanoid and may have some Terran in them, and Geeks, the rest of the aliens. And for him only Terrans matter, so he takes Roan under his wing.

Dread takes Roan along on a raid of the old imperial capital of Aldo Cerise. Roan saves Dread’s life and afterward Dread reveals that he is actually a member of a group calling themselves the Terran Navy, supposedly formed from the remnants of the old navy thousands of years ago. He inducts Roan and explains that he’s on a long mission recruiting and financing. Eventually, they find a Niss ship and Dread’s hate leads him to make a foolish attack. Roan winds up killing Dread in an attempt to save Iron Robert, but in the end, Robert must be left behind on the dying ship while Roan leads a desperate raid on the Niss ship, their only hope for survival. To be continued.


Iron Robert meets his match. Art by Wood

Well, that didn’t go how I expected. After last month, I was sure I could see the course of this story. The circus ship would prove to be an extremely powerful warship that Roan would use to break the Niss and Stellaraire would prove not to be a sterile mule. Instead, she’s dead and the ship was about as effective in combat as a Greek trireme against an Iowa-class battleship. In fact, almost everyone who ever supported Roan is dead. His father, Stellaraire, Iron Robert (presumably) and Henry Dread.

Last time, I also expressed concern about the human superiority that was expressed. Some of that is there again, but it’s more clearly an ugly thing. Roan lashes out once at Iron Robert with the vile language Dread uses, but immediately regrets it, and his constant support of Iron Robert shows his real attitudes. I’m more hopeful.

I still don’t see much Laumer here, other than in names (Groaci and Aldo Cerise this time) and the presence of Bolos. And it looks like Wally Wood is indeed the artist for the illos. Three stars.

Summing up

Not as good an issue as last month, certainly. But Earthblood looks like it will be much more than I expected, and we have an interesting new voice in Gene Wolfe. If he can hone his craft a bit more and keep his beautiful language, he may be a force to be reckoned with.


No hype at all for next month? That’s not a good sign.




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Magazine, Science Fiction/Fantasy, Serial

[March 2, 1966] Words and Pictures (April 1966 IF)

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by David Levinson

For a lot of people, February tops the list as their least favorite month. In the northern hemisphere, it’s cold and dark, and spring seems a long way off. The only things to break up the monotony are Valentine’s Day, which isn’t for everybody, and (most of the time) Carneval or Mardi Gras, which in the United States only matters if you’re near New Orleans and for lots of practicing Christians is immediately followed by giving up something nice for Lent.

As I look over my notes of newsworthy events for the last month, I see the usual things – coups, politics and power plays – but nothing that really catches my interest. Oh, there’s a couple of things that might develop into something, but they need time to come to fruition. Fortunately for my purposes, Fred Pohl has accidentally given us a little artistic puzzle to talk about, but let’s save that for the end.

The Words

In this month’s IF, the big Heinlein serial draws to a close and a brand-new serial begins. As does a new non-fiction series on fandom. Plus a new Saberhagen story. It’s a lot to whet a reader’s appetite, even if the cover is a bit mediocre. But that’s where our art mystery begins.


Roan’s first day on the job isn’t turning out well. Art attributed to Morrow

Earthblood, by Keith Laumer and Rosel George Brown

Millennia before our story starts, humanity went to the stars and found all other intelligent species still planet-bound. They formed a vast interstellar empire and ruled half the galaxy until the Niss came, shattered the human empire and ultimately blockaded humanity on Earth. Now the only humans at large in the galaxy are at the bottom of the socio-economic scale and most are heavily adapted to the planets they live on, with very few resembling the original terrestrial strain.

As the story opens, Raff Cornay, a human, and his wife Bella, a Yill, have come to Tambool to purchase an embryo to raise as their son. At great sacrifice, they wind up with a pure Terran stock human intended for the personal service of a recently toppled high official. What follows is a series of vignettes as Roan grows up, largely among the avian gracyl. At the age of 16, he tries to sneak into a circus, but is caught. In the ensuing fracas, his father is killed and Roan is dragooned into joining the Grand Vorplisch Extravaganzoo as a roustabout, sideshow attraction and high-wire walker. He meets and is befriended by the beautiful Stellaraire, seemingly a pure Terran human like him, but according to her a throwback and a sterile mule. It turns out the ship is a former Terran battleship. I’m sure that will be important later. At the end of the episode, Roan saves Stellaraire’s life and she asks him to take her back to her tent. To be continued.


Tarzan… er, Roan learns to fly. He’s supposed to be 10. Art attributed to Nodel

I’m very much of two minds about this story. On the one hand, it’s a decent, if slightly pulpy, science fiction Bildungsroman. Beyond the names of some alien species (I recognized both Niss and Soetti) and maybe some of the action, I don’t see a lot of Laumer here. The writing and the plotting feel like they’re mostly from Rosel Brown. In general, that’s a good thing.

On the other hand, Roan gets a lot of stuff about human superiority pounded into him as he’s growing up. It’s uncomfortable language that we hear all too often in real life as an argument against civil rights and equality. It’s certainly possible that Roan will eventually come to see that every species has something to offer galactic society. Unfortunately, most of the aliens seem more like intelligent animals than sentient beings. They rely as much on instinct as they do intellect. Roan’s boss in the circus is confused by his need to practice; either he can do something or he can’t. That seems to be saying that humans really are superior.

Three stars for now.

Castles in Space, by Alma Hill

Aboard the Star Ship Sazerac, King Gurton Redbeard of Sazerac and King Karl of Ship Avlon are meeting over a game of chess, hoping to agree to a protocol which will allow them both to mine the asteroid swarm they are in without fighting over it. They are served by Redbeard’s daughter Kafri, and he offers her to Karl’s son in marriage to form a political alliance. As she wanders the ship late at night, trying to come to terms with her role as a bargaining chip, Kafri discovers that her father’s plan is not as it seems. Now she must make a decision as to which side she will support.

Long-time Boston fan Alma Hill was last seen with her rather disappointing ”Answering Service” in January of last year. This story, however, is quite good. Kafri is no mere political pawn, and this is very much her story. She’s decisive, active and drives the plot. Hill also took the story in a slightly different direction than I thought she was going, based on the ship name Avlon. A very solid three stars.

Our Man in Fandom, by Lin Carter

The first in a series intended, according to the introductory blurb, to teach casual readers “about fandom – what it is – and why”. Both F&SF and Amazing have gone down this road in some form or other in recent years. Here Carter traces one branch of fandom from the letter columns of the 20s and 30s to the fanzines of today. It’s a bit overly breezy and glib at points, but perhaps slightly less superficial than some of its predecessors. Once he gets through with the history and starts talking about current zines like Yandro and Amra, Carter offers a decent read. We’ll see how he does with other contemporary matters. Three stars.

In the Temple of Mars, by Fred Saberhagen

The Nirvana II, the new flagship for High Lord Felipe Nogara, is being brought to him beyond the edge of the galaxy. Aboard it, a prisoner named Jor is being brainwashed by the head of the Esteeler secret police to kill someone. Admiral Hemphill is the acting captain, and there are some other familiar faces. There are plots within plots. One faction hopes to rescue Johann Karlsen from his doomed orbit around a hypermassive star, while another has taken to worshipping the Berserkers, possibly in the hope of being declared goodlife. Everything comes to a head long before the ship reaches its destination.


Jor trains for gladiatorial combat to please the High Lord. And for something else. Art by Gaughan

This is a direct sequel to The Masque of the Red Shift and also features characters from Stone Place. No knowledge of those stories is needed to enjoy this one, but it would give this more weight. Another solid outing in the Berserker saga, with a couple of weaknesses. The extensive quoting from The Knight’s Tale, sometimes in the original Chaucerian English, feels a bit overdone. It was clearly part of Saberhagen’s inspiration and I applaud him not assuming we’ll all remember it from high school, but some cuts would help. And though the story comes to a definite conclusion, there is clearly more to tell. I suspect a fix-up novel in the not too distant future. Three stars.

The Pretend Kind, by E. Clayton McCarty

Little Tommy Wilson says he had a long chat with God in the woods down by the river. Despite efforts by his parents to get him to admit it’s just a story, he sticks to his guns. A neighbor and friend who is also a child psychologist is brought in to delve into this delusion. Things are not as they seem.

A generally forgettable story with an ending that can be seen from miles away. The biggest problem is that nobody actually listens to Tommy (not that it would have changed anything). The parents can be forgiven. They’re worried about their son either clinging tightly to a lie or going off to the woods with a stranger. But a psychologist, child or otherwise, should be listening to what his patient is telling him, and that doesn’t happen. Not good, not bad. A low three stars.

To Conquer Earth, by Garrett Brown

The Glom have arrived on Earth and they expect us to aid them in their galactic war. Landing for some inexplicable reason in Tierra del Fuego, the commander, Captain Crunch, eventually makes his way to President Hubert H. Hubris. Things do not go at all as expected.

Garrett Brown is this month’s first time author. I’d say his biggest influence here is Philip K. Dick, though this is nothing like a Dick story. It’s just the way most of the characters act. The concept isn’t terrible and in the hands of Ron Goulart or Keith Laumer, or better still Robert Scheckley this could have been really good. Alas, it is not. Two stars.

The Moon Is a Harsh Mistress (Part 5 of 5), by Robert A. Heinlein

As the last episode ended, Earth forces had landed on the Moon to put down the Lunar rebellion. The fight is intense, but not overly long, since the Earth troops are ill-prepared for low gravity. There are a number of casualties, among them Adam Selene. Mike has decided it’s time for Adam to become a martyr to the cause. Now it’s time for Luna to retaliate with rocks hurled from the cargo catapult. Mike and Prof have established a grid of targets all around the planet, designed to strike uninhabited areas (with the exception of the NORAD base at Cheyenne Mountain). The bombardment goes on for days and Earth strikes back again. In the end, Manny is alone at the secondary catapult, cut off from Mike, Prof and Wyoh. The fate of the revolution is in his hands.


The pressure begins to wear on Manny. Art by Morrow

Oh my, what a finish. I have something to point out here and I’ll be circumspect, but I don’t want to lessen the impact of the ending. If you haven’t finished the story, skip down to the next paragraph. I don’t really think of Heinlein as a writer who evokes a lot of emotion apart from maybe a firm-jawed sense of justice or a manly swell of pride. But here, oh here, I’m not ashamed to admit the ending made me choke up. If only he could have dropped the last two paragraphs.

All right, safe for the uninitiated to read on. The novel shows Heinlein’s strengths and weaknesses to great effect. His ability to make the reader want to keep turning the page is here in full force, but it does get a little talky and some of the ways he presents women are questionable. Nevertheless, I’d say the strengths far outweigh the weaknesses. Plain and simple, this is the best thing Heinlein has written since Double Star, maybe ever. This could be his masterpiece. Five stars for this part and for the novel as a whole.

The Pictures

I promised you a bit of an art mystery. You may have noticed that under the cover and the illustration for Earthblood I said that the art is “attributed to” rather than “by”. Let’s start with the cover, said to be by Gray Morrow. But it really doesn’t look like his work. He favors strong, clear lines, rather than the slightly fuzzy work we see here. Frankly, it looks more like the work of Norman Nodel.

Interestingly, Nodel is given as the artist for the interior illustrations, yet this looks nothing like Nodel’s usual work. Indeed, it looks a bit more like Morrow’s work. It’s tempting to say they just swapped the artist names. But this also doesn’t look like Morrow’s work to me. The lines are there, but it’s sloppy in ways Morrow usually isn’t. The illo I included is supposed to show a ten-year-old boy, not a full-grown man. And look at these two excerpts.


Art attributed to Nodel

These are supposed to be the same character at the same age. That age is supposed to be 16. Ricky Nelson there on the left might be 16, but Superman there on the right is 40 if he’s a day. If it’s not Morrow, then who? The other two artists in Fred Pohl’s main stable are Jack Gaughan and John Giunta, but both their styles are different. Right now, my best guess is Wallace Wood. Hopefully, we’ll find out next month, since the serials are given to a single artist.

Summing Up

All in all, a pretty good issue. There’s only one real stinker and while some of the others aren’t quite as good as they could be, they could also be a lot worse. The Heinlein serial has been the high point since it began and has outshone everything else alongside it. It does again this month, but this time it’s a diamond set in silver, not the tin that has mostly surrounded it.


I fear next month may be something of a downturn.




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Book

[September 10, 1965] So Many Thews (Lin Carter's The Wizard of Lemuria)

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by Erica Frank

A Bewildering Epic of Tiny Proportions

ACE Books is practically synonymous with "science fiction," but they also put out quite a bit of fantasy (for instance, most of the works of Andre Norton). The newest addition to their stable of fantasy authors is Lin Carter. His first foray into book-length (barely) work is, shall we say, ambitious…

The book is titled The Wizard of Lemuria but we don't meet the wizard until Chapter 4. There are 12 chapters. The first quarter of the novella-length book is spent introducing our hero, Thongor of Valkarth. He is, although a lowly barbarian mercenary, both mighty and honorable.

The book opens on the aftermath of a wager on a zamph race. Jeled Malkh—an officer and swordmaster—lost the wager, and attacked Thongor rather than pay up. Thongor quickly overcame him, shrugged off the bet, and offered to drink away their differences. Jeled refused and fought dirty, yet Thongor overcame him again, and again, offered him peace.

Very mighty. Very honorable. A man who doesn't like to kill other men, even cheating men.

Jeled Malkh accepted his offer of peace—then betrayed Thongor, stabbing him and throwing him in a cell. Thongor spends a lot of time in cells. Mighty he may be; clever he is not.

Cover for The Wizard of Lemuria
Gray Morrow's cover shows Thongor fighting a grakk from his air boat made of urlium, the weightless metal.

Thongor has friends, though, and one of them got him out of the cell. On his way out of town, he managed to steal an alchemist's experimental airboat. Thus equipped with exotic and fast transport, he aimed for the distant land of Kathool and promptly fell asleep.

He awoke to an attack by lizard-hawks, which battle you may see depicted on the book cover. Thongor did mightily well against them, as is his wont, but the boat was unmoving because its rotors had run down. Also, the winds had blown the boat far into the great jungle of Chush, and below him was one of the mighty dwarks, a jungle-dragon. In the ensuing fight, the boat crashed and he became lost in the jungle.

What would he do during the long watches of the night, still many hours away, when every dreaded predator of the jungles would be out roaming for food? How could he protect himself from the swift-footed poa that could out-race even a trained zamph—or from the man-eating zemedar with its six great arms—or the gigantic flying spiders?

His situation by night would be doubly dangerous, for due to the prevalence of slith in the trees, he would not be able to climb them and avoid the beasts.

By 25 pages into this story, I already had to keep track of twelve species, seven locations (not counting Lemuria itself), three status-related titles, and two deities. Four of these things would never be mentioned again.

Map of Lemuria
Not labeled on the map: the rivers Ysaar and Saan; the Mountains of Mommur surrounding the Dragon Isles; Sharimba, the "mightiest" mountain the range; Zharanga Tethrabaal, the Great Ocean; Neol-Shendis, the "Inner Sea" where the Dragon Isles lie.

Chapter 4 is where the actual plot began. Thongor was rescued by the Great Wizard of Lemuria, Sharajsha, who offers him a job: Help the wizard re-forge the great dragon-slaying sword and take on the remnants of the Dragon Kings, who are due to rise again and attempt to destroy the universe.

Fortunately, Sharajsha is wise, clever, talented, and resourceful, all traits that Thongor lacks. (Thongor, however, has mighty thews—iron thews, we are told—which is exactly what Sharajsha needs to face down the Dragon King hordes.) Sharajsha fixed up the damaged flying boat, and added a new mechanism, so that when one spring winds down, it winds up the other, so it will never again be left without power. With this perpetual motion machine neatly handwaved into existence, they set off on their journey together.


John Keely and one of his fraudulent perpetual motion motors, c. 1890

During their travels, Thongor acquires an ally, a Tsargolian nobleman named Karm Karvus, who was always referred to by both names, and princess/queen/Sarkaja Sumia, a beautiful woman whose throne had been usurped by evil priests.

I'm going to bypass the bulk of their adventures. The recurring sequence of events is: When Thongor gets himself captured (again), his allies in the flying ship look for the biggest scene of carnage and mayhem in the city to find and rescue him. 

Musical Interlude

Each chapter of the book begins with an excerpt of poetry (save one that opens with literature). These are Epic Tales of Battle and Legendary Feats of Yore. They are obviously intended to be sung, or at least recited with something of a tune, to make them easy for a non-literate culture to remember. I do not know what tunes Thongor and his friends may have used for them, but I have found music that works for each of them.

The War Song of the Valkarthan Swordsmen, Thongor sings in battle; he must be formidable indeed if he can hack and stab his way through swarms of enemies while keeping enough breath to belt out a tune.

"All day our swords drank deep and long
Of blood wine-red, of blood wine-strong!
Tonight in the red halls of hell
We'll feast with foes and friends as well!"

As you can clearly see, this sings beautifully to "Greensleeves," and I choose to believe that the tune is much older than originally believed.

Thongor's Saga is presumably written after the conclusion of the book.

"The sliding hiss of scales on stone,
Weird green-flame eyes in shadows black,
When Thongor faced the slorgs alone
And cold steel drove the nightmares back!"

This works nicely with "Greensleeves" as well, which is fitting, as Valkarthians probably don't have the imagination to use different tunes for their war-songs.

Diombar's Song of the Last Battle describes how the Dragon Kings were defeated several thousand years ago.

"From wild red dawn to wild red dawn
    we held our iron line
And fought till the blades broke in our hands
    and the sea ran red as wine.
With arrow, spear and heavy mace
    we broke the Dragon's pride,
Thigh-deep in the roaring sea we fought,
    and crimson ran the tide."

This is more complex, and needs a tune with more variety. It scans wonderfully to the theme song from Gilligan's Island.

The Rituals of Yamath, chanted while making offerings to the God of Fire:

"The naked virgins on thine altars plead
As scarlet flame on pallid flesh doth feed!
Lord of the Fire, drink down young lives like wine—
Hearts, limbs and breasts—their very souls—are thine!"

This was harder to track down, as iambic pentameter is common for poetry, not songs. However, I did verify that "Battle of New Orleans" works nicely. The sacrifices in the book happened long before 1814, so they must have originally used a different tune.

The Scarlet Edda, which contains the prophecy the wizard fears.

"Lords of Chaos dark the sky:
All the Sons of Men shall die.
Dragon-rune and blood of men:
Portals ope—to close again?
Naught can make the Portals fade,
Save the Sword by lightning made."

As is appropriate for such an otherworldly subject, it can be sung to "Rock of Ages, Cleft for Me."


Now you, too, can sing along with Sharajsha as he describes the impending doom of Lemuria.

Words of Wizardry

The vocabulary is downright dizzying. Five of "the nineteen gods" are mentioned by name; one is a goddess. At least 12 cities are mentioned; more than half of them are only mentioned once or twice, and they are not visited. The vorn is a measure of distance: 5,555 "strides," claimed to be roughly the same as our mile. You might expect that distances are only measured in vorn, but no: while the Mountains of Mommur are "a stupendous wall of rock almost two thousand vorn in length," the Inner Sea is "[l]ocked in by miles of mountains"—those exact same mountains.

The various species and cultures of Lemuria are more interesting than Thongor's adventures, which can be summarized as, "Thongor meets great danger; Thongor kills great danger; Thongor is overwhelmed by even greater danger but his friends come to his aid; Thongor then slays the source of the great danger."

A Lemurian Bestiary and Herbarium

Three different creatures have the honor of being the worst monster in Lemuria: the grakks, the drawks, and the zemadar. The grakks and drawks are tied for "fiercest and most deadly fighters," while the "man-eating" zemadar is "the most dreaded." (I don't know why they're called "man-eating." It seems that all the creatures and some of the plants eat men.)

Note: Some creatures are italicized. Some are not. I could not find any pattern in this.

Bouphar, animal: Possibly cow-like. Common food animal, often roasted; also used for leather. The meat is called "beef."

Dream-Lotus, plant: A flower with sedative properties; it works on men and beasts. "One grain [of the dust] will transport a man to the dreamworlds… for many hours."

Dwark, animal: Giant forest dragon found in Chush: 200' long armored body, 60' long neck, and teeth longer than Thongor's sword.

Grakk, animal: Lizard-hawk, a giant predatory flying creature, with 40' batlike wings and a barbed tail. The young are called grakklets.

Lotifer, plant: Huge trees in Chush, sometimes 200 yards tall. All seem infested with slith

Photh, animal: Its skin is used for making scarlet leather pouches.

Poa, animal: Fast predator in the jungle of Chush

Sarn, plant: Berries found in the jungle of Chush, used for making a wine popular in Thurdis.

Slith, plant: Deadly vampire flowers that cover the trees in Chush; they are used for executions in Thurdis. They have "soft petals like a yawning mouth, laying bare the triple rows of hollow fangs."

Slorg, animal: Dreaded woman-headed serpent of Lemuria's deserts. These are near-mindless beasts, that attack in swarms. They have green flame eyes.

Spider, giant flying, animal: Yet another danger in Chush. This one does not make an appearance.

Waterfruit, plant: Fruit from Chush, small enough to be eaten by the handful.

Wolf, green, animal: Sharajsha has a book bound in the fur of a green wolf.

Zamph, animal: Somewhat-draconic creature used for riding or racing. It is a descendent of the triceratops, and somewhat resembles a rhinoceros. The reins are attachehed to iron rings that pierce the ears, the only portion of it that is sensitive to pain. Sharajsha's is wide enough to seat two people.

Zemadar, animal (also spelled zemedar): The shape is never described. It has six arms (plus some number of legs), a triple row of foot-long fangs with poison that instantly paralyzes, a barbed tail, and is very fast; described as a "crimson juggernaut." One of these was the "Terror of the Arena" in Tsargol. It is only vulnerable at the eyes.

But is it any good?

The book is surprisingly readable considering how packed it is with specialized vocabulary, including terms that are only mentioned once. Thongor's story, although rather predictable, contains powerful imagery; this book would do well converted to a movie or comic series.

As a book, however… the plot is cliched; the men are stereotypes; the woman is devoid of personality; the outcome is exactly as expected. Two stars, and half of one of those was probably the fun of singing Diombar's song to "Gilligan's Island."

[Speaking of books, Journey Press now has three excellent titles for your reading pleasure! Why not pick up a copy or three? Not only will you enjoy them all — you'll be helping out the Journey!]




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